Author’s Note: Hey everyone! Here is the Work in Progress for Chapter 180 I hope you guys enjoy!
Etholin Esila
Silence punctuated the air.
Though as with most things with Emma, it didn’t take long for a bold, tremulous voice to emerge from her helm.
“Oh, you mean like licensing fees?” She responded, rephrasing my questions in such a way that gave no room for ambiguity.
“Correct.” I nodded.
“You can just pen that to me, or easier yet, just divide the profits 50/50, just like our ownership.”
I blinked rapidly in response, my mind pacing, my heart racing, as each and every fiber in my being attempted to rectify this startling case of character incongruity.
Had Emma just revealed her hand?
Had she — after all this time — decided to give into her worst vices?
Had she truly decided to leap down from the white horse, to join those she once looked down upon in the mud?
And if so… why now? Why here? Why at this crossroads of a negotiation so banal and innocuous — over a pen no less — would she risk losing what she’s been molding, shaping, and painstakingly constructing for months now?
Why risk it all
“Cadet Emma Booker… I cannot believe you are so brazenly and openly suggesting — after establishing such clear moral boundaries — the blatant infringement on a penmaker's brilliant work!” I responded with genuine shock, only to be met with a series of wildly gesticulating raised hands courtesy of the earthrealmer.
“Okay, okay, let’s take a step back, Etholin. That was a miscommunication on my part, Etholin, and for that, I apologize.”
“Oh thank his eternal graces…”
“Yeah, that sounded quite devious without some establishing context.”
“I’m… sorry?”
“You see, we won’t be needing to pay any tributes or licensing fees or anything… because there’s no one to pay it to anymore.”
“So the master behind such an innovative design has long since passed?”
“Yeah—”
“Then surely their family estate must still be reaping the rewards of their genius! If not them, then their lords perhaps, or their house, guild, or—”
“It’s not that.”
“Then what is it?” I questioned, finally returning the floor to Emma in full.
“The intellectual rights to the pen, and to a variety of other consumer products in my realm for that matter, are now considered the realm of public domain. In other words, they lack any real ‘owner’, and are thus capable of being reproduced by all.” Emma spoke calmly.
“Oh.” I pondered outloud, pinching my chin between two fingers. “Then they belong to the Crown Commons?” I offered.
The first true bout of silence seemed nigh upon us, but as was expected of our exchanges, Emma was quick to completely shutter that possibility.
“I’m afraid you’re going to have to fill me in on what exactly you mean by: Crown Commons.” She spoke plainly, simply, and in a manner that attempted to rectify the growing gap between us.
“It’s the ultimate end to any form of intellectual property or conceptual ownership.” I began in earnest. “When there exists no more legitimate claimants — which is an exceptional circumstance indeed — the rights to such properties shall fall under the crown itself. Be it a stageplay, a song, a design or schematic, or even a pen, any lonesome piece of property without an owner will by its very nature, fall under the crown’s domain. This follows the nature of things. As all land and property, from great estates to the wild game that roams atop, below, and above them, cannot simply be without an owner. As all without claimants of ownership, shall return to the most absolute right of them all — the crown and its sovereign.”
The pauses started to grow in length, as it was clear the earthrealmer was carefully pondering my each and every word.
“And if land asset management and distribution is anything to go by, I assume that the crown doesn’t just make their new intellectual property holdings free and open for all to use.” Emma responded dourly.
“That depends on the sovereign, Emma.” I offered with hope. “Some, as seen in many adjacent realms, allow for free game hunting for instance. This courtesy can sometimes be extended to certain works of art, music, culture, and so on and so forth.”
“But it’s ultimately their decision, their discretion, and not a public right now is it?” She questioned with stoic intent.
“No, it is not.” I acknowledged solemnly. “Which is why I am hoping — given your rather novel naming convention for such a concept — that your sovereign may have put into place some long-term stipulation for the use of intellectual property!” I beamed.
To which Emma could only nod with a long sigh.
“It’s… complicated. But the first thing you’re going to have to understand, Etholin, is that we… are a nation without a hereditary monarchy, or a landed aristocracy, or with a consti—, legally entrenched system of delineating political authority based on bloodline or family. That… that needs to be said first and foremost, if we are to have this whole discussion on intellectual property rights in any meaningful capacity.”
…
My rapid blinking return.
And so did a slow, and unprompted, polite smile.
It was the smile I wore whenever deals went awry.
It was the smile that I put on as a temporary distraction until an appropriate response could be mustered.
It was the smile that I had always had little problem in stowing once my senses caught up to me.
…
But this was no deal negotiation gone awry.
This was not even a social faux pas or a reality-shattering mishandling of some () proportions.
This…
…
This was a claim that bordered on the delusional.
Dare I say it, it was worse than the pile of dead metals sitting outside of this door.
I thanked his eternal graces that both Prince Thalmin and Princess Thacea had had the mental wherewithal to have initiated a dual privacy screen.
Because this…
This was beyond any semblance of—
“You alright there, Etholin? You’ve been smiling nonstop for like a minute now, friend.”
The perpetrator of this whole… debacle, had now cast yet another lure.
One to draw me out.
And one to finally force me to address this claim of…
…
I didn’t even know how or with what words to describe it.
“I’m… ahem. I am quite alright, Emma. Though I must admit, your claim is a rather… radical, one.”
“Just as radical as the public domain thing I need to broach.”
“Ahh yes.” I maintained that facade of a smile. “P-please, do broach it. We need to properly address this before—”
“Right, yeah, we are in a bit of a time crunch! Alright, I’ll make this quick! So! Simply put, public domain simply means that the intellectual property in question is truly public. As in, nobody owns it, and nobody can stake a claim on it. Most of practically everything in my realm is now public domain, and what few things that aren’t, are part of the accessory artisanal economy that exists in conjunction with the—. Sorry I’m getting ahead of myself. Let’s just say that when it comes to practically everything you can think of, every essential, to honestly non-essentials too and well, everything under the sun really, people are free to reproduce it as they please.”
“So it… it is truly without an owner. Ownerless. Lacking any right-holder, bearer, or—”
“Yes. But here’s the catch with our deal here, Etholin.” Emma interjected, raising a single finger. “This only applies to things as they are within my realm and its legal jurisdiction. Everything outside of it? Well, as the representative of earthrealm, I will be acting as the custodian and steward to the rights of this pen. Hence why I offered the 50/50 deal in the first place.”