Logs:I Do Prefer Sheep
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| RL Date: 3 November, 2009 |
| Who: K'del, W'chek |
| Involves: High Reaches Weyr |
| Type: Log |
| What: K'del invites W'chek in to go over some plans relating to the Crom deal. |
| Where: Council Chambers, High Reaches Weyr |
| When: Day 13, Month 2, Turn 21 (Interval 10) |
| Council Chambers, High Reaches Weyr At the heart of this oblong cavern is its meeting table: a long hardwood oval with a mirror's dark shine, High Reaches' sigil picked out in lapis and onyx at its center. Twenty chairs surround it, each softened by an embroidered cushion that's just a little too stiff for complete comfort -- meetings need to be kept short, after all -- with the chair at the table's head, facing the ledge, being somewhat larger than the rest. Interspersed between glowsconces upon the smooth walls, ancient tapestries depict the territories High Reaches protects in a particularly pastoral fashion, all fluffy clouds and fluffier llamas, or else fishing crafts sailing merrily out to sea. Among them is also a natural alcove, its several wooden shelves primarily stocking fine wines and liquors as well as the glasses to serve them, though the lower shelves also hold whatever hidework requires particularly frequent attention. A narrow wooden door leads to the Records room, while the tunnel that extends to the weyrleaders' ledge is wide enough for three men to walk abreast, with just enough kink in it to block the wind. The invitation to come and have some input into the Crom project was issued to W'chek after drills this morning, with a casual, "Intend to look after some stuff after lunch, if you're interested," from K'del. Lunch has since passed, and in the chambers - still slightly cool, despite the well-maintained fire - the Weyrleader has spread himself out, maps laid out on the table, stacks of documents no doubt making up the rest of the materials. Standing in the gap where a chair, now pushed aside, usually sits, K'del leans over the map with an expression of pure concentration set into his features. Interest might put it rather strongly, but despite the casual nature of the question, W'chek has taken no more time than necessary to finish up eating. Well, maybe a little more time than necessary. He has a life, after all. And it wouldn't do to seem too eager. Still, he does amble in at approximately the correct time. "Weyrleader," by way of a greeting as he pulls off his coat, shakes off the light dusting of snow. But pleasant, which is something more than the sullen mien he usually keeps up. "What've you got?" K'del, on the other hand, appears to have eaten as he works, his leftovers still sitting on a plate that's been shoved down the table some distance. No life, why yes. "W'chek," he greets, tipping his head up to see his wingrider; he looks distinctly pleased that he's shown up. "Come take a look. Map of the surrounding area, where people's holds are, basic estimation of what they're growing. Basic sketch of our bit of land, too... lots of rocks, need to get rid of those first, soon as the snows start clearing." From the notes on the map, wheat, corn and general vegetable crops are the norm: nothing unusual. "Right. Maps. Estimates. Sure." Not exactly excitement there. W'chek pulls out a chair, drops himself into it without ceremony, starts pulling over some of the documents in question to glance at them. "Rocky--guess that's to be expected, with that area. Dragons make short work of 'em, neh?" He leans forward to peer a little more closely, trace a finger down a line of writing as he reads. "D'we have priorities, far as production goes? Stuff we need more? Can't say I've got the faintest what we go through. Or what we get in tithe. Or what comes from less reliable sources." "And I was thinking we should probably visit the closest hold and have a chat at some point, see if they can tell us anything of us," adds in K'del. It may be intended as encouragement, given the lack of initial enthusiasm. Who knows, though. "Anyway. Right. Probably should call in some smiths or something, see if there's anything useful in the rock; otherwise, easy enough to dispose of." Hanging back, as W'chek reads, he answers the questions easily enough, leaning against the edge of the table; "To start with, I want to concentrate on food-- seems like the easiest thing, and always something we need. Unless, you know, we uncover a cache of diamonds or something." A joke. Probably. Rubbing at his nose, he adds, "Rather not try and produce too much that requires secondary industry... we don't have the infrastructure, and it'd cost too much to set up." "Mm." W'chek finally looks back up again, rests his elbow on the edge of the table there and leans on it. "We have some idea what they all think of this plan, at this point? Good neighbors... good neighbors can be a blessing. Bad neighbors, well. Not so much." He chews on his lower lip for a moment, then drums his fingers on the table. "Diamonds unlikely. Think they're usually undergr--oh." Joke sinks in a little late. "Makes sense. Support us first 'n whatnot." K'del's smile is crooked and amused, as the joke sinks in, but he otherwise makes no comment on it. "Right. If it comes down to it, we can probably /trade/ for other stuff, with our food, so it'd work out, I think." Backtracking, as he glances around at the map again, swivelling so he can face it directly, he indicates with his hand. "The smaller holds around here seem happy enough... got the impression from D'mat that they're hoping having us as neighbours'll be to their benefit. Which it might. But this one," he indicates a larger hold, "Haven't visited them yet, but from the sounds of it, they're less thrilled. Apparently one of the smaller holders seemed to think Holder Browden had been intending to enlarge his holdings with our bit." Another noise of assent. "Trade if we're not producing what everybody else has in abundance. That's the problem with staples. Problem with anything, really." W'chek eyes this larger hold on the map, twisting one of the smaller pages around under his hand. "Land's everything for these kinds of people. You can only do so much to improve yields. More space means more everything, long as you've got the people to keep it up. Bit of a gamble." A faint sigh: "I do prefer sheep," apropos of not very much. "We've got the benefit, at least, that we can send /our/ excesses anywhere, in the blink of an eye. Not everyone produces grain, for example," points out K'del, though his long, slow nod marks his agreement with W'chek's assessment. Of the troublesome holder, "And if you happen to have multiple sons... it's a problem. Hope we can do something to ingratiate ourselves. Intend to visit him myself. One of those occasions when it'd be better if I looked more imposing." Or, you know, /not eighteen/. "Why sheep?" "Multiple sons." A little snort of a laugh and W'chek sits back in his chair. "Yeah, that." The old familiar problem, certainly. "Maybe bulk up and grow a beard--and Faranth you'd look like a total dick, don't do that. Never mind." Actually a grin there. Getting comfortable with this. Back on familiar territory. "Less territory problems. Land's not that great to start with, your neighbors aren't so eager to get their hands on it. 'Less they're doing the same thing you are, but that's not so common." K'del's expression is rueful, albeit sliding towards a grin; "Have to assume my parents /intended/ most of us to leave... my father's place is definitely not big enough for the lot of us." By which he means, presumably, that it's a familiar problem to him, too. "Thought about growing a beard, back when Cadejoth first caught Iovniath. Got disabused of the idea pretty fast." He's grinning, too, though there's no question that he's listening with interest at the explanation for sheep. "Huh. Hm. Makes sense, I guess. From these charts... would sheep work on our land, do you think?" A little huff of a breath. "Don't think you have the face for it. Or the beard, huh? My little brother could probably do better, although thank Faranth he hasn't tried yet." Yet. Some things are just inevitable, after all. W'chek fingers the map again, twists his mouth up thoughtfully. "Probably too good. You don't want to waste properly arable space like that. 'Sides, short wool and you can manage with extra mending for a turn if you've gotta. And I don't think anybody ever heard of a mutton shortage. Lose grain and we're in a bad place." K'del rubs his chin with the fingers of one hand and laughs. "Think you're probably right. Doomed to be baby-faced forever, probably." At least he's taking that in good humour. More interesting, though, is W'chek's conclusion on the land; K'del nods long, looking, once more, distinctly thoughtful. "Makes sense. Plus... When the weyr had problems with Crom, way back when? Food shortages. Grain. Kind of like the symmetry of reminding people that we'll be safe from that, with this, even if it does mean working with Crom. Anyway, already got a lead on purchasing the necessary... stuff to plant. And equipment. Which helps." So W'chek is proving actually somewhat competent. That's a little alarming, maybe. Well, the day had to come someday. It probably won't last. "Seed," with a wry grin. "They call that stuff 'seed'." And joking, too. Even he seems a little weirded out at that point, furrowing his brow for a moment and then straightening his face. "Safe. That's... folks around here aren't so used to lacking that kind of safety. Dragonriders are supposed to face imminent danger and all that claptrap." It's really a good thing he didn't Impress in a Pass. "It's good to have the backup, but also going to have to get people used to the idea that it won't always turn out. We'll have bad turns, too." For the moment, though, K'del seems pleased with this turn of events - even enthusiastic. Nice going, W'chek. "Seed," he says, and laughs. "Guess that's logical. It's different with vines... you know, cuttings and whatever, instead." Sucking his cheeks in, he fingers the fabric on his shirt idly; he nods. "Right. They're not. Most people around here see food as something that just appears... going to take a while to get people thinking beyond that." Beat. "Least no one's threatening to pull tithes, at the moment, despite the interval. Well. Long as we can produce /something/, guess it helps prove a point, right?" His gaze slides back towards that map, considering, then he adds, tone light despite his question, "Want to come with me when I go see Holder Browden?" Takes a moment for W'chek to come up with a reply to that, pressing his lips together as he goes. He crosses his arms, then, looks at K'del, looks back at the map on the table. "S'pose so," he says finally. "Going to look like the children's delegation, but you go showing up with someone looks older'n more responsible, you'll find they're talking to him, not you." Him. This older and more responsible person would definitely not be a woman, after all. Some habits die harder than others. "Why not, take a layabout along, make yourself look better." K'del's expression takes on a harder note over the course of that answer, though when he speaks, he keeps his tone relatively even. Relatively. You know, if you're not listening from frustration. "W'chek. You're a bronzerider-- the /only/ other bronzerider in Avalanche, if you'll remember. That looks good to holders. And you know more about this farming stuff than I do, so that's useful to me. You'll clean up your leathers, shine your boots, and we'll look perfectly respectable." It's not that there's an unspoken 'or else' there, but there could be. If a person wanted to read such a thing into it. "Thought you might find it more interesting than sweeps, anyway." Beat. "I need to meet with B'sil shortly. Anything else, while you're here?" "Respectable." W'chek does not sound entirely convinced of this, but he shrugs it off. "Sure. I can clean up okay, sure." He smoothes one hand back over his hair by way of demonstration. "Most anything's more interesting'n sweeps, but can't complain. Zhikath likes 'em. He'll settle for other travel well enough, though." He goes to stand up as dismissal seems imminent. Might not be exactly the right order of things, but he does tend to still seem a little fuzzy on those details at times. "No, I don't--I mean, one thing, I guess, but no, I don't want to bother if you've got a meeting." "/Respectable/." There's not great force behind that word, but just enough to make it stand out. They /will/ be respectable. "Know what you mean. Cadejoth likes them, too, because it means getting out and flying; I only really like them when there's something to see or do, and we all know that nothing happens on most of them." Though he does look as though he's about to dismiss the bronzerider, he comes to a stop, tipping his head fowards as encouragement as he says, "What is it? Can take a moment more." One long breath in and out. "So--you know the weyrs we got assigned as weyrlings? And how they're... uh... well, most of 'em aren't much good. Let's say I wanted to move up to something a little nicer. More, uh, ledge space. Less drafty. Whatchacallit--amenities. Something in the way of those? In theory. What would that take, exactly?" Quite plain that this is not the easiest question W'chek has ever asked. He rubs at the back of his neck. "Just for future reference, as it were." That could not be hedged with more qualifiers, could it? It's not, from K'del's expression, exactly the kind of question anticipated. He blinks, and then a second time, and then there's a half shake of his head. "That's Tiriana's purview. Which..." He breaks off, as if torn between being politic and being realistic. It sounds an awful lot like a 'haha, good luck', though. "Well. You know what our Weyrwoman is like. Can make your case to her and see how you go, I guess. I'd ask-- no, I really do need to go. You can see yourself out?" Because K'del is already stepping away. |
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