Kael placed a brown jar of medicine on the shelf.
The mote shop had seen little traffic, being new and carrying only one variety. But all things considered Sylvia was taking it seriously and doing well. Luke equally so. His workload was considerably heavier than hers but he was managing better than anyone had a right to expect. Having her nearby seemed to have done something for his morale that no amount of rest could have.
"How much are you selling the motes for again, Mister?"
"Fifty mindstones each."
Luke looked up.
"Isn't that about four times below market value?"
Kael nodded.
Luke waited for elaboration. It didn't come. He sighed.
He had learned not to underestimate Kael. Things had a way of working out that defied the surface logic of any given decision. But it would have been nice, just occasionally, to be let in on the reasoning.
The door chime rang.
Sylvia stepped inside, brushing her forehead, and handed Kael a small bag.
"We sold one mote today. Fifty mindstones, Mister."
Kael took the bag and weighed it in his hand thoughtfully.
He had given her permission to use his first name, but of course she wouldn't. She was far too mannered for that.
He handed the bag back.
"Split it between you. Both of you have done well these past months."
Luke and Sylvia looked at each other. Every proper instinct told them to refuse. Every logical one screamed at them to accept. Twenty-five mindstones each was enough to live comfortably for years if spent carefully.
"O— Okay."
Sylvia managed.
In her eyes, Kael was cold but kind. In moments like this that combination was something close to a gift. He simply didn't seem to care about propriety, which meant neither of them had to either.
Sylvia then went to grab her bag from against the wall and pulled out her studies on the counter. Luke sat down beside her. Having never gotten a proper education in his younger days, Sylvia had forced him to study with her.
Then the shop bell rang again.
A young blond haired man walked inside, wearing a wine red military cloak, much like Kaels. A family crest depicting a flying dove rested on his chest.
'Took them long enough.'
"We're closed."
Kael said without ever lifting his gaze from the shelves.
The man walked around the shop with his hand folded behind his back. His eyes moving from the counter to the shelves, to the stair. They moved from Sylvia and Luke finally landing on Kael.
"Valerian Eireindaile?"
Kael straightened and rolled his neck with a yawn.
"Yes?"
"My name is Augustus Redgrave. I come as a representative from the sixth layer."
Luke and Sylvia froze at the words. For them, and perhaps everyone in the first layer. Hearing someone claim they were from the sixth layer wasn't just unbelievable it was absurd. There's no way they would have believed him if it wasn't for the family crest. This man was of noble descent.
"I've been tasked to ask about your intentions with the businesses you've started," he continued.
"What about them?"
Augustus was a little taken aback by his attitude.
"Well for starters what are your intentions? You're treating mortals free of charge using up your own resources in the process."
Placing down his gloves, Kael turned fully towards him.
"My intentions are mine alone. I won't harm anyone. Leave me alone, and we'll continue with our day like normal."
Augustus listened to the words with narrowed eyes.
"That might be true for the clinic, but I'm more interested by the mote shop you've started."
"Oh? Why's that?"
Kael suppressed a smile.
"Do whatever you want with the mortals, but the way you're selling motes is disconcerting to say the least." He pulled out a notebook. "I'm not sure how familiar you are with mote selling and refinement, Mister Eireindaile, but there's a system that has existed for as long as Sole has."
Kael finally gave him his full attention.
"Are you referring to the Sole Mote Accord of the third era, subsection four, article two, which prohibits the sale of any mote not refined by the seller's own hand at a price below sixty percent of the established market rate, with the express purpose of preventing artificial deflation of the mote economy and protecting the livelihoods of registered refinement Luminaires operating within the city's walls?" Kael said it without pause. "Specifically the clause that exempts motes refined by the seller themselves from the price floor entirely, provided they can demonstrate continuous refinement capability to a registered city official upon request, which I can, given that the Miniature Hammock mote is my own original recipe and every mote on that shelf was refined by my own hand this month alone?"
The man had stopped writing somewhere in the middle of the first sentence.
Kael crossed his arms.
"I've read the city's commercial codes. All of them. Was there a specific subsection you wanted to discuss?"
Augustus gave him a doubtful look and snapped the notebook shut.
"The way you talk I assume it's a given you can prove you've refined these motes yourself. I'd like to watch you refine one."
Kael shook his head.
"I would, but you'd be asking me to violate the Refinement Proprietary Protection Clause established in the forty-second year of the current era, which explicitly prohibits any city official, inspector, or third party from compelling a refinement Luminaire to demonstrate the refinement process of any mote for which they hold the original recipe. The intent being to protect the intellectual labour of recipe creation from observation based replication." He tilted his head slightly. "The clause was introduced after three separate incidents in which inspectors were found to have memorised refinement processes during mandatory demonstrations and sold the information to competing Luminaires. The city decided the integrity of original recipes outweighed the convenience of verification."
He let that settle.
"What you can request, and what I am fully prepared to provide, is a signed declaration from a registered city notary confirming that the motes on that shelf match the composition of my filed recipe, which I submitted to the city registry upon opening. That is the legally prescribed method of verification for original recipe motes. Would you like me to arrange that?"
Augustus furrowed his brows.
Coming from the sixth layer was more often than not enough to catch Luminaires completely off guard. It hadn't worked on Kael. If anything he was a little stumped that a rank one was this well read on the very laws that bound him.
"Well. This is quite a precarious predicament, Mister Eireindaile. I hope you can see past this and allow me to observe the refinement process regardless. Do so and I'm sure we can come to an arrangement."
"No." Kael didn't move. "Push this further and I'll use every resource my family name carries to bring it before your superiors."
He said it coldly. Without raising his voice.
Augustus' eyes darkened.
A direct threat. From a rank one.
The air felt heavier as the silence stretched.
Just as it reached the edge of unbearable Augustus exhaled and pocketed his notebook.
"Very well. From our brief exchange I can see you're not an unreasonable man, Mister Eireindaile. I'll return once I've spoken with my superiors."
He left the clinic and closed the door behind him.
Sylvia and Luke exhaled breaths they hadn't known they were holding.
Kael stood still for a moment longer, making sure the man had gone.
'That was a gamble.'
Kael returned to shelving.
He had always known selling motes at a significantly reduced price was the same as spitting in the face of every other refinement Luminaire operating in the city. Which was exactly why he had read so deeply into it. Sole wasn't like Velthoria in the obvious ways, but also in ways that took longer to see. Actual laws existed here. Solid, codified, enforceable ones. Laws that could be studied, understood, and used.
Comparing Velthoria to Sole was like comparing a pirate cove to a chessboard.
The gamble had been Augustus himself. Given Kael's apparent rank, there had been a real possibility that a man with a more fragile ego and less patience would have simply lashed out rather than negotiated. And while he had concealed his true rank carefully, it was reasonable to assume Augustus was no less than rank four. Maybe higher, given where he had come from.
"What was that about, Mister?"
"Nothing much." Kael said. "High society is just a little frightened I might collapse the economy if left unshackled."
Luke scratched his head. Once again it had felt like Kael was speaking a language designed specifically to leave him slightly behind.
"Whatever."
He murmured and poured some juice.
Kael noticed Sylvia's glance and the worry sitting in it. He flashed a warm smile.
"Don't concern yourself with it. Keep the shop running as normal. As long as the two of you work under me you're my responsibility. No harm will come to you or Luke."
Something in those words settled her. She nodded, the worry leaving her face, and returned to what she had been doing.