Florette VII: The Debtor

With the curtains drawn, Lord Monfroy’s carriage enveloped Florette in shadow. From the darkness, two yellow eyes peered out of the gloom, sitting atop sunken cheeks just barely visible.

“Are you familiar with the concept of collateral, Miss Sabine?” Despite his calm tone, Monfroy’s words echoed through the cab.

“Like collateral damage?” Unfortunately, I’m far too familiar with it.

Monfroy laughed. “For you, in this instance, perhaps. But I’m referring to a principle of lending, not to be confused with the principal of a loan. The borrower puts forward an asset to minimize the lender’s risk. In the event that they are… unable to pay their due, the collateral possession is seized by the lender. Srin offered his home, Mahabali Hall, a hallowed manse with a rich history, that has nonetheless fallen into a state of disrepair. I’m afraid it’s fallen underwater.”

“It flooded?” Wouldn’t I have heard about that? Captain Verrou was just there.

“An expression, Miss Sabine. The value of Mahabali Hall is no longer sufficient to cover what your father has borrowed against it.”

“Oh.”

“Do you understand what that means, Sabine? No dying man should be forced from his home, especially not a friend, but when Terramonde comes for his soul, I shall have no choice but to repossess it. Right as you lose your father, so too will you lose your ancestral home. If you have any personal effects of sentimental value, I recommend that you secure them while you still can.”

He’s… inviting me to clean it out of everything valuable before he takes over? “That’s… very generous of you, Lord Monfroy.”

A chuckle emanated from the darkness. “I’m pleased that you think so. It would have been more generous to allow you to stay, but I’m afraid your presence would be incompatible with my intentions for the property.”

“Are you sure there isn’t any way?” Florette asked, purely to appear more interested in the house she’d never once visited that belonged to a man that wasn’t her father. If Monfroy felt like he was depriving her of something especially important, he might be more forgiving with any of the remaining debt. “What are you going to use it for, anyway?”

“As it happens, I’ve been in the market for a residence on the Isle of Shadows for some time. There are fewer eyes, that far from Cambria, which allows me to better pursue my livelihood. And my hobbies, for that matter.”

“Which are?”

His face split with a yellow-toothed smile. “I’m sure you’ll find out eventually. Especially if you tarry too long repaying what’s owed. But, in truth, I can do that anywhere, so long as I’m careful. Mahabali Hall, however, is the singularly most suitable location for networking events in a… professional organization which I run. It’s adjacent to both the Fornila Forest and the coast, near enough to Chaya to easily resupply, and free from any of these garish modern building trends that you simply can’t escape in new construction. There’s a haunting beauty to those woods, bathed in moonlit serenity, so dense that many who stumbled in have never found their way out.”

Well, that’s about the most suspicious possible way to describe whatever you’re planning there. Something about the way he was using the word ‘networking’ sounded familiar, pulling on some buried memory from Malin, but Florette couldn’t place it, and it seemed that the conversation was coming to its end. Better to just get out and focus on the rest later.

“You will, of course, be invited in your father’s place once I deem you ready, provided you are not unable to enter your ancestral home in foreign hands on account of… sentimentality. But these events are the place to make contacts that can serve you for the rest of your life, or, for example, find an influential Lord willing to lend you eight-hundred thousand mandala.”

Khali’s curse, Savian borrowed that much? Captain Verrou had said that he was living large, far beyond what his incomes sustainably allowed for, but that level of debt was close to unfathomable.

And Monfroy didn’t seem all that concerned about losing so much money, as if it wasn’t even that much to him, which was worrying in its own way.

“At the current appraisal, the cession of Mahabali Hall will cover approximately six hundred of that eight, leaving two hundred thousand mandala on your shoulders, Sabine. I am aware that you are only just beginning your studies, so I have every intention of granting you opportunities to discharge that debt through favors to me, both in your next four years of schooling and over the course of the rest of your life. If you object to that, bring me the money I’m owed. Otherwise, you will hear from me, and my associate outside.”

Florette gulped, trying to look as much like a fearful ingenue as she could. It was a staggering amount of debt to start a life with, but Srin Sabine wasn’t a life meant to last, and careful navigation could leave Monfroy and any other creditors holding the bag without too much issue. Hopefully.

“I understand.”

“Ensure that you do. It may feel harsh, but your father gave you his name, whose value cannot be measured in silver. It is only fair that you inherit the rest of his legacy as well. I’m being exceedingly generous to you, Sabine, far more than your other creditors will be, because I believe in making connections, and maintaining them through generations. Versham only sees what’s right in front of her eyes, and her timeframe will be stricter. Even so, if you use that as an excuse for dereliction towards me, I will not be nearly so kind about it.”

Versham… Versham… That name was in the Great Binder’s book, someone she’d consulted about her vision.

“I see you recognize that name, so perhaps your father didn’t entirely omit the details of his debt, though why he would focus on that magpie rather than myself… I cannot help but be somewhat offended.”

“Oh, no, he didn’t mention her either,” Florette was quick to say. “I just recognized the name from a book I read, that’s all.”

Monfroy’s amber eyes lit up, his smile peeking out once more. “It seems Count Savian had a better sense of priorities than I previously thought, with regard to your education. If you’ve already read The End of Time, then there is no reason to wait. You shall receive an invitation to the inaugural event, once the operation is up and running. But you will likely hear from me sooner with an opportunity. See that you do not pass it up, or there will be consequences.”

He opened the door of the carriage, flooding the inside with Cambria’s dismal grey light. “Until next time, Miss Sabine.”

≋

On one hand, Florette really needed to work on her part of this history project, and prepare for the first exam in her physics class, both of which were rapidly approaching. On the other, she’d already been ambushed in an alleyway and threatened by one creditor, and it was the one whose name wasn’t mentioned in a stolen book written by the Great Binder whose very existence seemed to be something of a secret.

Although Monfroy recognized it… Florette had asked around several times in Malin, and no one there had been able to place the title, nor did any of them believe that the Great Binder had ever written a book. Even with the useful tips inside for binding, Florette had still half believed that it was a fake in some manner or another. But Monfroy, at least, doesn’t seem to think so. That was interesting, and worth looking into, but there were other, higher priorities for the moment.

If ‘she’ owed this Versham a similarly massive amount of money, it would be better to approach first, rather than wait for an unpleasant surprise, especially if Monfroy had been honest about her temperament.

Christophe had only been too eager to help with finding her, so Florette had first spent several hours trying to bring his Avaline up to the level of intelligible to a modern speaker. The College had a massive library where Florette tended to spend most of her time, poring through countless books for both useful intelligence and novel recreation. She knew that people mostly read and worked in silence, so after a quick primer, it felt like a relatively small risk to take Christophe there to look into Versham. Especially since Florette would be right there, writing out her half of the cannon paper. It didn’t even matter that Christophe wasn’t a student, since he was accompanying one.

It was such a small risk, and it let her draw on someone who really wanted to help in a moment where she really needed all the time she could get. It would be fine… It has to be.

After about half an hour, Florette had only written a few hundred words out of the roughly three thousand she’d need for her half of the paper. Sitting still to put the work in was hard when the connection to her goals was so abstract, and it didn’t help that writing in Avaline was about a hundred times as hard.

So when Christophe tapped his nose, signaling that they should talk outside in Imperial, Florette felt more relief than anything, a good excuse to stop working for a while.

“I found Versham!” he cried out, the moment they were far enough not to be heard.

“So fast, too,” Florette noted. “Did you find The End of Time anywhere in the library?”

“Nowhere. But since you mentioned the Great Binder’s time, I started with histories of that era, and he popped up right away.”

“He?” Monfroy had implied it was a woman.

“Versham Arun. He was a nightshade merchant who ended up traveling with the first King Harold, before he was a king. That led me to a book about brandy distilling, he was all over that, and it mentioned the name of his business, Versham-Martin, which was listed in a business directory as having a Cambria office in the Bayview district, near the park on Drambol street.”

Florette slowly closed her gaping mouth. “Damn, Christophe! I should have you doing my classwork.” She turned her eyes towards the massive clock tower facing out from the College. 2:30, plenty of time. “Mind being my backup from afar again? I think it’ll look better if I go in alone.”

“Whatever you need. I’m here to help you.” He paused, scratching his chin. “Do you want me to do your schoolwork for you? I got excellent marks in penmanship at the Fourth Consort’s School. That’s a big part of why the Queen selected me to come. Plus, the research is actually pretty fun, and I know you have other stuff you need to do too.”

Tempting, but I think the professors would look askance if my papers were written in a six-hundred-year-old dialect of Avaline. Not to mention that she’d need to actually know the material well enough to pass the examinations at the end. “For now, just focus on learning the language. As it is now, I mean.” That earned Florette a glare for implying anything was wrong with Glaciel’s speech, but she continued anyway. “Listen to how people talk, read what you can from the books, and keep an eye out. If you see a window explode or something, I’m probably in a bind I could use your help with.”

Christophe nodded. “Are you planning to explode a window? I heard what ruin those ordinances wrought on Château Cuirassé, even before the decay of it fueled Corro.”

And after all that, Glaciel still sent you to help me… “Not if I can help it.”

≋

“Would you care for some tea? Coffee? Miss Versham has an opening for you in about fifteen minutes, but there’s a pressing matter she has to attend to first. My apologies for the delay.”

You’ve been saying the same thing for over an hour, if the tolling bells are anything to go by. “Coffee,” Florette said tersely, deciding she might as well make the most of it. Hopefully Chirstophe was having a better time reading outside.

Coffee was a sort of tisane made from cherry pits, which the Avaline for some reason decided to treat as a totally separate thing from regular tea. The nice thing about it was that it was much stronger. Mind altering substances were severely restricted in Avalon, but apparently liquid pixie powder didn’t count, for which Florette was most grateful.

“How do you take it?”

Florette frowned. “Drinking from the side of the cup usually seems to do the trick.”

Versham’s assistant laughed, flashing the same fake smile she’d shown half a hundred times in the last hour as she walked off.

It gave Florette a chance to look down at the book she’d brought, not realizing how useful it’d be to have something to read. She’d wrapped The End of Time in burlap to disguise the cover, not that it was a very identifiable one anyway. She’d already read through the whole thing once under the darkness, since there was only so much drilling and scheming you could do in a given twelve-hour period of eternal night, but that had mostly been with an eye towards binding technique.

Later, she wanted to read through the whole thing again, but right now, she was sitting in a Versham’s office, even if it wasn’t the same one, and that meant finding the places the name was mentioned to see if it could give her anything useful.

Unfortunately, Florette couldn’t find much, at least not when flipping through. Versham’s main role seemed to be playing naysayer against the prospect of predicting the future, authoritatively speaking of spiritual visions. Which implied that he was a sage or a binder of some kind, but even that wasn’t certain, and didn’t really give Florette anything she could use right now. It was just a crumb for something later, maybe, like Monfroy’s allusions or the book itself. Too many pieces were missing to put what was there together.

“Srin Sabine? Miss Versham will see you now.”

Florette had seen extravagant offices before, after a fashion, like Director Thorley’s veritable house he had all to himself at the railyard, or Lord Perimont’s chairless monument to cruelty, but they were hovels compared to this.

Glass stretched from floor to ceiling; beyond it, the entire city stretched up to the horizon into the fog. The furniture was minimal, but futuristic, never using wood where metal and glass would do. And there was no end of color, from the bright red chairs to the orange carpet that cultivated warmth despite the wispy exterior seen through the windows.

And if the office was a work of art, Versham Paruna was a masterpiece. Her pale green eyes and immaculately coiffed dark hair, with a single glistening earring dangling beneath. Her collar was a vivid red, stretching high up her neck, with a darker grey shawl covering her shoulders and a knee-length skirt in the same color to match. “Well, Srin Sabine,” she began once they’d both taken a seat. “Welcome to Versham-Martin. What brings you here today?”

I just want to make sure there aren’t any more surprises. “My father had a business arrangement with you, but he never told me the details. And with his health being what it is, I feel it would be unwise to bring it up. He should use his time as best as he can, without having to worry about things like this.”

“Honorable and wise, are you? I understand completely.”

“I know he borrowed money from you, along with Lord Monfroy.” And who-knows-how-many others… “I’d like to know how much I’ll owe, and what my father put up as collateral.” Which is totally a term I know all and not something I heard for the first time today.

“Well, I couldn’t tell you that off the top of my head, but I’d be happy to have Agatha look into it for you and send over any pertinent documents. Where are you staying right now?”

“Mourningside. I’m attending the College.”

“A scientist, are you? Well, I suppose we need someone in the brain trust so the mark of humanity on the world can grow, erecting impossible monuments all across the face of it.” The way she said that… Paruna wrinkled her nose. “But student housing? If you want to live in a rat trap, there’s far less expensive accommodations. My friend Wesley is a landlord for a few properties in the city, let me give you his address.”

“Thank you!” Florette said, as if there were any chance she could afford any of it. No harm in humoring someone you owed a lot of money too, though. “Do you live here? I love the way it looks.”

“In my office? No, I have a building in Sunset Heights and a family apartment here in Bayview.” A building? “That’s just in Cambria, of course, but I won’t bore you with an inventory.” She reached under her desk and pulled out a bottle. “How old are you, Sabine? 22?”

“Yes.” Florette had decided that Sabine would be slightly older, though there was no reason not to keep the same anniversary date, since no one aside from Fernan and a few other villagers had ever known Florette’s. And in a few weeks when I turn 20, it won’t seem like much of a stretch. Eloise had always said she had the air of someone older anyway, probably because of how mature she was.

“That’s fine then,” Paruna said, pulling out two glasses and setting them on the desk. In the base of each was a sphere of amber, with a spider preserved inside. “Would you care for a drink? You look a bit stressed, honey.” She wiggled the bottle. “This is perfect if you have any aches or pains.”

“Sure,” Florette said, further examining the glasses. “Is that brandy? I know Versham-Martin has a history with that. Or essence of nightshade?”

“Laudanum,” she said as she poured. “With the overzealous regulations against mind-altering substances from our incessantly nannying Great Council in their listless mediocrity, we had to transition VM away from nightshade, and the brandy is more of a boutique item than a primary revenue stream.” She clinked her glass against Florette’s, then drank. “Thankfully, there’s plenty of money in pain management, and Plagette provides their poppies for practically pennies.”

“That’s where I know this from,” Florette said, frowning as she recognized the taste. “This is opium wine. They give it to the people they sacrifice in Guerron before burning them alive, because it’s ‘more humane’, apparently.” Thankfully, Fernan had put a stop to all of that, at least from the Temple of the Sun.

“Really?” Paruna scratched her chin. “Very interesting. You wouldn’t expect such care paired with such savagery… And indeed, they put Avalon to shame in that one regard. The prisoners we execute must be fully of sound mind, with nothing to dull the pain. Now that you’re calling attention to it, I see that it’s downright uncivilized.” She nodded once, then set her glass down on the desk. “I’ll give you four thousand mandala if you walk out of the room and this becomes my idea.”

“The…? You’ll…?” How can someone miss the point so badly?

“Now that Dad’s gone, I need to convince everyone here that I can do it. This will make such a strong impression. And you’ll benefit too!”

“You’ll pay me just for that idea?” The one people back home have been doing for almost a thousand years? Why would she want to trade something real for a few words, anyway? Buying an idea was as absurd as buying a song, or a play, and yet Paruna seemed excited to do it. Not to mention the fact that nothing was stopping Paruna from just doing it anyway and giving Florette nothing. Unless those empty words about needing to prove herself were speaking to the actual motive, and she was willing to pay to avoid the risk of Florette calling her out in public or something. But that didn’t feel right. Something strange was afoot, here.

“I can take it out of your debt, of course, but if you’re full of ideas like that, I can tell that you’re going places. You could walk out with a purse full of coins. A chest, really, at that scale, but you get my point, do you not?”

Avalon probably would sooner stuff their prisoners full of opium than stop executing them. Perhaps in greater numbers, given the ‘improved’ humanity of it. “The idea is worth more than that,” Florette said, having no real idea whether that was true, but hoping to walk out without jeopardizing anything.

“To me? Certainly. But you have no capital to start with, no trade agreements in place, no connections in the Great Council. I’m assuming all of the risk, while you’re trading an idea you could never monetize on your own for the coffers to make your next idea reality.” She flicked her nail against her empty glass, letting out a ringing sound for a few moments before she stopped it by grabbing the lip. “Agatha, please see these washed and returned to their position. And see Miss Sabine out. She’s not ready to do business yet.”

“Wait.” A plan was forming.

I could play them against each other. If Monfroy asked for one of his ominous favors, Florette could flip the four thousand his way to buy more time on the rest.

And really, what was she giving up to do it? “Ten thousand, final offer.” That would be enough to actually make a dent in the debt to Monfroy.

Paruna smiled, her whole face lighting up. “You have yourself a deal.”

Florette felt pretty good walking out of there with her wheeled chest of mandala coins, even if the fact that Paruna had agreed immediately meant that Florette probably could have gotten a lot more. No point in getting greedy. She just needed enough to last as long as Sabine did.

If this worked, it was a way to fend off one problem using another. And if Monfroy doesn’t come calling before my time is up…

There was a lot of good that could be done in the heart of Avalon with ten thousand mandala, provided Florette was smart about it. Far more than just studying for four years.

Which reminds me, I really need to study for that exam. And I promised Rebecca I’d get her my half of the paper before that party she invited me to. And I still need to find a better place for Christophe to stay long-term. And—

And the time would come for all of that, but this wasn’t the moment to dwell. For the moment, things were actually going decently.

It was, though, impossible to ignore those crumbs of suspicion about the Great Binder and Khali, and whatever was going on with Lord Monfroy. All the more so after another few hours reading The End of Time, and realizing Paruna had quoted from it.