Chương 69: Chapter 2.6: Levels of Standing

Favius stared at Serran before laughing.

"That's a mean little ambush, Majordomo." The older man simply chuckled.

"You will find, Young Master, that in the life of an aristocrat it is rarely his enemies but usually his coin purse that conducts the most vicious attacks on his ambitions. And thus I would be remiss in my duties if I failed to elucidate that point." Favius replied with a somber expression and looked at his sisters.

"Well, we all got money from your grandmother," Caliga ventured. Favius nodded, carefully maintaining the sad expression.

"But I spent two silver wedges on the scribes in Cindrath, and so I only have one wedge and some copper left."

"I'm not giving you a loan," Urania sniffed, hugging her satchel protectively before sticking her tongue out at Favius.

"Me neither," Caliga called out as Favius looked at her. Brutus chuckled.

"See, Favius, even familial love ends at the purse string. It is only the necessities of parental love that tend to open that." Favius lowered his head and spoke in a downcast voice.

"So I guess a single silver wedge and some copper senati are not sufficient. You're really not going to help me?" he addressed his sisters. Caliga's expression slipped for a moment, growing uncertain, but Urania's remained icy.

"Well, in that case, I'm simply going to have to use my remaining wealth, won't I?"

"What?" said his sisters in unison, and Brutus laughed. Favius took his time selecting an olive filled with a nut and chewed it carefully.

"Well, Serran, from my thirty hives, I got a fraction of the profits. Remind me of how much exactly?" The Majordomo's somber expression turned to a smile as well.

"One hundred and forty of your stoneweights of honey and fifteen of them in wax, which resulted in one hundred and eleven copper senati."

"So that's how you paid for the weather station," Caliga murmured indignantly.

"Really?" Urania murmured under her breath.

"That's over four silver senati." Her eyes shone in wonder.

"Just from the beehives?" Brutus chuckled.

"Ah, kids. Part of becoming an adult is learning how expensive everything in life really is. Though I guess your brother has found the flip side of that rule for now." Serran nodded.

"Indeed. With the two silver wedges you paid me to keep the weather station and its bookkeeping up until you reach the first majority, you have pretty near exactly four silver senati left." A shudder ran down Favius's spine as he noticed the Majordomo was still grinning like a cat. So that's why he mentioned money. That old coot. Favius sniffed before chuckling. Do I really want to spend my money on this? But like the information network, proving that lead is dangerous will take time.

And no matter what Urania says, I care for people. The world won't get better if there is no one to fight the darkness that comes so naturally to us humans. A slide of melting snow collapsing from the roof onto the sailcloth covering the garden with a thump made everyone flinch. Yet it was like a gavel, affirming Favius's decision. It's not like this is my only money, and that I won't get much more with the next honey harvest and whatever Marcus intends to do with the workshops. He looked up, his decision made.

"Brutus, I'll give you a silver senati. Can I assume that that will suffice for all the"—he made a sour expression—"encouragement needed to get some acquaintances in an equal number of lead, copper, and other mines to fill out our questionnaire with honesty?" Brutus chuckled.

"It'll more than suffice. A bunch of them are owned by the Kestrelo branch, after all, and I have the ear of the Matriarch. And our allies will do us such a little favor, especially if we can show some generosity on the side."

"Good." Favius let out a breath, then glared at Serran.

"One silver wedge for your scribes to copy, spread, and collate my surveys." Urania perked up.

"Are we creating them together?" Favius paused and nodded at her.

"If you really want to be involved with that." She sniffed.

"Oh, please. I don't agree with your reasons, but I want to see how you plan to learn this kind of information. That seems interesting." She sniffed and petulantly picked up a piece of cheese, deliberately studying it while avoiding Favius's eyes. He couldn't help but chuckle and shake his head at the same time. Serran nodded.

"That seems acceptable."

"Furthermore, three silver wedges to have the surveys performed at subordinate estates, which you will select based on my instructions."

"If that is what the Young Master wishes," continued the Majordomo, and Favius couldn't help but grin. One last offer on the table and I'm down to two silver senati. Well... The faces of those who he had gotten to know in the workshop, all of whom were eating lead sugar and ate food from lead-contaminated cookware, flashed through his mind.

"For the people who've helped me," Favius murmured and nodded.

"One and a half silver senati for you to remove lead sugar and leaden cookware from this entire estate." The foxy Majordomo's smile grew cold.

"Would I be a good teacher if I merely agreed with all your initial offers, Young Master?" Taken from Royal Road, this narrative should be reported if found on Amazon.

"You would be a friendly one," Favius ventured, trying for a winning smile. Yet the Majordomo chuckled.

"Two silver senati." Favius leaned forward and grinned at the man, and the haggling began. Yet contrary to the expected pattern, they did not settle on one and three-quarters of a silver senatus. The Majordomo remained stubborn. Favius tried argument after argument, yet in the end, a silver and twenty copper senati changed hands, decimating his fortune down to spending money. Favius gritted his teeth, then chuckled.

"Very well," he sighed.

"I'll prepare the surveys with my sisters." He sighed, forlornly looking at the money he had shifted across the table. Caliga tossed him a dried slice of apple and grinned.

"Negotiating seems fun. When can I do it?" She looked at Serran. The tension broke, and everyone erupted into laughter. Serran stroked his chin.

"Well, Young Lady, you may also note how I kept pushing the Young Master. This is an important lesson for negotiations. If your opponent knows that you desire something deeply, then he is free and able to rob you of your last coin. Not," he smiled, "that I would ever do such a thing to the honored Young Master." Favius sniffed in mock offense.

"That's just shameless." Before too long, he joined in on the next round of laughter. As the afternoon progressed with jokes and anecdotes of negotiations from both Brutus and Serran, Favius held his hands close to the brazier, enjoying the warmth, but his thoughts circled back to one of Serran's statements. Estates where the slaves are treated worse. He cleared his throat, interrupting the conversation.

"Serran, you mentioned that there are estates where the slaves live in much worse conditions. Is our estate typical?" he ventured, already feeling a tightness in his gut. Everyone I've been working with in the workshop, and especially Tiro with his fanatical loyalty... They all seem so content with their existence, as if they couldn't even question it. Serran's expression soured, and even Brutus clenched his jaw. Caliga scratched her chin, yet Urania kept eating, studiously uninterested in the question.

"Well," said the Majordomo.

"There is really no such thing as slavery in the Republic." Favius's anger shot through his veins, and he took a deep breath while straightening. The Majordomo held up a calming hand.

"You mistook my meaning, Young Master."

"Indeed, Favius," Brutus interjected.

"There's no such thing as slavery in the Republic in the same way that there's no such thing as nobility. In the Republic there are nobles," he said, gesturing at himself and the girls. He grinned.

"And then there are Nobles." He put a heavy emphasis on the last word as he pointed at Favius.

"Haven't you wondered why I, despite my noble birth, served as a bodyguard and now as your protector?" Favius narrowed his eyes.

"The thought occurred to me," he ventured carefully. Caliga chuckled.

"Father says that the only difference between a poor noble and a rich citizen is a third name. If that." Brutus nodded.

"Indeed. More primitive societies might insist on purity of blood or ancestry of a certain shifter line. Yet here in the Republic, we know the difference between fate and destiny." Favius frowned and looked between the Majordomo and his protector.

"Aren't they the same thing?"

"Of course not, silly," interjected Urania. Then, as if quoting something, she said, "Fate is the funeral shroud that the Muses clothe every child in at birth. But destiny is the light of the sun, the guidance of the heavens that everyone may discern and make their own." Serran nodded.

"Well spoken, Young Mistress. You are quite right. Any just society would allow those who have grasped providence to grow in means and power to rise to the very top." Favius leaned back in his chair and took a sip of his tea. I need to think about that one. I'm fairly certain that would have landed poorly with most people back on Earth. For all their flowery language, he's essentially arguing that a pure-blood aristocracy is an inferior society to a mercantile oligarchy. I don't actually disagree with that.

Favius chuckled before taking another sip of the sweetened tea. Peppermint and fir. It was a mix he had grown quite fond of over the winter. It's just that I don't think that a mercantile oligarchy is the ultimate expression of society, but... He nodded and smiled at Brutus and Serran.

"Alright, I understand. Your point about not all slaves being equal is well taken. But please, Serran, enlighten me about the conditions our slaves live under." Serran tipped his chin.

"I would not normally suggest this." He looked over at Urania, but Favius gestured for him to continue.

"But would the Young Master be interested in seeing the living quarters of the laborers?" Complex emotions bloomed in Favius's stomach. Just marching into someone's living space and looking at them like animals in a zoo. That's so invasive. But he closed his eyes and let cool pneuma run through his thoughts. But no, I'm also reluctant. Afraid of what I might see. He resolved himself with another pulse of pneuma, then nodded to the Majordomo.

"I would like that, Serran. And afterwards, we might go by the workshop and see what the woodworkers did with my instructions to figure out how to size the paper correctly," he added quickly. Serran inclined his head, and they left. Urania gave him an odd look.

"I hope it's not too yucky," she said, but Caliga poked her.

"Don't be stupid, little sister. If the people we've worked with in the workshop lived in a pigsty, they would smell like pigs, wouldn't they?" Urania sniffed.

"They certainly don't smell of perfume." Serran cleared his throat.

"While the Young Lady is correct that no perfume is provided to the slaves, many of the women use parts of their wages to buy some perfume, and regular washing is of course ensured." The Majordomo shivered slightly.

"That's just common sense for the prevention of diseases. No human enjoys not bathing for days on end." He nodded, and Favius looked at Brutus.

"So I guess Tiro is an example for the highest kind of slave, especially given his"—he swallowed—"attitude." Brutus chuckled.

"That's one way to say it. As for the lowest type of slave..." He gestured.

"Those would be penal slaves who are employed in lethal occupations. Once we visit Rhexion, you will see what happens to the murderers, rapists, and violent offenders of the Republic." Favius felt an emptiness in his chest as his face scrunched up.

"I can already guess, but tell me, what happens to them?" Brutus chuckled.

"They are sent into the mines and quarries. The worst of them go into salt mines, where most start coughing blood within the year."

"So it's only criminals that are treated that way?" Treated? Favius grimaced. More like executed. But internment camps and questionable prison labor practices were far from uncommon even in my time. Brutus waved a hand.

"The dark depths hunger endlessly for blood, and few mine owners will ask too many questions of slave hunters and foreign slave traders." The emptiness was back in full force. Slave raiding. Of course that's also a thing here. They left the main estate towards one of the outbuildings that Favius had always seen people bustling about, yet never approached.

"The most common kind of slave is bound by a contract of debt. They sell themselves into service for food, water, and accommodation, as per the slave laws." They walked through the snow, and yet Favius was certain that his shivering wasn't due to the cold. As they approached the building, his heartbeat sped up.

"If they've sold themselves into a debt contract, and you mentioned they gain wages..." He swallowed.

"I've heard the slaves talking about their wages, so they can buy themselves free?"

"They can indeed. As per the laws, the wages must be proportional to the value of their contract. Any slave should theoretically be able to buy themselves free within five, ten, or twenty years."

"But?" Favius ventured. Of course there's going to be a but. There's always a but with such arrangements.

"Certain unscrupulous managers and landowners re-extract most of this money by giving them barely enough food." Favius felt bile rise in his mouth, but Serran raised two fingers.

"Yet under my watch, any estate manager on the Ovinius Loran lands found to engage in such practices will be sold to the mines," he said, his voice steely.

"We provide better food, sweeteners like lead sugar..." He gave Favius a sad smile.

"And luxuries like perfume to those who work at the estate. And I personally am quite fond of offering bonuses for good performance at certain tasks." Favius nodded. Well, like my father always liked to say back on Earth, the carrot is often more effective than the stick, because at some point the stick will break. He swallowed. Though not usually before the person the stick was used on breaks. They entered the building, and the slaves whispered about the presence of the young masters.

Looks were directed at them, yet several of them also smiled and exchanged nods. Caliga greeted several of them, while Urania was carefully studying her feet walking into the building. Brutus was simply there, uncaring of those around him. They looked into the first room. It was some sort of communal dining room, and Favius saw a kitchen in the background. They walked in silence and looked into one of the bedrooms. Dried reeds made up a carpet and were stacked alongside hay covered with linen into bedding.

This room was smaller than my apartment at university, but it houses, he counted, probably a bit over ten people. He looked around. But it's dry and warm, and I probably shouldn't apply modern standards to those living conditions. Hell, I don't even know how the average freedman lives. He shook his head, his expression still severe. Serran studied him as they walked out of the building. Favius stopped without thinking as two small children almost ran under their feet.

A horrified mother called out to them and bowed deeply to them.

"Dominus! I'm so sorry. They weren't supposed to... They just—" Favius froze, a cold anger rising up from his bottom. Children. Of course. Slaves have children. He turned around and glared at Serran, whose content expression began to slip.

"Tell me," Favius began, his voice icy.