Mage? Magic Engineer!-Chapter 128 - 125: A Winter Wind Rises in Spring
"Sir, we’ve reached Montoglie Street." The driver slowed down. "Don’t laugh, but I can’t read much, and there are too many taverns and restaurants on this street. You’ll have to keep a sharp eye out and let me know when you see the place."
"Alright." On the way, Rorschach had read the entry in the *Gold Selling Guide*. The Golden Crown Tavern was originally a small inn in Valuva. But because the chef was so skilled, the food service became its main business, and it was eventually converted into a small bistro that sold drinks and stews.
"Here it is. How much do I owe you?"
"That’ll be sixteen Copper Coins, if you please."
Rorschach handed him a Livre, got four copper coins in change, and stepped out of the carriage. Before him was the solution to his dinner problem: a three-story, peak-roofed brick building with an exposed wooden frame. The sign depicted a drink, a soup pot, and a simply drawn crown.
"Have a heart, young master. The spring wind is still so cold. Could you spare some money for a bowl of soup?" To his surprise, there was a beggar right at the tavern’s entrance. His hair was a mess, obscuring his face, his voice was hoarse, and he was missing several teeth.
’Are the owner and staff so busy they can’t spare a moment to deal with their own doorway?’
Rorschach gave the beggar all the change he’d gotten from the general store and the carriage driver, along with the glass bottle in his hand. "You can exchange this bottle at a general store for three Copper Coins."
"Thank you, kind young master! Though I’m more likely to use it to collect water... Are you heading into the Golden Crown Tavern?"
Before Rorschach could answer, the beggar continued, "Their pâté is absolutely divine! You won’t find better in all of Valuva. Take the first bite plain, then for the second, spread on some yellow mustard..."
"Thank you for the suggestion."
"No, I should be thanking you, kind young master. May the Light and order protect you..."
’Just be careful the people who maintain order in the city don’t run you off...’ Rorschach thought, turning to enter the tavern.
The first floor was a combination of a main hall and a bar, and it was currently packed. Most tables had wine to accompany the meals. A young woman in an apron was serving; after setting down a dish, she immediately greeted the new customer, Rorschach. "Hello, how many in your party?"
"Just me. Do you have any tables available?"
"A party of one... If you don’t mind sharing a table, please follow me to the second floor."
Rorschach nodded, and the waitress led him upstairs. The wooden spiral staircase let out a CREAK... CREAK... sound. The ceiling on the second floor was considerably lower. The server found an empty seat at a four-person table and asked the current occupant if they would accept someone sharing.
The customer didn’t answer right away, only agreeing after looking Rorschach up and down. The man who consented was slick-haired, dressed in very high-quality fabric, yet he seemed unconcerned about the splattering juices from his meal.
"Please, order when you’re ready." The waitress brought a piece of paper and handed it to Rorschach. It was a simple, handwritten menu.
He glanced over it quickly. It was all Holy Kingdom country-style cuisine, a completely different style from the luxurious restaurants of the Starlight Torch Tower. It was more like that little eatery by the vegetable market, though the prices were anything but cheap. ’That beggar must have been well-off at some point...’
Finding the beggar’s recommendation, Rorschach began to order. "For the appetizer, I’ll have the goose liver and beef pâté. For the main course, the grilled turbot, with a side of baked potato. What do you recommend for dessert?" Rorschach was a little curious about the baked potato.
The waitress jotted it down with a charcoal pencil and said, "For dessert today, we only have pudding and quince pie."
’Another thing I’ve never heard of.’ "Then I’ll have that... ’quince’ pie."
"It’s oyster season right now. Would you like to add a half-dozen oysters to your appetizer? Our dipping sauce is a house specialty, a flavor straight from the harbor." Rorschach glanced at the dishes of the man he was sharing the table with; the portions weren’t large, so he nodded and accepted the recommendation. It was said that to ensure quality, the Sun King, Charles XIV, had even passed a law declaring the first and last three months of the year as "oyster season."
"You have good taste. The pâté at this place is not to be missed. I can tell you’re a new face, yet you ordered the must-have dish." So this man was a regular.
"Then I’m in luck." With no phone to kill time while waiting for the food, and since waiting was waiting, Rorschach started chatting with the man at his table.
"Have you ever bought stocks? That’s what I do for a living." The man wiped his mouth and right hand with a napkin and pulled out a business card for Rorschach.
Rorschach took it, pocketing it without a close look. "I dabbled a bit last year. Shaleanna and Helicu."
"By the Light! Your judgment is truly incredible!" This time the stock manager was astonished. "Only those willing to buy shares in these big companies are making the safest bet. You see, right now all the little fish are seeing their prices drop or are going bankrupt. Only the top players on the exchange are holding strong..."
"I haven’t been paying attention for a while. What’s the situation now?" ’This will give me plenty to write about in my next report for the bald man,’ Rorschach thought.
"Liquidity, sir. It’s springtime, and there’s a huge demand for cash. The landed Nobility from the outer provinces need to pull their capital back to invest in their fields. Repairing irrigation, planting seedlings... In short, the people who were previously investing now need money, so they’re pulling out of the stock market, causing a cyclical Oscillation... You understand, yes?"
Rorschach nodded. The shucked oysters arrived. The sauce was indeed unique, a vinaigrette made from a mix of red shallots and red vinegar. It wasn’t overly sour but had a rich flavor that cut through the brininess and brought out the freshness of the oysters. Rorschach passed two to his tablemate, encouraging him to continue.
"Thank you, thank you." The manager continued to divulge, "But this has spooked the market. You know, there are only three types of people at the stock exchange: foolish brutes, foolish cowards, and smart cowards. Many of the newly issued small stocks quickly lost all their traders. Quite a few factories have had their capital chains break, and some speculators have gone bankrupt."
"All those garbage stocks that rode the wave of hype collapsed in an instant. Ah, that was early in the month. Suddenly, a whole wall of trading placards was taken down. They were like bubbles, popped by the last winter wind of spring."
"So only the top-tier, blue-chip stocks are stable," Rorschach finished for him. ’I’ve seen this before. Overhyped liquor tech, "the universe’s number one stock"...’
"Exactly! I’d raise a glass to you if I could. All the capital is concentrating in the blue-chip stocks now. Their prices have actually risen during this little setback." 𝚏𝐫𝚎𝗲𝕨𝐞𝐛𝕟𝚘𝐯𝚎𝗹.𝕔𝐨𝗺
"Unfortunately, I don’t drink alcohol." Rorschach had ordered a fruit tea.
The pâté was indeed delicious. Unlike the one at the Duke’s estate in Granor, this was made from stewed beef that was then chilled, allowing the gelatin to set again. Paired with the goose liver and pre-dinner bread, it was endlessly savory.
When the waiter brought the main course, he was accompanied by another customer. The man wore a windbreaker, Leather Gloves, and furs, and had the dusty, weary look of someone who had just completed a long journey.
"Mind if I join you?" Both the manager and Rorschach nodded. Their four-person table was the only one with an empty seat. Rorschach was sharing the table himself, so of course he wouldn’t refuse. The manager, meanwhile, scented a business opportunity: this place wasn’t cheap, so any patron was a potential client.
The man in the windbreaker ordered quickly, then gave the two of them a brief, slightly restrained smile and a nod.
The manager continued to chat with Rorschach as they ate. Rorschach found that his main course was also delicious. The turbot’s skin was crispy and the flesh was tender, but the real magic was once again the sauce—a cream base mixed with the aroma and flavor of citrus fruits, plus a hint of pepper.
Rorschach focused on his meal, while the manager, who had nearly finished eating, held his wine glass and prattled on. "But this ’winter wind’ has had other ill effects. All those new workshops hired so many people from the outer provinces. Now that some have gone under, those people have become a source of instability..."
"Honestly, there’s too much manual labor for sale in Valuva now; people have become cheap. If you go look in the outskirts, it’s truly frightening. The number of *sans-culottes* had been decreasing, but now it’s on the rise again..."
The last of the dishes arrived. The "potato" wasn’t sweet and sour at all; it was simply the high-starch tuber Rorschach often ate in the Empire. The "quince" in the pie, however, had been diced and made into a jam, and its flavor was surprisingly similar to apple, with a rich, fruity aroma.
"Are you saying that the cost of labor in Valuva is very low right now?" The man in the windbreaker joined the conversation. He immediately introduced himself, "I’m a Middle Level partner with the Balderom Chamber of Commerce. I’d like to understand more about what you were saying."
’Balderom? That’s Bart’s family’s chamber of commerce.’ Rorschach suddenly matched the name in his memory.
