- THE STORE -

You see, behind the rusty desk where Setha Kabi would always sit, was another, even smaller, metal door. From there, one would enter a long, narrow room, poorly lit. It wasn’t a warehouse, or part of the store. It was a little bit of both. There, on top of heavy, shiny wooden desks and large walnut chests, laid the real goods. Everything, from fine silks brought from Una, to golden jewels and silver cutlery from the masters at Trouterri. Fine leather and prime wool. Cut and polished gemstones. Tools and knives made from the finest steel. Delicate crystals and rare marbles from the cities of Mepetra.

All these would never stay in his place for two long. More than a hundred stores in our town wanted to buy from Setha Kabi. Him and only him. On the other side of the room, behind a corner, was another small metal door, facing an alley in the Nassaryottics. From there, at the back, one could easily move the products in and out without much noise and fuss. Like thieves.

The money? No, not there. No real cash were ever inside the small chest on the desk. Only a few coins, just for show. Setha Kabi would do everything outside the public eye. The payment would be delivered at night, after the blessings. It would go directly to his house. No middlemen.

If someone from our town’s richest, the proper and respected citizens, wanted -let’s say, to buy good furniture for an entire house, or a new wardrobe for the family, he knew he could only go to Setha Kabi. If some other gentleman wanted to get in his hands a famed Opalian razor -good for a hundred years they said, and even better, an older one, whose quality was guaranteed, unlike the fragile things of our times, they knew as well that Setha Kabi was their only option. They’d have to go and beg him to write to his friends in Opal.

All of our town’s important and wealthy were his clients. Even Belir Alleth himself. He would only go to him. It was even rumoured that Setha Kabi’s connections in Dolvet, run deeper than his ever could. Despot Mavier of our Temple, Luvir Mandrit the richest man in town, all would lower their heads. In secret. Under cover. And pass through his small, domed door. They’d all sit in front of the rusty desk, and plead for him to place their request at the top of his next delivery order.

And Setha Kabi would write down all these requests on his big book. Every day. Every order. He was neither bored, nor proud, seeing our town’s mightiest pleading at his desk. He’d only whisper them, quietly, as if talking to himself.

“They do not care about us my good sir… Why would they?... We are so small…”

Yet, he’d always write to his various friends and associates all over the world. And the then the rarest thing would happen. The order would always arrive. And was always on time. Given to the client alongside all the paperwork. Price checks, exchange differences, customs fees, all stamped and everything. And Setha Kabi’s own profit. Very small, almost nothing. But still, always written down. All done properly. Good and in order. Such proficiency. Such humility.

What could one even say?

“No, no, my dear sir… No, I insist. You owe me nothing… Don’t thank me.” he’d always say to everyone. “As you can see, I did this for me as well… No, my profit is no more than this. Really. I’d never fool you.”

Indeed. He had no intention to fool anyone. Nor did he need to surround himself with needless praise and politeness. He wouldn’t care to compliment all them wealthy and powerful men of our town. Most of them were merchants that would go from rich, to poor, to rich again. Very few endured. Most would come and go. Rise and fall. Behind that little rusty desk of his however, laid something else. Something more than mere power.

There laid an authority.

Even if someone didn’t think him being the one really choosing the community’s leader was a big deal (even though it was). Even if someone didn’t think him being the one really choosing the temple’s Communarch was big deal (even though it was even more so).

Still, everyone knew -and they knew it well, that it was Setha Kabi who could make or break the hearts and minds of almost every Nassaryott in our town. His will, his word, determined if the Nassaryotts of Riviella would support the Belirs’ decisions. If they’d pay their taxes on time. If they’d even allow other Pelagians to walk around safely in their streets.

The wiser elders of our town would even say Setha Kabi was one of the few people with whom our Holy Despot -another permanent authority of our town- would always converse honestly. With patience and respect, even behind closed doors. A great honour. And in reverse, our Despot was one of the few people from whom Setha Kabi would not hide anything. Both of them the great spiritual minds of their people. Both united under the fear of the unknown. Of the divine.

Thus, our Nassaryottic community truly was one of Despot Mavier’s great pillars of support in our town. Similarly, our Despot was one of Setha Kabi’s greatest tools for keeping the community in check. Stopping all the little chicks that wanted to get away, and bringing them back under the hen’s wing.

In summary, Setha Kabi was a formal, proper, and dependable part of our town’s leadership.

A pillar of Riviella’s traditional order and hierarchy. A true authority, but most importantly, a permanent one.