Tucked into the southern corner of the square, a few paces off the old chapel steps, the wine stall was already doing brisk business.
Two long trestle tables were pushed together under a sun-bleached canvas awning; bottles of wine were lined up by region and year. Behind them, a few small casks sat on wooden creates, each with a stamped sigil on the lid.
There were three different vineyards that Eli, or Elise, recognized — Renault of Florentine obviously being one of them, plus Racany of Lindbell and Maycille of Ophilan. These three baronies were rivals in the wine trade.
The merchant behind the tables was a broad, thick-wristed man in his fifties with a sunburned face and forearms like a blacksmith's. His figure towered over them, which was saying something, given that Elise's height was in the highest percentile of women, standing at 5-foot-11.
He wore a leather apron that hung to his knees; it stained purple from the wrist down. A noble steward stood in front of him, waiting for the merchant to finish pouring a tasting sample into a clay cup.
Juli skipped toward the stall the moment the steward turned away.
"Hey, boss! I'm looking for Renault bottles."
The merchant finished recorking with a swift twist, then pointed toward a section near the left end.
"Reds there. Whites next to them," he said, his voice carrying the bored cadence of a man who had already done this every single year.
Juli swiftly dashed toward the designated location, already scanning the labels. Her fingers hovered over one bottle, then another, before she picked one up and read the year out loud.
She did the exact same thing for three other bottles.
'Juli… you look like a dork right now.'
After doing all kinds of shenanigans, Juli approached the merchant with a confident smile.
"Boss!"
The merchant didn't glance over.
Juli waved a hand in front of his face.
"Boss!"
The boss finally spared a glance to the energetic Juli.
"Yes."
"Where's the newest collection?"
"Next week."
Juli's face fell.
"Aw, come one. Nothing early? I know you have it in your inventory. Not even a sample cask?"
"Next. Week."
Juli leaned across the table and plated her elbow. With a palm on her cheek, she gave her most charming smile.
"Not even for a knight trying to buy her obnoxious Commander a birthday gift?"
The merchant gave her a long, flat look. His eyes dropped to the sword at her hip, then down to purple stains on his apron, then back to her face.
"…Especially not for a knight."
Juli blinked.
"Excuse me?"
"You lot drink it out of a flask, miss. I have a reputation to uphold for my store."
Eli covered his mouth.
'He said flask like how a priest would say sin.'
Juli's mouth opened in disbelief.
"…That's discrimination!"
Eli pressed his lips together to keep the smile off his face. He drifted closer to the bottle tables, hands folded loosely as he examined the rest of the stock.
His gaze moved along the rows where the collection stood. Newer vintages were at the front, older ones in the back. Most of the Renault stock held bottles from the last three to five years — in other words, everyday wines standard for a merchant. Top-tier ones ranged from twenty to thirty years, and they were sold directly to the highest bidders.
But hidden toward the back, he noticed a bottle more special than the others.
The parchment was slightly yellowed at the corners. The stamped year was just visible enough beneath a thin coat of cellar dust.
'…That one.'
Elise's memory stirred before Eli had finished looking.
'Oh, that's a good one.'
Eli leaned a fraction closer to be certain of the year. Once confirmed, he straightened and tapped the edge of the table lightly with one fingertip.
"Excuse me."
The merchant glanced over, visibly bracing for another Juli-esque inconvenience.
Then his eyes slid down Eli, scrutinizing him.
A crisp navy uniform, an elegant overcoat, and a posture picture perfect. But the finishing touch was the small silver crest of pinned at the collar — the mark of House Lagranche.
The merchant's hands slowed on the bottle he'd been restocking.
"Is that the six-forty? I'm surprised it hasn't been sold. It's the best harvest Renault had in a decade."
He set the bottle he was holding down very carefully.
"…It is. You've got a good eye, miss. May I know your name?"
Eli gave him a small smile.
"Elise. Yours?"
"Radcliff."
Eli nodded.
"The Marchioness kept two of them in her cellar. She always said the six-forty was the year the limestone finally shouted."
Radcliff let out a short huff through his nose.
"That it was. Hard winter, late spring. Vines were proper angry that year."
Beside him, Juli's head was already swinging slowly toward Eli, and a dawning horror spread across her face.
"Oh no."
She pointed a shaky finger in his direction.
"Oh no. He's going to be devoured. Elise, don't do the—"
'What's she on about?'
Eli ignored her entirely.
"How much for the six-forty?"
Radcliff straightened, tapped his thumb against the table once, and furrowed his brow as he ran figures behind his eyes.
"Nine sylveras each."
Eli tilted his head.
'Bargaining time!'
Eli was a master bargainer, mostly learning from his elderly friends from the hospital: a billionaire friend who negotiated nine-figure deals like clockwork, and a gentle grandmother who could talk a market stall down to the last onion.
'Heck, she sometimes got them for free!'
And so, Eli began.
"Nine sylveras is the going rate for Renault six-forty in the capital, Monsieur Radcliff. But we are not in the capital."
Radcliff's eyebrows climbed slightly.
"We're four days' ride from it."
"If I'm buying Racany or Maycille, then we can talk about transport cost as compensation. But Renault is local."
The merchant scratched the back of his neck.
"…Fair point."
"And," Eli continued with the most pleasant voice ever, "the six-forty is only good at around five to seven year mark. It's been ten."
Juli, from somewhere behind Eli, made a quiet choking noise.
Radcliff let out a long sigh.
"…Go on, then. What's your number."
"Six."
"Six." He made sure to emphasize it.
"Six, and I'll also take a bottle of the six-forty-eight Renault white you have there."
Radcliff squinted at Eli for a long moment.
Then he guffawed, a laugh so thunderous the whole market was alerted; even the steward two stalls over glanced up in confusion.
"Oh, you're Lady Sienne's people, alright."
He coughed.
"Six and a half on the six-forty. The six-forty-eight at three. Preserve is on the house. How about that?"
"Six and a quarter. Six-forty-eight at three. Preserve on the house. Done."
"…Done."
Radcliff shook his head, chuckling in disbelief, and reached for a square of waxed cloth to wrap the bottles.
Behind Eli, Juli made a small, squeaky sound.
"…That was disgusting."
Eli turned to her, eyes tranquil.
"Hm?"
"Teach me this witchcraft, Elise. Please."
He shrugged, owing it all to Elise's knowledge on wine.
"It's attention to detail. You have to know your stuff."
Juli vehemently shook her head.
"No, Elise. It's witchcraft!"
Radcliff, tying off the first wrapping, snorted.
"Lady Sienne could talk a merchant out of business, soldier. Her girl learned from the best."
Juli flung both arms out.
"See!? I believe this is called generational trauma."
Eli allowed himself a smile as Radcliff handed the first wrapped bottle across the table.
'Thanks, Grandma Margaret, Grandpa Roy. Can't forget about you, Elise. And Navia!'
Juli accepted the bottle like it was a live animal, cradling it against her chest with both her arms.
"I'm never letting you near my tailor. You'd leave me in my undergarments."
"Don't tempt me."
"ELISE. Wait… I don't mind, actually."
Eli walked away for the third time.