“No, I’ll be fine. I don’t want this to drag out any more than need be, so I’m going to the Merchants’ Guild today to take care of everything.”
“Well, you let us know if there’s anything we can do, all right?”
“You’re welcome here anytime.”
“Thank you both, truly.”
The egg sandwich Dahlia ate after thanking them both seemed just a little tastier than usual.
After rounding off lunch at Irma’s with a cup of coffee, Dahlia headed for the Merchants’ Guild. Located on the main street, the five-story building made of black bricks was impossible to miss. There was always a steady stream of people traveling through its three large doors, many of them visitors from overseas. Some wore vividly embroidered coats draped over their shoulders, while others sported head wraps and long robes with trailing sleeves. Wafts of perfume and spices filled Dahlia’s nose as she approached the guild. She gave a friendly greeting to the guards, then went inside.
The guild’s first floor was mainly for clients to consult with the staff. Dahlia’s destination was the second floor, so she continued straight upstairs.
“Good afternoon.”
The second floor was where the contracts desk was located, manned by a young woman with black hair and a rather stout middle-aged man. Dahlia had visited many times on account of her work, so she was acquainted with them both.
“Oh, Miss Rossetti! Congratulations on your marriage!”
“Congratulations! We’re delighted for you.”
Their two beaming faces were almost painful to look at.
“That’s very kind of you; I appreciate it,” Dahlia replied. “But Mr. Orlando has broken off our engagement, so I’ll be needing our engagement certificate.”
There was a scraping and clunking of wood as the two receptionists leaped up from their chairs in unison. It was as if her announcement had triggered some sort of synchronized reaction.
“Wh-Whatever for?”
“It was Mr. Orlando who made the decision, not me.”
She couldn’t bring herself to tell them about Tobias’s “true love.” It wasn’t that she was trying to protect him; rather, it was her name that might be tarnished by her having been engaged to such a man.
“Mr. Orlando did? Is there some problem at Orlando & Co.?”
“It’s not for me to say. Please, if you have questions, could you ask him directly?”
When she said that, the man seemed to grasp the situation.
“Of course, please excuse us. If the problem lies with Mr. Orlando, then we oughtn’t be asking you. Now, how can we help?”
“We’ll need witnesses for breaking off the engagement and a scrivener to help us close the joint account for our work.”
A scrivener was an overseer, verifier, and validator of all kinds of governmental and commercial contracts and agreements. Put in the terms of Dahlia’s previous world, they were a cross between an administrative consultant and a lawyer. To say it wasn’t an easy career path would be an extreme understatement. Status and connections meant nothing for an aspiring scrivener. Only after going through many grueling exams, five years of study at a specialized institution, and finding no less than ten personal guarantors could they even hope to become qualified. Even those who did eventually make the grade were always just one misstep away from being stripped of their status. Any illegal activity on their part carried a severe punishment and would lead to their guarantors being investigated as well. There were few professions so strictly regulated.
Needless to say, providing a scrivener with false information or attempting to bribe or coerce them were also very serious offenses. Engaging the services of scriveners was understandably costly, but people saw it as a worthwhile investment to avoid complications with work and trade. Thankfully, the Merchants’ Guild had a number of resident scriveners. As long as they weren’t all engaged, arranging an appointment would be an easy matter.
“One hour with the scrivener will be four gilt silver, is that all right?”
“Yes. I’ll pay the fee.”
Converted to the money of her previous world, four gilt silver was equivalent to about forty thousand yen. It was a small price to pay for preventing complications down the road.
This kingdom’s currency was made up of several different coins—the highest in value was gold, followed by gilt silver, silver, copper, and finally the small halfpenny. A loaf of bread cost about one copper, so Dahlia imagined a halfpenny to be about fifty yen in value, with a copper being around a hundred yen. As a rough estimate, a silver coin was about a thousand yen, a gilt silver about ten thousand, and a gold about a hundred thousand yen. These were just Dahlia’s guesses based on the cost of goods in this world. Food and daily necessities were cheap, while clothes and precious metals were on the expensive side.
“Would it be possible to hold the meeting at two o’clock? If not, we can come whenever it’s convenient.”
“Allow me to check for you.”
The man hurried off to the third floor, where the scriveners’ offices were located.
“Um, Miss Rossetti,” the female receptionist said timidly. “You’ve only just moved, haven’t you?”
“I was supposed to move in today. I’ll be going back home to the Green Tower.”
The address Dahlia had registered with the guild was that of her original home. The old tower, situated in the outskirts of town, got its name from the vines that swathed the building. She’d stepped out the tower’s front door this morning and would return in the evening as if she’d never intended to leave. If nothing else, she hadn’t been rendered homeless by the ordeal.
“I’m not sure what to say, but please, don’t lose heart. You won’t be giving up your toolmaking, will you?”
The receptionist tried to steer the conversation in a more positive direction. It was only then that Dahlia noticed the furtive, curious glances of all the other staff behind the desks.
“No, definitely not. I’ll be back to work as soon as I’m settled in the tower again.”
“As an employee of the guild, I’m delighted to hear that—we all are. Your magical tools are so well regarded.”
“Thank you. I’m very grateful for the guild’s support.”
Dahlia could see the young woman was desperately trying to ameliorate the situation, so she forced the brightest smile she could manage. She wasn’t sure how bright it really was. At the very least, she hoped it showed she wouldn’t be plunged into grief by the loss of her fiancé.
Just then, the male receptionist returned from the third floor. “Miss Rossetti, I’ve scheduled an appointment for you with Mr. Kämpfer.”
Dahlia’s father had made sure to impress on her the importance of employing a scrivener when engaging in important negotiations or large transactions. She had dealt with Dominic Kämpfer many times, as had her father before her. His presence would be reassuring.