Silver in Eillen 6: Small Projects
“Small projects need much more help than great.” - Dante Allighieri
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It was drizzling out of a sunny sky when they finally came in sight of Eillen. Cresting one of the many hills that surrounded the valley of the river Aern, Vespasian suddenly caught sight of its baked terra-cotta roofs and walls plastered off-white gleaming in a wandering shaft of sunlight. Rain dripped on his hair, and the column of sun left, the gap in the clouds having moved across to the other side of the river. Yet, even that one moment had dazzled him, and he drew in his breath.
Eillen was several times larger than Renua. Even considering the outlying villages and farmlands which the city of Renua had not quite gathered into its folds, Eillen both outsized it and outclassed it. Vespasian counted the gates in its walls: he was up to five in the section facing him before he gave up on comparisons.
The men behind him were muttering, wondering why they had stopped, and he urged his horse forward, thankful for the knowledge of Eillen that Rynar had taken the pains to instill in him during the journey. House Argentus was in the Argentus quarter, their symbol a silver wolf on a blue background. Argentus quarter was upriver, where the water was cleaner, but downriver of the waterworks.
The great grey gates loomed overhead, and Vespasian felt rather small as he lead the way beneath them. Suddenly, fifteen soldiers plus himself, Rynar and Venturos seemed to be a miniscule number compared to the hundreds within the city of Eillen. What he had deemed to be a sufficient show of security for a business meeting had dwindled to a knot of nervous men and horses, which snorted and tossed their heads as the sun came out on the other side of the wall to reveal a long, paved road leading to the piazza where two major roads of Eillen intersected. Rynar had them sorted out and in a respectable formation within minutes, leaving Vespasian staring upwards at the columns and arches and banners with Venturos watching him.
“On your guard, young lord,” the Magician said, snapping Vespasian back into the present, “You never know what watches you from a window…”
With an effort, Vespasian returned his mind to the task at hand, and they proceeded through the streets, often fighting against a throng of pedestrians who paid them no heed, at a slow yet steady pace.
The main roads of Eillen, Vespasian remembered from his lessons, both recent and in childhood, were laid out in a grid pattern that was characteristic of old garrisons of the Romulae, except where the city had outgrown its old walls and spilled over into the former farmland of the river valley. And while there were farms and satellite villages further out, some of which he and his men had been passing for most of the morning, there was little good farmland remaining near Eillen. They had exhausted the soil within the valley, and the soil in the hills was too thin and rocky for anything but sheep, grapes, and olives. Much of their foodstuffs were imported from more agricultural states, including Renua.
The one great strength of Eillen was trade. They were one of the last major ports along the river Aern, and most barges could go no further upriver, so all major trade coming inland, or going outwards towards the ocean, had to go through them. They supported the new emperor, Justinian, though they had, like most other states within the region, slipped beneath his notice as he expanded his empire.
There was a wealth of other facts ready and available in Vespasian’s mind, but he felt that his lessons had omitted some crucial details. Some were useful - the fact that he spotted very few horses within the city, and that groups of expensively-dressed citizens passed by those who were obviously much poorer in the street on a regular basis told him that the Eillenians were unlikely to be impressed by distinctions of class. A good thing that the Duke wasn’t present then: that concept was entirely alien to him. Others were mere impressions: the sheer size of Eillen, for one, and the fact that shops and dwellings were stacked on top of each other like so many bricks, each building making use of the walls of its neighbors and putting out several awnings and arches that protruded nearly into the street, shading passerby congregating on the raised curbs. It was also beginning to be unusually hot, for the sun that had finally chased away the clouds was reflected off of every stuccoed wall, and baked the cobblestones to a dark red-brown.
With Rynar’s knowledge and only a few slight detours, they all made it to Argentus quarter, where their hosts dwelt. Vespasian, and most of the soldiers, were busy staring at everything - the markets in the squares and popping out of the fronts of buildings, the statues and triumphal arches, and the ever-present teams of men constructing and repairing buildings, often on wooden scaffolding that reached three or four stories into the air.
If I watched long enough, Vespasian thought absently, I could probably figure out exactly how these buildings are constructed. He stared at a window full of black and red pottery as they passed, then another of multicolored cloths, and a third of spices. These were wares that seldom, if ever, made it to Renua at great price, and the people who he saw buying them couldn’t possibly all come from the great or even the minor houses. In fact, if he had to guess, he would say that most of the customers at these stalls were craftsmen or guildsmen, and possibly even shopkeepers. Renua seemed small and dingy and far away.
It wasn’t until Rynar spoke that he dragged himself to the present.
“What was that?” he asked his captain.
“I said, I don’t like this,” Rynar repeated, “Argentus is the third house, in charge of a large portion of the city, and Argentus quarter should be filled with people. Yet look how many shops are closed up.”
Now that Vespasian looked, the crowds had thinned considerably since they had turned down the river and headed for Argentus quarter. There were only a few people on the streets, and they moved as if they had little time to waste. If he’d thought about it before, he had attributed it to the afternoon heat. And yet… he could feel it now as well. Something in the air smelled of tension, and the blind eyes of the shuttered shop windows stared disconcertingly.
The pack of mounted men drew somewhat closer together. Hands rested near sword hilts.
But Vespasian was noticing something odd about the closed shops. Painted on their sign, or carved into the stonework near their doors, nearly all of the shuttered shops bore the image of a wolf - the symbol of house Argentus. A narrow ribbon of suspicion squirmed in his gut.
They arrived at the large doors of the domus, and Vespasian’s thoughts were cut off by the business of dismounting the horses and being welcomed by the patriarch of House Argentus. This, to Vespasian’s mind, took too long, and he was glad when he was able to leave the soldiers, servants, and the extended family of the Patriarch behind and suggest that the Patriarch, if he could spare a moment, speak to him about the business at hand.
For some strange reason, the Patriarch looked extremely nervous at the thought. But Vespasian was a guest, and eventually they made it to the Patriarch’s study.
The study of a patriarch of a great house of Eillen was different from the study of a lord in Renua. At home, the duke’s study was filled with items chosen because Varin thought they emphasized his power: as a result, the majority of it was gaudy, expensive, and in poor taste. Lord Lucio’s study was lined with paintings of his long family line, Lord Amador’s with hunting trophies, and Lord Cornelius’ with very little other than a few dark tapestries that were likely as old as himself. Vespasian’s own study was filled with items his father had collected, and which remained exactly as they had been six years ago. The only thing that he had allowed to change was who sat in his father’s chair.
The Patriarch’s study was a concentration of tasteful opulence, but practical - the cabinets full of records might have gold-leaf designs painted in the corners, but they were still full of records. The chair in which Vespasian sat was plush and comfortable, but the wine he was offered was what made him smile. It was Renuan.
“Now, naturally,” the Patriarch was saying, “You’ll want to… ehm… see the sights and such. Plenty of time… yes, plenty of time once you’re all… ehm… settled in to discuss the particulars.” And here he gave an anxious smile.
Vespasian frowned. He would like to see the sights, but when he was secure in the knowledge that the Eillenians were willing to trade. Preferably, when they’d already agreed upon the price. And there was something in the Patriarch’s manner that seemed off to him. He found it doubtful that the man would have risen far enough to become Patriarch if he was this inarticulate every day: therefore, the man must be flustered about something, and it most likely had something to do with the eighteen Renuans to whom he was playing host.
Right now would be the best time for Vespasian to discover what the situation was in Eillen. You couldn’t bargain without knowing how much your goods were worth to the other party, a basic lesson that the other Renuan nobles considered themselves too blue-blooded to learn. Undoubtedly, the Patriarch knew it as well - he would not have remained Patriarch of any house, much less the third house of Eillen, otherwise - but most likely he would not expect it to be so well known to Vespasian.
It took Vespasian a moment to think of a way to profit from that secret, and he discarded several approaches as too subtle. The Patriarch had subsided into a momentary silence, one of his extended commas petering off into a series of little coughs and a general air of hesitation.
Vespasian affected an air of polite boredom. “Unfortunately, I am under strict instructions to present the Renuan offer to your council as soon as possible,” he replied, “Immediately, in fact. In addition, I have been given the tedious task of asking you before we even begin for an estimate of the council’s current standings on the issue.” The Patrician looked conflicted, and Vespasian wondered if he wasn’t laying it on a little too thick. He decided that being friendly couldn’t hurt. “Now, of course I know that I can count on House Argentus to back the offer,” - he would have to, after all, and House Argentus was the house best positioned to profit from permission to sign contracts with Renua - “so I’ll only have to trouble you for information on the standing of the other two major houses. Do you believe it would be easier to win the support of House Montag? Or perhaps house Signolini?”
It was at this point that the carefully maintained façade of normality crumbled from the face of the Patriarch of house Argentus.
“To tell the truth,” he replied, with a frankness that Vespasian did not expect, “The chances aren’t good. We can present the case to the Major houses, but I doubt any of the three would support the deal…”
Vespasian’s brain did the math, and then seized up with a sudden realization. If none of the three major houses were likely to support the contract, and house Argentus, by presenting it, was a de-facto supporter…
House Argentus had been discredited. And he, Vespasian, was too late to find another supporter.