Chapter Text
“Howdy, partner! Y’look like the discernin’ type. Mind if we chat a spell?”
Rean blinked. He hadn’t sensed anyone approaching him, which was his first red flag. It was a busy day in Heimdallr, and the sidewalks were packed. Even still, on most days, Rean could spot anyone from any given distance away. Whoever this was, they were an expert at concealing their presence in a crowd. The second was the voice; the drawled twang floating through the mystery man’s words gave him an affable air. Rean had dealt with enough unscrupulous types (reporters, con artists, the works) to not take that at face value.
The third, however, was how the man didn’t call him out as the Ashen Chevalier. Despite his best efforts, Rean could never escape recognition—so either this stranger knew and kept his cards close to his chest, or…
“Say, fella,” the man cut in, breaking through Rean’s thoughts. “You look mighty familiar. Were you in the papers lately?”
“...yes,” Rean answered warily, turning to face his interrogator. The man’s outfit was a little… ostentatious; while the vest, slacks, and tie were subtle enough, a bright yellow jacket hung loosely from his shoulders. A gray hat with a yellow band sat atop a dark head of hair, and a grin from ear-to-ear greeted Rean’s own muted frown. “I had an interview with the Chronicle the other day. It must have just been printed.”
The man snapped his fingers, the fabric of his white gloves straining with the movement. “That’s why! You strike one heck of a figure, friend; I haven’t had a chance to read it yet, but I’m sure it’ll be interestin’. Whatcha workin’ on?”
“...pardon?”
The man slung an arm around Rean’s shoulder, his grin widening like the cat that ate the pom. “Folks only get the press on ‘em if they’ve got somethin’ of a claim to fame. Y’know, books and plays and all that. Merchants and tycoons too, fer sure, but that’s usually in the financial prints, not the dailies. So, what’s your story?”
Rean slipped out of the man’s grip, dusting off his jacket with a wary glance back. “You’re… are you serious? ”
“As a heart attack!” The man sighed, sticking his left hand in his pocket. “But I get it. Random nobody rolls into town, starts askin’ questions. It’s strange! Lemme clear the air, here.” The man backed up a few paces, holding out his free hand. “The name’s Partitio. Partito Yellowil, if’n we’re bein’ specific, but I don’t think most folks outside of Solista are too familiar with the family name.”
Rean, on polite instinct alone, clasped the fellow’s hand and shook it once. His being technically nobility meant the motion was hardwired in after years of meet-and-greets at the Schwarzer household. “Rean Schwarzer. It’s a plea… wait, Solista…?” Rean’s eyes widened in realization. “Wait, you’re from Solista ?!”
Withdrawing his hand, Partitio snapped his fingers once more. “Bingo! Oresrush, born’n’raised! My Pops started up the first silver mine in the area, if I can be a tad boastful.”
Rean was dumbfounded, to put it mildly. He’d heard of the continent, some seven-or eight-days’ airship travel away. Little commerce and trade had been established over the years, but a certain Chancellor had begun making overtures towards an alliance with nation-states far past Zemuria’s own shores. Solistia was the only one who had been receptive to the offer. The other two (Rean couldn’t remember their names, exactly; Foderland and Albertia maybe?) seemed to be reeling from recent conflicts and had instituted general isolationist policies. That didn’t mean it was all smooth sailing; a similar policy kept all but the royals and the merchantry from slowly trickling into Zemurian nations. I’m fairly certain an envoy went to Liberl recently… Ku, wasn’t it?
“Y’in there, Partner?”
Rean snapped out of his thoughts, clearing his throat. “Yes, sorry. S-so, are you here on business or pleasure, Mr. Yellowil?”
“Call me Partitio! Mr. Yellowil makes me feel ancient. And, well…” Partitio tilted his head, seeming genuinely confused by the question. “Can’t it be both? After all, if you love your job, you never work a day in your life. Or, well, that’s what my old Pops used to say.”
Rean frowned. I’d love to know how that feels. “I’ll take your word for it.”
“Sorry, maybe I should explain a bit. Y’see, I’m a merchant; I go huntin’ for good wares at good prices and find people who need ‘em at a price they can afford.” Partitio lifted up a briefcase, which seemed to be full-to-bursting, patting it gently. “Usually I have a stand, but ‘til I get my bearings here, I’m goin’ old-fashioned. Point is, nothin’ makes me happier than a good sale, and that ain’t for the coin. It’s the smiles that come from the sale that get me.”
From anyone else, that’d be itself a sales pitch. I can kind of believe this guy, though. That said… Rean put a hand on his chin, rubbing it in thought. “Do you have a permit for solicitation and sales?” He looked over at a nearby Military Police officer, nervously. “They’ve been cracking down more often, especially this close to the department store.” I’d rather there not be any international incidents this week… or ever.
“I got it nice and safe up here!” Gingerly lifting up his hat, Partitio revealed its underside, showing a piece of paper stashed within an inner band. “I’m never without this ol’ rascal, so any lousy thief is gonna have to work for it.”
“Huh. Can’t say I would’ve thought of that.”
Partitio chuckled, settling the hat back down. “Thinkin’ outside the box is what we merchants do best!” He crossed his arms as he glanced around the city streets. An orbal car zipped by, kicking up dust in its wake. “I tell ya, though, even the finest Solistia merchant ain’t got nothin’ on Zemurians. I can’t imagine what it’s like tryin’ to sell a hunka metal with wheels.”
Rean, feeling the slightest bit of local pride, nodded earnestly. “Orbal science has advanced a lot over the years. Salesmen have had to keep up.”
“I can imagine . We’re nowhere near that fancy, y’know. We’re still stuck on steam engines, and ya’ll’re flyin’ through the air! It’s like somethin’ out of a five-Leaf novel.”
“Erm. Leaf?”
“Yeah, Leaf.” After a moment, Partitio’s palm met his forehead. “Ah, consarn it; ya’ll use that Mirror stuff, right?”
Rean nodded. “ Mira, yes.” Rean withdrew a five-Mira coin from his own coat pocket. “Trade you?”
“Sure!” Partitio chirped, pulling out a coin of his own. “Heck, I’ll give you a full tenner.”
“No,” Rean protested, “I’m sure that doesn’t exactly convert to—”
“This ain’t for convertin’!” Partitio flipped the coin between his fingers, chuckling. “I’m plannin’ on havin’ at least one coin from every continent I visit as a souvenir. You can consider mine the same. Besides, I got a nice bundle to work with. G’on.”
“Well… if you say so.” Swapping the coin with the merchant, Rean inspected the Leaf. A wise-looking old man graced the front (a king, maybe?) and a fortress with a strange, crowned tree adorned the back.
Partitio whistled, spinning the Mira coin in-between his index finger and thumb. “This is some high-quality silver! I might just buy a few more of these while I’m here. Pretty lady on the front’ll probably be a selling point too.”
Rean shook his head. “You can get your Leaves converted, probably, but I wouldn’t really advise buying it outright like a commodity. Silver is silver, wherever you go, so it won’t get much more valuable. You might be better off trying to buy Sepith in bulk from a local supplier if you’re looking for something...” He raised his fingers to make air quotes. “‘Exotic’, so to speak.”
“Sepith? Oh, right!” Partitio’s eyes lit up. “That’s the stuff what makes the carriages and aeromachines go, yeah?”
Rean blinked. “...we use different words, but essentially. If you like, I was actually about to go to a local Orbment repair shop; they could probably point you in the right direction.”
With a hearty laugh (and an even heartier pat on the back; Rean wondered briefly if all Solistians were this hands-on), Partitio nodded. “I’d love to! Lead the way, Mr. Schwarzer!”
“Sure thing. Just…” He paused, fishing for his glasses in his pocket. “Please try not to use my name if you can.”
“Right, right, you’re Mr. Famous here.” A light flickered behind Partitio’s eyes as Rean withdrew the glasses. Before he could react, Rean felt a large swath of fabric drop onto his shoulders. “Y’know, I got a second coat just like this back at my hotel. And, just to complete the look, here’s an additional rental!” A weight dropped onto Rean’s head, briefly covering his eyes. Rean pushed the strange object upward, quickly recognizing Partitio’s hat; the fabric, then, must have been the man’s coat.
“Wait, I can’t just—”
“Coincidentally,” Partitio interrupted, ignoring Rean’s squawk of protest, “The cost of the coat and the rental hat comes out to… oh, let’s say five Mirror.” He held out a hand. “And those spectacles of yours. They ain’t gonna work, trust me.”
“I can’t just—” Rean’s argument died at the earnest smile on Partitio’s face. The look seemed… familiar.
“So, y’re takin’ the whole kit’n’kaboodle?”
“Becky, I don’t have the Mira to buy ten pounds of cake from you!”
“Then I presume you’ll instead be going for my offerings.”
“Hugo, you cannae think any ol’ daft type’ll be wantin’ ten pounds of licorice.”
“Guys, please, this is supposed to be a fundraiser —”
…I wonder how those two are doing.
Partitio placed his hands on his hips, expectantly. “So! Do we have a deal?”
“...yes,” Rean sighed, “We do.”
The smile never left the merchant’s lips, but it gained some teeth. “Pleasure doin’ business with ya, then!”
Shaking his head in disbelief, Rean readjusted the coat, moving the hat so that it sat comfortably on the back of his head. “You know, I think I have two friends who would love to meet you someday. They’re merchants, too.”
“Well, talk about yer funny coinky’dinks! It musta been some divine providence we met, then!” Tilting his head slightly, a nervous chuckle escaped Partitio’s lips. “That ain’t a problem to say, right? Ya’ll got that Adios here. Won’t be much offended at the implication?”
“I think Aidios will be just fine, Partitio.”
“Gotcha. Mind if I ask a bit about the whole ‘sky goddess’ thing, while we’re makin’ our way? I still gotta figure out what your deal is, too.”
Rean slumped his shoulders. I wasn’t ready to give my first history lesson before classes started, let alone theology or a crash course in my own life. Still…
“Where do you want to start?”
Thus was a new path forged.
The Merchant, seeking the scent of commerce across the seas and land.
The Chevalier, chasing a purpose and redemption both.
Neither knew the significance of this meeting, nor the divergent roads it would lead to.
Nor the truths it would unveil…
The Legend of Heroes: Trails Upon the Eight-Split Path: Prologue Complete