Chương 172: Chapter 167 - Calvern's Attention

The common room had acquired more armed men than all, but the rowdiest inns ever had, even during happy hour. Alric's own guards stood at the front entrance, the rear passage and beside the stairs. Four royal guards had taken up positions as well, although none stood close to the table. Two remained near the outer door while the others had found places along the walls where they could watch the room without appearing to listen. Alric sat with his arms crossed and watched the reason for all of them.

Lord Calvern was eating a toasted cheese sandwich. The bread had browned properly against a hot rock they used after baking bread. Butter shone along the crust and melted cheese pulled from the middle whenever Calvern took a bite. Several other breads waited on plates beside it, cut into small pieces because Seren had decided that royal intelligence required a full selection. The look of satisfaction on Calvern was immense. That was supposed to be my sandwich.

The cheese sandwiches had gone through some improvements since the first, this one had three cheeses. Two darker cheeses and one lighter from different cheese makers. It also had a sprinkling of oregano. Calvern ate slowly, eyes half closed for the first bite and opening again only when he needed to inspect the sandwich. His gloves rested together beside the plate. Alric watched the cheese pull away and snap, Calvern twisted the sandwich to catch every bit. Alric shifted in his chair and tightened his crossed arms.

He had done what Calvern asked. Before starting another business, he had warned him. Seren sent a short message that morning explaining that Alric was considering a bakery. Calvern had come immediately. Calvern had not requested an appointment or arranged a time. The man had simply arrived with four guards and asked to see Alric urgently. Apparently, informing royal intelligence about a possible future bakery meant allowing royal intelligence to steal your lunch. Calvern finished the final bite.

He chewed, swallowed and looked down at the empty plate with visible disappointment.

"That was…" Calvern began but lost his chain of thought, he shook his head a little instead, staring down at the plates. He was quite for a moment before he spoke again, "To be clear, you are not attempting to destroy the Bakers' Guild?" Calvern asked, brushing several crumbs from his fingertips before settling back in the chair.

"No," Alric said, keeping his arms folded as he pointed toward the other breads with his chin.

"Seren and Vale want to work through the guild or partner with a member of the guild. I don't want the guild." Calvern studied him across the table.

"Wanting the guild and destroying it are different matters," Calvern said, resting one forearm beside the plates while his gaze remained on Alric.

"I wouldn't put it past you to do it by accident."

"That isn't the plan," Alric said, pulling one hand free and making a dismissive gesture toward the room.

"They want a bakery for winter handiwork. Vale will arrange the accounts, Seren will manage the staff, and they will find a bakery willing to partner with them." Calvern's eyebrows rose slightly.

"A bakery… for winter handiwork?" he asked, tilting his head while one hand settled against the edge of the table.

"That's what I said," Alric said, folding his arm across his chest again.

"I thought winter handiwork meant carving something or making a basket. Seren thinks it means opening a business." Calvern glanced toward the rear passage, perhaps hoping Seren would appear and explain herself. She did not. Seren had placed the food on the table, confirmed Calvern required nothing else and then found work elsewhere with the speed of someone who understood how to avoid an important conversation.

"Which baker?" Calvern asked, turning back to Alric and tapping one finger beside the plate.

"They don't have one yet," Alric said, waving the question aside.

"This is still a discussion. I was trying to warn you before we did anything, like while we were still thinking about it."

"You did," Calvern said, inclining his head while he smirked just slightly.

"I can't believe I'm saying this but thank you for that." Alric waited. Calvern did not appear finished because he had brought enough guards to justify more than gratitude and a sandwich.

"The Bakers' Guild has patrons everywhere," Calvern said, bringing both hands together on the table.

"Some nobles, some not... especially with the nobles who come for winter socializing, you should be busy."

"Everyone has noble patrons," Alric said, opening one hand toward Calvern gesturing to him, "Mine send representatives who like cheese and brandy. Patrons seem to be how anything becomes annoying here." Calvern scoffed and failed to hold back a giggle, before he spoke, "You must understand, if a royal factor opens a bakery outside the guild, undercuts its members and closes half their shops…" he said, pressing his fingertips together while he watched Alric.

"I do but as I said we're working through the guild," Alric said, rolling his eyes slightly, he frowned.

"That is the whole reason Seren and Vale are finding a partner."

"Good," Calvern said, giving the pointing finger a brief glance before returning his attention to Alric.

"Then we have removed one complaint before anyone has paid a scribe to make it sound more polite."

"Is that why you came running?" Alric asked, lowering his hand and leaning back again.

"Partly, but I need more information on this." Calvern said, lifting one shoulder while he considered the remaining bread.

"How much do you intend to produce?"

"I don't know," Alric said, leaning farther back and crossing his arms more tightly.

"They don't have a shop, ovens, workers or a guild partner. We have no idea yet." Calvern picked up a small piece from the nearest plate and pressed it between his fingers. The bread compressed easily and returned most of the way once he released it. This story has been unlawfully obtained without the author's consent. Report any appearances on Amazon.

"Do you intend to use your other businesses to strangle the bakers financially?" Calvern asked, placing the bread back on the plate and sitting straighter.

"Sell below cost, carry the losses through the brewery and wait until smaller shops cannot continue?"

"No," Alric said, frowning as he unfolded both arms.

"Why would I do that?"

"Because it works," Calvern said, spreading one hand over the table.

"Noble houses have done the same with mills, ferries, grazing rights and more than one inconvenient market." Alric gave him a long look. Calvern had asked the question with the calm of someone who had watched respectable families ruin people in precisely that manner, probably before sharing dinner with them.

"We won't sell bread at a loss," Alric said, pointing firmly toward the soft piece Calvern had tested.

"We can make better bread. Softer bread. We sell it for a sensible price and let the bread speak for itself." Calvern's gaze dropped to the toasted crumbs on his plate.

"It speaks well, I'd go so far as to say it sings," he said, rubbing one thumb across the side of his hand while he considered the remains.

"Then listen to it," Alric said, making another dismissive motion toward the plates.

"We won't be starting a bread war, you already warned me."

"I am pleased to hear that," Calvern said, lifting the small piece again and breaking it open.

"What makes it soft?"

"A secret ingredient," Alric said, returning both arms across his chest and giving Calvern a bored expression. Calvern waited for more, keeping the broken bread suspended above the plate. Alric held his gaze and gave him nothing.

"What is the secret ingredient?" Calvern asked, leaning forward slightly while keeping the bread between his fingers.

"Then it would not be secret," Alric said, tilting his head and giving Calvern a flat look. Calvern lowered the bread. His expression became patient in a manner Alric did not like.

"Alric, I work closely with His Majesty," Calvern said, resting both hands near the edge of the table.

"I can keep information more important than a bread recipe..."

"Have you ever made bread?" Alric asked, raising one hand before Calvern could continue and pointing at him. Calvern stopped.

"No," he said, drawing back slightly and placing a palm on his chest.

"Then knowing does nothing for you," Alric said, raising his finger, he gestured left and right as he raised his points.

"You would need to tell a cook. The cook would need to tell whoever mixes the dough, and that person would need to show someone else how much to use. By the time the king eats a loaf, half the royal kitchen knows."

"I could order them to remain silent," Calvern said, lowering his palm while his mouth tightened.

"You could," Alric said, dropping his finger and waving the suggestion away.

"Then one tells a wife, another tells a brother and someone tells a friend who works in another kitchen. You don't make bread, so you can't use the secret without giving it to people who do." Calvern looked toward the two royal guards near the outer door. Neither was close enough to overhear. One watched the street through the open shutter while the other studied the stairs.

"Servants are the worst gossips in any noble household," Calvern said, turning back and giving a reluctant nod.

"Most are sensible enough to avoid matters of treason. A new way to improve bread would… Alright I see your point." Calvern ate the piece he had broken open and brushed his fingers together.

"Can I buy the bread?" he asked after swallowing, glancing from one plate to the next while he sat forward.

"Of course, I'm not sure why you think I'd stop you." Alric said, unfolding one arm and gesturing toward the selection. Calvern nodded as he reached for his gloves, he put them on one at a time, pulling each finger into place before smoothing both cuffs beneath his sleeves. The easy attention he had given the bread disappeared with the final adjustment. Alric recognised the change. The satisfied noble had finished eating, and the king's intelligence officer now occupied the chair.

"Will you allow His Majesty to buy the entire brandy reserve?" Calvern asked, resting his gloved hands together in front of him. Alric's eyes narrowed.

"The entire brandy reserve?" he asked, leaning forward while his arms tightened across his chest again.

"I don't know how large the reserve will be," he said, pulling one hand free and pointing toward the floor as though the cellar lay directly beneath them.

"I still need to work through the brandy properly. Some may be blended. Some may not be good enough once compared to the rest."

"His Majesty is prepared to wait for your judgement," Calvern said, watching Alric's hand rather than interrupting.

"And then buy all of it?" Alric asked, turning his pointing finger toward Calvern.

"That is the request," Calvern said, opening both hands a little over the table.

"No," Alric said, sitting back and crossing his arms again.

"If it's a request, I'm keeping two reserve casks for myself." Calvern did not sigh, argue or look disappointed, in fact he smiled slightly. That made Alric more suspicious than an argument would have.

"How about a deal then," Calvern said, placing one gloved hand flat on the table between them, he had a distinctly smug look.

"You keep two reserve casks. I receive one reserve cask and two ordinary casks. His Majesty may buy every other cask you eventually mark as reserve, when you release it, at proper price we aren't shorting you." He paused making sure he had Alric's attention "In return, I will have twenty good aging barrels from the royal cellars delivered to you here… and I will introduce you to a contact who can reach the hill dwarves who can get you proper spirit casks." Alric's arms loosened as he considered Calvern's offer.

Twenty barrels from the royal cellars meant seasoned wood that had already held good drink for years. The hill-dwarf contact mattered more though. Stromni could judge metal and build something large enough to make royal intelligence shout at, but even he had admitted that the hill dwarves understood aging casks better than anyone else he knew of. A contact meant access to the people making them, not another merchant claiming that an old wine cask would make perfect brandy. The offer was too good to argue over.

Calvern had brought a solution to a serious problem Alric was facing and the future cask supply while leaving Alric in control of what qualified as reserve.

"Done," Alric said, unfolding his arms and holding out his hand across the table. Calvern looked at the offered hand before taking it.

"I thought the barrels would do it," he said, tightening his grip and giving Alric one firm shake.

"You already arranged them?" Alric asked, releasing Calvern's hand and pointing at him again.

"His Majesty agreed to release them before I knew there would be a bakery," Calvern said, settling his hand back on the table while the corner of his mouth lifted.

"The contact for the hill dwarf casks requires work on my part though."

"So, you came here with the whole thing planned," Alric said, letting his hand fall as he sat back, he felt a begrudging respect blossom.

"I came prepared because I want that reserve cask myself, it's an ideal gift," Calvern said, relaxing into the chair, his smug grin returned and glancing toward the bread.

"So yes, I came prepared." Alric could not argue with that without pretending Calvern was helping him. He folded his arms again, although there was less irritation in it now. Calvern looked over the remaining samples.

"His Majesty will be disappointed when he learns of this," he said gesturing to the bread, he reached toward the plate before stopping with his hand above it.

"He can buy some when the bakery opens," Alric said, pointing toward the bread with two fingers.

"I won't sell the secret ingredient."

"I understand your reasons," Calvern said, lowering his hand and giving Alric a small nod.

"His Majesty will understand after he has complained for an afternoon or so."

"You can explain it to him," Alric said chuckling and making a dismissive gesture toward the royal guards.

"You arrived without an appointment and ate the first sandwich. You may as well accept the dangerous part." Calvern glanced at the empty plate.

"If His Majesty asks, I was assessing a new threat to noble commerce," he said, drawing himself straighter while arranging his expression into solemn royal service.

"How do we do the tax on this? I can't wait till winter ends and give mouldy bread or deliver to the palace in winter." Alric said, letting out a deep breath from his nose. Calvern glanced upward.

"Honestly, his majesty wanted tax in kind on luxury goods, your bread is among the best I've eaten but it will still be seen as bread, like the beer," he nodded as he said it.