Patronage, Lineage & The Good Earth
I spent a good part of last evening discussing business with Vesutto, Merchant of Venna. I've known Vesutto for several years, and find him to be intelligent, urbane company. He has amassed ridiculous wealth, but I do not hold that against him much. You find many men of the Lower Castes, successful Merchants & Slavers mostly, that will devolve into sloth and decadence in direct proportion to the size of their accounts at the local Street of Coins. I have seen such men wearing more rings than they have fingers (or even toes) to accomodate. Pearls set into the straps of their sandals and sereem diamond applied to the forehead to replace shaven brows are other oddities I have seen. Many of them, also, reek of perfumes. As if a proper bath would take an unacceptable amount of time away from counting one's coins. This, thankfully, is not the sort of Merchant that Vesutto chooses to be. You might think him simply well-groomed rather than well-heeled if you were not aware of the more subtle cues of wealth. His sandals are finely tooled and his tunic is impeccably tailored. He does not speak abruptly nor with much ingratiation. He is not, in short, trying to impress you. If you ask him what sort of merchandise he deals in, he is often known to give a vague, if polite, response such as, "A little of this. A little of that."
On a recent trip to Thentis, he acted as intermediary between Gerald of Thentis, a noted Thentian Vintner, and myself in the matter of Gerald's daughter, Constance. I was, at that time, nearing the end of a contract of companionship with another woman. In the end, I chose to renew that contract, and I do not regret it, but the match with Constance would have been a beneficial one. I am not of a mind to procreate, of course. I simply like wine. And Constance, I was assured by inquires made of her handmaidens, was a fetching diversion for a man. Her family was well-off and, I suppose, a vagabond Poet securing a contract of companionship with a Vinter's daughter was something of a coup. She was a bit young at the time, however, and a little too enamored with the man who wrote the anthemic poem, 'E-kipa the Serpent.'
More important than Vesutto's desire to elevate me up a social ladder I have little interest in, is his ability to blend an impressive business acumen with an admirable appreciation (and patronage) of the arts. He bankrolled nearly all of the costs of production of The Fall of Agamedes when it was staged on The Great Theater of Pentilicus Tallux earlier this year. It turned out to be a wise decision, and beneficial to the both of us. Due to his patronage of The Fall, I was able to finance most of the production costs of The Good Citizen myself and keep a much larger portion of the profits.
Finally, when Vesutto found out that I had always been fond of the idea of owning property north of Venna, he cleared the administrative burdens that allowed me to purchase the field of dina and gently sloped hill I now own in that city's northeast hills. I refused to go into debt or accept his charity to construct the modest home that will soon stand atop that gently sloped hill, but I am assured that his Builders will have it completed in a few short months.
As he did with The Fall, Vesutto will soon stage a production of Citizen in the playhouses of Venna and the surrounding areas, perhaps some towns along the Vosk, if there proves to be a market for it. As he assumes nearly all of the cost of these smaller productions, he reaps a larger percentage of the profit, but I still earn a share as author of the original work. This is generally money that is never touched or even seen, but represented by ink on a scroll on the Street of Coins in Ar. I have learned over the past few years that true wealth is thusly represented. Not by the rings on one's fingers or the coins hoarded in dirty sacks beneath the floorboards against the cold dirt, but by ink on a page.
Vesutto wishes to offer a part in Vennan run of The Good Citizen to Phineahas, in hopes that the auctoritas earned in his performance at The Great Theater will transfer neatly onto the smaller stage. The weight of his name alone would guarantee a brisk attendance. I wonder if that fish-mongering Cosian knows just how far his star has risen, truly? Fame can be a fickle bitch, however. And fleeting. Perhaps he can slip back into a comfortable anonymity. I suspect that is what he ultimately wants. He has already told me he intends to decline Vesutto's inevitable offer. If the Merchant truly wishes Phineahas to reprise his role, he will make it difficult for Phineahas to walk away. In the end, I think the Story Teller will do just that. He longs to see Thassa. That is a stronger draw than money for men such as he.
And despite his assurance that he finds Vesutto to be a good sort, I think he'd rather be well away from the man. As a Merchant and Slaver, he took one look at Phineahas' Naka and pegged the slut not only as Turian, but named her family and spoke of its ancestry to a time before the 'Ar of the South' had the first of its famous Nine Gates. I assume from the girl's white knuckles and flushed face that Vesutto was fairly, if not entirely, accurate in his assessment of her lineage. He spoke of her as if she was always destined to be precisely what she was, a female slave, assuring the Story Teller that the women of her gens were prized by Tuchuck Warriors, and always fought for when put at the stake of The Love Wars. She is a pretty, little thing and, as Vesutto informed the Story Teller quite truthfully, he was fortunate to have her. It is rare for a Turian Slave Girl to be owned by anyone other than the Wagon People. They simply do not sell them once they are in the Steel of the Plains. I found it entertaining that the man could so effortlessly assess the girl, but all men, not just Merchants, are Slavers. Their level of expertise is, inevitably, commensurate with their experience. Phineahas was no less impressed, but found the whole affair 'creepy.' He is possessive of his little import and a bit irrational over her. He may even love her, but I would rather not have him punch me so I will not make mention of that idle speculation elsewhere but upon this page. And I do not gainsay him, nor would I ridicule him (much) if this were found to be true. I have been known to be fond, and sometimes even possessive, over the women on my chain, from the first girl to the bottom whore.
We ended last evening at the Tarsk Head, a quaint dive that seems to have only two items on the menu, kal-da & ass. I have yet to sample the ass, but the kal-da is quite good as kal-da goes, which is to say that it is scalding, astringent and an assault to all five senses.
Elise was given the task of transcribing The Good Citizen this morning. She has acceptable penmanship and, unlike her chain-sisters, has the time to spare. She has been given directions to his estate on the Tellurian Hills, to deliver it when finished. I will spend the day in the fields, harvesting the plump ta-grapes that are threatening to drop into the dark soil of their own volition. I have a suspicion that, despite the fantastic indulgence a few of them have been given in sampling them, the girls are not fond of olives which are, undoubtedly, an acquired taste. There are several batches ready to transfer from the brine to the marinade today as well. I think I will add more pepper to the marinade. Just a touch.
On a recent trip to Thentis, he acted as intermediary between Gerald of Thentis, a noted Thentian Vintner, and myself in the matter of Gerald's daughter, Constance. I was, at that time, nearing the end of a contract of companionship with another woman. In the end, I chose to renew that contract, and I do not regret it, but the match with Constance would have been a beneficial one. I am not of a mind to procreate, of course. I simply like wine. And Constance, I was assured by inquires made of her handmaidens, was a fetching diversion for a man. Her family was well-off and, I suppose, a vagabond Poet securing a contract of companionship with a Vinter's daughter was something of a coup. She was a bit young at the time, however, and a little too enamored with the man who wrote the anthemic poem, 'E-kipa the Serpent.'
More important than Vesutto's desire to elevate me up a social ladder I have little interest in, is his ability to blend an impressive business acumen with an admirable appreciation (and patronage) of the arts. He bankrolled nearly all of the costs of production of The Fall of Agamedes when it was staged on The Great Theater of Pentilicus Tallux earlier this year. It turned out to be a wise decision, and beneficial to the both of us. Due to his patronage of The Fall, I was able to finance most of the production costs of The Good Citizen myself and keep a much larger portion of the profits.
Finally, when Vesutto found out that I had always been fond of the idea of owning property north of Venna, he cleared the administrative burdens that allowed me to purchase the field of dina and gently sloped hill I now own in that city's northeast hills. I refused to go into debt or accept his charity to construct the modest home that will soon stand atop that gently sloped hill, but I am assured that his Builders will have it completed in a few short months.
As he did with The Fall, Vesutto will soon stage a production of Citizen in the playhouses of Venna and the surrounding areas, perhaps some towns along the Vosk, if there proves to be a market for it. As he assumes nearly all of the cost of these smaller productions, he reaps a larger percentage of the profit, but I still earn a share as author of the original work. This is generally money that is never touched or even seen, but represented by ink on a scroll on the Street of Coins in Ar. I have learned over the past few years that true wealth is thusly represented. Not by the rings on one's fingers or the coins hoarded in dirty sacks beneath the floorboards against the cold dirt, but by ink on a page.
Vesutto wishes to offer a part in Vennan run of The Good Citizen to Phineahas, in hopes that the auctoritas earned in his performance at The Great Theater will transfer neatly onto the smaller stage. The weight of his name alone would guarantee a brisk attendance. I wonder if that fish-mongering Cosian knows just how far his star has risen, truly? Fame can be a fickle bitch, however. And fleeting. Perhaps he can slip back into a comfortable anonymity. I suspect that is what he ultimately wants. He has already told me he intends to decline Vesutto's inevitable offer. If the Merchant truly wishes Phineahas to reprise his role, he will make it difficult for Phineahas to walk away. In the end, I think the Story Teller will do just that. He longs to see Thassa. That is a stronger draw than money for men such as he.
And despite his assurance that he finds Vesutto to be a good sort, I think he'd rather be well away from the man. As a Merchant and Slaver, he took one look at Phineahas' Naka and pegged the slut not only as Turian, but named her family and spoke of its ancestry to a time before the 'Ar of the South' had the first of its famous Nine Gates. I assume from the girl's white knuckles and flushed face that Vesutto was fairly, if not entirely, accurate in his assessment of her lineage. He spoke of her as if she was always destined to be precisely what she was, a female slave, assuring the Story Teller that the women of her gens were prized by Tuchuck Warriors, and always fought for when put at the stake of The Love Wars. She is a pretty, little thing and, as Vesutto informed the Story Teller quite truthfully, he was fortunate to have her. It is rare for a Turian Slave Girl to be owned by anyone other than the Wagon People. They simply do not sell them once they are in the Steel of the Plains. I found it entertaining that the man could so effortlessly assess the girl, but all men, not just Merchants, are Slavers. Their level of expertise is, inevitably, commensurate with their experience. Phineahas was no less impressed, but found the whole affair 'creepy.' He is possessive of his little import and a bit irrational over her. He may even love her, but I would rather not have him punch me so I will not make mention of that idle speculation elsewhere but upon this page. And I do not gainsay him, nor would I ridicule him (much) if this were found to be true. I have been known to be fond, and sometimes even possessive, over the women on my chain, from the first girl to the bottom whore.
We ended last evening at the Tarsk Head, a quaint dive that seems to have only two items on the menu, kal-da & ass. I have yet to sample the ass, but the kal-da is quite good as kal-da goes, which is to say that it is scalding, astringent and an assault to all five senses.
Elise was given the task of transcribing The Good Citizen this morning. She has acceptable penmanship and, unlike her chain-sisters, has the time to spare. She has been given directions to his estate on the Tellurian Hills, to deliver it when finished. I will spend the day in the fields, harvesting the plump ta-grapes that are threatening to drop into the dark soil of their own volition. I have a suspicion that, despite the fantastic indulgence a few of them have been given in sampling them, the girls are not fond of olives which are, undoubtedly, an acquired taste. There are several batches ready to transfer from the brine to the marinade today as well. I think I will add more pepper to the marinade. Just a touch.
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