"Lower the price." "Absolutely not." It was half past noon in an inn's dining area while busy halflings went about their business in the streets of Komiteia. Here in the Spotted Ram Bed and Breakfast, there were two men sitting at a table with tankards of lemon and honey tea locked in battle. But there were no weapons, no cards, no arms wrestling. The battle today was over numbers, not coin. One was a tall man by halfling standards, dressed in all black as if he were ready for a funeral. The other was a middle-aged, bespectacled halfling man with muttonchops and auburn hair. 

They each took a sip from their tankards, eyes on the other. Setting them back down they started again. "Four thousand." The halfling pushed a parchment with an ink quill towards the tall man. "Four thousand and five hundred." The man said pushing the document and quill back. "Four thousand and two hundred." The bespectacled halfling pushed them back across the table. "Five thousand." The paper and quill were pushed back again. "Four thousand and five hundred." "Five thousand and three hundred." Things were starting to heat up between the two, but neither chose to yield. With dogged determination they stood their ground, eyes blazing.

"Four thousand and six hundred." "Five thousand and two hundred." "Four thousand and seven hundred." "Five thousand and five hundred." "Four thousand and nine hundred, and no higher." "Five thousand and five hundred." They were glaring daggers now, and at this point the serving staff were starting to whisper.

The halfling man placed his hand on the paper and quill forcefully, and slowly pushed it to the opposite side of the table. "Four thousand, nine hundred, and fifty." The tall dark-haired man narrowed his eyes and they sat in silence for a long time. The dining hall went dead silent, and the serving staff waited in bated breath. Who would win? Who would cave in first?

Seconds ticked by and felt like years, until the dark-haired man set his hand on the paper and quill, and pushed it to the middle of the table. Speaking with a quiet, yet strong tone he gave his final offer. "Five thousand." The halfling's nostrils flared and the staff covered their mouths with their hands as they waited for what was coming next. "…Deal." The halfling pushed up the spectacles on his short nose and took the document and quill, dipping it into the inkwell. Signing with a flourish, he handed it back to the tall man in black. When the document was put away, he held out his hand and the dark-haired man took it in a firm handshake. "Pleasure doin' business with ye. When'll the property be ready?" "In less than a month. The pleasure is mine, Mr. O'Malley." Gerard replied. "I've got a bit of work to do clearing house and all. Once everything's vacated I will notify you immediately." Letting go, the halfling pulled out a pipe and stuffed some leaves in. "That's good t' hear. I'll be waitin' on ye then. I'd like to get settled before Venti starts."

With the deal done, Gerard left the table and set five silver crescents on the counter. "For both mine and Mr. O'Malley's." He informed the server at the bar. With his tab paid, he left the establishment for the streets. He had spent the past weeks advertising and asking around for anyone interested in purchasing his property. At first he had several who were interested when he mentioned the orchard and vineyard, but when he gave his starting price the number of prospective buyers dwindled. No one was willing to buy for his marked price, and some even tried to get him to undersell the land for its value. But he persevered, and kept searching until he found someone who was more willing to bargain with him. The tankard of tea and the occasional use of a charm spell worked wonders.

Soon he would start moving his things over to Feeorin, starting with the cellar. As much as it pained him to see his apple trees and grapevines go, Talise had promised to help him start a new grove of trees and vineyard over in the enchanted glade. He wasn't just here for that deal alone either; scoping out prospective markets for his goods was equally important. He couldn't wait to tell Talise of his success today. But that would have to wait until he was out of Komiteia.

"Thank you and please come again!" Stepping out of one of the many delicatessens in the city, an orc was carrying a small bundle of hang-dried sausage and a wedge of hard cheese. "Time really flies, it does." Delanac muttered to himself as he took a moment to take in the morning rush hour. He had come to Komiteia months ahead to learn how to make a proper cheese wheel and make sausage. Learning the process was time-consuming, as most of it required for nature to run it's course. He had learned how to curdle milk, cut up the curds and separate them from the whey, to press the curds into molds and turn them so they were even, and let them sit to age. Specific details like temperature, humidity, and other bits of information regarding specific cheese varieties were written down and memorized over and over until they stuck. 

Every day for the past months he had been working helping out at Broederbunds' while they imparted the basics of meat-curing and cheese-making in turn. His first cheese in the making was a simple mild cheddar, which he would turn over every day to ensure even drying and aging. The longer a cheese aged the better its flavor would be, so he resisted tasting a sample from the wheel after the second month was in. Patience was a virtue, and good quality food took time. Curing meat took just as much time in the waiting process. Mixing the right proportions of lean meat and fatty meat with seasonings, stuffing it into a cleaned-out pig intestine, and letting it hang to dry in a drafty cool room was what he had been doing earlier this week. Weeks earlier they taught him how to hang-dry hams, and he had the notes to prove it. The sausages would take less time before he could check how successful they were, but hams took at least half a year like cheese.

Looking at what people had to go through just to make a single glazed ham or wheel of Parmesan cheese gave him a new appreciation for the folk who made it their livelihood. Next time he tried something as luxurious as that, he'd make sure not to waste a single bite. On the side he picked up other recipes too. Tomato and kipper, onion soup, cured bacon, marinated meats and those seasoned with wet and dry spices, roasted root vegetables, and savory pies. In the months he had stayed here, he had obtained more recipes than he had in his travels all over Canelux. Then again most weren't as eager to share their kitchen wisdom with strangers.

Stopping by the Spotted Ram for a quick morning cup of coffee and milk, he noticed the place was oddly quiet. Two men–well one man and a halfling, were staring each other down with a document and quill on the table. Finally they settled on something, which he couldn't tell, and the halfling signed the parchment before shaking hands with the other. Some sort of business deal he figured. The tense atmosphere dissipated and the bed and breakfast was lively again. As the man in black rose and paid for his drink, the orc couldn't help but feel he was familiar somehow. He swore he knew that style of attire from somewhere.

As he walked the streets, he stopped to take a look at the time at the large clock in the square. Not quite yet eleven in the morning, which meant he and the halfling had been at it for two hours and forty three minutes. As he turned to walk away, a deep and slightly accented voice called out to him. "Hoy there, with the black coat!" Looking over his shoulder, he saw a tall orc stride over towards him, with a bundle under his arm. "What is it?" Gerard replied. He wasn't in a terrible mood at the moment, but he wasn't one to be happy when he was pulled aside by strangers. But to celebrate his negotiation success earlier today, he decided to be a bit more civil.

"Didn't mean to get in youer way mun, but I thought I saw you somewhere yonder. When was it, oh right–'bout mid-Ignius over in Canelux." The bard took a few seconds to process what he was saying, and recalled what he had been doing at that time. "Mid-Ignius you say…I can't say I remember meeting any orcs in trading or exchange around then. Are you sure you're not mistaking me for somebody else?" The orc shook his head. "No that's not it, I don't mean meetin' personally. You know, the food and wine festival?" The mention of that made something click and Gerard realized what this was about. "Oh yes, I remember now! The Ignius Food and Wine Festival last month. Were you attending as a participant in the judging or as a visitor?"

"Twas me first time visiting the event, so I was just sightseein'. Heard there was some trouble with the contestants in the wine tasting this year, but in the end it got sorted. What was that all about?" The orc asked. "Nothing much, just a group of bandits with a little too much time on their hands. Somebody got the bright idea into their head to steal from the tasting competition participants before they arrived at the fair grounds while trying to pawn it off as their own. Unfortunately they were successful, at least until they tried stealing from the wrong wagon. They weren't very good at hiding the fact they were guilty, and their pretense crumbled away like a poorly-constructed wall of brick and mortar. I assure you, they got what they deserved." Gerard conveniently left out the part where the person responsible for their apprehension was himself, as there was no point in bragging about it. "So, did you like what you saw back there? Hopefully you had a chance to taste a few of the winners' stock before the festival concluded."

Delanac frowned at the mention of bandits. The man was acting as if it wasn't a big deal, but he knew better than to take his words at face value. "Bandits you say? That's proper nasty business! So a group of light-fingered swindlers purloined the contest entrants' hard work just to get a leg up in the judging? Downright rotten, that is. Stealin' honest men's work's a hanging crime." Even more so for him, a person who was taught from the time he could walk how low and despicable those who didn't want to work hard for their lot in life were. The man in black gave a nod in agreement. "Yes, bloody wastrels. It was delightful to see their faces blanch white when they were caught and trapped red-handed." Delanac made a grimace at the man's spiteful remark, and chided. "Well all's well that ends well. No need to throw salt into old wounds."

"The festival was quite a feast for the eyes, and stomach. I'd never seen such a large gathering of masters in the art of food and drink all together at once. It was like seeing the circus as a lad in the first weeks of Terra." He rubbed his chin, trying to think of something. "Say, what number did you rank in the list back there? There were plenty of entries to see, I doubt I tasted them all." The man tapped his foot before giving Delanac an answer. "Let's see here…I came in at the last moment, near the tail end of the first days of festivities so it's understandable if I was missed. In the results of the wine tasting, I know I was somewhere above the halfway mark in scoring. I received more than thirty-five points out of seventy." So the rankings were in descending order. That would mean the higher the number, the better the wine was in the judges' eyes. "That's quite a success! Congratulations, mun. What did you enter?" Came his next question.

"I entered a red grape Shiraz and hard apple cider." Came the reply. "Hrm…don't think I recall having that. The first one's a dessert wine isn't it? I might have heard something about hard cider while browsing the stalls. It's a shame you had to go through all that just to get there in one piece." When he visited the festival, he was bombarded with new terminology and names of drinks he had never heard of. The most he knew of wine was Merlot and white wine, but there were at least ten different names just in the red wine category alone. Not to mention the more exotic liquors, which he couldn't even pronounce. Turns out as long as there were sugars, you could ferment drinks from just about anything. One particular sample he enjoyed was a strawberry sweet wine that even had the bright berry-red color. It was clear, and had a lovely tint when served in a glass. 

"So, what are you here for? I mean, it's not very common to see an orc among halflings if you know what I'm getting at." Delanac was taken aback for a moment by the man's direct and blunt statement. He didn't mince words and his question was like a hot knife cutting through cold butter. Scratching the back of his head, he replied. "Well, I'm here for personal business. Halfings are famous for their food and hospitality, so I thought I'd spend some time to pick up some of their skills of the trade."

"Ah, so you're taking a page from their cookbooks–as the saying goes. Interesting. Good luck with your efforts." Gerard mused. He noticed the orc had a wedge of cheese wrapped up under his arm. "Would that piece you're holding be one of the results of your studies?" The orc looked down at the paper-wrapped parcel. "Hm? Oh this? Nah, mun–this's just a little something I picked up for myself. Never hurts to try their selection while I'm waiting for the sausages to dry. Amazing how cheese comes in all shapes, colors, and flavors don't it? Last week I had a bit of the soft ones on a slice of rye. The texture and taste was just like creamed butter! Well, without the smell of butter." 

The orc stopped himself from going off on a side tangent and smiled. "I think I've held you here long enough, hope I didn't take too much of your time. Nice meetin' you, sir! I'm sure you've got more pressing matters to tend to. I'll be off then, safe travels friend!" With a wave, the orc went down the street with a list in hand onto the rest of his daily routine. Gerard gave a wave back in turn, and checked the time on the clock. That wasn't too bad for a chat with a complete stranger. He didn't plan on making it a habit however, and hurried to the docks to catch the nearest airship bound for Canelux. The sale had been finalized, however he still had to move his things before handing the property off to the new owner proper. He'd already packed up his wardrobe and tableware, leaving the more bulky items like furniture the next on his list. Once his bedroom, kitchen, and study were cleared out the storerooms and the cellar would follow.

Soon he'd be officially moved in at his new home, in the enchanted forest. Talise said she would be working on something while he was gone, so he didn't want to pester her too much with opening a portal to his house just yet. Once he was all ready to go, then he'd ask.