Chapter Text
‘Split the waves like a knife through fine cloth.’ A better description had, no doubt, been put to paper or song when describing the very way in which the long-prowed ships of the Kingdom of Vale cut through the sea. And, yet, upon seeing them for the very first time and seeing how they moved or, rather, were not moved by the motion of the waves, Blake Belladonna did not have a more fitting description in mind. The ships cleaved through the water as though it were hardly there at all, so smoothly that they nearly skipped along the water rather than sailed through it. This, too, in the open waters of the coast, not even their natural habitat of rivers and fjords. Out of their element, the ships seemed almost magical in their motions. To see them in their home waters, Blake thought, would be a joy.
Perhaps one day, if things went well. Things indeed, as she did not take her eyes off the approaching dozen ships so much as she categorized their appearance and approximate arrival before turning away and towards the great many scrolls stacked upon her borrowed desk. The whole place had been borrowed, in fact, from a minor accountant of her Family, gracious enough to understand that a vacation in the middle of their busiest season would be a gift instead of a slight. Blake would remember the name of the man, when she reviewed it again, and from there a proper reward could be devised. The main house of the Belladonna Family was simply too far from the shore, and Blake did not want to keep her most important of guests waiting long.
Nor herself, she mused. Such tests only came once in a lifetime, and she refused to fail. Even if her parents would gladly give her such authority again, the rest of the Families that oversaw trade in Menagerie would never let her live it down. It had been her plan to call upon the Valeans, to try and set up trade with them, to see opportunity where it might have otherwise been missed. Blake held back a nervous shudder as she considered failing, and pushed the very possibility from her mind. Her hand unconsciously graced the moon pendant about her neck, and she tucked it into the collar of her robe. The gods would watch over her, and with luck they would intercede should she approach failure.
Blake had never relied on luck before. She did not plan to start now.
“Ilia,” she said, and the familiar visage of her oldest friend appeared from nothing before her. A casual expression lingered on that freckled face, gray eyes scanning the corners of the room, leather and brass scale armor barely hidden underneath a black robe worth more than the house they stayed in rustling as Ilia bowed lightly.
“Madam,” she murmured. She so rarely spoke above a murmur.
Blake grabbed a handful of scrolls, the most important, and tucked them under her arm. “How do I look?” Ilia gave her a once over, perhaps a bit longer than was polite, and a wry grin spread across her face.
“With all due respect, the Lady Belladonna is in possession of a mirror.” A sour note snuck into Blake’s expression, and she let it slip through in private. Nevertheless, she made her way to a standing mirror and beheld herself.
A deep purple robe with golden trim sat well on her lithe form, ink stained fingers gently clasped in front of her, black streaks on dark brown skin. Her black hair, long and well kept, framed her face perfectly. Sharp cheekbones brought attention to her amber eyes, which critically looked over her own reflection for any imperfections. She flicked the black cat ears atop of her head, golden bangles jingling together merrily but not catching on one another. Finding nothing to fix, just like the last two times she’d checked, Blake glanced at Ilia’s reflection. The woman had nearly vanished into the shadows once more, but they’d known each other for a lifetime. Blake could pick Ilia out of a pitch black room with her eyes closed, and therefore did not miss that her friend’s expression had adopted a hint of lurid appreciation. She narrowed her eyes in exasperation at Ilia’s reflection. “Why do I put up with you?”
Whatever airs of professionalism Ilia had adopted faded immediately upon being caught. Her grin only grew. “Because I’m the only one who can keep up with your stupid fucking sleep schedule.” Blake scoffed.
“Sleeping for eight hours straight is a waste of precious time. Three, three hour naps is more than enough, and gives you time in between for projects.”
“And you haven’t even been getting that much recently.”
“I have tea.”
“You made the local tea shop owner a fortune, yeah,” Ilia said dryly. To put it rightly, Blake thought to herself, she’d given the owner a fortune. Someone had to do the books at all hours, and if it had to be her then she was going to do it well caffeinated and well supplied with seared fish. The latter need had almost caused the price of tuna to skyrocket, and so she’d split her attention between other, lesser, fish.
“Regardless, it got the Valeans into the harbor. Them, and a few other Families who want to get in on this opportunity.” Blake looked back at Ilia properly now. “The security detail is up to date with who’s supposed to be here, right?” Ilia nodded firmly, and it was good enough for Blake. “If we can set up international trade, and get a good deal out of it, we’d be setting up Menagerie to step onto the world stage. We’re on the cusp of history, Ilia.” Her friend did not respond for a moment, now acting as both spymaster and head of security all at once.
“This is usually the point in history when someone gets killed,” she said, voice dry and level, repeating the same warning she had for months now. It would have been a real worry, indeed, if this was anywhere but the most heavily secure place in Menagerie, surrounded by people who wanted the exact same that Blake did. “Especially with what’s going on in Mistral.” Ah. Right.
“I’m not ignoring that, and it’s good that you aren’t either.” Now Blake turned fully, drumming her fingers onto her opposite palm, careful not to touch her robe. Ilia nodded curtly, a flicker of a scowl on her face.
“Annexing Argus. Bastards,” she grumbled.
“It hasn’t been annexed, technically,” Blake pointed out, knowing full well that it didn’t really matter, in practice or in reality. True to form, Ilia rolled her eyes, making sure not to glare at Blake directly.
“Right. That big old fort with Atlas flags looking over the entire port really makes me hopeful that they’re going about this peacefully.” Blake frowned, a pang of upset ringing through her chest.
“That’s not what I meant. You know that. Everyone in Menagerie knows that Atlas wanted that port for themselves, but we can’t say it out loud. It’s not done.” Ilia stiffened, then let out a long breath, the tension flowing out of her body mirroring Blake’s own. Blake knew the ins and outs of politics here in Kuo Kuana, and to have any part of her staff go in unprepared would be unthinkable. Of course Atlas would take the port, but to say it directly was to admit to fear, which led to mistakes, which would be exploited. Blake wondered how the Valeans would fare with that kind of thing, and decided it would be amusing to find out. Well, disastrous too, but at least she’d be humiliated and find the whole thing humorous. “It’s especially not done when we’re welcoming foreigners into our ports.” Ilia narrowed her eyes, then,
“You think there’s Atlesian spies in Rose Clan?”
“They’re part of a newly formed Kingdom and have been growing almost exponentially. If Atlas didn’t plant spies, then they might just be as stupid as we all want them to be.”
“We can only hope.”
Blake finished getting ready, and struck a pose she hoped would appear collected and noble. She didn’t know if it carried that kind of gravitas, or even if it was appropriate for her to attempt it, but the vague outline of Ilia froze before seeming to turn away. “Well?” Blake asked, “Presentable?”
“Beautiful as ever, Madam.” If Ilia had anything else to say, she kept it wrapped in the invisible web that made up her trade.
“Don’t act so formal with me,” Blake sighed, dropping her pose completely getting her affects in order.
“There might be spies. What would they think if they saw us acting familiar?” Blake paused to consider this, only long enough to find the correct scroll with all the important names. She’d memorized them already, but it never hurt to be prepared.
“If they’re not from Menagerie, they’d think it’s a quaint lack of professionalism exhibited by a Kingdom too isolated and small to bother upholding the standards of whatever they consider to be a proper civilization.” A wry smile worked its way across her lips, cracking the porcelain mask the world recognized as Blake Belladonna. “And if they think that, then they really might be as stupid as we want.” Blake had spent her entire life learning the traditions of the various Kingdoms, their cultures, their habits. She would not be found wanting, if she needed to fit into the mold of another. The same would not be said for those who might think Menagerie an appetizing conquest.
She turned to the door, and Ilia called out, “Do you want me to walk with you?”
“From afar, and watchful,” Blake replied. She did not bother turning to see if her spymaster understood. It would have been pointless anyway; Ilia would already be gone, the only evidence of her existence the lack of dust where she’d been standing.
A series of banners, arranged in a semi-circle above a stage, fluttered in the same sea breeze that drove the Valean ships closer. Blake marked them all, the ancient tree on a field of green of the Forest Family, the fish swallowing a precious stone in a series of blues of the Aquarius Family, the yellow flower growing from a skull of the Dandelion Family. The fourth banner, shunted to the flank and seeming to flutter a bit less regally than the rest, a red coiled whip on a split field of gold and brown represented the Khan Family. The banners were carefully placed so as to maintain an air of equality between the assembled Families, though none were as large or as prominent as the banner of the Belladonna Family. Directly in the center of the semi-circle, the purple flower on a field of white caught the eye first and held it longest, exactly as it had been intended to do.
Blake did not sit in the chair beneath her Family’s banner, not yet, instead taking the time to mingle with her fellows. The matriarch of the Dandelion Family made for good conversation, if nothing else, and so Blake began with them. The woman, old enough to be her grandmother, politely held off from talking about how she’d seen Blake growing up. It would be unseemly, considering that Blake had put this entire affair together.
The same could not be said for the dozen representatives of the Aquarius Family, an eclectic collection of fish Faunus. Some sported scales, others gills, a few had fins, and one the lobe of an angler fish hanging down between their eyes. It was, as they insisted on telling everyone, a pain to sleep with. The lanky head of the Forest Family, in too big clothes, muttered a hello before wandering over to the nearest bottle of wine. Blake paid him no mind, and instead fielded a dozen questions about her family’s health that were at once too impolite to answer and too obviously leading questions to take seriously. Blake wondered how the Aquarius Family managed to keep their position, considering, and quickly put the thought aside. Her manners won out, and she gracefully discussed anything her fellows wanted, without revealing too much of anything. And then, as though summoned here, and truthfully done so, someone Blake actually wanted to speak to appeared.
Excusing herself was easy, considering how the entire Aquarius Family shrunk away from the newcomer. An appropriate reaction, considering that she’d not bothered to dress formally and instead wore gray leather armor and a red sash, the same coiled whip on her banner at her hip. She had, at least, freshened up her bindi and put in gold hoop earings. Keen amber eyes met Blake’s, taut muscles under deep brown skin with black tigers stripes relaxing, tiger ears flicking towards her.
“Lady Belladonna.”
“Sienna,” Blake said, offering a hand, which Sienna kissed. “Lovely of you to join us.”
“Oh, I wouldn’t miss this.” She lowered her voice a touch, leaning in and miming kissing both of Blake’s cheeks. “The chance to watch you embarrass yourself in front of some of the most powerful people on Menagerie? I’m there.” Blake smiled beatifically, finding it reflected in Sienna.
“A topic that you’re an expert in, of course. I rather missed waking up each morning to news of a new failed investment, with the name Sienna Khan signed at the bottom.”
“Which would never have failed if someone had kept up her side of the bargain.”
“All’s fair in economics, Sienna. You taught me that.”
They smiled at one another for a long moment, long enough to get the attention of everyone else in the area. Or, perhaps, they had always been staring. It didn’t matter, Blake gently reaching out to adjust Sienna’s sash. Her hand dropped away and Sienna let out a bark of laughter, clapping her on the shoulder. The blow nearly sent Blake tumbling, only keeping her footing by chance. “Fuck, I’ve missed hearing you be a little bitch. Tutors didn’t beat it out of you after all, huh?” Blake’s smile became legitimate, and she looped one arm through Sienna’s. Her shoulder was going to bruise.
“No, but they tried. Too much time spent with you as my mentor for that to work, I’m afraid.” Sienna rolled her eyes.
“They got you to talk all fancy.”
“It’s polite.”
“It’s annoying. People should say what they mean.” Privately, Blake noted this as perhaps the reason why the Khan Family was both so disliked and so thoroughly bankrupt. Publicly, she said nothing of the sort, nodding along with Sienna.
“If only we could. It works in your favor.” She smiled like a riptide. “Nobody expects a straight talking banker.” Sienna returned her smile, just as sly, with a hint of vicious fury lurking at the edges of her lips, tucked into what might have once been brave enough to become dimples. Everyone knew, of course, that the Khan Family did not smile unless they had someone by the throat. In this case, Blake liked to think that she had avoided that dubious pleasure, and instead offered up her other fellows for Sienna’s purview.
She turned her gaze to the sea and the quickly approaching ships. Blake’s eyes followed Sienna’s. She wondered what the shores of Kuo Kuana would look like with Valean ships beached in their way, some villages forgoing docks entirely according to her research. “I might be in good company, soon. Valeans aren’t known for being delicate.”
They’d better learn, and quickly, but it would be rude to say so. Instead, Blake traced the oncoming fleet with her eyes, and plotted how to sketch them from memory. “Fortunately they’ll be dealing with me. I doubt that anyone else on this continent knows Old Valean, and if they do then they certainly aren’t here. The Aquarius prefer learning new arts to new languages, and the Forest are too busy putting out every fire they’ve been starting for the past lifetime.”
“While the Lady Dandelion eschews the languages of humans entirely,” Sienna finished. “You picked your companions carefully, didn’t you?”
“I explained my plan to the assembled Families, and these were the ones most interested,” Blake lied. It was hardly worth the trouble lying to Sienna, but it seemed like it might be fun to try. A beat of heavy, knowing silence put that notion to rest. “Every one of them knows the reality of our situation in the world, especially with Atlas. There’s only so many places on Menagerie that produce enough raw materials to set us on a good course.”
“And they’re owned by people you’d rather not have to grovel to,” Sienna added, which Blake acknowledged with a flick of her ears.
“Atlas has already tried to circulate their currency in our markets, and you know they don’t take anything but precious metals and jewels in return or sell anything except for their own currency. If we let it go too far, then we’ll all be beholden to the Atlesian pound before I’ve even started to go gray. We need to find other avenues for raw materials, just enough to let us build up without relying entirely on one source.” No one wanted to see the banners of Atlas flying anywhere but their merchant ships.
“But if Atlas realizes the plan, they’ll try to clamp down on trade with Vale. They want to control the production of everything, never mind what.”
“If you were Atlas, and you heard about this trade deal, what would you do?”
Sienna narrowed her eyes, shrugged, and said, “Put my prices so low that buying from Vale is a stupid decision. Force the Valeans back into their Clans, flood Kuo Kuana with pounds, and, promptly, put my own Family out of business. Once that’s set, and all of Menagerie is buying and selling using pounds, move onto Vale and snap up their lumber yards and mines for myself.”
“Good plan.” Blake finished memorizing the horizon and gave Sienna a quick once over. “But the Valeans won’t sell. They trade with each other, and have done for centuries. This is the first major excursion into international trade in their history. If you crush it, they isolate themselves again. And that’s without mentioning their longstanding missing border with Vacuo. Can you stop them trading over that line?”
“Not easily.”
“Especially while contending with a recently conquered Argus. It’s a rare moment when Atlas will be too busy to bother with us, and if we get properly set up in time we might just be able to survive them.”
“Relying on the suffering of someone else for your own gain.” Sienna huffed tightly, between her teeth. “That’s cold, Blake.”
“You have half of Menagerie in debt to you, my Family included. Don’t talk to me about being cold.” A wry grin worked its way over Sienna’s face, but she said nothing. Blake noted that she had a hand resting on her whip, and considered asking her to remove it before the Valeans arrived.
“Madam,” the wind whispered in her ear, “It’s time.” Blake bowed lightly towards Sienna and took her leave, leading a procession down to the docks to await the arrival of the Valeans. Behind her, the various members of the Aquarius, Forest, and Dandelion Families watched her and the ships with equal interest. Behind them all, Sienna kept watch over everything, and tallied the debts owed to her.
It would not do to make an enemy of the largest banking operation in Kuo Kuana. Blake reminded herself of the debt too big to think of that had let her attempt this foolishness, and resolved that if it came down to paying it she could offer her services as an accountant in way of payment. It did not comfort her as much as she had dreamed it would.
The ships did not beach themselves in their fabled way, halfway up the beach to allow warriors the size of mountains to leap ashore and begin to pillage, put to sea as easily as they had arrived. There was no room in the port, nor anywhere in Kuo Kuana, for the beach had been taken up by fishing boats and piers. The heart of the city let its mightiest artery flow into the sea, through the great central port and the circular canal flowing around a lighthouse that towered above the city. The Valean ships had given up on their sails, now with oars extended from each side, rowing past the dozens of drydocks and warehouses suspended above the water on stilts as thick around as the mightiest tree. The banners of the attending Families fluttered on the buildings around the canal and from the lighthouse itself, and Blake felt some satisfaction that her own stood out the most. It helped that she’d paid the decorators extra to ensure that the Belladonna banner hung from the best spots.
Of those ships, Blake marked the first and largest, larger by half than all the others around it, with two sails instead of one and nearly twice as many oars. Though the main sail had been raised and lashed in place, the otherwise off white of the sail itself bore a bundled up symbol of red and yellow that Blake knew well: a burning rose, of the Rose Clan. Her partners in this venture, the other side on the other side of the sea.
“Sixteen months of letters and planning,” Blake murmured to no one, and knew that Ilia heard. Far from her, Sienna’s tiger ears twitched towards her. “This had better be worth it.” The lead ship slowed to a halt, and the water around it surged as three dozen aquatic Faunus began to help it in to dock. Were any of them spies from the Aquarius Family? At least a few, no doubt, but whatever they could learn from the docks, Blake could learn from diplomacy. If not her, then Ilia would be able to find any secrets that the Valeans or the other Families might try to hide.
If Sienna had anything to say, she did not. Arrayed as they were before their banners, the only people who could possibly have heard Blake speak were Ilia and Sienna. Blessed with the amazing ability to go unseen for one and the incredible hearing of a cat Faunus with the ears of their kind for the other, Blake knew exactly who she has spoken for. Doubt would make Sienna bold, and boldness could be twisted into foolishness by even a great fool.
Members of the other Families adjusted their robes, the sun beating down upon them, but Blake did not. She watched the lead ship dock and a gangplank be lowered. First off the ship were four guards, dressed in chain mail under leather armor, loose in the shoulders, with capes bearing the symbol of their Clan. Each one had a large round shield on their backs and a spear in their hands, the royal guards of the Rose Clan and, perhaps, a match for the Belladonna Family’s own guards. Those went unseen in the crowd around the dock. They couldn’t be seen. Harbor guards could be seen, lining the streets as they were, but the Families were expected to never show their own security. It wasn’t done.
Someone from the ship blew on a horn, a great cheer going up with it, and from the ship emerged a woman taller than Blake by half, towering over her own guards, blonde hair cascading down her back like spilled sunlight. She, too, wore armor and a cape, moving comfortably even with the weight and the heat, a purple bandanna tied about her right arm. She, too, had a shield on her back, though instead of a spear had a war hammer at her hip. Raising one arm, she raised another cheer and joined in, bellowing out a joyous cry as though to shatter the very streets of Kuo Kuana. Then, she turned towards the assembled Families and her eyes met Blake’s. She smiled, her excited lilac staring into Blake’s neutral amber, and then began to make her way towards the stage.
Yang Xiao Long, scion of the Rose Clan, and head of the largest trade network the people of Vale had ever seen. In Blake’s estimation, most people did not earn the titles and honors they’d been given, not really, not where wealth and status could do the trick. At a glance, Yang Xiao Long seemed to be the exception to the rule.
At the very least she had earned her reputation as one of the largest people in Vale. Most certainly one of the largest in all of Menagerie.
Drummers and guards lined the road from the docks to the stage in a double line, each rolling beat willing the Valeans forwards. The royal guard of the Rose Clan assembled around Yang Xiao Long, though she looked as though she might take on the world herself if the opportunity arose. She walked with purpose, every step nearly a perfect abstraction of intent, buoying her from the ship to the land and on towards the noble Families of Menagerie. The drums seemed to draw her closer with their hypnotic repetition, the harbor guards shrinking back from the warrior-noble who dwarfed them entirely.
Blake did not pay attention to the fanfare around her. She didn’t have to, she’d planned out the entire thing and knew it by heart. In the life of a merchant, it quite literally paid to be prepared. Instead, she turned her full attention to her Valean counterpart, and began to pick her apart in her mind. Tall, strong, broad chested, all expected traits of a Valean warrior of note. The long hair running loose down her back also came across as something expected. In Vale, Blake had read, women let their hair grow long as some form of religious observance, to one of the four Maidens, though Blake hadn’t been able to figure out which. Sources varied, and it seemed that different Clans believed the tradition stemmed from different Maidens and the seasons they represented. Save for the roundness of her face and the lilac of her eyes, Yang Xiao Long had the physical appearance of a Valean through and through, down the scars on her hands from manual labor.
Her clothing, however, gave Blake pause. Most of her apparel was the armor of her people, of her continent, with the looser shoulders and wide skirt over pants that was popular on the western coast. Her hammer seemed the simple but effective way that all things in Vale seemed, as did her shield. Pragmatism reigned supreme in so hostile a climate, after all. But the bandanna stuck out; not a Valean tradition that Blake knew of. So too did the dagger at her side, clearly visible now that she had drawn closer, no longer hidden amongst her layers of clothing by distance and motion. It was not the straight blade most common in Vale, with its sharp single-angled point and heavy silhouette, the seax, Blake believed it was called. The dagger at Yang Xiao Long’s hip was thick at the base, then curved into a singular point.
Growing up in a noble house meant that one needed to be appraised of all the many ways that life could be ended. One did not need to be skilled in delivering death, only skilled in avoiding it, and part of Blake’s childhood had been learning all the different blades that could be easily concealed on a person. This one was not the seax of Vale, the dague of Atlas, or even a Mistrali bi dagger. This, if Blake’s memory did not fail her, was a Vacuon jambiya. Trade between Vale and Vacuo was well known, though Blake would have been appraised if the Rose Clan did any trading with the Kingdom to their west.
That Yang Xiao Long wore it openly meant that she intended for it to be seen, and therefore would be receptive to questions. First and foremost, where did she get it? Secondly, was there a chance to expand their trade network into Vacuo? Blake let the fantasy of a three Kingdom wide mercantile network dance in her mind for a moment before focusing back on the woman before her. She’d nearly made it to the stage, stopping just short. The drums rolled once more, and the drummers let out a shout of praise before stepping away from their instruments.
Blake stood. Everyone else stood with her. Yang Xiao Long beheld her for a moment, and Blake realized that she had not taken the time to study the woman’s eyes, too caught up with her weapon. Those eyes stared straight into her and through whatever defenses Blake could think to build, seeking to plumb the depths of her being. Of all the perceptive people she had met in her life, Blake at least felt glad in knowing that one of them was to be her partner in this venture.
It wouldn’t do to ally herself with an idiot. Useful, maybe, but not for what she had in mind. As though to prove her silent point, Yang Xiao Long bowed low. She kept her shoulders level and her back straight, a traditional bow of Mistral, and closer to the gentle reverence shown in the bow of Menagerie. She’d been studying, then, and had learned much. All the better, as far as Blake was concerned.
As the woman before her rose, Blake bowed back, tucking one arm across her waist and sliding one foot behind the other, sliding her toes to a point. A small murmur rolled through the assembled nobles at her flanks, imperceptible to most, but not to Blake’s sensitive cat ears. She kept them pointed towards Yang Xiao Long, and did not give her fellows credence. Blake did not know if anyone outside of Menagerie even understood the many ways one could communicate without a single word. If nothing else, she’d made her point to the other Families, and lashed them to herself in a single motion. She rose, staring directly into the lilac eyes of Yang Xiao Long, who stared back with a grin.
“Welcome, friend from afar.” Blake adopted the stubborn, round language of Old Valean, and noted that Yang Xiao Long brightened up as she heard it. At her flanks, a handful of translators whispered into the ears of their masters. “The Maidens have seen fit to give you safe passage from familiar shores to our port.”
A beat of silence, and Yang Xiao Long flicked her tongue to wet her lips. In the heat of Menagerie, she had to be baking in that armor. “The Maidens saw us sail off with a good breeze,” she said in Old Valean, and then, in some foreign version of Fauni, “The gods of Menagerie allowed us fine ships and a strong wind to your waters.” Another rumble through the nobles, this one surprise and approval of the strange woman before them.
She was more than just well learned in local customs, then. Blake wondered how many languages she knew, and decided that now wasn’t the time to test her limits. It would have been rude, and a light sheen of sweat had begun to bead on Yang Xiao Long’s brow.
“As thanks to them, and to you Madam Belladonna, I would be honored to present a taste of our wares.” Those lilac eyes sparked expectantly, and Blake nodded. She did not sit, even as the other nobles shifted their weight in the heat. Yang Xiao Long stepped back and shouted an order. Her words in Old Valean came out quick and firm, too quick for Blake to keep up with, but their meaning was made clear a moment later: A dozen massive Valeans made their way to the stage, bearing crates sealed with thick iron bands, setting them on the stage. Yang Xiao Long walked in front of the crates, taking an offered crow bar from one of her warriors.
The guards near the stage took a hesitant step forward, and Blake waved them off with a flick of her ear.
“For your consideration,” Yang Xiao Long said, shoving the bar under the top of one of the crates. She wrenched it open with a single, powerful effort, a huff of exertion shaking her body as she did so. The warriors tipped the crate forwards, revealing it was full of clothes. Taking one, Yang Xiao Long held it up to the nobles before her. It was a long red dress, with golden stitching around the collar. “Some of our tailor’s finest casual wear, done in our traditional way.” She passed it off to the nearest noble, and the dress began to work its way around the semicircle. Blake ran a hand down it, and found the material coarse, and tough. It would not breathe well, not nearly well enough for Menagerie, but the stitching about the collar caught her eye. Valean runes, telling some fable that she didn’t know enough history to understand. She passed it along, just in time for Yang Xiao Long to open the next crate. This one was full of weapons, mostly swords, axes, and daggers, though a few hammers lay inside as well. “Fine weapons, tough enough to weather any climate.” She pulled a sword out and passed it without unsheathing it. Every noble who took it in hand did so instead, and here Blake found herself unsure. She unsheathed it and turned it over in her hand, catching the sun on the blade.
“Fine workmanship, probably harder to break than one of ours,” the wind whispered to her. Blake raised a satisfied eyebrow, and passed the sword along.
The presentation of gifts continued. The next crate had some pottery done in magnificent colors, and the next children’s toys, which Yang Xiao Long had placed at the foot of the stage and ushered the nearest children to take from it. Soon the square was full of joyous cries and excited screams as the local kids began to play. Getting goodwill with the people, then, Blake mused, watching the woman before her. They’d exchanged letters for months, and yet the question remained: What kind of woman was Yang Xiao Long?
The next crate contained jewels and other trinkets, which went over well with the nobles. Blake pocketed one for herself, a ruby, she thought. As she looked back up from her pocket, she found a wry, knowing grin awaiting her. She shrugged, and Yang Xiao Long waved the last crate forward as her smile widened.
“And this would be our greatest gift,” she said, opening it. Blake looked inside, then narrowed her eyes. The crate was full of rocks.
She flicked her gaze up, and the grin widened into a beaming smile.
“Raw ore,” Yang Xiao Long explained, taking out a chunk and turning it over in the sun. Part of the stone caught the light. Shocked shouts broke through the veneer of nobility and a sudden glee filled Blake’s chest. Her hands started to twitch, wanting to write down every detail for later study, but she fought off the urge long enough for Yang Xiao Long to go on. “Two hundred pounds of copper and tin, with another crate full of iron on my ship. And, a hundred spars of our finest timber to boot.” She bowed again, eyes still on Blake. Her gaze had not wavered even once. “If you would accept them, Madam Belladonna.”
“You bring gifts fit for a king.”
Yang Xiao Long winked. “It’s who I’m used to pleasing.” This, in Old Valean, and Blake struggled with the final word. ‘Pleasing’, of course, fit and would be polite. Still, she filtered through cognates and local slang, as well as she understood it on Patch. ‘Bribing’ would be the more accurate translation.
“The gods bless us,” Sienna murmured, seeming amazed. If she had not known her so well, Blake might have believed her. Calculating, and purposeful, as ever. They would have to speak again, and soon.
“Then, as we have the blessing of the gods, I hope they won’t mind if we continue this somewhere out of the sun.” Blake smiled warmly, almost meaning it, and relief flooded across the face of her counterpart. She clapped and the assembled nobles dutifully fell into line behind her.“Come, Madam Xiao Long, follow us. We have a tent with refreshments, and cool water.” She made her way to the stairs of the stage, coming up short when Yang Xiao Long began to descend beside her. Not to be made to look a fool, she did not stop for long, nor did she let herself speed up to retake her spot at the head, for it would look childish. Instead of all that, she was pleasantly surprised when Yang Xiao Long slowed at the bottom step, keeping pace a step behind her.
“If it’s all the same to you, Madam,” she said as they walked, “I prefer to just be called Yang.”
Blake nodded slowly, looking behind her to find that now her gaze was not met full on. “Yang it is.” Yang met her eyes briefly, her smile now bearing a hint of thankfulness, almost buried beneath the boldness of her very being. Blake’s gaze idly traced the line of her jaw, then she snapped her head forwards once more.
Leading the way into a large tent a block over from the stage, Blake took her seat at the head of a long table and gestured for Yang to sit next to her. The other import Families filed in and took their seats, with Sienna at the other end, far from Blake, and where she could have an eye kept on her. Waiters passed out golden goblets of water, kept cool in the basement of a nearby storehouse. Next came plates ringed with leafy greens and purple flowers, surrounding sweet and sour chicken dumplings, roasted cabbage, carrots, and leeks, and a thick piece of raw salmon, topped with a rich curry sauce.
Yang picked up a pair of chopsticks like a dagger, then looked around at the assembled merchant-nobles. No one else reached to eat. She smiled with a coughing laugh and set her chopsticks aside. “Apologies, everyone. Haven’t had anything to eat but smoked fish and stale bread for a month and a half. I’d eat anything you put in front of me.”
“Maybe we should take you to the shallows. You could catch something fresh.” Blake smiled a wry smile, and Yang stared for only a single beat before she laughed again, shaking her head. Her cheeks flushed lightly, but she did not seem truly embarrassed. Standing, Blake bowed in each of the cardinal directions. She lifted her goblet in front of her with both hands, making sure to catch what light could spill into the tent from outside. Everyone else at the table lifted their goblets as well, Yang keeping up with commendable accuracy. She didn’t even spill a drop. “To a bountiful tomorrow,” Blake said, and drank. The toast echoed around the table. “Now,” she said as she sat back down, gracefully picking up her chopsticks, “There’s no reason to let the food go cold.” She started with some of the vegetables, and soon the rest of the table joined in.
Next to her, Yang fought to learn how to use chopsticks in the span of a single meal. One fell out of her hand and to the ground, quickly replaced by a waiter. On the sixth, or perhaps seventh, attempt, she gave up with a sigh and went back to her original plan, stabbing a piece of salmon clean through and ripping it back off the chopsticks with her teeth.
Blake didn’t stare, only watched out of the corner of her eye. At the very least she hadn’t pulled out her knife and had given the customs of Menagerie a good try for a newcomer. They got so few who gave them that chance.
The meal carried on for a time, long enough for the crowds outside to begin to disperse. As the plates were taken away, Blake cleared her throat and steepled her fingers in front of her. “Shall we?” she asked Yang, and no one else.
Yang shrugged. “At your leisure, Madam.”
Excellent. “Then, if I can be so bold, your gifts truly were fit for a king. It’s hard to find anyone with such generosity here in Menagerie, and you spill open your coffers at the first sign of good intent.” She kept a dignified air to her voice, adopted the sensible turns of phrase expected of her. Good gods, she wanted to say, did you leave anything back home or bring it all to us?
“It’s the first major trade deal with a foreign country in the history of Vale. My Clan wanted to impress you, show you that we meant business.” Yang leaned back onto her haunches, resting against the low stool that supported her. The head of the Dandelion Family, old and regal as she was, did not hold back as Blake had done.
“And you have more of these goods to ship to us?”
“Tons more ready to move, and enough production to keep us all happy for decades.”
“And the raw goods?” Blake asked.
“The Rose Clan has access to some of the richest forests in all of Vale, some deepwoods in the Emerald Forest too,” Yang said, and Blake could tell that she knew that wasn’t the real question. “We’ve got a few mines around that can get the ore I showed you. Won’t be quick, but it will be consistent.” The merchant-nobles murmured among themselves in general understanding and agreement, only for Madam Dandelion to speak up again.
“But, and I beg your pardon, isn’t there a Clan on the eastern coast with rich mines? I seem to recall that they supply a good deal of Vale itself.” Yang smiled in understanding, nodding slowly.
“The Winchester Clans, yeah. They’ve got a lot of mines in that area, what with the mountains coming off Beacon and all.”
“So why shouldn’t we deal with them?”
“You can.” Yang frowned. “That is, if you want to be dealing with a pack of rude, greedy, Faunus hating sons of bitches, if you’ll pardon my language.” The air stilled in the tent, and Blake’s chest tightened under a cold shock. Yang seemed unperturbed, leaning back onto her hands and pursing her lips. “Lots of Faunus in Vale these days, but the Winchesters have always hated ‘em. So, yeah, you can deal with them.” She looked down, met Madam Dandelion’s eye. “But it’d be pretty stupid of you.” Wrenching her shock out of the way, Blake took a deep breath and cleared her throat, drawing attention back to herself. The growing indignation of Madam Dandelion faded as she realized she was in a meeting with many of her fellows, though it would no doubt be unleashed on some unfortunate servant.
“Grievances with the Winchester Clans aside, we’ve come to discuss the possibility of trading with the Rose Clan. If you can provide us with all the things that you presented to us today, we are prepared to trade with our artisan goods and some foodstuffs that you don’t have access to in Vale. As trade becomes more established, we’ll begin trading in our respective currencies.”
That got Yang’s attention back on her, and Blake did not give credence to the part of her that rather enjoyed that fact. “Foodstuffs? Like what?”
“Like some of our teas and spices.”
“Not much of a tea drinker.”
“You will be.” Blake waved at the head waiter, who quickly had tea served to everyone. A light herbal blend, soft and subtle in its flavorings, not nearly as strong as properly brewed Menagerian tea could be. Yang took one sip, then another, steam rising from the corners of their mouth.
She grinned at Blake. “Delicious.”
“Good. Now, if we’re all sitting comfortably, can we start getting serious about this negotiation?” Looking around the table, no one met her eye. Not even Sienna, who watched Yang like a hawk, or Madam Dandelion, who glowered into her tea. “Yang, you told us that you have tons of these goods ready to be shipped.” Yang nodded. “How soon can you get them here?” That same grin widened and Yang took a long sip of her tea.
“How soon do you want them?”
“Blake, we need to talk.”
Blake’s eyes ached, and her wrists felt as though she’d driven spikes through them. The culprits sat next to her, a pile of scrolls, maps, and letters nearly three feet high. Her legs had lost feeling hours ago, kneeling at a table as she was to do her work, and she’d gone through two pots of ink already, but the work had been getting done. She could have kept going, inadvisable as it was, had Ilia not appeared beside her, Blake only realizing the door had opened when it closed again. “Talk about what? How to figure out an exchange rate between Valean silver and Mengerian notes?” Ilia said nothing. “We should just be able to calculate it based on economic comparison, but Vale is only fifty years old! They haven’t done a full tabulation of their economy yet.” Pushing aside a scroll still wet with ink, Blake let her head thud onto the table. “The only people who know who have solid numbers are the Rose Clan.”
“But that’s who matters, isn’t it?” Ilia asked, and a bark of a laugh shot out of Blake’s mouth.
“Of course! They’re the other half of this equation, but we’re comparing the economy of an entire continent with one Clan. Do you have any idea how unfair that would be to them?”
“I...no.” Ilia cleared her throat. “That’s not what I wanted to talk about. Yang Xiao Long has been here for a few days.”
“Two days,” Blake muttered, wanting to be right about something.
“Two days and four hours,” Ilia corrected, “and the announcement of her coming arrival went out nearly three months ago. Since then I’ve been keeping tabs on anyone who might be a problem if we go through with this, any merchant-nobles who might get uppity or something.”
Blake flopped her head to the side, staring up at Ilia over a stack of tax forms. “You found someone?”
“Maybe. Captain Taurus, heading up a contingent of the White Fang along the southern coast. Apparently he’s been making a big stink about how they’ll have to keep extra eyes on the Valeans if they land down there.”
“The White Fang? Sienna’s group?”
“Formerly your father’s.”
“Right. I’ll speak to her about it.” Blake considered going back to her papers, and decided against it, rolling onto her back and away from the table. Her legs groaned in agony as they stretched for the first time in hours, both knees popping as they remembered how to move. Blake hissed as the pain lanced up her legs. She did not let it stop her from speaking. “Do you think he’ll be a problem?”
“I don’t know, I only just found out about him. From what I did find out he’s been with the Fang for a while, even back when your father ran it. Never got close enough to be anywhere near us, which is why we didn’t know his name, but his record is impressive.” The corner of Ilia’s mouth quirked downwards, just enough to be a tell.
“What’s wrong with him?” Blake asked.
“He’s brutal is what. Uses violence at the expense of all else. All Fang members get combat training, but it’s the only kind of training that he seems to rely on.” Blake nodded slowly, thinking. The White Fang had been founded as a defensive force in the wake of Mistrali aggression decades ago, and had passed from leader to leader for years. She’d grown up with it, her father in charge since before she'd been born until she came of age, when the leadership passed to Sienna Khan.
“Not exactly an agent of stability and peace like he’s supposed to be, then.”
“Not at all. He’s been stationed in land controlled by the Casein Family for years, and they seem to trust him. Enough to let him have a seat in their meeting hall, anyway. If he’s worried about Valeans landing there, it might not be unfounded.”
Flopping one hand on the table eventually got her a map of Menagerie, and Blake studied the area in question. “The Valeans wouldn’t land there, at least not the Rose Clan. Captain Taurus isn’t going to be right about anything if this agreement pans out,” she said, voice low, mind elsewhere as she calculated the potential of the situation. With things still so undecided, it wouldn’t do to go in to any situation unprepared. What she’d built could be scattered like leaves with the right kind of pressure, and Blake would not allow that to happen. “We’ll need to keep an eye on him.”
“Not the Caseins?”
“If they want in on the trade deal, they’ll have to go through me. I’m more worried about Taurus. If he gets violent with any Valean ship that happens to be near a beach he’s on, we’re going to be playing peacemakers for our entire lives.” Blake glanced up at Ilia, who straightened up under scrutiny. “Can you take care of it?”
“I’ll join the Fang, see if I can get assigned down that way.”
“Once the Valeans leave, do so. I’ll mention it to Sienna. She’ll make sure of it. Can you fight?”
“Of course I can: dagger, crossbow, and whip.” Blake let out a ghost of a laugh, the smile sticking long enough to be legitimate. Of course Ilia could fight, how silly of her to forget. It had been on Ilia’s insistence that she learn, so as to better protect Blake than just with rumors and hearsay. With a polite wave, Blake dismissed her spymaster. Ilia made her way to the door, pausing before she opened it. “Blake?”
“Yes?”
“Can you fight?”
Furrowing her brow, Blake shook her head. “No, at least not any more than any person can fight. Why?” Ilia shuffled from foot to foot, skin turning from brown to red to blue and then back again.
“We’re dealing with a man who has a history of violence. It might be a good idea to learn, just in case - The Valeans are raiders by their very culture. I might not always be here to protect you.” She met Blake’s eye, and the sting of fear in those gray depths nearly paralyzed Blake where she lay. The promise had been made before Blake could even conceptualize her own answer, nodding firmly, pushing herself upright as though to add some kind of legitimacy.
“I’ll learn, then, if it’ll put your mind at ease. Sienna can teach me, or my parents.” She put on a brave smile, and Ilia seemed to struggle to return it. Instead, she nodded curtly, then bowed, and vanished back out the door. Blake found herself alone in the room again, with only the maps, scrolls, and letters for company. She wondered if, in far off Patch, the daughters of nobles had to ask to be taught to fight. It didn’t seem likely, not with how massive Yang Xiao Long was.
Perhaps Ilia was right. Well, she almost certainly was, being right was her job.
Blake stood and began to practice what little she remembered from the smattering of martial arts lessons in her youth. For now, it would have to do.