Chương 27: Chapter 1.27: Bee Yourself

Favius looked over the man waiting for him near the beehives. The slave bowed low as the boy approached.

"Young master, I was told that you wished to understand our humble art of beekeeping." Favius smiled.

"I do indeed." He looked over the man and his collection of equipment. A wooden hive, a collection of various tools, thick clothes, as well as a wide-brimmed hat equipped with a veil of thin linen. Hm, I guess if they can't use nets like modern beekeepers, cloth thin enough to see through is sufficient. Favius studied the man: a slightly rough beard, somewhere in his thirties.

"What's your name?" The man's eyebrows rose slightly.

"I… I'm Beren, young master."

"Just call me Favius," the boy replied, and pointed to the hive that sat on the blanket.

"I assume that's an empty one?" The slave chuckled.

"I sure hope so." Favius looked at him curiously, but the man swallowed.

"I mean—yes, yes it is, young master." Favius smiled broadly and examined the hive. It was fundamentally a split log with a slatted piece of wood as a roof. At the top and bottom, two ropes were wound around it, keeping the log halves together. He leaned in, studying the small hole the bees used to enter and leave.

"Are those holes always the same size?" Beren narrowed his eyes and nodded.

"Yes, it's the traditional size for the bee entrance. If you make them too large, other insects get in, and too small…"

"Well?" Favius asked into the pause.

"Not much point to a hive if the bees can't get in or out," Beren said with a chuckle, and Favius grinned. He's obviously not used to speaking to nobles, but I like his humor.

"Let's break it open." Favius clapped his hands together, and Beren nodded. He unwound the ropes and opened the hive. Favius examined the hollowed-out log halves and the oval cavity within. He ran his hands over some waxy residue.

"This one was used before? You just give the bees a large cavity, and they build everything else?"

"They do indeed, young master."

"Hmm." Favius stroked his chin. Seeing what dimensions they use for the opening is good—I didn't have those measurements. But in terms of spacing the frames… He looked over to the live hives. Might have to ask Serran to break one open. Next he looked over the other tools: various knives, chisels, and baskets.

"Those are for honey collection?" The beekeeper nodded. Favius pointed at a clay vessel with a number of holes in it.

"And you use that for smoke?"

"Indeed we do."

"What do you burn?" The man's expression grew more serious, and he leaned in.

"Well, to be honest, every beekeeper swears by their own mix. But ever since I've been a little boy, we've been using pine needles. Not the fresh ones—they burn too hot. No, you dig up the slightly rotten ones, mix them with—" He picked up what was clearly some sort of wood fungus.

"Some of those, and then—" he gestured over "—you mix in thyme and sage. Keeps the bees calm and happy." Favius nodded. I don't actually know what to use to smoke out bees, but if the local mix works… I mean, rotten pine needles probably burn smoky, especially if they are still a bit wet. As for the fungus and spices… who knows. They are cheap, and challenging traditions has hurt me already. They continued talking for a while longer as Favius asked a few more questions.

But ultimately, the local beekeeping turned out rather simple. They used honey from last year to attract hives in the spring. They had some practices to bolster hives that survived the harvesting, but it wasn't sophisticated. Beren had nodded sagely and claimed proudly that a third of the hives survived the honey extraction. That's atrocious.

"How do you harvest?" The tale has been illicitly lifted; should you spot it on Amazon, report the violation. The beekeeper gestured to the hives.

"Well, first you smoke them. Next we break them open and cut out the honeycomb, checking each one. If it's a honey one, we take most of it, but we leave the brood ones to the bees." Favius couldn't help but smile. Yeah, I might have some ideas about preventing hive deaths. I don't know what the death rate for modern beekeeping was, but I would be surprised if it was even as high as ten percent. He nodded and thanked the man, then made his way to find a wax tablet. Time to make this official. He glanced at the sky.

It's still spring, so if I can get Serran to agree, I might already make a profit this year. As evening approached, he walked down the corridor to meet the majordomo, two wax tablets under his arm. He knocked on the door.

"Enter!" He inclined his head, and Serran smiled warmly.

"Favius. Sit, sit. Here." He grabbed a jug from under the table and brought out two cups. Favius sniffed the cup. Watered down, as usual. I've not even reached puberty here, but I've gotten used to day-drinking already. Serran nodded, and they both sipped from their cups.

"So, what does the young master want of this humble majordomo?" Favius smiled at the sly old man.

"I have a business proposition."

"Oh, a business proposition." Serran steepled his fingers and leaned back.

"Do tell, young master." Favius narrowed his eyes. He's not exactly condescending, but he's definitely humoring me. Well, he has been supportive so far.

"I have some ideas to build better hives that could nearly guarantee the survival of the bees through the harvest. Not to mention make harvesting more profitable." Serran widened his eyes.

"How do you propose to do this?" Favius raised the wax tablet and pointed.

"First of all, we use a square box for the hive that allows us to hang frames into the hive. The frames will prompt the bees to build the honeycomb where we want it—and where we can easily remove it." He glanced at Serran, who studied the drawings, bit his lip, and nodded.

"If those frames work, why—that seems like an interesting idea. What is this?" He pointed at the separator.

"The separator. Currently the bees use honeycomb to raise brood and store honey, and if that gets mixed, it results in a worse harvest. If we introduce a separator, we can keep the queen bee in one section while the worker bees are able to pass into the upper one. That way we can ensure that the brood is only in the lower section, and we can harvest all of the upper section." Serran narrowed his eyes.

"Won't that reduce the amount of honey we can gather?" Favius shook his head.

"No. If we see the hive doing well, we can simply use this box structure—" he gestured at the drawings "—and add another module on top, with honeycomb frames. That way we can adapt the hive size to the productivity of the bees in a certain location." Serran nodded and considered.

"The only issue I'm seeing is that crafting those hives is a significant effort. The log hives are merely a matter of splitting a log and having it carved out with an adze. Those ones—" he shook his head. Favius nodded, tensing slightly.

"Yes, it remains to be seen if they can be manufactured profitably. However, once created, they will last several years. And given how much honey and wax are worth—" The discussion turned to the numbers. Serran dug up some records of the estate's history of honey sales, and they discussed rates of payment and the workload of the slaves trained as carpenters. After an hour, Serran nodded.

"Yes, I can see those numbers work out. Assuming the hives are at least more productive by a third." Favius smiled. Gotcha, old man. He nodded thoughtfully.

"I'm not sure about the exact improvement, but I'm fairly certain that getting a third more honey and wax is a conservative estimate. And the biggest advantage is that we can increase the number of hives we have by having them survive the harvest." He smiled. In the long run, a more stable population probably allows us to breed better bees. Though I need to look into how exactly new queens are made. I think the hive just raises new ones occasionally in the spring, but I could be wrong.

"Very well." Serran leaned forward, and Favius reached out, gulping down the rest of his watered-down wine.

"I would thank you for your suggestions and even leave you some woodcarvers, but you mentioned that this was a business proposal. So—what business do you actually propose, boy?" Favius gestured to the records.

"We've seen how much the estate has been producing on average. So that is what you would be earning without me. Therefore, any profit from wax and honey the estate makes beyond the baseline of the last five years—three quarters of that money goes directly to me. Not to Marcus, not to Hesnia." Favius pointed at the table.

"Into my pocket." Serran chuckled.

"I do not believe that is reasonable, Favius. While you promise impressive improvements, I'm not sure that they will emerge. So first of all, any profit you're getting will only come from the new hives, and second of all, your hives are vastly more labor-intensive. And if I give you the carpenters to build them, that will take away from other projects and potentially result in us having to hire help from the Collegium of Carpenters." Favius frowned but nodded.

"So what are you willing to offer?" Serran pursed his lips.

"Let's say you get a quarter of the gains from your hives over the baseline—once we reach one and a half times the output of our current hives." Now Favius chuckled.

"Honored majordomo, I do not believe this is a serious proposal." The old man smiled widely, showing his missing teeth.

"Does the young master believe that now?" Favius shook his head.

"All right. Anything from the new hives over one and a third times the current baseline—and I get two thirds of those profits." Serran Vale stroked his chin before shrugging.

"In the end, the young master shall inherit the estate, so it's not as if I'm making an actual loss. Very well." He nodded, and they both held up two fingers and swore a contractual oath. As the sunset painted the sky orange, Favius walked out into the gardens with a broad smile, the wax tablet under his arm. He strode up to the tree where Brutus was waiting with his two sisters.

"And? And!" Caliga jumped up toward him.

"What did he say?" Favius studied his protector and sisters and schooled his face into a sad expression. Urania gasped and rushed forward to hug him, but he caught her shoulder and held her back before smiling broadly.

"We're in business," he murmured. His sisters cheered, while Brutus leaned against the tree, one hand on his axe, smiling into the sunset. After he was done fending off their hugs, he looked toward the grove where Marius had shown him the beehives.

"I'm meeting the carpenters tomorrow," he said.

"Right after Cassian's lessons are done." And even that man won't be able to ruin my good mood.