IV. Trade

So Alexius decided to settle down in Sarfan, and came to live among the villagers there. He performed many deeds and built many tales in those earliest days in the village, the number of which would fill ten chronicles and hundreds of pages. He built a small house for himself on the outskirts of the village, near the birch forest and helped by Hava Yal the Fletcher, who was less suspicious of this stranger as his language progressed. And indeed, most of the villagers came to trust, or at least lose their fear of, Alexius as time went on.

Every day he would go to the library, where Saracid the Librarian and Sev the Cleric, the two most learned men of the whole village, taught him the language of the Plains in bits and pieces. Initially this was done as we teach infants our tongue today, by naming objects in that language. Presumably, they started with the most basic of concepts, such as "gram" for wheatstalks and "aguyu" for water; as the moons passed, the words shifted to more abstract details, such as "dems" for time and "tafer" for security, "fert" for strength and "mered" for virtue... but let us not waste space with Old Plains words that have no bearing on this narrative.

Saracid and Sev called their language "Orancer", which in that tongue simply means "Eastern Tongue", for they were in the easternmost reaches of the Plains. They consulted their countless books from their ancient shelves and occasionally invited Ramaf the Cartographer into their little house, where the four of them would pore over his vast maps, detailing a seemingly vast and endless world. Alexius's formative education was slow, but the Emperor-to-be must have been a fast learner, for by the time two or three moons had passed, he was able to converse with the other villagers of Sarfan in a somewhat understandable way. Indeed, his knowledge of this new world increased rapidly as time went on, at an exponential rate.

He must have learned by speaking with the other villagers. Very quickly he began to make new acquaintances, who no longer feared him, for he had taken off his armor in his home and had stowed away his axe and shield. And where he made acquaintances, he made friends. There was Azel the Butcher, from whom he had received rabbit stew as a gift in the first moons of his arrival; Maro the Leatherworker, who had mended his saddle free of charge; Arter the Mason, who had supplied some of the stone for Alexius's house; and Nerev the Weaponsmith, who spent hours with his brother Spayer the Armorer, admiring the quality of Alexius's iron chestplate and axe. On occasion Alexius even let the children of the village play with him, and the little ones of Saraf, Cheni son of Maro and Faren son of Nerev and the rest, grew a liking to this tall and dark man.

The farmers, laboring in their wooden platformed fields, no longer stared at Alexius as he passed by. They merely offered their greetings—"Ver fespra, Alexius", "Ver fespra, Cos Sessa"—and, sometimes, offered him bread. And the words flowed freely.

Alexius discovered that the inhabitants of this land placed a great importance on gifts, especially towards newcomers. It is said that he once observed a blue-robed Wandering Trader in the town who, after being offered meat and bottles of water freely, bowed deeply to his hosts so that his nose almost touched the ground in gratitude. When the villagers refused to accept payment from him (Alexius noted that he tried to pay in emeralds, perhaps his first exposure to this form of currency), the Trader bowed again, even deeper than previously. Upon seeing this, Alexius said: "I am he."

After this, he decided to gift a bundle of sticks to Hava Yal the Fletcher, who always seemed to be in short supply. Hava Yal, always suspicious by nature, initially refused to accept this gift, but decided against rejecting it, and gave Alexius an emerald in exchange, which was, as it is now, a universal mode of currency in those parts. The villagers of Sarfan held on to these green gems carefully, showing them in public only reluctantly. Their trades were always dealt swiftly and quietly, almost secretively. Alexius noted this and, from that day on, decided that he, too, would value these gems. He also decided to gather them through exchange with the other villagers.

Thusly did he discover trade, that eternal activity involving the exchange of certain goods for the ever-valued emerald.

They are in the library again, relaxing in chairs and talking about nothing. It has been three moons since he has come to Sarfan, and despite his syllables being slightly too long and his grammar being mangled at times, Alexius feels comfortable conversing with Saracid and Ramaf in Orancer. For a few hours every day they come to Saracid's library and teach him new words, practice sentences with him, tell him about mysterious and faraway places. The words come somewhat naturally out of his mouth, and they are pleased with his progress.

Ramaf tells an old joke and Saracid laughs gently. Their voices are hoarse and quiet with age; their hands seem as ancient as the yellowed pages of Orancer text they show him at times. He cannot read yet, but he will soon.

Alexius lounges in his chair and thinks. He points to the spine of a book on one of the shelves, and asks, "What is that, Saracid?"

The old librarian looks up at the book and smiles. "On the History of the Western Plains," he reads. Noticing Alexius's confused face, he quickly adds, "History is, um, like the record of events and people before us. You could call it a... a sort of list of things before."

"Think of it like a story," Ramaf says. "It's a story, only it actually happened." Saracid nods and says, "Exactly so."

Alexius nods vaguely. He knows exactly what this is. The names Caesar and Napoleon float into his mind and he feels a deep thrill. This is exactly what he's been waiting for. He sits up and says, "I would like to know the history." And, pointing to the book again, he says, "Saracid, could you... read this story to me, thank you?"

"The word is please, Alexius, not thank you," Ramaf says, laughing again. Normally Alexius would laugh in an embarrassed way, but today he does not. Instead, he looks at Saracid and takes the book from the shelf, hands it to him almost pleadingly.

The librarian takes the book and smiles, thinking: Just like a child. "I will read this to you," he says, taking special care to enunciate his vowels properly. "Don't know why," Ramaf mutters from the side. "It's the same old trash."

"Don't discourage him, Ramaf," Saracid says. And, turning to Alexius, whose eyes are rapt with attention and sits up straight in his chair, the librarian opens the old tome and begins to read.