Act VIII: The Mother Goddess and the Queen (Part 6)
six
The Venetian concession, now devoid of its inhabitants, was much quieter—but it wasn't entirely Venetian to begin with. Yubi and Yakov walked the streets, occasionally catching glimpses of dilapidated ruins, while most factories and shops remained open, only now the faces of locals replaced those of the "nouveau riche." "Turns out there are quite a few people doing the same things as us," Yubi remarked. "Venetians aren't that indispensable." He cleared his throat—two days had passed, and his hoarse voice still lingered, making him feel extremely uncomfortable with the unfamiliar sound.
“No one in this world is indispensable.” Yakov was looking for directions with a map and land deeds. He had asked Naya to mark the routes and houses for him, matching each land deed to its corresponding location—but he was still not very good at reading them and had to show them to Yubi from time to time. “However, I guess Anbichia is probably the one who has profited the most from these people.”
"So that means I own the most land here?" Yubi laughed and jumped up, the gold chain behind his hat swaying back and forth.
His smile made Yakov feel inexplicably awkward. The blood slave felt a slight itch on the left side of his chest, but the discomfort was so mild that he forgot about it soon. "Chew this!" Yakov pulled a dried licorice root from his pocket and stuffed it into Yubi's hand. "Talk less, protect your throat."
"It's too bitter!" Yubi said with a gloomy face, as if she had already put the medicine in her mouth. "I don't want to take it, it'll be fine on its own in a couple of days!"
“That’s not how it is,” Yakov said seriously. “You’re all grown up now, almost a grown man. If you don’t pay attention now, you’ll keep making this awful noise for the rest of your life.”
"Huh?" Yubi asked in surprise.
“Every man is like that,” Yakov urged him to put the licorice root in his mouth. “It’s a sign that you’ve grown up.”
He was pleased to see his master intimidated. Yubi stopped, reluctantly meeting his gaze, and hesitantly put the dry medicinal root in his mouth to chew. His delicate, beautiful features were contorted with bitterness—Yakov was pleased to see this, a small flag of victory waving in his heart.
“Not bad,” he praised mischievously. “I’ll give you another one when you’ve chewed it until it’s tasteless.”
On the first day, they only had time to walk down the westernmost street of the former concession. Yakov held the deeds to four properties on that street: a carpentry shop, an apartment building, and a wool textile factory with its associated gold and silver lace workshop. The Venetians were gone, leaving behind numerous small power vacuums in their former locations—Greek workers didn't know where to collect their unpaid wages, and the apartment building's tenants didn't know who to pay their rent to. Some shops had Greek accountants working for them, and they didn't know who to report their accounts to. Yakov marked each property on the map one by one with red ink—his fingers were too thick, making his pen clumsy and heavy, and his letters crooked and uneven.
“That won’t do,” he complained to Yubi at dinner. “We can’t look at them one by one. We have to deal with the most valuable properties first. If we’re late, there will definitely be trouble.”
The next day, the two went to deal with the deed that had the highest value in gold coins among all the land deeds—it was a large dock in Golden Horn Bay, where nearly a hundred merchant ships used to come and go every day, each paying a hefty berthing fee, making it a very profitable business. However, the people there were glib and treacherous, and the officials of the Imperial Customs were deceitful and insisted on charging exorbitant taxes, infuriating Yakov to the point of wanting to draw his sword. The two argued for an entire day without reaching a conclusion, relying on Yubi's gold ring and the terms of Cicero. Before sunset, Yakov was finally persuaded by Yubi and wanted to send someone to seek help from Isaac and Seilman—but the customs official said, "If you could just give me a little something," he looked extremely helpless, "there wouldn't be so much to argue about."
Yakov was furious when he thought about it. "That sow raised such a snob!" he cursed at the dinner table. "His whole family should be eating maggots in the pig trough!"
The third day was Monday. Most of the shops and workshops in the city had been repaired and reopened with new owners. Seeing this vibrant scene, Yakov became anxious. He pulled Yubi along, their pace quickening. After dealing with matters at a tavern and the sailors' guild, they emerged from the noisy hall, where Yubi finally refused to move another step.
“Why don’t we find someone else to help us do it separately?” Yubi exclaimed. “For example, Naya, she can read and write Greek, we can just have her take the land deeds to see them!”
“You’ve only known her for a few days. What if she takes the land deed and runs away? You’ve seen it these past few days. This isn’t some easy deal that can be resolved by going there. There are so many disputes and conflicts. Can a female slave handle them?” Yakov scolded him. “This is the land that Ambikia gave you. You must inspect it yourself.”
"But there are so many! I can't have dozens of eyes to watch each one personally every second! It's exhausting!" Yubi leaned against the street, slumping down like a limp rag. "The slaves we bought are supposed to work for us, right? If they're not capable enough, we should train and give them more experience..."
“You asked me about slaves before.” Yakov lifted Yubi up sharply. “Do you really understand? Ask yourself, can your ‘sheep’ and your ‘sheepdog’ not survive without you? You’re not the only ‘rancher’.”
“But this is the city. There are laws and soldiers in the city,” Yubi argued. “No matter how carefully I manage things, they belong to my sister, or to the emperor. All the ‘ranchers’ in the city are just managing things on behalf of others, aren’t they?”
Yakov fell silent for a long time after hearing this, but he refused to let go of Yubi. "Listen," he said slowly and earnestly, "you must have something of your own, not the Emperor's, nor Ambichai's." "Cultivating yourself now is to accumulate strength, experience, and wealth for the future. You cannot depend on others and be complacent; but you also cannot give up and despair. As long as you have ideas and a plan, what you do is not for others."
Yubi's red eyes stared straight at his face, like burning spears piercing his soul. "You've been saying these things a lot lately. Are you talking about me, or about yourself?" the vampire asked. "I don't have that many worries, and I don't care about these things. If we all mess up and lose everything, we can always go to the forest and hunt to make a living."
Yakov felt three places ache simultaneously—his head throbbed with pain, the mark on his heart ached bitterly, and his stomach burned with unbearable hunger. He released Yubi's hand, sighed heavily, and bought a pastry from a street vendor. The two leaned casually against the roadside to rest, remaining silent for a long time.
“Easy for you to say. If we actually went hunting in the forest, you’d be complaining non-stop.” Yakov wiped his hands and looked through the land deeds. “The next place is a spice shop. Let’s not linger too long, let’s go.”
As the two approached the location, they could see from afar that the shop and signboard had been destroyed—it seemed the Greek soldiers had spent considerable effort capturing the Venetians here a few days prior. Yubi peered inside; the shelves were scattered, many of the precious spices stolen, leaving the shop empty. "Nobody's going to do anything about it," Yakov said, marking the spots on the map with his pen. "It saves us time."
“What a pity,” Yubi sighed. “I was quite interested in the spice shop.”
“If we can’t find anyone, we can’t operate,” Yakov said. “We can only rent out this land.”
Hearing this, Yubi's eyes suddenly lit up. He grabbed Yakov, who was about to leave. "Didn't you say you wanted to do some business?" he asked, tilting his head back, his excitement overflowing. "What if you didn't rent out this land, but instead gave it to me to do the spice business?"
Yakov's mouth opened and closed beneath his beard, his brow furrowing again. "...What do you intend to do?" he asked sharply and cautiously. "Where did you get the spices, and to whom are you going to sell them?"
“I want to gather all the exotic spices from around the world in my shop, and I’ll blend and grind them to create new fragrances!” Yubi’s voice grew hoarse as she spoke. “Lots of people will come to buy them!”
“How are you going to transport spices from all over the world? Who will source them, who will buy them, who will transport them, and who will pay the taxes?” Yakov’s eyebrows furrowed deeply. He pulled a licorice root from his pocket and held it in his hand. “In Constantinople, there are certainly many wealthy people who can afford spices, but how will they know to buy from you and not from others? How will they know that your fragrance is the best?”
“I…we have a dock, right? We can ask the sailors there for help.” Yubi’s voice trailed off. “With the shop here, people will always come and give it a try.”
“First, we have a dock, but no ships; second, sailors don’t know how to choose spices, and it’s rare for their noses to distinguish fish sauce from rancid oil.” Yakov stuffed a licorice root into Yubi’s hand. “Finally, if you’re not sure someone will buy it, this is just a game, far from real business. Do you really understand what I’m saying?”
Yubi shut his mouth in frustration, which made Yakov feel a little sorry for him—but the Blood Slave thought that someone had to say the unpleasant things eventually. "Put the licorice root in your mouth," Yakov said coldly and awkwardly. "If you don't endure this bitterness, the consequences will only get more and more bitter."
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