Bertram Rowe
Member
- Messages
- 5
- Character Biography
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"What do you mean the price dropped?" Bertram was frowning. Arms were crossed in front of his chest. His question was rhetorical and both knew it.
"Means the price dropped." The merchant was sitting behind his desk doing his best to look at his paperwork and not the fellow human, Bertram, standing in front of his counter.
"Why?"
"The war." Quill was audibly dabbed into its inkwell in a taunting fashion.
"I served in the war as part of the quartermaster core. The price for wool wouldn't drop because of the war. It would go up."
"Well it can and it did."
"Bull shit!" His arms came uncrossed as one hand was used to point at the man and the other came to rest on his hip.
The merchant stopped writing and looked up at Bertram. "Are you going to sell your wool or do I have to call for one of my guards?"
"Neither. I'm not selling and I'm leaving on my own."
"Good. Get out."
Bertram thought about knocking the man's inkwell over to spill all over his papers and ledger, but decided against it. The man was an ass, but no one deserved to have their livelihood ruined over a disagreement. So he turned about and left the establishment.
A large horse that looked awfully like one the army would use to pull their supply wagons or even as reserve mounts was hitched to what looked just like a military supply wagon. The beast was in as foul a mood as Bertram as he walked over. Pats were given and both had their moods relax.
"Sorry but a bit longer. Guy was trying to rip us off and I won't let him do that to the sheep. They worked too hard growing that wool."
The horse he was talking too just flicked an ear and snorted in annoyance. Through the frown and frustration on his face, the human was clearly solving his problem in his head. The horse just didn't know why that was its problem and needed to be consulted. Just give orders and be done with this long day of pulling heavy loads.
"Maybe try the dock. River always has ships passing through. He might control all the wool trade locally, but surely someone passing through would give us a better price."
And with that one last pat was given. Up into the driver seat Bertram went and then with reigns in hand got his whole operation heading slowly towards the river docks. He didn't need the coins. It was the principle of it all. If nothing else on his farm was that great, he could always count on his sheep's wool being some of the best locally. Something he made a mental note to remind himself to get treats for the sheep dogs that did a majority of the work to do later. Also he needed crushed clam shells for the chickens and ducks, so good thing he was heading to the river. Then there was fish for the cats. They did a great job keeping the pests away. They deserved something too. And the horse pulling the wagon. He always did his best even if he complained the whole time. Always had even back during the war. Apples or pears or something else sweet and crunchy.
The list grew as they trundled their way slowly down the road from the out skirts of the walled river port towards its docks. Rethana wasn't the biggest place, not even half the size of the coastal port cities, but it was respectable and more importantly stable. It didn't matter what you did in the local area if you produced or procured something of value for the cities and towns closer to the coast then Rethana was the best place to sell it. Merchants using the river to ship goods quickly down stream were always in need of something as the constant state of war over the coastal ports kept the demand constant and high.
Bertram hated the fighting with a passion, but he was all too aware how there was no escaping the benefits it had for the local people. So long as you could avoid conscription, if you made something they needed then you would always have enough coins in your pocket to live comfortably. A unique feature for farmers in his part of the world if the things he read in books and scrolls was to be believed.
So he had faith that there would be a better deal for him and his hard working animals at the docks for the fruits of their labors.
"Means the price dropped." The merchant was sitting behind his desk doing his best to look at his paperwork and not the fellow human, Bertram, standing in front of his counter.
"Why?"
"The war." Quill was audibly dabbed into its inkwell in a taunting fashion.
"I served in the war as part of the quartermaster core. The price for wool wouldn't drop because of the war. It would go up."
"Well it can and it did."
"Bull shit!" His arms came uncrossed as one hand was used to point at the man and the other came to rest on his hip.
The merchant stopped writing and looked up at Bertram. "Are you going to sell your wool or do I have to call for one of my guards?"
"Neither. I'm not selling and I'm leaving on my own."
"Good. Get out."
Bertram thought about knocking the man's inkwell over to spill all over his papers and ledger, but decided against it. The man was an ass, but no one deserved to have their livelihood ruined over a disagreement. So he turned about and left the establishment.
A large horse that looked awfully like one the army would use to pull their supply wagons or even as reserve mounts was hitched to what looked just like a military supply wagon. The beast was in as foul a mood as Bertram as he walked over. Pats were given and both had their moods relax.
"Sorry but a bit longer. Guy was trying to rip us off and I won't let him do that to the sheep. They worked too hard growing that wool."
The horse he was talking too just flicked an ear and snorted in annoyance. Through the frown and frustration on his face, the human was clearly solving his problem in his head. The horse just didn't know why that was its problem and needed to be consulted. Just give orders and be done with this long day of pulling heavy loads.
"Maybe try the dock. River always has ships passing through. He might control all the wool trade locally, but surely someone passing through would give us a better price."
And with that one last pat was given. Up into the driver seat Bertram went and then with reigns in hand got his whole operation heading slowly towards the river docks. He didn't need the coins. It was the principle of it all. If nothing else on his farm was that great, he could always count on his sheep's wool being some of the best locally. Something he made a mental note to remind himself to get treats for the sheep dogs that did a majority of the work to do later. Also he needed crushed clam shells for the chickens and ducks, so good thing he was heading to the river. Then there was fish for the cats. They did a great job keeping the pests away. They deserved something too. And the horse pulling the wagon. He always did his best even if he complained the whole time. Always had even back during the war. Apples or pears or something else sweet and crunchy.
The list grew as they trundled their way slowly down the road from the out skirts of the walled river port towards its docks. Rethana wasn't the biggest place, not even half the size of the coastal port cities, but it was respectable and more importantly stable. It didn't matter what you did in the local area if you produced or procured something of value for the cities and towns closer to the coast then Rethana was the best place to sell it. Merchants using the river to ship goods quickly down stream were always in need of something as the constant state of war over the coastal ports kept the demand constant and high.
Bertram hated the fighting with a passion, but he was all too aware how there was no escaping the benefits it had for the local people. So long as you could avoid conscription, if you made something they needed then you would always have enough coins in your pocket to live comfortably. A unique feature for farmers in his part of the world if the things he read in books and scrolls was to be believed.
So he had faith that there would be a better deal for him and his hard working animals at the docks for the fruits of their labors.