The Price of Wine

Defi understood that they did not want to inconvenience him, but he had already said he would have them master the basics and advance to adept in one year. If they were skipping the morning meal before the exertions he was going to put them through, the efficacy of the training would drop.

That would have only made more work for him. 

In any case, the health of the student was part of the teacher's duties as well.

He sipped from the cup in front of him.

Vital milk tasted of a sour creaminess that was refreshing, and when it reached the belly there was a gentle heat that persisted for a few seconds before slowly dissipating.

It was delicious.

 In the corner of his eye, he saw Vesen tip at least half his cup into his little sister's.

He didn't comment, already mentally adding vital milk to his daily morning's purchases. It would not be too large a burden.

Yoghurt was cheap, at ten rond per half-litr, and plentiful. In unexpected addition, a miraculous liquid like vital water was only one klaud per litr. 

Ontrean alchemists would have cheerfully cut off an arm for a single bottle, if vital water was allowed to be traded through the Gates.

Defi thanked the imperial family silently. If they did not set a standard price for the sale their vital water, he would likely be seeing more of his money flow away right now.

The mystic springs that produced most of Ascharon's vital water were controlled by the imperial family. The mandated low price of vital water within the empire was one of the reasons why the emperor had a firm place in the hearts of the average citizen.

Defi could afford eighteen cups of vital milk a day if it meant his farm was finally to become a little more self-sufficient.

To plant zaziphos, the hole needs to be slightly over one mar deep to accommodate the long roots of the saplings. The diameter of the hole needs to be two mar, for the initial fertilized soil and the layer of Emblem-carved rocks that would help prevent zaziphos from growing too fast.

For the trees to be able to fruit all year round, care needed to be taken during the initial steps. The Emblems on the rocks would change with certain milestones.

Sarel had promised that two hundred saplings would be ready for planting on the month of Second Fall. Defi needed to have two hundred deep and large holes ready in a month. He could not do that by himself.

Rocso turned to Defi, after having studied the table inscrutably. He'd recognized Renne, of course. A grin grew beneath the carefully kept grey of his beard. "Your friends are interesting."

He said it in a leading tone. People of different ages did not simply group together without reason.

"They wanted to learn basic combat." Defi obliged. "I'd like if it wasn't noised around."

Rocso laughed. "You? Hm, if the stories they tell about you are even half-true, I suppose you could."

"Stories?" Defi frowned inwardly.

"Most of them don't know your name or face, so don't worry about it." Rocso by now knew Defi preferred to remain in the background. "Too unrecognizable without Turq, you are."

That was a good thing.

Still, it was incredible that Rocso could pick Defi out of a tangle of gossip just from description. As expected of a former army scout who ran a place where loose lips abounded.

"How is Rock?" 

Rocso pointed, with a grin. "Best pet guard in the world."

On the shelf above the bar, a blue-green slime, slightly larger than Lar who was the biggest of Defi's slimes, watched over the tavern. The slime Defi had given Rocso was thriving, it seemed.

"I suppose next year's spring recruitment will have more Lowpool candidates."

Defi gave a small shrug. "That is their prerogative."

If the others took what they learned from him and joined the military, that was acceptable in the traditions of Ontrea. If they did not choose the military, then farmers or scholars were also encouraged. 

Should he incline the younger ones toward university? From what he read, the current emperor was encouraging educational opportunities for those who could not normally afford tuition.

He sighed inwardly.

At this point, all his acquaintances knew he could fight. To teach others was not a stretch of the imagination. He wanted to keep it quiet, which is why four people from the orphanage did not unduly trouble him. It appeared the children were more talkative than he thought.

He had been a quiet person at their age, and most of his interactions with people of the same age as him were also restrained. Defi revised his thinking. Not all children were like him. 

He would have preferred that they kept quiet, but to be so exuberant about life, to openly offer what they had to friends so others could benefit as well, it was a thing to nurture wasn't it?

Well, the training would instill some caution in them.

Adan dropped six bottles of varied shape onto the table, breaking Defi's introspection. The bottles made multiple thunking sounds as they hit the wooden surface.

Defi acknowledged silently that Ascharon glass was durable.

"This is your average Gasconel," Adan started, lifting the lone ceramic jug he'd brought among the glass bottles. "From the Gasconach region in the south-west. One klaud, sixty rond for this litr. Good enough for most gatherings, drinkable enough for most people, suitable for most ordinary occasions. Anything less than this, it's swill."

Where did I hear that before, Defi thought dryly.

Adan pulled the cork plug out of the mouth of the jug. His hand glowed a faint purplish blue and Defi suddenly found his senses deluged by the scent and taste of wine.

Defi leaned back at the sudden assault. Josel did the same, her nose crinkling and her brows furrowing. Boone inhaled and Vesen laughed.

The orphanage kids coughed or covered their mouths. Alvis, twelve years old if Defi recalled her name correctly, nearly choked. He patted her back and glanced at Orlet, the youngest at eleven years. The boy, apart from pressing his hands to his nose and mouth, seemed to be fine.

"My Shade is Air," Adan said. "Apologies for the abruptness, but I won't waste my breath here."

Rocso snorted from his seat. He'd been surprised when Adan started talking, but his expression gradually grew entertained. There was a fondness under his silent laughter though. There was a story there, somewhere.

Adan glared at his father briefly. "There's better Gasconel than this, but this one is a respectable everyday wine. Good for most tables."

Defi breathed deeply, and the scent and taste lessened. He glanced at the children, who quickly caught his prompt. Well, Arac did, and quickly told the others. 

He savored a taste he hadn't had in months. Low quality wine, in comparison to what he was used to, but tolerable. 

Better than the 'aperitif' that the people in Stahlchausses insisted was wine. 

Infinitely better than Falie's suirberry 'wine'.

Adan corked the Gasconel and the presence of it vanished from Defi's tongue. 

The man lifted one of the onion-shaped glass bottles on the table. "This is one of the best Vonish on the market. From the west, the Vone river valley. One klaud sixty for this bottle. Better than most of the cheap sluice-water people are calling wine. If you have a good day, this is the wine to drink."

The onion-shaped bottle contained about a half-litr of wine. Adan uncorked it, activated his Shade, and once more the scent and taste of wine invaded the senses of those seated at the table.

Defi, expecting it now, inhaled. He swallowed reflexively. There was nothing particularly characteristic about the wine, apart from the fact that it was distinct from the Gasconel and smoother in taste. He suspected it was Adan's objective anyhow.

The children fared better than the first time, not one of them coughing.

Adan glanced at Defi. "This is the level of what people ought to serve as work-well wine."

The bottle was corked and the next was lifted. The bottle was also onion-shaped and of similar size but it was better made and, unlike the other which was only stamped with words that stated its origins, it was stamped with a sigil.

Rocso stood and quickly acquired a decanter and a winecup. Adan looked like he was attempting not to sigh at his father, but he obediently decanted the wine, pouring from a height. The scent spread faintly even without Adan's Shade.

"This is House Ombrose wine. The vinyard is in the northern Gasconach region, near the Deverage river, and their grapes are said to be hybrids of the Imperial strain. This is wine for celebrations, special occasions. Eight klaud for this bottle."

Adan's hand glowed purple-blue over the decanter and Defi savored the full-bodied aroma of a decent red, flavors of fruit spreading across his tongue. The wine had some age and presented itself boldly, slightly intense, a hint of harshness.

"If you serve something less than this to pompous merchants, they won't do business with you." Rocso put in.

A snort and a twist of Adan's hand, the illusion of taste and smell disappeared.

"Chossur Madalaine produces two wines." They moved on to the next bottle of wine. The bottle was not onion-shaped, but a slightly bulbous cylinder about the same half-litr in volume. "If you're looking to impress a noble, this isn't the one you go for. But of the wines available under ten crescents a bottle, this is one of the best. Chossur Madalaine Ordaine. Suitable for all occasions, and sufficiently imposing for distinguished guests."

Rocso cut in, winking at the table. "If you have the other variety, don't waste it on other people."

Adan uncorked the bottle, continued as if Rocso had not spoken. "Their vines grow in the east of the mainland, on the banks of the Emeril river. The wines from that region are particularly known for the hint of lingering sweet earthiness in the aftertaste."

It would not stand amiss on a table in most court gatherings of Ontrea, Defi thought as once again his nose and tastebuds were forcefully made to experience the wine. A good wine, balanced, and like Adan said the taste would meld well with a wide range of food and palates.

Adan crossed his arms. "For common wines, these four are the least you need to understand to cover all occasions. The House Zenet that you mentioned earlier is a good wine, but there are others better than it at the same price; Dambarus for instance. Note that common wines rarely are sold over twenty crescents barring certain vintages. Zamen Rakarlo, Evifervel, Chossur Belnaret, Agvosten, those are considered the best of the common wines, but tastes vary."

"Three of those are imports," Rocso smirked. "So if you're buying one to bribe some military officer, choose the Belnaret. For imperial solidarity, you know."

"When it comes to wine, don't choose based on the name or bottle. Bottles can be changed, people lie. But you won't forget taste and scent," Adan looked at them, eyes intense. He did not wait for their agreement. "Then let us move to the next level."

Josel blinked as her eyes took in the next bottle, a realization on her face. Defi's eyes followed hers.

What was the taste, he wondered in anticipation, of a mystic wine?

"There are three mystic wines that people say embody the history and wholeness of Ascharon. More likely, it is only that there are three mystic wines produced in the lands of Ascharon. The rest of the mystic wine sold in the empire is grown by other nations. This tavern is fortunate enough to have gained samples from two of Ascharon's mystic wines. Your luck is good, that you have come to buy wine today." 

The next bottle had a smaller onion shape than the others, but the neck of the bottle was long and tall, over twice the height of the bulbous bottom, the glass enameled in white. The cork looked like the wine had been opened before.

Adan uncorked it with a simple introduction. "This is Southern Snow White Wine."

The flavor of the white wine blanketed Defi's senses, a concentrated freshness, the aroma sweet and light. And yet, it was the flavor of a conqueror.

Thirst disappeared, and a chill swept the body. The sky was swept free of clouds and stars, and pale silken moonlight shone indifferently over a silent distant landscape covered in snow and rime. 

The Current, rushing and strong, gentled and slowed, calmed to a serenity Defi had not felt in a long while.

And then that cold serenity vanished with a wave of Adan's hand.

The table was silent.

Adan prepared the last bottle. It was cylindrical in shape, narrow and tall, a dark red bottle with the sigil enameled in ebony. "This is Ash Island Bloodwine."

Defi had barely recovered from the previous illusion, when the flavor and fragrance of the bloodwine burrowed into his tastebuds, into his flesh and bones as if seeking every last available crevice to sink in the darkly smooth velvet essence of the finest grapes.

Exquisite.

That lingering fragrance…

He had to forcibly prevent the Current from surging with the vigor thrumming through his veins.

It was an illusion, he reminded himself.

Just an illusion.

What illusion could be so realistic that the Current reacted?

Air, Indigo Air…associated with great intuition, ability to see the unseen…

Defi snapped his eyes open.

…and telepathic communication.

He quickly roused the Current to reinforce his mental barriers.

Stupid, he berated himself. Idiot, ignorant, fool!

Defi, who had trained for years to resist the possible influence of others' emotions on the Current, was mentally compromised and didn't notice. Witless, oblivious moron!

He swept the Current around the table, bringing the others out of the delightful trance the mental experience of the illusion brought them.

He quickly did the familiar mental checks. No lingering influences, no subtle suggestions, only the concrete memory of having drank several wines, indelible experiences.

He glared at Adan, who was regarding him curiously. "Is it common to teach others by reaching into their minds?"

Adan had a visible realization, looked apologetic. "I was taught about wines like this. There is no other effect but the simulated experience in the shallowest layers of the mind. Mental influence to the deeper mind requires a greater mastery of Air than I have."

"I only have your word."

"Yes." Adan's smile was a wry quirk of the lips. "You can ask Sarel, if you are worried still. The mystic dishes that cleanse the deeper mind of undue influence would be simple for her."

Defi relaxed marginally. There was no falsehood in the man. He metaphorically fenced off the recent wine memories, keeping them only because they were useful, and relaxed even more when there was no resistance, no conflict. They seemed just that, simple memories of wine-tasting.

Adan eyed him, then returned his attention to the whole table, putting the bottles in order. "The third of the mystic wines native to Ascharon, you might have heard of. It's known as Kingstear, and only the emperor can hand it out. I have been told that it is ten times more overwhelming than the bloodwine you just experienced, and a single cup a day can support a body without eating for a whole year before a person's vitality starts to falter."

Without another word, he took the bottles and left the table.

Defi discreetly took a deep breath, putting his thoughts to the back of his head for later contemplation.

"I didn't think he'd be so odd," Elen muttered, not quietly enough.

"Adan is normally not this talkative." Defi agreed.

Rocso's lips curled up briefly, faint and wistful. "Today is the anniversary of my wife's death. Her family were wine-makers."

He took up the decanter that had been standing untouched on the table for the last quarter-hour and poured his first cup near to flowing over. He took a sip, then made a familiar gesture, one that old Farbar made constantly. Rocso offered the cup to the person next to him, who happened to be Josel.

She had some aversion to wine, taverns, maybe just intoxicating drinks, Defi knew from earlier reactions. She wavered, but took the cup, raised it briefly and took a tiny sip. She gave it quickly to Boone, who sat on her other side.

A ritual of remembrance for the dead? Defi watched as the cup made its way around the table, to him. The contents were greatly diminished. He lifted it as the others did, took a sip, and gave it to Adan who had just returned.

Adan did the same, and gave the cup back to Rocso, who drained it.

"Which wine are you buying?" Adan turned to Defi.

"Not the Madalaine."

The wine the old couple left him was on the level of the Gasconel. He should buy a few bottles to replenish his empty wine cabinet.

But not today.

A ten-litr cask of good Vonish cost him thirty two klauds. It was enough for the whole group working on the warehouse. Rocso recommended a separate purchase for the leader of the builders, so Defi acquired a bottle of the Ombrose for Karles.

He also bought two bottles of vital milk, which were standardized at one litr volume per bottle, enough for eight cups.

After acquiring what he needed from the tavern, Defi and ten people who were tentatively his students headed for the docks.

The corners of his lips lifted.

Now he would see how many of the rest had actually acquired permission to reorganize their future and be taught combat techniques by an unknown person.