Submission (#6338) Approved

Yuriy wouldn’t say he has extensive experience in the mercantile industry of Bellmoril, but he has to have some degree of proficiency after being stationed there for months at a time. At this point he’s fairly certain the Madam just wants him as far away from her as possible, and Yuriy has caused the least amount of trouble—and damages—in this particular region.

“Is there something specific you wanted?” Kiril asks.

They’re in a local farmer’s market, perusing the stalls in a half-assed attempt at intelligence gathering. The whole area is shaded by maple trees, piles of orange and yellow leaves scattered throughout the maze of tents.

They're set up in the middle of the town square, cobblestone pathways leading to rustic buildings with worn stone walls and beautiful archways. The buildings are all symmetrical and proportioned to a point of perfection, and Yuriy knows the architects of Bellmoril consider each home a piece of artwork. Vines curling with fiery leaves trail up and around each collumn, each windowsill, each doorframe, and tree planted tall in the vicinity. Its dark length runs the gambit around each white, willowy birch branch, and even in the middle of the square, Yuriy finds himself tripping over a stray strand and its red pops of leafy color.

Most stalls were populated with various regional specialties. The scents emanating from every corner of the fair was absolutely enticing.

“I don’t need to explain myself to you,” Yuriy scoffs at Kiril. “But I’m gathering information on the local merchant practices. Official training purposes.”

Kiril nudges his shoulder with a smile, saying, “So they think you need more practice with complex interactions in a low-stake environment?”

“No. Shut up.” Yuriy grits his molars. He won’t admit that the Elnin is right; that he’s been deemed too combative when interacting with civilians. “Anyways—what are you here for?”

“Why, I’m here to annoy you!” Kiril chirps. “The rest of the reason is classified, of course.”

Yuriy doesn’t doubt the truth of either of those statements.

Looking around, Yuriy thinks about where to start. The two are still perched around a stray wooden bench, great, big roots of a proud, autumnal tree anchoring it in place. A rustic building sits at their back, with a tall, stone gate leading out from it. The rounded top of the building's tallest point is topped with a sundial, whipping around as the wind batters it.

It's a lovely day out; perfect for this sort of event. The sun shines in the disctance, the great, towering Bellmoril Eldertree raidant in the light. It's greatness filters in through the tree leaves, dappling Yuriy with stray randiance. Residents in the square have their windows thrown open. Beautiful archways are adorned with the smiling faces of Elnin as they peek out, throwing coin down to family and friends to grab them something from the fair. 

Shrugging, the kittom heads towards the nearest stall. It’s filled from top to bottom with honey related products; jars of honey, boxes of bees, raw honeycomb, beeswax lip balm— the stall has it all.

The Elnin running the stall has a kittom on her hip and a bottle in hand, feeding the baby and conversing with a customer at the same time. She turns away from the customer to grab change for him, waving the Elnin off as he walks away with two jars of honey.

She catches notice of Yuriy and gives him a warm smile. It makes something inside his chest flip-flop like a suffocating fish.

“Welcome! Did you want to try a taste of our honey?” She asks, already gathering a wooden swab of sticky ooze. “It’s my family’s specialty mix; can’t get anything like it in any other region!”

Interest slightly piqued, Yuriy turns his attention towards her fully.

“Do bees even pollinate and produce honey in other regions? They must, right?” Yuriy inquires.

“They do, yes! But the flowers in each region are so drastically different that the pollen produces various flavors of honey,” the Elnin explains, handing him a test stick. “The strains produced in Bellmoril tend to be more savory, whereas Faerindell honey is extremely sweet.”

And true to her words, the test honey is delightfully savory compared to the honey he’s had in the past. She hands another swab to Kiril, who thanks her pleasantly.

Yuriy continues chatting with the stall owner—who eventually introduces herself as Lily—about the various aspects of her business, gathering information about how the bees are kept, and how they have a sustained trade network of honey products that spans the entirety of Eyre.

“One of our best clients is actually in Strynhalde,” Lily mentions. “Can’t get bees to survive well enough over there; they just go straight into a strange hibernation mode.”

“Interesting,” Yuriy says genuinely, taking another sample as she offers it to him.

“This one is our most popular spice blend; it’s a secret recipe, but it pairs especially well with meats and cheeses!”

Kiril nudges Yuriy, grabbing his attention. “I’m going to keep moving, but feel free to catch up later.”

Yuriy nods at him distractedly, shooing the Elnin away when Kiril ruffles his hair. Lily huffs a small laugh, and turns to the baby on her hip. The tiny kittom gets placed in a stroller next to her, eyes growing tired as soon as it’s strapped in. Sunlight from the square tickles the baby's face, and a lovely yellow five-pronged leaf flutters down onto its nose. It snuffles a bit as Yuriy watches it.

“Did you want to come behind the counter? I could use a little helper for a bit,” Lily asks, gesturing to the space in her stall next to her. “You can help me organize inventory, and I’ll let you in on a couple more trade secrets.”

Yuriy nods immediately, shuffling on his feet while he waits for her to unlock the tabletop so he can get behind the counter. He gets lost in the world of commerce communication as he watches and learns from the Elnin’s business, absorbing the knowledge she hands him like a sponge.

Whether or not he actually uses the information in the future for anything beyond interesting fun facts is unknown, but Yuriy feels… special. Like he’s been let in on some super cool trade secret; but all that he’s learning about are bees.

“What’s it like, basing your entire business on a single product?” Yuriy inquires. It’s a strange concept to him, as someone who’s life revolves around being told what to do and where to go for work.

“It has its pros and cons,” Lily starts, pausing to straighten a couple beeswax candles. “Figuring out tricks of the trade are important, but creating connections is the most important.”

“Connections?”

Lily nods, “Mhm; with each region of Eyre having its selection of goods and services, we each survive by connecting with each other.” She points out glass jars on the top shelf. “Glass is made from raw materials like sand, so Azha has a pretty big monopoly on glassware.”

Moving to the front, she gestures to the candles, “Faerindell, with its wide array of flowers, is where we import the fragrances for most of our candles and aromas.”

“Wow,” Yuriy murmurs. It’s almost too much to think about all at once, but it’s certainly interesting. By the time the Kiril comes back around to their stand, Yuriy’s brain is packed full of knowledge on bees, honey, and trade routes; he’s even helped a couple customers with their orders!

The winged Elnin is carrying a couple different bags of varying styles. Yuriy gives his thanks to Lily, assuring her that he’ll be back in the future when he’s experienced a couple other types of honey to compare.

Slipping out from behind the counter, Yuriy tries to peer into the nearest bag.

“Hey! No peeking,” Kiril exclaims, quickly drawing the bags high above Yuriy’s head. Which is completely and utterly unfair, by the way, so he stomps a paw on Kiril’s foot. “Yikes! Calm down, kitten.”

“Shut the hell up,” Yuriy says, jabbing his elbow into Kiril’s side. The two trade insults back and forth as they wander back into the throes of the building crowd, pushing through piles of colorful leaves and coming to a stop under a white birch tree. “Are the rest of the stalls worth it?”

“It’s mostly kitschy goods,” Kiril says. “But that’s to be expected at a farmer’s market.”

Is it? Yuriy wonders. He’s never been to an event like this.

“Might as well check it out for myself, now that I’m here,” Yuriy nods.

“And to improve your underdeveloped social skills, of course!”

“Shut up!”