The Slime Farmer 40 For The Warmth Of Camaraderie And The Eating Of Food

Defi studied the woman.

Truth rang in her accusation, and in her eyes burned genuine anger. There was an apprehensive satisfaction in her glare that he could not understand, but it did not matter at the moment.

He'd just been accused of theft. He, who had been raised in the tenets of the Church to lead and protect, to be an example.

"I would ask your name, as I believe we have never met before." His voice was even, his face arranged in a genially curious cast.

He had been half-expecting something like this since he took residence in the homestead, but it was months later and he was little startled.

The woman looked slightly taken aback.

Was she expecting him to react as she might, that he would shriek denials and slap her face?

His lips lifted at the corners. She was too used to going against women similar to herself, it seemed.

"Madam," he said. "I would know the name of the person who accuses me of heinous crimes. I am Defi, son of Emi, and a hundred generations before her. You are?"

"Why would I want to know your name? I want you to give back my house!"

"What house would that be?"

"The Garge place! Leraine had no right giving it to an outsider! I am her cousin, am I not? The house is mine by right!"

The townspeople around them started to talk in low voices. Defi carefully bent the Current to his hearing. It was difficult and dangerous to enhance the physical senses using the Current, but he needed information.

"Oh, that would be Old Brun's daughter, wouldn't it? What was her name?" Whispered one of the men.

"Ebris," muttered his female companion in correction, voice low, "the one who married a shopkeeper in Ecthys, remember? But this would be Ebris' daughter, I think. She's never come here before, or I'd have heard it. She does look a bit like her mother."

He heard similar snippets before he let the Current subside and the murmuring voices once more grew indistinct.

Brun was the name of Leraine's grandfather. The possibility that this was indeed Leraine's cousin was high.

Defi nodded.

"I did not realize homesteads had to pa.s.s to heirs of blood. I see. If I have inadvertently got in the way of such a succession, I shall of course step aside for the rightful owner."

"What succession?" cried the woman, still unnamed. "It was my mother's place, her family's! She always told such stories. It's my family's house! Why would Leraine sell it to you?"

Oh. Defi had made a miscalculation. The Garge homestead of course was not entailed to blood heirs, so he thought he could destroy the woman's claims with a simple application of law.

He forgot that bonds of kins.h.i.+p could be more prized than mere adherence to cold law. It seemed the woman knew that more than he did.

Now she had the upper hand, the townspeople's regard more on her side because she was the granddaughter of one of their own.

The support of the town was crucial. Even if he won, he would be known as the one who stole the Garge homestead away from the family who had lived in it for generations.

He rather liked the offhand welcome he was generally subjected to because he was affiliated with the orphanage, and because people had been saved by Turq and Jar, because they knew he'd fought for them as well. He found himself loath to lose it.

Even then, some people would keep her words in mind. In addition, his words had set him apart, too much like a n.o.ble would say. That would stick in the minds of his detractors as well.

This was the Lowpool, full of people who had seen a marquisate fall.

His mind roiled, discarding half-formed plans.

It was odd though. He was certain it had been simple greed in the woman's eyes.

Now Defi studied her more. He did not miss her glance to the side, again in the same apprehensive satisfaction of earlier.

In that direction, standing with the blacksmith's family, a woman dressed in finer cloth than this cousin of Leraine's. Under her cloak, she wore subdued colors and subtle patterns. A woman raised to the views of a certain cla.s.s, it appeared.

Oh, it was greed after all; a greed of particular shape.

Even if he had not joined the court of Rimet, the struggles of the children's court mirrored it. Children with less influence, power, wealth, ability, charisma, falling to the sway of those that had what they lacked, looking for patronage and friends.h.i.+p of those who would benefit themselves and their families.

Defi was born with the highest status a child could have in Rimet and yet, because he was the son of a former slave, those that approached him only did so for the influence his father's name had and not for the friends.h.i.+p that Defi wanted.

Once he discovered that, he'd secluded himself into books and training in humiliation and anger and from then forth refused to countenance any overture, an offense that inadvertently secluded him from the games of status the n.o.ble scions played.

His lack of influence among the scions of the n.o.bles was likely part of the reason his father could do what he did.

He understood of course, why this cousin of Leraine's would stand before him to so viciously set herself into a conflict with him.

Garun had intimated that status in Ascharon did not come from bloodline alone, but from education and wealth. Land was the greatest material wealth in Ascharon and Ontrea both.

But Defi could not so simply let this incident pa.s.s.

He had been accused of theft.

Even the most venomous of the status-seekers in the pit of vipers that was a n.o.ble court would hesitate before putting forth such an allegation, and then only in the most dire of situations.

Theft was the greatest crime in Ontrea, punished in three stages: the offender was first whipped, then made to ride through the streets to kneel at the house of the offended for three days with the cuts on their back bleeding and untended, and then if that ordeal was survived, the offender would be banished from the kingdom.

In Ontrea, in epics of heroes, the best moment to accuse someone of theft is when you have already destroyed all that they built, heard the weeping of their women, suborned their men, and see them on their knees before you begging for succour. That is when you say: 'Thief, you have stolen my ***.' and then subsequently cut off their head.

And this woman before him, she accused him of such a crime just to gain an infinitesimal increase in status?

He leaned against the counter, casual, smiled to hide the chill he knew was in his eyes.

"I am no thief. I did not want the land, but you must have seen your cousin. How could I not help a woman in need? If you have come by then, if you had asked even a month after, I would have given you the homestead. But do you know, it is so easy to love the Lowpool. The rus.h.i.+ng river, the birds in the morning, the scent of pine and fruit and seafood, the bustle of the dawn market. The lake is large, do you know? If you look from the right place, it would be as if seeing an ocean."

The murmuring started again. It was mixed, but at least there were people standing up for him.

"This small lake, like an ocean? You should travel to Carmedel before saying that. I will pay you enough for the little bit of land you hold in a little town. Enough to travel to the greatest city in the empire and buy a place by the dockyard if you like smelling of fish. You'll even get to see what real seafood looks like. What do you say?"

Defi was silent. If one had looked closer, they would see that his eyes would be slightly wide and his jaw slack.

The murmurs of the townspeople had stopped. There was a quiet in the town hall, uncharacteristic.

It was just…he had prepared a raft of words to combat her cunning, had multiple paths to possible victory, had primed for a protracted campaign and days gaining the support of the townspeople.

And the enemy had, with a single speech, in the first hour of the first day of the war, all but defeated herself.

He could see people starting to frown at her.

He grasped for words. This was not an outcome he had expected.

"What did you say?" he could only ask, weakly. It was almost blurting out the words.

He regretted immediately, mentally berated himself for saying anything at all. He truly had been too relaxed.

She smiled, as if she did not see her blunder. Where was the cunning manipulator that had tugged on the heartstrings and values of the townspeople?

Creator, was it a fluke?

He searched her eyes. There was an urgency there, tucked in the corners, that he had not seen earlier. Was there something else beyond forcing Defi to give up the land?

Her smile widened at his involuntary words.

"How about one solstice for everything? A gold solstice, that's a full four hundred klauds." She patted his shoulder. "It's about the value of the land and house, isn't it? Leraine said you paid less, so this is a profit for you."

On paper, he did pay less than half a solstice. This woman was so certain in victory that she was comfortable enough to think that insinuating he was poor, that he had never seen gold before and only dealt in bronze coins, would be insulting to him.

It was so senseless it was baffling.

He knew a time in his life where the gold in his hands could not alleviate his poverty, and only increased it.

"What," he asked. "is your name?"

"Agreine. My husband is a wine merchant in Ecthys. We can transfer the property anytime you wish."

He composed himself.

"Madam, you're mistaken, I believe. I am not selling. That is to say, I do not wish to leave."

She sputtered, speechless.

He turned to the clerk, who was eyeing the woman neutrally. "It is possible to extend the western boundary?"

She looked at him, her face professionally impartial. But her eyes warmed slightly. "It is."

"Wait, please." The woman in fine clothes standing with the blacksmith's family stepped forward. "My friend spoke perhaps too rashly, but if I could ask once more for you to countenance her plea, it is her family's home after all. I am sorry for intruding, but I could not see my friend in distress. I have travelled much, and could recommend beauty in other places. A trade, might you be more inclined to one? A house for a house."

Defi smiled at her. "You are generous, and you love your friend. But I am afraid, any house you offer me, even in the streets where the n.o.bles of Ascharon build their homes, will not compare to the cottage and three hecte I have now. The people here have been kind to me. I have seen enough of their courage and love to fill a legend with praise. I find that I could live a lifetime here, and a lifetime again after that. The house can be traded, this is true, but the people cannot."

He heard the truth in his words even as he spoke them, and was surprised. He had not thought his attachment to the Lowpool was so deep.

But then, where else could he find a town like the Lowpool, with people so understanding of the things he had to hide? There was likely no place else in Ascharon like the Lowpool, a town where shadows and light danced around secrets and their owners so casually.

The woman sent him a dissecting look, then nodded in acquiescence. "You are wise, young sir. I hope you do not mind that in the future, we might ask again?"

Defi almost smiled. Was that a declaration of intent to continue this war? n.o.bles were truly the same everywhere.

"Lady, Madam, I cannot prevent you from asking, but I hope you are not too offended if the answer remains the same."

She nodded and looped her arm around the silently glaring Agreine's limb, tugged her friend away.

Defi turned back to the clerk. "I'd like to increase the boundary by two hundred and fifty mar, please."

It would add over ten hecte to the homestead instead of two. He hoped it would not be so expensive, as he was running short on money again. But it did not even enter his mind that he would not fight back.

Besides, if he left the Lowpool, where else in Ascharon could he inadvertently gain the forbearance of a retired imperial palace chef and be able to eat their food everyday?

**

Chapter End

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Notes:

'Theft is the greatest crime in Ontrea.' It's actually an overarching category of crimes that includes theft of life, theft of choice, theft of blood, theft of property, and so on. It's the greatest crime because despite being slavers, there's an element of free will running through the philosophies of Ontrea.

'and a hundred generations before' -- an example of Ontrean traditional low-key boasting, for commoners. Defi's mother was a slave, but her lineage has been recorded in the annals of Ontrea for millenia. n.o.bles introduce themselves with the phrase 'the honor of a thousand generations comes before me' or something similar.