The ship was quite impressive. If Ronan had something like this... The possibilities were quite endless in the young trader's mind. It would really help him out. The man that had entered together with Ronan was looking through the goods presented in the room of the ship. Ronan, although with less interest, turned his attention towards the goods as well, inspecting them. The selection was quite impressive but the craftsmanship was... lacking. At least for the goods in the man's possession that Ronan recognized. There were things, devices he had never seen before, colored gems that he had never seen before, fruits and vegetables that looked like the ones he had sold in the past but he could tell they were completely different. The simple variety of choice was enough to impress anyone, no matter where they had been or how much they had seen.
The other man went towards the trader and was invited to sit down in one of the chairs that had been bolted to the deck, to prevent them from rocking back and forth in a storm. Ronan lost his interest in most of the wares and, while pretending to check out the goods, listened in on their conversation. The man tried to negotiate prices for some of the goods, but the trader was adamant about the prices he had set, keeping them ridiculously high while angering his customer. Now Ronan had a solid reason for the angry people outside complaining about the prices in here and not just his thoughts. The trader was like Ronan when he had first came to Avanthal. Set in ways that did not work here, something he had learned quite quickly, thanks to a certain someone showing him some of the ropes. Not of trading, of course, he didn't need ropes for that, but of the Avanthalian way of thinking.
This trader, however, hadn't had that luxury and was quite strict in his trading and didn't let up from his prices. Ronan didn't even have to look at the other man to know he was slowly winding himself up to explode, like half of the Avanthalians usually did when they were met with unreasonable demands, especially from outsiders. It didn't last very long after that before the man exploded. "Ridiculous. You think anyone will buy your stuff here?!" He shouted at the trader before storming out, bumping into Ronan, who had casually gotten up as the man had been yelling. Ronan didn't really mind the man and his rude behavior, knowing that he was being treated unfairly by the trader. Taking his time, Ronan changed the other trader's pace entirely. He first dusted off his shoulders and legs before walking towards the man with a smile on his face. Trader smile met Trader smile as Ronan shook the man's hand, his two leather clad fingers and his three unclad fingers grasping the man's hand, giving it a tight squeeze.
"Ronan Dugal. Nice to meet you." Ronan smiled at the man before lifting his cloak up, with quite a bit of flair, and hung it over the back of the seat as he sat himself down. "Dylan Carten. Nice to meet you too, Ronan." Both traders never let up their smiles, and Dylan started to realize that Ronan was not just another Vantha trying to haggle his prices down. "Impressive ship you have. Must have cost you quite a fortune. Or are you simply paying for passage?" Ronan waved his hand around aimlessly, pointing at the ship around them. "It is indeed mine." The speed at which he answered told Ronan that Dylan wasn't telling the truth, or at least had bent the truth enough to make it seem the truth. That was often the problem when it came to trading with other traders who used the same tricks as you.
Dylan was uneasy about his latest client. This... Ronan was not at all like any of the others. The Avanthalians he had met had all gone straight into negotiations to try and lower his price. And he hadn't lowered anything. There was no need for it. His goods would sell, over time. At the prices he had set. And the profit of his venture would be enormous. But it started to look like Avanthal had been a mistake. These whiners only complained about the prices he had set. If they couldn't afford it, they could wait for the next trader to come through their forgotten northern town. Dylan shook his head, slightly. "What's it made of? Is that Ironwood on the outside? That's pretty expensive, is it not?" Why did he keep talking about the ship? Why wasn't he interested in his goods? "It did costs quite a bit. My father had it made especially for trips like this."
Ronan smiled, or rather, his trader smile turned into a real smile for a moment, the little glint of satisfaction reaching his eyes. So it wasn't Dylan's ship. It was Dylan's father's ship. The young trader was probably here because his father had told him so. A rich kid with nothing better to do than to travel the world and play at being an adventurer. "It is quite well made. Sturdy. Have you seen much of the world with it already?" Ronan continued to steer the conversation away from any negotiations of any kind, babbling on about the ship and how impressive it was. "Oh yes, I've been all around the east side of the world, braving the seas with my crew. I've seen all of the cities along the eastern trading routes." Impressive, but probably not true. Ronan smiled at the man. "Really, that is quite impressive. And at such a young age." Flattery never harmed anyone. Except for that one time when he had tried to flirt with the wife of one of the knights. That had been quite harmful, in fact.
As time passed, Dylan started to become more talkative, seemingly enjoying Ronan's presence. Or enjoying boasting about all the things he had done and seen. Ronan sat in the chair offered to him, a cup in his hand, the wine in it slowly swirling around as he listened to the man's tales. Dylan was originally from Syliras but had moved around with his father all his life, a trader by... well, trade. The sort of father Ronan would have killed for. Yet Dylan did not seem to enjoy having such a father and complained about most of the things they did together. Every now and then Ronan would raise the cup up and touch it to his lips, letting the red liquid touch his lips before putting the cup back down. From Dylan's point of view it looked like Ronan was sipping from the wine, little by little, enjoying the taste. From Ronan's point of view it was simply a way to make it look that way. "So you used Morwen's absence in the winter to get through the ice in the northern waters? That is quite impressive." Dylan puffed up slightly, his cheeks tinging a light red from the wine he was drinking. "It is, isn't it. It wasn't easy and the cold... I don't know how these people can live in it. I'd rather have a nice and warm winter, like they have in Cyphrus." Ronan smiled and raised his cup of wine. "A toast to warm winters." The wine in the cup touched Ronan's lips without ever passing by them.
"Dylan, my friend, I'm sure life on board this ship can get quite boring. Allow me to invite you out tonight, my treat. I know just the place." Ronan's smile took a turn for the mysterious. "It'll feel like home, I promise." Ronan winked at Dylan as he set his cup of wine down, a little to the side, out of Dylan's immediate field of attention. Standing up slowly, Ronan tried his best to look like he regretted having to go. "Oh? You have to leave already? It was a pleasure meeting you, Ronan." Ronan smiled at Dylan, who looked like he was already missing Ronan's company. "Duty calls. But I will pick you up later tonight?" Ronan was led out of the room and walked over the deck of the ship towards the plank down to the docks. Things had gone quite well. Dylan seemed to like his presence and he wasn't too bright, or at least, he came across that way. People like that were not cut out to be traders. Ronan shook his head as he rubbed his hands together, the cold of the outside wind cutting the skin of his face.
The night was cooler even than the day, without the sun to provide what little heat it could, the night wind cut into Ronan's skin even more painful than earlier in the day. His cloak was wrapped tightly around him, covering as much of his frame as possible. Ronan really hated the cold. He often wondered what had prompted him to come here in the first place. His feet carried him out of the snow and onto the wooden plank leading up to the ship. This time there was no young boy to guide him towards the door but there were plenty of eyes looking at him as he made his way to the cabin. After knocking, Ronan walked through the door as it was opened for him. "Ready for a night in town?" He grinned, boyish, towards Dylan. Slightly jealous, Ronan saw that Dylan was entirely wrapped in thick furs and pelts, covering his body and head with a thick layer of warmth. "I'm all set, friend Ronan."
The cold wind hit him again as soon as they stepped out of the cabin. On the deck of the ship the wind was even more cutting and Ronan hurried back down towards the pier, where the wind was lessened due to the buildings and ships blocking most of it. "I arrived here only earlier in the season. It is such a strange place here." Ronan spoke, talking loud so that Dylan could hear him as he spoke. Their trip was short, as the road from the docks to the Rancid Reindeer was optimized for sailors and their kind. "I really hope you'll enjoy it here. It's my favorite place in town. No strange Avanthalians and strange customs to worry about." Ronan pushed the door open and was met with shouting and a wave of air that smelled like the name of the establishment. Together with that, the two men were greeted by one guy lifting up another one and tossing him across the room, landing him on top of a table and causing it to break under the impact. "Is this home or what?" Ronan smiled broadly at his newest 'friend'.
Dylan seemed torn between his thoughts. Ronan could see he wasn't at ease in the place but at the same time he did feel a little less homesick. "Beer? I can't promise it will taste like home but it's drinkable." Ronan raised his hand and waved the waitress over. She was still as big as the first time he had come here. Ronan ordered two beers and pointed towards a table in the corner, his usual spot. Unlike Ronan, Dylan pulled his hood back upon entering the warmth of the building. The fighting stopped for a moment as people looked at the newcomers. Ronan was recognized by some of the locals as the man who often sat in the corner and just watched while sipping his beer. Dylan got some strange looks from the patrons but soon the interest was gone and the fight continued. Ronan sat himself with his back to the wall, his eyes shifting quickly over the rest of the patrons in the Reindeer.
Dylan joined him at the table, constantly looking over his shoulder tot he fighting behind them. It didn't take much longer before the fight was broken up and the loser was thrown out. Or the one with the least friends. Their beer was placed on the table and the waitress left after getting paid for them. The service was, as usual, bad. But in the only decent bar in town you couldn't expect much else. In their corner of the room, Dylan spoke with Ronan, bringing up memories of home, of Syliras. Ronan did his best to look like he enjoyed talking about it. Ronan sipped from his beer at times, ever so slowly consuming the single glass on the table. Dylan, on the other hand, was celebrating his newest friend and quickly downed his first glass, followed by his second one. The more glasses he finished the more the conversation steered away from happy Syliras and towards unhappy childhood, bad father and how much Dylan disliked his life.
Ronan was the quiet friend. Not something people would often see from him but Dylan was happy talking the whole time and Ronan didn't want to insult his companion by saying anything about Syliras and his true feelings on the subject. "I used to like Syliras when I was younger. I had friends and places to go, places to celebrate whenever I felt like it. But then my dad wanted me to 'take over the business'. And look at me now. Stuck in this frozen dump." He took another swig from his third beer. Ronan took a sip from his first beer. "So? Does this feel like home or what?" He motioned towards the walls of the room they were in. It did remind Ronan much of home but he was glad that it wasn't home. Dylan nodded as he took another gulp from his beer. "Yes, very much. Glad you showed it to me."
It would be an investment for the future. But he had to secure it already now, while this opportunity lasted. Dylan kept drinking, glass after cup after glass of beer disappeared down his throat. And he started talking more and more. With the usual brakes on his self control being drowned in alcohol, Dylan spoke at length about how he wanted to stay home, how things were much better there, how his father never liked him and how he never liked his father, how his mother wasn't interested in any of it, how his brothers had all become like his father, big businessmen somewhere along the Kabrin road, all more successful than Dylan. Luckily he didn't start crying but there was a lot of whining going on. Ronan grumbled every now and then, when Dylan was drinking and the cup covered his eyes. Ronan sipped a little more from his own beer, not even trying to hide the fact that he was barely drinking anything. Dylan wouldn't have noticed it anyway, wallowing in his self pity and everything.
"Wouldn't it have been better if your dad had never had this ship?" Ronan asked, cutting Dylan off from another round of complaining and whining. "Yeahs... Much better! Away wif it!" Dylan swayed even while sitting down. The beer in his mug swirled around and sloshed over the side as he actively showed his dislike for the giant wooden construct. "Iss much better iff the ship was... wasn't there. I coulda stayed in Syliras." Ronan smiled and nodded. "Exactly. You wouldn't have to be here in this cold and misery." Dylan nodded. Or was falling asleep, either one. His head bobbed lower and lower towards the table. Ronan slammed his palm on the table, near Dylan's head. "I have an idea!" Dylan shot up, looking around with a wild look in his eyes. "Was? Wasgoing on?" Ronan leaned in. "I have a great idea." Ronan smiled. All 12 cups of beer Dylan had drunk on Ronan's costs were about to pay off. "I have a great idea. How about..." Ronan paused, more for the dramatic effect than for the time it gave him to think about it. "Whass your idea? Tell me, Ronan. My friend."
Ronan broke the short pause and looked at Dylan with a smile. "What if... if you let me use the ship? If I'm using it, you can't use it and you'll have to stay in Syliras until I get back." Ronan looked at Dylan as if he had just given the answer to the meaning of life. Dylan looked back. At first completely drunk, but the information slowed seeped in. "That'ss pretty smart of you. But my father wouldn't allow it." Ronan thought about that for a moment. The ship was, after all, not Dylan's but Dylan's father. "Well, I'm a trader. You're a trader. So I work for you. Your father tells you to sail to somewhere. You tell me. You stay in Syliras and I sail on your ship." Ronan nodded, finishing the sentence. "Hmm... Soundss good to me. I stay in Syliras and parteeh!! while you're out on the ship." Dylan spoke a little too loud and one or two of the patrons turned to look what he was talking about. Ronan nodded towards them, his face stern but friendly.
Never go anywhere without the tools of your trade. You can never know when you might need them next. Ronan slid his hand inside of his outfit and pulled out his ever present quill and ink and a piece of parchment. If you didn't have parchment as a trader you might as well stay home. It had been a relatively new concept really, contracts. But Ronan had jumped on it like a hungry wolf. It offered him so many new options, beside simply buying and selling goods. And it was a good reason to use his stamp more often. His quick scribbling on the paper drew Dylan's attention. "Whatchu writing?" He still held onto the empty mug from his last beer, using it for support as he leaned forward to see. "Just making sure we stick to our arrangement." Ronan scribbled on. "Ah. I see. Good thinking, my friend. Don't want to be double... cri... ka... Double... Something. You know." Ronan looked up for a moment to see Dylan struggle with the word.
The owner of this parchment, named Ronan Dugal, is allowed to act as a representative for Mr. Dylan Carten in everything related to business involving his trading company. The use of the family ship, family warehouses and goods and any other assets belonging to the company, with the purpose of creating a profit for the owner of the ship, warehouses and goods and assets, are allowed to be handled by the owner of this parchment, named before as Ronan Dugal.
Signed:.................
"Just making sure, my friend." Ronan smiled and turned the paper over, showing it to Dylan, who stared at it for a moment, blinking a few times. "Where do I shign? Let's get this party started!!!" Dylan grabbed the quill from Ronan's hand. Or at least, tried to as he snatched and missed, his fingers curling around empty air. He tried again, slower, and took the quill from Ronan's hand. A quick scribble later, Ronan had a signed contract in his possession stating that he could use the ship whenever he wanted to as long as it was used to create a profit for the owner, Dylan's father. Ronan put his signature next to it and motioned towards the waitress, ordering a lit candle from her as soon as she came over.
The wood pressed into the soft wax on the parchment, dripped from the burning candle. The small image of a person holding a large Miza and a square like object remained imprinted in the wax as it slowly cooled off and hardened again. Ronan paid for all the drinks before helping his 'friend' get up on his feet. With Dylan's arm over his shoulders, Ronan carried his friend through the docks of Avanthal, the contract safely in one of his many pockets. "I hope you enjoyed this little touch of home." Ronan smiled in the ice cold night wind as it froze his nose and lips. The empty mug dangled from Dylan's fingers, which were barely hooked into the ear of the mug. |
by Ronan Dugal on April 28th, 2013, 2:11 am 
