Thread Title 
Ash, Cinderfall 5, 121 - Eikaeus
Franky saw the fields of yellow grains tucked among the rolling hills of fading green. The farm was bigger than he'd expected to find. It seemed that even though the man was old, odds were likely he could work any under the table, Franky included. That was why Franky always liked farmers. Hardworkers, didn't steal, didn't beg. Sure, they were slaves to the elements, often considered peasants and treated as such. It wasn't much, but it was good, honest work.
The caravan turned down a worn dirt road, and now Franky saw rows and rows of green archways, hanging, climbing. Hops. Far prettier than any typical flower, far more useful. The wagons bumbled along lazily, and Franky saw the large farm house up ahead. It was a bit worn down, but still showed of a time when it used to be grand. Franky had to bet that perhaps in his age, despite his work ethic, Hortund just couldn't keep up with how successful he'd made his farm and brewery. Death by success was a very real thing.
The caravan came to a cul-de-sac, circling about in the little farm village, and Hortund came trotting out, carrying a large scythe. Franky hopped out, watching as the gruff, old elf huffed over, pulling a paper from the front pocket of his overalls. He shoved it into the face of the equally grumpy lead driver, who looked it over. The man hollered orders, and the drivers began to unload a variety of crates but mostly barrels. Franky just leaned there, watching as the old farmer watched with hawk eyes as the men carried the purchases into the barn with the open door. Clearly not their first time.
As they finished, they were quick to get back in the wagons, and move onward down the road, likely to their next customer. As the last wagon pulled away, Franky was standing there, hat in hand, smiling at the elf. The old man took off his own hat, squinted, then laughed. "I didn't think you'd actually come. Everyone else that said so was just talk." He stepped forward, stretching out one rough hand.
Franky stepped forward to meet it, "I keep to my word."
Their hands shook, and the old man chuckled, "That's how I know you're not human."
Franky laughed heartily. "How's harvest goin?"
The old man turned toward the open barn, "Come, I'll show you. We're bountiful this year, maybe too much so."
Franky followed the man into the barn, only to be met with a giant wall of crates. Franky looked up into the loft, seeing that the barrels were up there. "We'll fill every crate you see with twenty sacks of grain each. The barrels will carry our brews."
Franky nodded, "I know I've not seen your entire property, but it seems you have a lot more space dedicated to grains than hops. I figured you'd go heavier into the other direction."
Hortund nodded, "I see you know more than just how to pour a brew. You're not wrong. I used to have more hops built up. But as I get older and we have no one else to work here, I've shifted my business more to grains. We make more wheat beers and use barley more now, but a large portion of the grains will be sold for cow feed."
Franky didn't even try to hide his surprise, "Cow feed? That's coppers on the gold."
Hortund sighed, "I know, but this old body ain't what it once was. It takes me five times as long now to do an acre compared to a few years ago. My family works hard but we're just not enough."
Franky nodded, "I'm no stranger to the cruelties of time. I know your kind and mine don't look as rough to the ravages of aging as humans, but I'm certainly no spring chicken."
The pair laughed together, "Come, let's have lunch. I'll introduce you to the family."
Hortund led Franky out of the barn toward the house. He paused, pulling an ox horn from his hip, and blowing on it loudly, blasting the deep booms all around the property. "My daughter's cooking right now. She runs like clockwork. Better than, really. It's why she's a better brewer than me I think."
Franky chuckled, "Kids are funny like that. We raise better replacements for ourselves, if we're lucky."
Hortund stopped, "You're a dad too?"
Franky nodded, "They're grown now, living their lives back in the Imperium."
Hortund nodded and led Franky into his home. It smelled absolutely divine. Franky could make out the smell of fresh, herby bread, beef of some sort, onions and mushrooms being fried up. It smelled better than what he normally cooked, that's for sure. Hortund led him past multiple pieces of wood carved art, woven tapestries, and prettily carved stones, until they entered the dining room. There was a young elf woman, setting a dish of onions, potatoes, and mushrooms on the table.
She looked up, beaming, "Oh, company? How pleasant. I'll set another place."
She was dressed in slacks and working shirt, with a leather apron, with a pair of goggles upon her head. She would've been right at home in a laboratory, and probably was. She disappeared back in the kitchen and soon returned with another plate, cutlery, and cup. Once she had them placed, she walked over to Franky, sticking out a hand. "Hiya. I'm Delilah. What's your name?"
Franky smiled, shaking her hand, "Hey there Delilah, I'm Franky. It's a pleasure to meet you."
Delilah turned to her father, "Ma and Jax should be along in a moment, the Durgons' cows broke through again."
Hortund sighed, "Shall we have some drinks in the meantime?"
Delilah perked up, disappeared for a minute and came back with a tasting barrel. She poured three goblets of copper colored ale. "This is my latest batch. Still fine tuning it, but I absolutely love the color and the taste of caramel." She handed a goblet to Franky, "Thank you."
He took a solid draught of it and his eyes went wide. He took a second just to make sure he wasn't mistaken. Pulling the goblet from his lips, "That was... phenomenal. I've drank my way around several countries but this... And this is a new batch? Not even aged?"
Delilah beamed, "Finished it out this morning."
Franky was stunned.
He sat down at his place at the table, and soon the rest of the family arrived. They made small talk, they ate a fabulous meal, and they finished the tasting barrel. It was an all around pleasant time. Hortund finally decided to get to down to business.
"Well, Franky. We've shared a drink, we've shared a meal, and we've shared stories. I know you didn't come by just for the pleasantries. You said you wanted to discuss a deal? We share no secrets in this family, so if you'd like to discuss this, we can do so now."
Franky nodded, smiling. He then slid his chair back and stood up. "Well, you know I run a tavern up on the Knob. I assume that since our previous meeting, you asked around about me. Probably wasn't a lot to learn, after all, this is the beginning of my third season of operation, and barely that." Franky looked at Hortund who gave nothing away on his face, so Franky continued. "You've been quite open about the success, and detriments, of your business. That level of honesty and openness is rare in a world run by coin. And I will give you the same."
Franky pushed his chair in, and was now talking, hands open and moving, his eyes locking onto each member of the family in tern at key points. "I originally wished to retired from a lifetime spent as a soldier. A comfortable life, running a tavern, until I grew old, fat, and died. But coming here to Zaichaer has sparked something new within me. I still have the vigor to do more. Much more. So I started looking around in my books, in my operations, thinking, planning, working."
Looking directly at Hortund now, "I know that I can scale up both of our businesses, in a mutually beneficial manner, so that we don't just retire content and comfortable. No, that's too easy. No, I know that if we partner up, we can push the boundaries here in Zaichaer. You've seen the city folk here. You've seen what they are like. They are so lazy and content and blinded that their biggest problem is the fact that we aren't humans. You know, you absolutely know, what hunger feels like. Every farmer I've ever met has had a down year, or more. And they had to dig deep, had to gnaw on leather and rope and wood to stave off the hunger pains. They gave their only food to their children, while they themselves cried to sleep at night from the pains themselves. I know you know it. I know this for I've been there too."
Franky saw a glisten in Hortund's eyes, the slightest hint of tears. He saw Delilah and Jax look at both of their parents, not realizing. "I am not offering you a life of comfort and fatness and beautiful grandchildren. No. I'm offering you a life where you die either copperless or at the top of the world. A life where we have as many people speaking poison of our names as sing our praises. But enough of the fancy words, I'll get specific."
He looked at Delilah now, "Your brew can change the world, and I have no doubts you can do better. I want to invest in you. I want to establish a brewery in town, up on the Knob, with you in charge." Franky then cast his gaze on Jax, "You are taking over the farm as your father ages. It takes a strong man to admit what he has. But you won't have to do it alone. I will work with you to get employees and work your books. Grain is easy and cheap. Hops are profitable and difficult."
He smiled softly, "Hortund, Sylvana, I do not want you to retire. No one should ever retire. My mother is still alive and she still holds onto her position with an iron fist. No, I want you both to serve as both mentors, managers, and be the faces of this partnership. And here's what I can promise you, for I'm sure you've been approached for a buyout as well."
Franky gestured broadly around him, "This land always remains yours. I have no interest in your land. I have no interest in investing in land, despite the money made there. No. I wish to invest in people. Your family home, your family farm, stays just that. All I want is to make it better, to serve us all."
There was a long silence following that impassioned speech. Then Hortund cleared his throat, "Obviously we will need to discuss this as a family. And we'll need some time. But I do have a question for you. How does a tavern owner have the means to invest in a farm and a brewery?"
Franky smiled, "Because my tavern is where I start, not where I end."
With that, talk of business ended. Franky was treated to some delicious carrot cake, and then spent the rest of the day helping around the farm, learning just how they do things. And when the wagons returned in the evening, he caught them and made the trek back to Zaichaer.
He knew he'd hear from them soon.
Time Stamp
Ash, Cinderfall 5, 121 - Eikaeus
Franky saw the fields of yellow grains tucked among the rolling hills of fading green. The farm was bigger than he'd expected to find. It seemed that even though the man was old, odds were likely he could work any under the table, Franky included. That was why Franky always liked farmers. Hardworkers, didn't steal, didn't beg. Sure, they were slaves to the elements, often considered peasants and treated as such. It wasn't much, but it was good, honest work.
The caravan turned down a worn dirt road, and now Franky saw rows and rows of green archways, hanging, climbing. Hops. Far prettier than any typical flower, far more useful. The wagons bumbled along lazily, and Franky saw the large farm house up ahead. It was a bit worn down, but still showed of a time when it used to be grand. Franky had to bet that perhaps in his age, despite his work ethic, Hortund just couldn't keep up with how successful he'd made his farm and brewery. Death by success was a very real thing.
The caravan came to a cul-de-sac, circling about in the little farm village, and Hortund came trotting out, carrying a large scythe. Franky hopped out, watching as the gruff, old elf huffed over, pulling a paper from the front pocket of his overalls. He shoved it into the face of the equally grumpy lead driver, who looked it over. The man hollered orders, and the drivers began to unload a variety of crates but mostly barrels. Franky just leaned there, watching as the old farmer watched with hawk eyes as the men carried the purchases into the barn with the open door. Clearly not their first time.
As they finished, they were quick to get back in the wagons, and move onward down the road, likely to their next customer. As the last wagon pulled away, Franky was standing there, hat in hand, smiling at the elf. The old man took off his own hat, squinted, then laughed. "I didn't think you'd actually come. Everyone else that said so was just talk." He stepped forward, stretching out one rough hand.
Franky stepped forward to meet it, "I keep to my word."
Their hands shook, and the old man chuckled, "That's how I know you're not human."
Franky laughed heartily. "How's harvest goin?"
The old man turned toward the open barn, "Come, I'll show you. We're bountiful this year, maybe too much so."
Franky followed the man into the barn, only to be met with a giant wall of crates. Franky looked up into the loft, seeing that the barrels were up there. "We'll fill every crate you see with twenty sacks of grain each. The barrels will carry our brews."
Franky nodded, "I know I've not seen your entire property, but it seems you have a lot more space dedicated to grains than hops. I figured you'd go heavier into the other direction."
Hortund nodded, "I see you know more than just how to pour a brew. You're not wrong. I used to have more hops built up. But as I get older and we have no one else to work here, I've shifted my business more to grains. We make more wheat beers and use barley more now, but a large portion of the grains will be sold for cow feed."
Franky didn't even try to hide his surprise, "Cow feed? That's coppers on the gold."
Hortund sighed, "I know, but this old body ain't what it once was. It takes me five times as long now to do an acre compared to a few years ago. My family works hard but we're just not enough."
Franky nodded, "I'm no stranger to the cruelties of time. I know your kind and mine don't look as rough to the ravages of aging as humans, but I'm certainly no spring chicken."
The pair laughed together, "Come, let's have lunch. I'll introduce you to the family."
Hortund led Franky out of the barn toward the house. He paused, pulling an ox horn from his hip, and blowing on it loudly, blasting the deep booms all around the property. "My daughter's cooking right now. She runs like clockwork. Better than, really. It's why she's a better brewer than me I think."
Franky chuckled, "Kids are funny like that. We raise better replacements for ourselves, if we're lucky."
Hortund stopped, "You're a dad too?"
Franky nodded, "They're grown now, living their lives back in the Imperium."
Hortund nodded and led Franky into his home. It smelled absolutely divine. Franky could make out the smell of fresh, herby bread, beef of some sort, onions and mushrooms being fried up. It smelled better than what he normally cooked, that's for sure. Hortund led him past multiple pieces of wood carved art, woven tapestries, and prettily carved stones, until they entered the dining room. There was a young elf woman, setting a dish of onions, potatoes, and mushrooms on the table.
She looked up, beaming, "Oh, company? How pleasant. I'll set another place."
She was dressed in slacks and working shirt, with a leather apron, with a pair of goggles upon her head. She would've been right at home in a laboratory, and probably was. She disappeared back in the kitchen and soon returned with another plate, cutlery, and cup. Once she had them placed, she walked over to Franky, sticking out a hand. "Hiya. I'm Delilah. What's your name?"
Franky smiled, shaking her hand, "Hey there Delilah, I'm Franky. It's a pleasure to meet you."
Delilah turned to her father, "Ma and Jax should be along in a moment, the Durgons' cows broke through again."
Hortund sighed, "Shall we have some drinks in the meantime?"
Delilah perked up, disappeared for a minute and came back with a tasting barrel. She poured three goblets of copper colored ale. "This is my latest batch. Still fine tuning it, but I absolutely love the color and the taste of caramel." She handed a goblet to Franky, "Thank you."
He took a solid draught of it and his eyes went wide. He took a second just to make sure he wasn't mistaken. Pulling the goblet from his lips, "That was... phenomenal. I've drank my way around several countries but this... And this is a new batch? Not even aged?"
Delilah beamed, "Finished it out this morning."
Franky was stunned.
He sat down at his place at the table, and soon the rest of the family arrived. They made small talk, they ate a fabulous meal, and they finished the tasting barrel. It was an all around pleasant time. Hortund finally decided to get to down to business.
"Well, Franky. We've shared a drink, we've shared a meal, and we've shared stories. I know you didn't come by just for the pleasantries. You said you wanted to discuss a deal? We share no secrets in this family, so if you'd like to discuss this, we can do so now."
Franky nodded, smiling. He then slid his chair back and stood up. "Well, you know I run a tavern up on the Knob. I assume that since our previous meeting, you asked around about me. Probably wasn't a lot to learn, after all, this is the beginning of my third season of operation, and barely that." Franky looked at Hortund who gave nothing away on his face, so Franky continued. "You've been quite open about the success, and detriments, of your business. That level of honesty and openness is rare in a world run by coin. And I will give you the same."
Franky pushed his chair in, and was now talking, hands open and moving, his eyes locking onto each member of the family in tern at key points. "I originally wished to retired from a lifetime spent as a soldier. A comfortable life, running a tavern, until I grew old, fat, and died. But coming here to Zaichaer has sparked something new within me. I still have the vigor to do more. Much more. So I started looking around in my books, in my operations, thinking, planning, working."
Looking directly at Hortund now, "I know that I can scale up both of our businesses, in a mutually beneficial manner, so that we don't just retire content and comfortable. No, that's too easy. No, I know that if we partner up, we can push the boundaries here in Zaichaer. You've seen the city folk here. You've seen what they are like. They are so lazy and content and blinded that their biggest problem is the fact that we aren't humans. You know, you absolutely know, what hunger feels like. Every farmer I've ever met has had a down year, or more. And they had to dig deep, had to gnaw on leather and rope and wood to stave off the hunger pains. They gave their only food to their children, while they themselves cried to sleep at night from the pains themselves. I know you know it. I know this for I've been there too."
Franky saw a glisten in Hortund's eyes, the slightest hint of tears. He saw Delilah and Jax look at both of their parents, not realizing. "I am not offering you a life of comfort and fatness and beautiful grandchildren. No. I'm offering you a life where you die either copperless or at the top of the world. A life where we have as many people speaking poison of our names as sing our praises. But enough of the fancy words, I'll get specific."
He looked at Delilah now, "Your brew can change the world, and I have no doubts you can do better. I want to invest in you. I want to establish a brewery in town, up on the Knob, with you in charge." Franky then cast his gaze on Jax, "You are taking over the farm as your father ages. It takes a strong man to admit what he has. But you won't have to do it alone. I will work with you to get employees and work your books. Grain is easy and cheap. Hops are profitable and difficult."
He smiled softly, "Hortund, Sylvana, I do not want you to retire. No one should ever retire. My mother is still alive and she still holds onto her position with an iron fist. No, I want you both to serve as both mentors, managers, and be the faces of this partnership. And here's what I can promise you, for I'm sure you've been approached for a buyout as well."
Franky gestured broadly around him, "This land always remains yours. I have no interest in your land. I have no interest in investing in land, despite the money made there. No. I wish to invest in people. Your family home, your family farm, stays just that. All I want is to make it better, to serve us all."
There was a long silence following that impassioned speech. Then Hortund cleared his throat, "Obviously we will need to discuss this as a family. And we'll need some time. But I do have a question for you. How does a tavern owner have the means to invest in a farm and a brewery?"
Franky smiled, "Because my tavern is where I start, not where I end."
With that, talk of business ended. Franky was treated to some delicious carrot cake, and then spent the rest of the day helping around the farm, learning just how they do things. And when the wagons returned in the evening, he caught them and made the trek back to Zaichaer.
He knew he'd hear from them soon.
I'm enjoying this supply chain management!