The Clerk Pierre and His Plight
After a moment, I allowed myself a small sigh. "Would you really insist on paying in money like this?"
That was the complaint echoing from behind the curtain. Yet the one handling the complaints wasn't just any merchant. It was the priest of the Demia Temple. After a thousand years of training to write documents and deal with people, they had perfected techniques that left even moderns envious. They silenced every grievance with flawless skill.
The specialties of the Mount of Light were things like goat's milk, goat cheese, wild honey, walnuts—and yes, fresh flowers as well. Heh. My little darlings. These would become my daily bread.
Of course, Serpine Territory had its own specialities too. In truth, Serpine had far more goods than the Mount of Light.
Serpine was the trade hub where merchants from the Arda City Union and the Anglier merchants met. In the world, it ranked among the very top trade hubs.
Everything under the sun came through here, and trends started here. Though lately people said the royal territory of Lid was rising, nothing would ever surpass Serpine.
If Serpine had fallen, my father would not have wept so often in his letters to Mother, complaining that his work would kill him. Mother and Bertrand had told me the king had finally granted special privileges to the merchant guilds in Lid.
The excuse was "to protect his subjects in accordance with the gods' will," but that was nonsense. The king was openly building merchant forces as a counter to the nobles and at the same time earning money. He chose discrimination—bestowing privileges on his own subjects—to achieve it.
Right now the lords had nothing to say and were staying silent. They were watching to see whether this was the king's petty anger or a will powerful enough to tear everything apart.
Father had poured everything into turning Lid into a central hub like Serpine, but could such a grand fair really be created in Lid? "Fair" made people think of the rural oil fair, but that was not the case. Here was a vast outdoor exhibition hall built beneath the sea of flags, nothing like a simple fair.
Merchants alone numbered in the thousands, and adding the curious onlookers made the scale staggering. Honestly, even in my modern world I had never seen anything like it.
Of course. The people here—half the merchants from the continent had gathered. Among them I, a drifting wanderer, had quietly set up a stall like a petty thief.
There was the famous Muri Cheese that could only be enjoyed fresh in Serpine Territory. It was named Muri Cheese because it came from the Muri region inside Serpine Territory. The people of Serpine, especially Muri, ate it daily without worry, but to other lands it was a world-class luxury. Mother treasured it too.
The reasons were many. First, Muri Cheese was a soft cheese with over fifty-five percent moisture content, meaning it spoiled easily. Second, only after proper aging did it gain value—when mold bloomed like flowers and the inside flowed like cream, it earned the right to be called Muri Cheese. But it could not be stored long. The best time was within four days.
A soft cheese, one wrong transport and it would shatter. Heat, rain, or delay ruined it. Muri Cheese was a delicate product even when left to age in its own place. Yet none of that troubled me.
A young woman in the robes pushed aside the curtain and looked at my young face with a start. A child? The shock was written on her expression. I smiled softly, forcing myself not to glance at the basket she carried. One word from me would solve the doubts of these skeptics.
“Hello, Jeanne.”
My greeting made her jump. “Eh, how do you know my name…?”
She kept glancing between the curtain behind her and me. Had someone told me? But I had not said her name here. Confusion showed on her face. I gently offered her the seat in front of me. “I already know you are engaged.”
“…”
“Exactly. You were engaged.”
The moment I said it, Jeanne burst into tears and collapsed. Tsk, tsk. With a sorry little sigh I waited for her to sit on the opposite side. I really should have picked up my Muri Cheese earlier. It would have been nice if I had carried the basket in the hot summer without leaving it there.
Hours after my fair opened, the merchant guild members arrived immediately. They came with the energetic attitude of lords from the world-class trading territory of Serpine. In other words, they first roared, “What permission do you need to sell here?!” then smashed their stalls and dragged us away.
There had been a way to avoid arrest, but we obeyed the agreement and went quietly. I kept my mouth shut and asked for robes. “I only wished to ease the pain of many people as the disciple of the Saintess.” Of course the merchant guild laughed at my excuse. Ah, they had never thought I could pass either. “Though I am only temporarily serving as the Saintess as the descendant of the Danier family, I am now her disciple and ready for anything. However, you all—”
As much as I could, I looked at the merchant guild members and the small fry they brought with the most pitiful and sacred expression imaginable, as if a goddess were scrutinizing humans. “Are you going to take the God’s daughter away?”
Commoners might not know the Danier name—I had not said I was the Chamberlain’s daughter, nor where the territory lay. Those people had never been here nor their parents. But the Saintess? Everyone knew she was the princess. Really, would you arrest a royal princess? Is that wise? You may shout that you are Serpine people and know nothing of Morihan, but could you really lock Pythia Morihan in a cell? How would the king judge? How would your count face the trouble? The date for the succession marriage and the fair was deliberately set—clearly to show power and ride that momentum to achieve great things for the territory and business. Marriage alliances or anything else was business to the lord. If you break that, will you survive? Even without my meticulous calculations, the territory people knew the lord counted on this fair and marriage. They paused at the word “Saintess” and looked around.
Behind the man who had led us, a short young man whispered something to him. Though I could not hear the words, it was probably confirming that she was indeed Pythia Morihan, the king’s sister and Saintess. The man’s face crumpled. “Damn it.” He spat a curse, then looked back. Seeing Pythia pulled from the corner, he shrank and apologized, “I’m sorry, Your Holiness.” Pythia only smiled and did not answer. She had never said she was the Saintess. We had never said there were exactly two women in the group. So even if Pythia was with us, the Saintess could be someone else. Yet no one doubted she was the Saintess. The aura around her made it obvious. I had known from the beginning. Pythia was special. Chosen by the gods? No, because even the gods would choose her. The merchant guild members looked at one another. In Korean terms, once you bit into the candy you had to eat the whole thing, but the problem was the visible part was only the tip of the iceberg and we could not know how deep the hidden part went. So how to deal with that candy? Naturally. “Please fetch the clerk.” The only way was to bring more people to eat it.
A man named Pierre the clerk appeared. He stood before us with the air of “Do I really have to come all the way here because I am too busy to check this scammer myself!” When we in the meeting room looked at him, he looked back. His gaze passed over the priests including Anselm, then Damien, then me, and finally lingered longest on Pythia. It was probably because her clothes were too worn. I stood up. Damien followed me as expected. The clerk’s eyes sparkled and the eyes of the subordinate he brought were full of “How insolent.” I stared straight at that subordinate. He did not know who I was. Anselm was the one who had given me money. But I knew him. The sinner who had swallowed my money while pretending to be nothing but a companion of Pythia. “This little brat’s luck is already singing.” We will see each other later. I looked at him once more, then turned my gaze to Clerk Pierre. He had not introduced himself, but the guild members had already said things like “Bring Pierre!” and “Pierre must solve this!” so I already knew his name was Pierre. But as a noble-born I had face. How could I speak first if he would not? Simply declaring my identity as a person from another region entangled in an unfortunate matter would not violate etiquette. I extended the back of my hand. It was permission for a kiss and at the same time a claim to the status I must serve. Naturally I showed the pattern at the sleeve cuff. “I am Arian, descendant of the Danier family.” The Serpine Territory clerk could not know my name, but he could not fail to know the Danier name. Our father the Chamberlain handled many parts of the Lid fair. That was royal property. Therefore the Serpine clerk was bound by business with Chamberlain Danier. No mistake. Pierre’s face turned pale. “If you say Danier…” Suddenly all arrogance vanished and humility so great it was pitiful filled his face. “Daughter of Chamberlain Raymond Danier.” At my blunt words Pierre’s teeth clicked. He glanced at Pythia again without realizing. I introduced our precious Saintess with eyes that seemed to scream “No!” “Please accept. Pythia, the Holy Maiden of the Gerka God and the sister of King Guillaume of Morihan.” I swear that at that moment Clerk Pierre would have fainted.