Vermilion Rewrite ~ One: Merchant
Oct. 3rd, 2013 05:05 pm![[identity profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/openid.png){kind=small}
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yraeTo be honest, very little changes between round one in 2008 and round two today: no more names (because Llayan names are hard to remember at the best of times, let alone when there are 30 chapters each with a different main character), new place names (because Llayad has developed since 2008) and a bit of gender flipping (because, again, they've developed since 2008). Full explanation can be found here and a new map is here, though this story takes place all in the same town so you won't need it much.
Onward!
~ ~ ~
The breeze blew warm and dusty through the small patch of wilderness. Hushing oaks and birches turned to fire for the autumn, but still the heat of the savanna blew up into the Llayan hill country. Beside the well-kept trading route flowed the great river Taminga, running all the way from Kazin’s eucalypt forests in the north, through Llayad’s golden savanna and into neighbouring Raykin’s harsh desert.
The merchant closed her eyes and took a deep breath of the musty, early Autumn breeze as it brushed against her face and combed through her hair. Warm sunlight dappled through the leaves overhead, still tinged with the last of summer’s bright green. This was a good day to be on the road, and hopefully even better in the next town.
The trees thinned to the edge of a meadow, and she could see the castle now, a dark, grey monolith jutting out from the top of a hill not too far away. A high wall surrounded it, with a cluster of houses at the hill’s foot leading right up to the water’s edge. Orchards, animal farms and, the merchant observed with a grin, a beautiful vineyard flowed over the hills near the town.
Named for the copse of bright, fiery poplars that grew behind the castle, Candlewood was an important trading centre along the River Taminga, famous for producing a smooth shiraz that was good enough to hold a place in Llayad’s royal cellars. Maybe the merchant wouldn’t be able to afford such a drop, but certainly it meant the townspeople would a touch richer than the last town he was in. In Candlewood, she should be able to charge enough not only to recover his losses, but leave with a handy profit, too.
‘We’re almost there, Snow Flower,’ she called into the back of the wagon.
‘Don’t call me that, Mother,’ an insolent young voice returned. The merchant sighed as her young daughter crawled forward to sit beside her. She half wished the girl would never grow up at all. Already her innocence was fading.
‘Do you know how you gained that nickname?’ the merchant tried.
His daughter rolled her eyes and turned her face away to watch the landscape roll slowly past. Her dark brown curls bounced with the motion of the wagon.
‘It’s because when you were born, and your father hugged you to his chest, it started snowing.’ The merchant smiled fondly. ‘One snowflake landed right on your nose,’ she finished, turning to her daughter.
The teenager made no move that she’d heard, and the merchant sighed again. She reached forwards to affectionately pat one of her two faithful mares on her black-and-white striped rump. ‘You’ll never leave me, will you, ladies?’
The thirteen-year-old beside her snorted. ‘I’m not leaving you, Mother,’ she retorted. ‘I’m just tired of travelling.’ She turned forwards again and looked down at her fingers in her lap. ‘It almost feels like we’re settling into a town, and then you say we have to leave again. Why can’t we live in a house, like normal people?’
‘Well,’ the merchant replied carefully. ‘When you’re old enough, you can marry a nice boy or a nice girl and live in any house you wish.’
‘Mother,’ the girl whined. ‘I’m never going to meet a nice boy or a nice girl, because you always make me help at the wagon and make us move on before I’ve even had a chance.’
The merchant’s lips narrowed. She did have a point. ‘We’ll see what we think of Candlewood, then,’ he reasoned. ‘If we like it enough, we might stay a little longer.’ She wrapped an arm around her shoulders and squeezed her gently, amazingly bringing a giggle from the girl. ‘Just for you,’ she added, planting a noisy kiss in her curls.
‘Only if I like it,’ her daughter agreed. ‘Mother, look!’ She pointed excitedly on top of the hill to their right. ‘Gazelles!’
It wasn’t long before the zebra’s hooves were clopping with hollow, wooden noises over the bridge into Candlewood. As its reputation declared, Candlewood was a quaint and exquisitely well-kept little town. Its cobblestone streets were swept clear of leaves and dust every night, as evidenced by the brooms by each front door, and there was no pervasive smell of fish and butchered meat hanging in the air as there had been at the last town. Rather, Candlewood carried the fruity fragrance of its orchards on the eastern slopes, and the warm smell of dying autumn leaves.
The merchant almost rubbed her hands with glee. The lord and lady of this town’s castle made certain that their people lived well, and they could only do that if they had money.
‘Your face has that look again, Mother,’ her daughter noted, in a voice peculiarly wry for a girl of thirteen.
The merchant just laughed.
At the sound of the mares’ hooves and the rattling wooden wheels of the wagon, Candlewood’s townspeople came out from their houses and shops to investigate. Some even began to follow them as they clopped lazily towards the town square.
‘What wares have you to sell, noble merchant?’ one woman asked as the merchant reined in the zebras.
‘All manner of the arts, good lady,’ she answered expansively, jumping down from the driver’s seat. ‘Exquisite paintings from the north’s finest artists, and the most delicately-tuned musical instruments your ears have ever had the pleasure to hear.’
‘How delightful,’ the woman answered, clasping her hands at her breast. She wore a dark blue dress trimmed with white lace. The skirt dropped to her ankles to conceal her feet, but her arms were bare in the warmth of early autumn, and the bodice was cut tantalisingly low. ‘My husband and I have been aching for such a luxury for some time. Our son wishes to learn to play the violin,’ she added hopefully.
The merchant smiled broadly. ‘A popular choice, madam,’ she complimented her. ‘How old is your son?’
‘He’ll be twelve in a matter of weeks. A violin would make the perfect birthday present for him.’
‘Quite so,’ the merchant agreed, casting half a glance at her daughter. A musician would make a fine husband for her, but she didn’t appear to be listening. ‘I have three beautiful violins in my wagon, if madam would care to inspect them.’
‘You’ve chosen a fine time to visit Candlewood, good merchant,’ the woman told him as he climbed up into the back of the wagon.
‘Oh? Why is that?’
‘Our lord and lady are holding a dinner party this evening,’ the woman went on. ‘Every noble in the region is attending, and our lord has arranged for a musician’s group to play for them.’
Oh, lucky day, the merchant thought with a grin. She picked up the two of the three violin cases and jumped down from the wagon. ‘Is that so?’ he said mildly. ‘I’m afraid I seem to have misplaced the third,’ she apologised, handing the woman the first violin. ‘Such a shame, because it really is the best of the lot. I could look closer if you wish.’
The woman gasped as she opened the violin case, then ran her fingers over the plush velvet lining. ‘Oh, no, that won’t be necessary.’ She took the violin from its case with the care and delicacy she would give a newborn kitten. ‘Oh, it’s beautiful.’
‘Lovingly crafted by the Ladivari family of Panmure,’ the merchant recited. ‘They’ve been in the business for six generations, now.’
‘Truly?’ the woman asked, only half listening as she turned the instrument over in her hands. The bright blue sky overhead glinted off its highly polished surface. ‘How much would you ask, friend merchant?’
‘For an instrument this delicate?’ the merchant emphasised. ‘Twenty gold pieces.’
‘Twenty?’ the poor woman gasped, hastily replacing the violin in its case. ‘Oh, no, my husband is only a simple carpenter.’
The merchant accepted the violin back with a great show of reluctance. ‘It could be your son’s future, madam,’ he reminded her. ‘You’ve said the boy is keen. You should give him the encouragement he deserves. Just imagine, he could be great enough to play in front of lords and ladies all over Llayad, perhaps even for the king and queen.’
The woman’s eyes glistened with hope as she looked at the case in the merchant’s hands. He almost thought she was going to start biting her nails, the way she wrung her hands in her apron. ‘Oh, I don’t know,’ she said helplessly. ‘Let me ask my husband? I’m sure we can afford it somehow. Please don’t sell it before I return.’
The merchant flourished a bow. ‘You have my word, dear lady.’ He had already given her the right words to hand to her carpenter husband. She’d definitely return later today, gold in hand.
‘Thank you, friend merchant,’ the woman answered with a dip of her head.
‘Before you leave, might I ask the name of your lord’s lady? I must pay a visit to the castle before my visit is out.’
The woman nodded delicately. ‘She has little interest in merchants, I’ve heard. They have a son, Master Vermilion, who you would have better luck with.’
The merchant frowned. ‘I’m sorry?’
‘Or Master Crimson, Master Scarlet.’ She laughed again, a rich, open sound that bounced off the walls surrounding the town square. ‘He’s always seen wearing a long red cloak,’ she explained.
‘I see,’ the merchant allowed with a lopsided grin. ‘Is he more interested in paintings or music?’ she pressed.
The woman laughed and shook her head. ‘Everything!’ she answered. ‘He lives to impress, our young Master Vermilion. With the party on tonight, I don’t doubt that you’ll see him before the day is out.’
The merchant bowed again. ‘Thank you most kindly, madam,’ he thanked her, watching as her dark blue dress swept out of the town square.
‘Did you hear that, Snow Flower?’
‘Mother!’
‘Sorry,’ the merchant said with a grin. ‘She has a son, nearly twelve, who wishes to learn the violin.’
Her daughter looked up, eyes bright. ‘Does that mean you’re letting me explore today?’ Her face was so hopeful that the merchant almost said yes, but she shook her head and toyed with her earring in thought.
‘Not today.’ Her heart sank as the girl’s shoulders drooped. ‘But I promise, the day after tomorrow, we’ll have a day in the town, just you and me. How does that sound?’
The girl shrugged. ‘Not too bad, I suppose.’
The merchant smiled and patted her on the head. ‘Don’t worry. I’m sure he’ll be along with his mother when she returns to pick up her violin.’
The young girl grinned and reached up for a hug that her mother was only too glad to return.
Onward!
The breeze blew warm and dusty through the small patch of wilderness. Hushing oaks and birches turned to fire for the autumn, but still the heat of the savanna blew up into the Llayan hill country. Beside the well-kept trading route flowed the great river Taminga, running all the way from Kazin’s eucalypt forests in the north, through Llayad’s golden savanna and into neighbouring Raykin’s harsh desert.The merchant closed her eyes and took a deep breath of the musty, early Autumn breeze as it brushed against her face and combed through her hair. Warm sunlight dappled through the leaves overhead, still tinged with the last of summer’s bright green. This was a good day to be on the road, and hopefully even better in the next town.
The trees thinned to the edge of a meadow, and she could see the castle now, a dark, grey monolith jutting out from the top of a hill not too far away. A high wall surrounded it, with a cluster of houses at the hill’s foot leading right up to the water’s edge. Orchards, animal farms and, the merchant observed with a grin, a beautiful vineyard flowed over the hills near the town.
Named for the copse of bright, fiery poplars that grew behind the castle, Candlewood was an important trading centre along the River Taminga, famous for producing a smooth shiraz that was good enough to hold a place in Llayad’s royal cellars. Maybe the merchant wouldn’t be able to afford such a drop, but certainly it meant the townspeople would a touch richer than the last town he was in. In Candlewood, she should be able to charge enough not only to recover his losses, but leave with a handy profit, too.
‘We’re almost there, Snow Flower,’ she called into the back of the wagon.
‘Don’t call me that, Mother,’ an insolent young voice returned. The merchant sighed as her young daughter crawled forward to sit beside her. She half wished the girl would never grow up at all. Already her innocence was fading.
‘Do you know how you gained that nickname?’ the merchant tried.
His daughter rolled her eyes and turned her face away to watch the landscape roll slowly past. Her dark brown curls bounced with the motion of the wagon.
‘It’s because when you were born, and your father hugged you to his chest, it started snowing.’ The merchant smiled fondly. ‘One snowflake landed right on your nose,’ she finished, turning to her daughter.
The teenager made no move that she’d heard, and the merchant sighed again. She reached forwards to affectionately pat one of her two faithful mares on her black-and-white striped rump. ‘You’ll never leave me, will you, ladies?’
The thirteen-year-old beside her snorted. ‘I’m not leaving you, Mother,’ she retorted. ‘I’m just tired of travelling.’ She turned forwards again and looked down at her fingers in her lap. ‘It almost feels like we’re settling into a town, and then you say we have to leave again. Why can’t we live in a house, like normal people?’
‘Well,’ the merchant replied carefully. ‘When you’re old enough, you can marry a nice boy or a nice girl and live in any house you wish.’
‘Mother,’ the girl whined. ‘I’m never going to meet a nice boy or a nice girl, because you always make me help at the wagon and make us move on before I’ve even had a chance.’
The merchant’s lips narrowed. She did have a point. ‘We’ll see what we think of Candlewood, then,’ he reasoned. ‘If we like it enough, we might stay a little longer.’ She wrapped an arm around her shoulders and squeezed her gently, amazingly bringing a giggle from the girl. ‘Just for you,’ she added, planting a noisy kiss in her curls.
‘Only if I like it,’ her daughter agreed. ‘Mother, look!’ She pointed excitedly on top of the hill to their right. ‘Gazelles!’
It wasn’t long before the zebra’s hooves were clopping with hollow, wooden noises over the bridge into Candlewood. As its reputation declared, Candlewood was a quaint and exquisitely well-kept little town. Its cobblestone streets were swept clear of leaves and dust every night, as evidenced by the brooms by each front door, and there was no pervasive smell of fish and butchered meat hanging in the air as there had been at the last town. Rather, Candlewood carried the fruity fragrance of its orchards on the eastern slopes, and the warm smell of dying autumn leaves.
The merchant almost rubbed her hands with glee. The lord and lady of this town’s castle made certain that their people lived well, and they could only do that if they had money.
‘Your face has that look again, Mother,’ her daughter noted, in a voice peculiarly wry for a girl of thirteen.
The merchant just laughed.
At the sound of the mares’ hooves and the rattling wooden wheels of the wagon, Candlewood’s townspeople came out from their houses and shops to investigate. Some even began to follow them as they clopped lazily towards the town square.
‘What wares have you to sell, noble merchant?’ one woman asked as the merchant reined in the zebras.
‘All manner of the arts, good lady,’ she answered expansively, jumping down from the driver’s seat. ‘Exquisite paintings from the north’s finest artists, and the most delicately-tuned musical instruments your ears have ever had the pleasure to hear.’
‘How delightful,’ the woman answered, clasping her hands at her breast. She wore a dark blue dress trimmed with white lace. The skirt dropped to her ankles to conceal her feet, but her arms were bare in the warmth of early autumn, and the bodice was cut tantalisingly low. ‘My husband and I have been aching for such a luxury for some time. Our son wishes to learn to play the violin,’ she added hopefully.
The merchant smiled broadly. ‘A popular choice, madam,’ she complimented her. ‘How old is your son?’
‘He’ll be twelve in a matter of weeks. A violin would make the perfect birthday present for him.’
‘Quite so,’ the merchant agreed, casting half a glance at her daughter. A musician would make a fine husband for her, but she didn’t appear to be listening. ‘I have three beautiful violins in my wagon, if madam would care to inspect them.’
‘You’ve chosen a fine time to visit Candlewood, good merchant,’ the woman told him as he climbed up into the back of the wagon.
‘Oh? Why is that?’
‘Our lord and lady are holding a dinner party this evening,’ the woman went on. ‘Every noble in the region is attending, and our lord has arranged for a musician’s group to play for them.’
Oh, lucky day, the merchant thought with a grin. She picked up the two of the three violin cases and jumped down from the wagon. ‘Is that so?’ he said mildly. ‘I’m afraid I seem to have misplaced the third,’ she apologised, handing the woman the first violin. ‘Such a shame, because it really is the best of the lot. I could look closer if you wish.’
The woman gasped as she opened the violin case, then ran her fingers over the plush velvet lining. ‘Oh, no, that won’t be necessary.’ She took the violin from its case with the care and delicacy she would give a newborn kitten. ‘Oh, it’s beautiful.’
‘Lovingly crafted by the Ladivari family of Panmure,’ the merchant recited. ‘They’ve been in the business for six generations, now.’
‘Truly?’ the woman asked, only half listening as she turned the instrument over in her hands. The bright blue sky overhead glinted off its highly polished surface. ‘How much would you ask, friend merchant?’
‘For an instrument this delicate?’ the merchant emphasised. ‘Twenty gold pieces.’
‘Twenty?’ the poor woman gasped, hastily replacing the violin in its case. ‘Oh, no, my husband is only a simple carpenter.’
The merchant accepted the violin back with a great show of reluctance. ‘It could be your son’s future, madam,’ he reminded her. ‘You’ve said the boy is keen. You should give him the encouragement he deserves. Just imagine, he could be great enough to play in front of lords and ladies all over Llayad, perhaps even for the king and queen.’
The woman’s eyes glistened with hope as she looked at the case in the merchant’s hands. He almost thought she was going to start biting her nails, the way she wrung her hands in her apron. ‘Oh, I don’t know,’ she said helplessly. ‘Let me ask my husband? I’m sure we can afford it somehow. Please don’t sell it before I return.’
The merchant flourished a bow. ‘You have my word, dear lady.’ He had already given her the right words to hand to her carpenter husband. She’d definitely return later today, gold in hand.
‘Thank you, friend merchant,’ the woman answered with a dip of her head.
‘Before you leave, might I ask the name of your lord’s lady? I must pay a visit to the castle before my visit is out.’
The woman nodded delicately. ‘She has little interest in merchants, I’ve heard. They have a son, Master Vermilion, who you would have better luck with.’
The merchant frowned. ‘I’m sorry?’
‘Or Master Crimson, Master Scarlet.’ She laughed again, a rich, open sound that bounced off the walls surrounding the town square. ‘He’s always seen wearing a long red cloak,’ she explained.
‘I see,’ the merchant allowed with a lopsided grin. ‘Is he more interested in paintings or music?’ she pressed.
The woman laughed and shook her head. ‘Everything!’ she answered. ‘He lives to impress, our young Master Vermilion. With the party on tonight, I don’t doubt that you’ll see him before the day is out.’
The merchant bowed again. ‘Thank you most kindly, madam,’ he thanked her, watching as her dark blue dress swept out of the town square.
‘Did you hear that, Snow Flower?’
‘Mother!’
‘Sorry,’ the merchant said with a grin. ‘She has a son, nearly twelve, who wishes to learn the violin.’
Her daughter looked up, eyes bright. ‘Does that mean you’re letting me explore today?’ Her face was so hopeful that the merchant almost said yes, but she shook her head and toyed with her earring in thought.
‘Not today.’ Her heart sank as the girl’s shoulders drooped. ‘But I promise, the day after tomorrow, we’ll have a day in the town, just you and me. How does that sound?’
The girl shrugged. ‘Not too bad, I suppose.’
The merchant smiled and patted her on the head. ‘Don’t worry. I’m sure he’ll be along with his mother when she returns to pick up her violin.’
The young girl grinned and reached up for a hug that her mother was only too glad to return.
no subject
Date: 2013-11-04 01:24 pm (UTC)(Apologies in advance, my comments are rubbish this week.)
no subject
Date: 2013-11-04 01:47 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2013-11-12 09:22 am (UTC)The unimpressed teenager is my favourite part of this. Poor Snow Flower, plagued by an embarrassing parent who just DOESN'T UNDERSTAND HER PAIN. <3
I agree that this is a really good hook. Party, you say? Mister Crimson, hmm? Let's see ...
no subject
Date: 2013-11-12 10:38 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2015-01-16 11:23 am (UTC)Hushing oaks and birches turned to fire for the autumn,
Fuuuuuuuuuchhhhhh beautiful words <3
I love that you like know about way merchanting works. Like how richer Candlewood is because of the wines, and how like she can recoop herself. Like I guess its obvious but its nice you think of it and you mention it.
Moody Llayan teenagers are awesome. I bet they're all emo. I love the story of her petname though. SO CUTE.
Actually I get pangs of Chocolat when the girl talks about how she's moody with travelling and she wants to settle somewhere. A little hommage?
I would love to stand in sunset in Candlewood. So clean and fruity smelling. <3
‘What wares have you to sell, noble merchant?’ [...]
‘All manner of the arts, good lady,’ [...] ‘Exquisite paintings from the north’s finest artists, and the most delicately-tuned musical instruments your ears have ever had the pleasure to hear.’
‘How delightful,’
UGH I LOVE THE WAY LLAYANS TALK TO EACH OTHER OKAY? How NICE would life be if people were that way all the time?
‘You’ve chosen a fine time to visit Candlewood, good merchant,’ the woman told him as he climbed up into the back of the wagon.
‘Is that so?’ he said mildly.
Your merchant hath spontainously changed sex! And a few more times after that.
The way you describe the wares and such are so loving and beautiful. I love how Llayans just put so much love and work and tendernss into everything they craft and make. You show that so much in here.
Its also like... even when a merchant is scalping someone, they do it in the best possible taste. lol. IN THE SWEETEST OF WAYS. Llayad is so much honey.
I like the planting of seeds of mystery about Vermillion too <3 Good work making the reader get hooked.
UGH SNOW FLOWER YOU ARE SO CUTE I HOPE YOU GET A ROMANCE.
no subject
Date: 2015-01-16 12:55 pm (UTC)There will doubtless be other sex-changes in the next few chapters XD; Changing it up from the first time around, not actually rewriting anything.
SHE MAY WELL DO but not in this story because it's only a day long and she's had her chapter. But hey, I can plot out her life =3