Chapter 53: The Grand Market
“[Ingredient Scan: Hops]” I looked around the market, but nothing really ‘pinged’ in my vision. Sigh, another bust.
“You do know that you don’t need to say a Milestone out loud to use it, right?” Annie remarked as she checked out some produce, frowned, and tossed it aside. “Ugh, this one is rotten. How can you sell rotten food like that? Do I need to complain to city hall?”
[Translated from angry toothless gnome] “My cabbages!”
“Oh, hey Gimbletack! How are you doing?”
[Translated from angry toothless gnome] “I assume you will pay for that wasted produce you lovely youngsters!”
“What did you say about my mother!?” Annie balled up her fists and moved in. I grabbed her collar and dragged her away. She had a higher strength, so it was a bit of a struggle, but I had better leverage. I tossed a few coppers to Gimbletack and waved goodbye.
“Just ignore the cantankerous old gnome, Annie. The best vengeance will be outliving him.”
“By Lunara’s Lace I don’t think so! I’m reporting him for substandard vegetable produce the first chance I get!”
I paused, “Is that actually a thing?”
“City of Minnova Ordinances, Chapter -” Annie began in a huff, but I cut her off.
“Of course it is. Why do you even know that?”
Annie squared her shoulders proudly. “I memorized all the ordinances that are related to food or drink. I wanted to make sure nothing we did at the Goat could run afoul of city law.”
I clapped. “Good fer you! I never really bothered learning all the laws and ordinances back when I owned my own company.”
Annie’s face was a rictus of horror. “How could you not know the laws!?”
“They were more what you’d call ‘guidelines’ than actual law.”
“Don’t you dare tell my father that.” Annie hissed. “He’d have you out of the brewery faster than you could say ‘I’m a reincarnated master brewer.’”
“Nah, Balin and I are a packaged set, and he loves Balin.” I looked around, quizzically. “Speaking of Balin, where did he go?”
“He needs to get his saws sharpened. They got a bit dull while he was in prison, and all the woodworking lately chipped one of the teeth.” Annie pointed to an open-air blacksmith just down the street. “He’s over there.”
“Well, let’s go get him. I’m not carrying a dozen sacks of erdroot by myself.”
We trekked down one of the four main streets that demarcated the Grand Market Square of Minnova. Said market was a literal square about four blocks wide and long, with an open central plaza. City Hall was a towering edifice to one side, with the Cathedral of the Gods at the other. A uniform series of shop-fronts lined the outer street and the central plaza was a massive combined bazaar and farmer’s market. The enormous light crystal that lit the entire cavern hung directly over the market and bathed everything in a soft lilac light. The effect was magical, and that didn’t even take into account the literal magic on display everywhere.
Annie had explained the politics of the Grand Market on the trip here, and it was like nothing back on Earth. The major guilds and businesses all had the opportunity to bid on a spot at the market each year. They didn’t bid anything as simple as gold, oh no; they bid a percent tax on all the goods they sold within the Grand Market. The highest bidders got the fancy physical storefronts on the main street. The losers had to sit out with the traveling traders and local farmers in the plaza, but still had to pay their bid taxes.
The result? The Market was cut-throat, and companies could and would go under if they over-bid, but the possible profits were monstrous. Everybody shopped in the Grand Market, and there were nearly a million people in this city. A sewer system, healers, and a high vitality had kept the population from getting wiped out by plague, while underground housing had kept living space from becoming an issue. Back in its heyday even old London only had around half a million residents.
Suffice it to say, the place was packed, noisy, smelly, and amazing. The scent of spices and sweets and smoke and sweat was intoxicating, and I had to physically hold myself back from a stall selling some kind of glazed meatbun. When an odd amalgam of steel and bones walked by, I pointed it out with excitement.
“Is that a golem?”
Annie looked it over. “Yes, a fairly standard porter type.”
“That’s amazing! Why don’t we have a golem? It would beat lugging sacks and barrels and erdroot around ourselves!”
“We used to…” Annie’s voice was chagrined. Oops! Landmine!
“Uh… what’s that!” I pointed at a flurry of motion overhead. A series of what looked like electrical streamers were whizzing by. They covered nearly every colour of the rainbow, and looking at them made my soul itch in my eyes. I blinked and rubbed at my eyelids vigorously. “Argh! What in Midna’s mullet are those!?”
“They’re spirits, summoned by a [Summoner] and contracted to perform tasks. They’re good for scouting and communicating, and they can possess and animate small objects. Those ones are probably looking over the bazaar for any interesting goods. Don’t look at them too long, you’ll hurt your spirit. They’re almost as expensive as the golems.”
“Don’t need to tell me that.” I looked away and noticed a kiosk in the plaza that was selling runestones. “Ooooh, I should buy some. I’m rich now!” I started to walk over and Annie grabbed my sleeve.
“What?” She was shaking her head, her visage a bit grim.
Then I remembered. Balin and I had given all our gold to the brewery, and I hadn’t gotten any more money from the city for my boomdust yet. I was completely broke.
“noooooooooo” I raged quietly as Annie dragged me over to a shop with a sign that declared it to be “Battlehammer Battlegear and Blacksmith”.
I begged to stay outside. While the inside of a dwarven forge was certainly interesting, I was pretty sure I’d just seen a miniature dragon walk by. Besides, you’ve seen one fantasy dwarf forge in an MMO, you’ve seen them all. Plus, they were really hot.
“Do you promise not to wander off?” Annie asked.
“Absolutely. Cross my heart and hope to die.”
“What kind of weird oath demands wishing for death.” Annie murmured as she went in to fetch her beau.
I stayed outside and cooled my heels for a while. I played a little ‘spot the human’ while I waited. I’d seen four so far today: two elderly men, a young woman, and an armoured adventurer. That was when something in a nearby alley caught my attention.
“Ooh, what’s that?”
—
“I cannae believe that was so expensive!” Balin grumbled. “Outrageous prices! It woulda cost half that back in me own town.”
“They’re the best, and you paid extra for fast service.” Annie shrugged. “I don’t want you using substandard tools, that’s how injuries happen.” She petered off. “I should know.”
Balin gave her a soft look and took her hand in his. “Yer makin’ tha most of it. The brewery is gettin’ back on track, and it’s lookin’ more’n more like tha person ya need forgiveness from tha most, is you.”
Annie sighed, and nuzzled her beard into Balin’s armored shoulder. “You’re right Balin. I just.. worry that I’ll mess everything up again.”
“Nah, yer tha Annie Goldstone that made the new lubricant being used by half the mines in Minnova.”
“That’s true. It’s a shame it wasn’t more valuable.” Annie turned to look around them and frowned. “Where’s Pete?”
“Where did ya leave him?”
“Right there, Gods, he promised -”
“Hey guys!”
“AHH!” The two of them cried out and spun around. “PETE!”
“Uh, yeah?” I stepped back in shock.
“You said you wouldn’t move!” Annie pointed her finger accusingly. Balin was taking big, angry gulps of air.
“I’m a stranger in a strange land, not a child. Besides, I’m still here.” I pouted a bit. Where was the trust?
“You’re right, I’m sorry.” Annie’s shoulders dropped in defeat. “What do you have there?” She pointed to a sheet of paper in my hand.
“Oh, yeah! I found it in the alley over there, it - ”
“Ah, Annie Goldstone is it not?” A voice interrupted us from behind and we turned to see a grumble of dwarves in traditional leather and chain-mail. Their beards were all similarly done up in knotwork I was beginning to recognize as the more archaic style, while their helmets had actual horns. Every bit of them stunk of power and privilege and… onions? I admit I stared a little agog, until Balin stepped on my foot.
“Master Brewer Browning.” Annie said, her voice curt and cold. “I greet you this day. How do you fare?”
“Quite well, young Goldstone. How is your father?”
“He’s doing well. We’ve been very busy.”
“Yes, I heard about that.” The dwarf glanced my way, and I realized his gaze carried a mix of pride and hate. What the heck had I done to get stuck in this guy’s craw!? “That beer drinking competition was a black mark on the history of brewing in Minnova, and the Guild is considering censuring the Thirsty Goat for its participation.”
“You can’t do that!” Annie shouted, and then switched gears to her usual matter-of-fact tone. “The king himself approved of that contest. To censure us for our participation would be lèse-majesté.”
“Hmph. I don’t think you’re one to talk about breaking traditions. Especially when you’re depending on a pair of convicts to save your brewery.”
That was a low blow, and I especially didn’t like the implication that this jerk had done some research on me. I guess I hadn’t exactly been laying low though. Annie was turning white, and Balin looked ready to pop, so I decided to butt in before a brawl broke out.
“Actually, we were just here to buy some erdroot. We are running out of beer faster than we can make it and right now you’re keeping us from our sacred duty of crafting the True Brew.” I said in my best ‘Why Yes, I’m the Manager, Ma’am’ voice.
“You’ll find that it’ll take more than winning a silly contest to get the dwarves of Minnova to continue buying your beer. Besides, I sincerely doubt any brew you make will be True.” Browning sneered. He then brushed past us, and his stony-faced entourage followed.
“Who were those assholes?” I whispered when they were out of earshot. “And why do they smell like onions?”
“Some of the Masters of the Brewers Guild.” Annie spat out. “They were the ones that forced Dad to agree to send me to prison. It damn near broke his heart. Holier than thou bastards, the lot of ‘em. Resting on the laurels of their ancestors and never striving to grow. Their traditions require them to carry onions in their breast pockets.”
“Wow, I hate them already.”
“I’ve never liked tha sort me’self” Balin added. “Want me to armour up and deck ‘em?”
“By Barck’s Beard, I pray our next brews go well so I can shove it in their smarmy faces.” Annie growled.
“Meh, Bugger Barck, let’s make our own luck. Sanitisation is a good start.”
“Let’s hope so.” Annie’s quirked an eyebrow. “What do you have against Barck?”
“Oh, Pete think’s he’s cursed by Barck.” Balin said off-handedly.
“Hey, the specifics of that are still a secret!” I rammed my hand over Balin’s mouth and his eyes bugged out in realization.
“WHAT?!” Annie rounded on me and advanced. I backpedaled and held out my hands in a calming gesture.
“It’s not a big problem, I was going to deal with it eventually! I’ve been so busy. I just need to go to the church and talk to a [Prophet] and it’ll all be fine.”
Annie hauled me up by my gambeson and pitched her voice low so it wouldn’t carry through the market. “You think you’re cursed by the God of beer and you want to work in MY BREWERY!?”
“Uh…” Put that way, it was pretty bad. “Yes?”
“The cathedral is right there!” She pointed across the square at a looming golden edifice, and just barely managed to keep from screaming. “Go have a heart-to-heart with Barck and you’re not coming back until it’s done.”
Sigh. Looks like it’s time to go and meet the maker.
‘Cause he’s the God of craftsmen. Nyuck.
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