Chapitre 13: Micah - 2.2
I threaded the needle from the back of the pendant and slid it onto the lapel of my coat, then slid the signet ring onto my fifth finger. I admired the masterwork craft of the ring's emblem as well as the pendant's delicate construction. Suddenly, a wave of guilt enveloped my soul.
"Uncle, I'm sorry, but..." Before I could finish my apology, Uncle cut me off with a hand on my shoulder.
"Micah, a man to be in one year. You must make your own decisions and bear their weight. Sebastian will be able to show you how to survive, my economics lessons can wait. I'll stay with you, though. At least until your birthday, when we'll celebrate like kings. Won't we, Sebastian?" Uncle turned to face my new master.
"We'll make the party for my new apprentice so grand my own will seem a mere peasant's meal," my master chuckled. "We've tarried. Come, indoors for business."
We walked into the building behind Sebastian. With a quick glance before the door closed, I saw the wardens gathering closer, cordoning the public from entering into this establishment. Inside held several finely dressed individuals, several stacks of paper on a table, and several bottles of mead sealed on a shelf.
"After we finish this business, let's open a bottle and celebrate my second squire! As well as the beginning of a life's new path," the swordsman said.
"Oh, I don't know if he can hold alcohol yet. He can't even hold his stomach on a carriage," Uncle commented.
"Is that so? My dear friend he will have to learn quickly!" the master added. "No ward of mine won't be able to hold his mead."
Sebastian, Ulysses, and I sat around the circular table. Ulysses fanned out the documents in front of himself and the Grandwarden.
"Time for business," Uncle stated.
"What's the requirement this time?" the master asked.
"I will need 17 tonnes and 2100 tonnes," Uncle responded.
"Ten per for iron. One per for stone," the master denoted.
Uncle did some quick mental arithmetic before responding with an adjustment.
"Come on, Sebastian, last fall it was six per lot and one for four!"
"Your orders have increased the strain on the market. We are looking for additional veins and a new quarry, but for now I'm afraid I can't do anything lower than seven and one for two," the master explained.
"Seven and one for two..." Uncle trailed off, running quick mathematics in his head.
"And I got a few spare stone I could throw on as well. No increase," the master added on.
"All right. How long for the carriages?" Uncle inquired.
"Just two fortnights and the haul can be gathered," the master replied.
"There's 200 Marks," Uncle stated as he grabbed two full pouches from within his coat.
With that price and with that amount, Uncle must be planning to build a bakery the size of a small village.
"Very well... I'll send a messenger in the morning, but for now, mead!" the master replied in a jolly tone.
"I've been waiting to uncork this Syndercombe!" Sebastian added as he pulled the bottle from the shelf, "Heamund said that he bottled this one five years ago! "
With a satisfying pop, the Grandwarden sabered off the neck of the bottle, unleashing a foam shower. He swiftly caught the head from the mead with a chalice pulled from within his cloak. Swirled the brew around, Sebastian held it to the candle chandelier. After examining the glass for several seconds, he judged the drink imbibable and gulped it all in one swallow.
"The first one pour is to get your cart going, the rest should be savored," the master explained.
From underneath his cloak, he pulled two additional chalice. Balancing all three on the flat of his blade, he poured three servings in one smooth motion. Extending his sword forward, he delivered a glass into mine and a glass into Uncle's hands. He gestured for us to knock our glasses together, a toast to slosh liquid between all glasses. Then, he sipped his.
Uncle spoke, "Now wait a second, Micah. You might-"
He began to pull something from under his coat just as I began to down the mead. The warm fluid trickled down my throat, followed by a warm fluid flowing up my throat. I quickly ran to the door and managed to open it just as the mead came up. Fortunately, the guards reacted quickly enough to dodge the projectile bile.
"-want this first."
A couple of the guards chuckled, then carefully stepped around the desecrated ground to resume their watch. I used the handkerchief from the pocket of my coat to dab off the remainder on my lips before accepting the offer of the tonic to cleanse the awful taste of the mead. My master looked on at me, laughing while slapping his knees. He had consumed the rest of his own before finishing mine.
"Thank you, Squire, I haven't laughed like that since A..." A gloomy expression crept up onto the master's face before he quickly dressed in his smile once more. "Well, since a while ago. We all should be getting some sleep soon. Come, let's retire to the barracks."
État de l’alimentation hebdomadaire
-- Classement
Power Stone 
-- Power
stone