Numbers

Chapter 111

Numbers

"For love thee suffered; for death thee bargained; for hope thee died; for lies thee cried."

Bard Collection

Three days following Lo'kret's first performance, Noah had come to realize that it still remained the chatter of the city. People had discussed the events described in the song, and quite a few voices came forth aligning the story, presenting themselves as those who had been a part of it. He didn't know whether it was true, that they had participated in the march, but he hardly cared as their contribution was more than welcome.

Unsurprisingly, Vorvil's death never left the grounds of the Royal Palace; though he'd heard quite a few muffled discussions, nobody dared disobey Olivia's direct order to not discuss what had happened with the outsiders.

Tensions within and without the city arose further, but Noah, for a moment at least, didn't pay it much heed. If anything, he was quite excited. At last, his exhausting search throughout the Kingdom for talent had yielded some results – his name was Kolk Rolter, a thirty-year-old man from a small town to the east. After prodding and probing throughout the Kingdom, Noah had encountered some information about the man, namely his talent with the numbers.

For the occasion, he had reverted to one of his identities – that of the ever-elusive merchant Flint – and was currently sitting on the topmost floor of Elucido's most respected restaurant, Echol's Inn.

He had rented a private room, thirty square feet wide space with eight ornate, well-built chairs and a round table. The window on his left provided a clear view beyond the wall, onto the Weepwoods, and the scent of lavender-like plant permeated the room. All in all, he mused, it was a rather relaxing experience, though decidedly expensive – as the rent for the private room alone cost him eight Crowns for six hours.

For the purposes of the appearances, he'd also brought company – Asandra. She was mulling in the corner, ignoring him. She'd grown angry with him ever since he tossed her out of Vorvil's room, and even more so after he refused to tell her exactly what had happened that night, and how did it all end with Vorvil hanging himself.

Vorvil, naturally, didn't hang himself – he had quite a lot of help. Noah banked on this world's forensics being a few steps behind Earth's, which is why he fed Vorvil a cocktail of herbs that put him to sleep – just long enough for Noah to wound a noose around the man's neck and hang him before waking the Dacent up to provide a smidge of struggle before his demise.

While murdering the man would have been easier, it would also be much messier. This way, alongside the letter he, in his not-so-humble-opinion, had expertly forged, the situation was clear and everything but messy. Though he would be hard-pressed to claim he was proud of it, at least it went better than his previous attempts at modifying the socio-political nature of the Kingdom.

Vorvil had to die, that much was evident – be it for his betrayal, his knowledge, and the fact that he could have disclosed Noah's nature. Prevention was always better than a cure, something he'd learned many-a-moons ago.

He glanced at Asandra and smiled bemusingly, shaking his head and taking a sip of wine from the table. The wine, similarly to the room, was a theft – three Crowns, enough to buy an ordinary horse. Noah had never been a man to appreciate good alcohol, so he suspected that most of the intricacies of the wine were lost on him. At least it was sweet and went down the throat warmly.

It was only a whole hour into their stay that he heard a knock on the doors to the room, allowing entrance immediately after with a soft "Come in". The doors didn't creak as they were slowly opened, two figures appearing on the other side; a formally-dressed young woman with shortened skirt and deep cleavage escorting a somewhat tired-looking man.

The man was on the shorter end of things, five-foot-four by Noah's quick estimate, quite slim, slightly unhealthily so, a full jaw of black beard covering half his face, and a rather disheveled black hair covering half the other half. A pair of brown eyes curiously examined the room and then landed on Noah, scrutinizing him.

"Mr. Flint, is this the man?" the woman asked with a warm, springtime smile; after all, in her view, whoever could afford to rent a room here for full six hours was not someone she could afford to offend in any way.

"It is," Noah said, nodding his head and reaching into his inner pocket, taking out a Crown and tossing it to the woman whose smile beamed further as she caught it. "Thank you. Bring us a full course and some more wine."

"At once, my Lord." She bowed deeply and rushed out, seemingly afraid Noah would ask her to return the Crown.

The man stood outside for a moment before walking in, closing the doors behind him. It was only then that he noticed a sulking woman in the corner, inspecting a stained, silver blade. He shuddered, glancing at Noah again.

"Ignore her," Noah said, smiling faintly. "Please, take a seat, Mr. Rolter."

"Kolk," the man said, tentatively sitting down opposite of Noah, glancing at Asandra once again. "Kolk is fine, Lord Fyllun."

"I am afraid I'm no Lord, Kolk," Noah chuckled lightly. "And, seeing as you extended me the courtesy, it is only right I do the same – Flint is fine."

"Y-yes, Mr. Flint." The man nodded, appearing rather uncomfortable.

"How was the journey? Though I was promised excellent service, I am a bit uncomfortable trusting anything without witnessing it myself."

"It was more than adequate," the man said. "I—I cannot pay you back, however. I…"

"It's just a few Crowns," Noah said, taking a sip of wine. "A minor loss if everything works out; and, if it doesn't, consider it my gift."

"Why… exactly have you summoned me, Mr. Flint?" Kolk asked, his eyes darting around Noah nervously. "The man… the man just said that someone of importance… has asked for me in Elucido…"

"… I am a merchant, Kolk," Noah said. "Though, ironically, one desperately terrible with numbers. Every now and then, I find that my accounting books simply don't align. And, if truth be told, I am more of a merchant who likes to travel in search of queer and strange things, rather than sitting in a dusty room, sifting through numbers, trying to sell his wares. I've long since looked for someone to hire, and, in my search, your name popped up."

"… my name?" Kolk probed, tilting his head.

"Hm," Noah nodded. "A few of my inquiries yielded you as someone people look for when numbers are concerned."

"Mr. Flint… I… I just know some basics…"

"I don't care about your knowledge, Kolk," Noah shook his head. "What I need, nobody in this Kingdom could provide – at least not with their current knowledge. Though it may sound overtly pompous, you will understand why, hopefully. What I need is a man who is good at selective scrutiny; one that can easily derive associations from within minute logs, and draw compelling, long-term projections."

"Uh…"

"Consider this… as means of me testing you," Noah said. "Don't be nervous. Whether you pass the test or not, I will afford you ten Crowns and a carriage to wherever you wish to go for your troubles."

"Mr. Flint—"

"There are thirty people," Noah interrupted, his playful expression suddenly turning serious. Kolk sensed the atmosphere cool to the freezing point and shook, incapable of moving even a muscle as a pair of blue eyes locked onto him. "Each in possession of ten Crowns. They pool their wealth, wishing to build a house. They require ten blocks of stone, each costing two Crowns; two hundred logs of hardwood, each costing a single Crown. They require five vats of glue, each vat costing five Crowns. They require workers – fifty of them. Each worker charges one Crown per week of work, and the building needs three weeks to be finished. How much would it all cost?"

"T-they would be short ninety-five Crowns, Mr. Flint." Kolk replied almost instantaneously, his previously nervous and uncertain eyes turning serious.

"How would you make up for the cost?"

"Make up for the cost?"

"Yes," Noah nodded. "How would you go about using only three hundred Crowns to build that building?"

"Switch hardwood logs with ordinary ones, saving fifty Crowns," Kolk replied after brief thought. "Ten blocks of stone can be cut down to eight, as I heard it is often done so through flattening the stone – it weakens the overall structure somewhat, but lowers the cost. Fifty workers are unnecessary; hire fifteen, but promise them two Crowns per week instead of one. As for the remaining Crown… it is possible to buy one less vat of glue, mixing one of the remaining four with water to increase the quantity."

"You are in possession of ten Crowns," Noah immediately moved onto the next question, maintaining the same atmosphere. "But require fifteen for whatever it is that you need. You have one hour to procure five Crowns. You ask a friend to give you those five Crowns, but promise to return them all by the week's end, plus an extra Crown for their trouble." Noah saw Kolk's eyes light up like stars, his lips beginning to quiver. "How would you go about turning that into business?"

"Lending and borrowing…" Kolk muttered, suddenly seemingly entirely ignorant of Noah's existence, speaking to himself more so than the man opposite of him. "A thousand for the starting… twenty… incremental percentiles… cascading lending… positive returns…"

"… you've figured it out?" Noah asked, feeling somewhat shocked himself. He was fairly certain that the concept of interest, at least in modern form, was yet to be conceptualized here. Yet, the man in front of him seems to have figured it out within minutes.

"Large-scale lending," Kolk said, his nervous and deferring attitude a thing of the past, it seemed. "Limiting availability at the start, increasing outpour, injecting Crowns into the economy, increasing general wealth. This… you… you are a genius, Mr. Flint." Kolk suddenly shot up to his feet and bowed a deep bow, shaking. "It is brilliant; beyond brilliant."

"…" Noah cringed inwardly, feeling somewhat pensive over taking the credit for something that was invented good centuries before he was even born. Yet, it wasn't as though he could explain it, so he merely took it in stride. "But, as I said, I am fickle with numbers, Kolk. And, pardon my insensitivity, but one man could not hold the fort of the operation alone."

"That is true," Kolk nodded. "As the lending spree increases, it won't be the matter of merely keeping the track of the Crowns; logistics would increase in difficulty, as every facet would have to be documented."

"… read this," Noah tossed the man a small, leather-bound tome. "Tell me what you think."

Kolk quickly opened it, entering his own world. The small tome contained accounts of Noah's 'Amber Bank' operations thus far, but it truly was becoming a headache to keep a track of it all. At the moment, there were seventeen loans up in the air, not to mention monthly deposits of a few Nobles who'd made a large withdrawal before Olivia's departure. There was also the continuous prodding into the operation as everyone and their mother tried to unmask the face behind it, which resulted in both Evel and Syl nearly being beaten on more than one occasion.

If he could simply wash his hands from the matter and only check on it on occasion, his burdens would lessen exponentially.

Kolk continued reading the tome for a good hour, often exclaiming, sometimes pausing on the page and contemplating, and sometimes frowning and shaking his head. Noah patiently awaited, even through the waiting staff delivering the food and drinks, never interrupting the man. Asandra had finally joined them, hunger getting better of her, though only communicated with Noah in hateful glares.

"… brilliant." Kolk said, sucking in a cold breath and laying down the tome. "How long?"

"Less than a year," Noah replied. "I think you can disseminate why I want someone else."

"Uh… yes…" Kolk said, blushing slightly; the ordering and arrangements were truly terrible, and he'd counted at the very least four hundred Crowns that had vanished into the limbo due to the counting mistakes.

"…" Noah grinned bitterly; he missed the days when he could speed-dial his accountant and have him describe his finances in the most layman terms possible. "So? Do you want the job?"

"… are you… are you certain?" Kolk asked pensively. "This… I am a commonman, Mr. Flint. My mother taught me to read and write, but past that I have no formal education – and certainly no experience in handling this many Crowns. That is nothing, however, to the trust you'd be putting in me."

"… as I said, a few Crowns," Noah smiled faintly. "I will, however, toss all the responsibility onto you. That would mean finding people to work for you, maintaining elusiveness, and properly dealing with those who refuse to pay."

"… how… how do you deal with them now?" Kolk asked.

"First a warning," Noah replied. "Then, if they are a commonman, hire a thug to beat them; if they are a Nobleman, threaten to bring the contract they've signed before the Royal Court. In case they're still headstrong, contact me and I'll bring them to the Royal Court."

"For all your speeches about seeing no distinction between red-blooded and blue-blooded," Asandra spoke for the first time, startling Kolk who had forgotten she was here. "Would you look at that? The commonman still gets beaten while the Nobleman just gets a 'warning'."

"… what do you think is more humiliating for a noble?" Noah glanced at her and asked. "Being beaten out of everyone's sight, or being publicly accused of not having enough Crowns to settle some accounts?"

"…"

"Anyway, Kolk," ignoring Asandra's hateful glare, he turned back to the man. "I'll pay you thirty Crowns a month, plus extra per large commissions. I'll also try and find you someone who will help you facilitate plans for expansion."

"… I… I may have someone in mind, Mr. Flint – if that is alright, I mean."

"… sure," Noah nodded. "Bring them to me. In three days, meet me here again, in this room, alone. We'll be discussing business with some very important people, so get yourself cleaned up. Go to Archarn's Dwelling and ask for a woman named Reya. She'll help you get settled. Well then, everything is already paid for," Noah said, standing up. "Have your fill, and see you in three days, Kolk."

"Y-yes, Mr. Flint!" Kolk stood up rapidly and bowed, remaining so until the doors to the room closed, leaving him alone. A part of him still felt this is a ridiculous dream he concocted while sleeping in Yara's basement, as stories like these he'd only ever read about. Yet, he was offered a hand, a life that most people could only dream of. Thirty Crowns per month… in a year, he would be able to afford a mansion, and in two, he finally saw potentially realizing his lifelong dream – asking for Yara's hand, and offering her everything she could ever want.

And all of it happened… so randomly. So much so that he couldn't help but laugh at the absurdity of it all; a few people had spoken well of his skills with numbers, and it'd drawn the attention of a man half a Kingdom away who summoned him all the way here based entirely off of those rumors. Perhaps, he mused. After I save a bit, I ought to go back and help them some. Without those gossipers, I would have never made it here…