2404 Xavem 8, Reshpe

The ring of the minze during mating season was loud in Nelnifa's ears as she walked down the mountain and through the forest. Her neck was stiff from spending the whole day yesterday weaving baskets in the Weaver's Circle just to get the quota filled quicker. She had a deal with Morka, after all.

She remembered the day when she first approached the Circle's overseer after she realized she had to start somewhere if she was to find the reason why Desara's economy was suffering. It didn't take too long of a leap for her to pinpoint the economy being the problem. After her talk with her father, she began looking at Desara in its individual aspects—government, judiciary, society and culture, trade and economy, and even the lay of land. All the other aspects were in good condition, as it was managed by the Potentate and his consort and Nelnifa had enough trust in her parents. The only thing that could pose a greater influence in the territory's profit was, of course, their trade and economy.

Nelnifa, having finished all the modules given to her by her tutors, knew other territories were able to fund so many of their different endeavors like the military and their royal family's own coffers because they earn enough from either taxes or from trading. Taxes were next to nonexistent as a concept in Desara, with only the biggest production companies and the wealthiest merchants paying it, so it was out of the question. The people might riot a lot earlier if they started imposing a tax system on citizens now.

That leaves only the economy part. In Desara's case, it was handled mostly by the Consort and as customary, Nelnifa has started taking slices of it under her own wing. So, if she was to investigate, she had to start with the ones in her immediate reach.

Of course, Nelnifa wasn't thrilled when she realized she had to talk to more people with authority even though she, herself, was respected for being one. That's how she had wandered into the Weaver's Circle the other day, looking for a proper chance to talk to its overseer, Morka Stensa.

Nelnifa clearly remembered how she accidentally bumped into Kethana who was carrying an armful of weaved baskets in a pile so high the pink-haired sprite had to lean over to one side to see the road. The impact came suddenly, with Nelnifa briefly seeing a flash of orange and dark yellow fly in her periphery. Ketha's familiar "Ow!" rang in the early Oraytan air.

"Watch where you're going, would you?" Ketha had exclaimed, her frown deeper than a fumise could burrow. Then, their eyes met and Ketha realized who had just bumped into her. "I'm sorry, Nel. Didn't see ya there."

Nelnifa remembered the awkwardness seeping in her system. Even so, she had bent down and offered her friend a hand. "It's fine," she had said as Ketha took her hand and she hauled her friend up. The sand beneath them shuffled and stirred with their legs' movements. "I'll help you gather your baskets. Can you lead me to Morka?"

Ketha grumbled something under her breath, no doubt all about the warm sand or the fact that her work hours just got longer. Together, they scrambled after the baskets flung in a wide arc around them, muttering their excuse-me's as they weaved around the legs of passers-by and collecting the baskets in one, tall pile. Then, Nelnifa suggested they split the load and that she would help Ketha deliver the baskets first to wherever baskets go to be delivered. Begrudgingly, her friend agreed.

The discomfort that short walk had brought about still hasn't left Nelnifa's gut even two days after. If her memory served, none of them talked even after they reached a small shed full to the brim with weaved baskets of different sizes, heights, and volume in the middle of the busy shoreline that was still part of Orayta.

All around them, water sprites either pulled their fishing boats to shore, unloaded crates upon crates of catch, or chatted with each other about how warm it was that day. Children darted through the lukewarm sand, their feet almost flying in the air as they attempted to chase down whoever it was who was supposed to be pursued whatever game they played.

Others, still, walked around in pairs, huge bundles of salvia trunks running the distance between the shoulders of each person. The lumber industry? Nelnifa wasn't even aware how in Umtir's name was that even a legitimate industry in Desara. Wouldn't the salvia run out of individuals if the only place they could thrive was the shore?

Someone had cleared their throat and Nelnifa's attention went over to Ketha who looked at her with uncertainty in her red pupils. "So..." her friend started saying. "I should go back and weave some more baskets. Morka's not having anyone slack off."

Before her friend could walk away, Nelnifa had decided to chance it. "I'm...sorry for the way I treated you back in Zoriago," she said, her fingers twiddling each other once more. "I should have worded my sentiments better."

Ketha sighed and shook her head. "I'm the one who should be sorry, Nel," she shoved her fingers into her hair and mussed it lightly, shaking sand off her scalp. "I should have seen how it stressed you and shouldn't have pushed you that day."

The pink-haired sprite gave a bitter laugh. "And you're not a traitor," she said. "Please don't take what I said to heart. If there's anyone who wants to see us free, it's probably you. I shouldn't have assumed you wanted to stop the protests because you're afraid Lanteglos would ax your dynasty."

Nelnifa had nodded then. Ketha voiced one of her fears but her friend was right when she said it wasn't Nelnifa's reason of trying to stop the movement from marching into Lanteglos. She remembered opening her mouth to say something more but Ketha beat her to it, again.

"And don't worry about wording your thoughts better," the pink-haired sprite had said, her bright smile returning to her lips even though it was still partially muted. "I think what you said is enough. You are enough, Nel."

If tears were a currency, Nelnifa might have paid her dues in full that afternoon. They had embraced and made up. When Nelnifa had calmed down and was able to talk in full sentences, she asked Ketha a favor.

"If you are in contact with the freedom movement, can you do everything to stall their preparation?" Nelnifa said. "I have to do something that might...require a bit of time."

Ketha had knitted her eyebrows. "What are you planning to do?"

Nelnifa didn't feel the need to disclose it. She didn't need another opposition. "Just trust me, okay?" she remembered saying to Ketha. After just barely coming out of their disagreement, she knew it would not be a walk on the beach. "I'll figure something out."

Ketha had just nodded and led Nelnifa to Morka as Nelnifa had requested. When they got to her shoddy shack a few distances away from the Circle, Nelnifa was terrified to the bone once more. Ketha gave her hand a squeeze, then. "Morka's really sweet if you don't have anything to hide," her friend had said. "She won't hurt you."

And that's how Nelnifa found herself inside a dim room, the rustle of patched leaves rustling with stray shore breezes loud against the walls. Whose idea was it to build houses in the middle of the beach where strong winds from the sea and the mountains could come at any time?

"What do you want?" a woman with slate gray hair said as she pushed herself off a desk with both hands. Her chair grated against the sandy floor in a quiet hiss. "I ain't taking kids anywhere. Where're your parents?"

Nelnifa had shrugged. She knew now that she shouldn't have as it seemed to irritate the overseer more. "I need you to take me to where you trade the baskets," she said in her most demanding tone. It sounded rude and improper in her head. Ketha distinctly told her before that it's the voice she must use if she was to get what she wanted. "It's important in my work as the Potentate's daughter."

Morka stood from her chair and slinked towards Nelnifa. Just her sheer height with her head almost touching the ceiling of her shack by a mere hairsbreadth instilled a new fear in Nelnifa's system. A dark eyepatch covered Morka's right eye, giving the overseer a more...rugged look.

Before the overseer could grab Nelnifa to kill her off or something, Morka crossed her arms. "I bring the baskets to my contacts in Aresving," the overseer had said with a huff. "Why would the Potentate investigate this issue now? It's unlike him to care about the weavers."

Nelnifa stuck her bottom lip out. "He is investigating now because he cares," she said, defending her father's name. The reason why he hadn't even considered the weavers to be a priority was mostly because the court was probably stretching him too thin. "I am his representative. Can I please have the confirmation that I am to accompany you to Aresving on the day of the basket trades? I want to learn more about the territory I'll someday lead."

Morka studied Nelnifa with her good, green eye for a few, silent seconds. Then, she drew back with a nod and strode to her desk. Nelnifa watched the overseer pluck a sheet of shorn parchment from a fresh pile on one side of her desk and write a string of information on it with a graphite stick. Then, Morka passed the parchment to Nelnifa. Well...more like, shoved.

Nelnifa looked at the written words in it and recognized the place. It was the name of a tavern located somewhere between the mountains of Zoriago and the receding forests of Aresving. "Meet me in that tavern on the eighth of Xavem, first hour of the second quarter," Morka said, confirming Nelnifa's initial thoughts. "Don't be late."

That's how Nelnifa ended up standing in front of a local tavern whose features resembled her house too much for her to be comfortable hanging out inside it. She swallowed the bile coating her tongue and clasped her hands behind her back, bouncing on the balls of her feet while she waited for the familiar form belonging to Morka from the distance, the undergrowth hanging over her head, or somewhere.

It's been a good half an hour since she arrived at the specified time and date but still no sign of Morka. She was about to head back and call it a disappointing day when a galor brayed and sent a shock through Nelnifa's form. She whirled behind her to find Morka walking alongside the short, four-legged animal that was the galor. Its dark gray fur sat in its hide in a shining coat, the small horn protruding from the bridge of its snout glinting against the meager sunlight bursting in pockets through the undergrowth.

"You're not late," Morka said, examining Nelnifa from head to toe once more. It's a good thing Nelnifa decided not to go overboard with her clothes today. Just a simple sleeveless tunic and a pair of dark trousers. Her boots covered her feet in a snugly fit. Even if she was bummed she couldn't feel the sand with her toes, it was the best call considering they weren't even passing by Orayta's shore.

With a huff, Morka led her galor forward, making the animal bray in complaint once more. The overseer clicked her tongue. "I paid a good amount of versallis for you," she hissed at the animal. "You better get used to the climb."

All the galor answered was an angry puff from its moist nostrils. Nelnifa didn't fight the twinge of sadness the small exchange brought to her stomach. It's a shame the water sprites couldn't even afford the animals who were endemic to their territory. Instead, by some miracle, the dagrinis, who hailed from Cardina and the other western territories, became the cheapest riding and cart-pulling animals and the galor could only be bought by the most well-off. That, or the galor had to be captured in the woods and those were known to be impersonal and refused to work for the fairies.

Metal clanged and hinges screamed. Nelnifa turned to the source of the noises and she found Morka lowering the backdoor of the cart attached to the galor's bridle. "Get in," the overseer jerked her chin in the spacious cabin beyond the door. It was a little dark inside. "Saves you the feet ache later."

Nelnifa nodded and climbed in without a word. Morka's heavy footsteps slogged against the mountain silt as she locked the cart's door once more and strode towards the galor in front. The cart shook and wobbled as Morka's added weight climbed into the coach section. With a flick of the reins, the wheels churned and jerked to motion, setting them forward.

Nelnifa looked out the cart's only window, stacks of woven salvia leaf baskets crowding the spaces around her. Outside, the undergrowth blended in a continuous sprawl of green, orange, and yellow. Just a few notches lower than the road's level from the side of the mountain, Orayta's shores came into view. When she was down there, it always felt like the mountains were so far away. Now, it looked like she could just jump down and she would find herself running towards the ocean.

The journey continued, with not a sound accompanying them save for a few various hoots and calls of forest animals ringing through the thick silence. Leaves rustled, wheels creaked, and salvia baskets brushed against the cart's wooden walls. She had to brace the floor more than once to avoid feeling like she was being dragged back to the door every time the galor or the wheels encountered a bump on the road.

After a few more minutes of riding, the galor brayed as it stopped, the cart creaking along with it. The backdoor's hinges screamed once more as Morka ripped it open from the outside. Without being told to, Nelnifa climbed off and watched the overseer unload the baskets from the cart, one stack of twelve at a time. Soon, there was a huge pile of baskets around Morka's legs.

"What now?" Nelnifa asked, not daring to look the overseer in the eye. She didn't even know who this girl was, going with people she wasn't familiar with into dubious places near forest borders. What has Nelnifa done up to this point? Everything sounds so bizarre.

Morka closed the cart's door and trudged back to Nelnifa's spot under a tree with twisted, dark branches and dark purple leaves. "Now, we wait," the overseer crossed her arms to her chest and trained her eyes into the still, endless horizon overlooking the wide sea.

Nelnifa decided to take a stroll around. Morka, having been burdened with watching over the products, gave her one annoyed roll of her eyes but didn't tell her to stay put or something just as bland. Nelnifa ran her hands against the rough trunks of trees, giggling to herself when she disturbed a species of lichen and their colorful branches and flowers danced around as they recoil from her touch.

It was always her favorite distraction whenever she was bummed inside her house when she was a child. Amazing how some childhood things never changed.

A distinct hiss met the galor's characteristic bray. Nelnifa ducked behind a thick trunk and watched another, bigger cart pull over near Morka's. The creature pulling the cart was something she hadn't seen before. It looked like a huge cat, except it was spotted, had larger claws and fangs, and was generally larger than one.

Someone stepped from the newly-arrived cart's coach. Their colorful robe splashed with uniquely-colored dyes was the first one to catch Nelnifa's attention. Slowly, she edged away from her hiding place and crept towards where the merchant and Morka conversed in a rapid language which didn't sound like Kejula or any of Desara's dialects. Something called...Ylanenla?

She had no idea what the richly-dressed merchant was saying but it didn't look like it was good. Morka's frown burrowed deeper and deeper, the glint on her eye turning more and more dangerous. Still, when the merchant extended his hand towards Morka, the overseer's shoulders slumped and stepped aside, giving the man complete access to the stacks of salvia baskets.

Nelnifa picked her way down the slight incline and appeared near the back of the cart. There was no way the merchant would know she was with Morka or that she had come from the mountains all along. She wrapped a scarf around her head to cover her purple hair, thanking the god Elja for providing her the ingenuity to bring the apparel along. Then, she cleared her throat.

"Excuse me," she said, her curiosity in her voice sounding a bit weird. It was her best attempt at impersonating an excited customer. Perhaps, she had to practice more. "How much for one basket?"

The merchant straightened from his work, half-way in putting the third to the last stack into his already- crowded cart. "What did you say, little lady?" he asked in flawless Keijula. Nelnifa raised an eyebrow. Wasn't he speaking in Ylanela just a while ago? "You want a basket?"

Nelnifa nodded. "Yes," she said. "How much for one?"

"Five big kalta dryde," the merchant answered in a grouchy tone. He flashed a look at Morka who stood at the side of the trade route, glowering at him. "It's a novelty item from Desara, after all. Are you visiting?"

She nodded with vigor. "I was just around, looking at the scenery," she turned to where the beach was and raised her arm in feigned excitement. "Oh, I have never seen the sea this close before. It's so pretty, isn't it? My, I wish my family at home could have seen this!"

The merchant clicked his tongue. Nelnifa was pretty sure he had muttered "Tourists," under his breath as he loaded the last stack of baskets in his cart. "Well, I'll be off soon. Are you going to buy it or not?"

Nelnifa made a show of patting her trousers and the satchel she slung across her torso. Then, she flashed him an apologetic smile. "I seem to have lost my purse on the way here," she said. "Thank you for your time. I'll pass. It was great talking to you, though."

The merchant didn't say anything and just locked his cart's door up. As soon as he climbed the coach, he tossed a small bag in the air in Morka's direction. The overseer's hand swiped in a wide arc, catching the bag in the air before it landed on the ground. The coins clinking inside it didn't sound like much.

Nelnifa didn't say anything as she sidled closer to Morka. The overseer emptied the bag's contents into her palm and Nelnifa's eyes counted as fast as they could. One. Five. Ten. Twenty. Were those....mid-sized kalta dryde? That meant each one only cost the merchant...

Another twinge blossomed in her gut. The merchant's prize was five big ones and yet he only bought it with that price? It's no wonder the water sprites weren't earning much from weaving baskets. Their prices were way too low and the traders could heap upon their profits without a care. Why hadn't she noticed it before?

Morka noticed Nelnifa gawking and the overseer stuffed the coins back into the bag in one, swift motion. "Come on, let's go back," she said. "Where do you want me to drop you off?"

Nelnifa raised her head from the ground and said with the straightest face she could manage, "The Official Manor."