Etholin
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, 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 universal 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 I come from a very very different socio-political context to what you might understand as the baseline norm. And to continue this discussion in any meaningful capacity, without getting bogged down on matters of sovereign reign and absolutist discretion, we’re going to have to clear the path with a fundamental reorientation of expectations when it comes to the basis of my people’s governance.” Emma cleared her throat, the formerly chipper and casual demeanor giving way to something far more grounded. “What you have to understand is that we are a nation without a hereditary monarchy, or a landed aristocracy, or one with an inherently entrenched legal system in which political authority is delineated based on bloodline or family. We are a nation not of nobility and commoners, or royalty and peasantry, but of true and inalienable equals; where the notion of commoner and nobility are both divested in lieu of the citizen. The citizen, in which case, acts as the principal authority by which political power is derived.”
…
My rapid blinking returned.
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 of epic proportions, or a gross mishandling of negotiations.
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.
What the earthrealmer had just suggested… was a fallacy within a fallacy, an impossibility within the impossible, a recursive logical paradox in which there existed no escape.
How could there be no division of status?
How could order exist when there is a system that prevents as such from manifesting?
How could authority hold legitimacy when derived from the rabble? Even if the rabble dressed itself as neither noble nor common?
I glanced to Prince Thallmin.
Perhaps they were a people of complete martial authority, an insect colony without a queen, a true union of equals under instinct?
I then turned to Princess Thacea.
Perhaps they were grouped into unions of clans without a leader, rotating authority by the most capable, as the situation demanded of it, yet again out of some deep-seeded animal instinct?
Yet all of these explanations were in the realm of the mad.
It dared to put into consideration the possibility of a union of the nobility and the common… or worse yet, the complete upheaval of the concept in lieu of something else entirely.
How could she even speak with such confidence on a matter that was so incredibly—
“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.”
It finally clicked.
As that dreaded, fateful thread of a madman’s reasoning, made its way into my psyche.
If her claims were true, then the concept of a true public commons would potentially be—
“Ahh yes.” I maintained that facade of a smile, forcing myself out of another oncoming reverie. “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 that matters 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 primary—. Sorry I’m getting ahead of myself. Let's just say that most everything under the sun is freely reproducible — from the most essential necessities to the smallest non-essential knick-knack that could be considered personal property.”
I raised a single finger, in a desperate attempt to bring all to its core, fundamental concepts.
“So whereas the end of ownership in our system is a vesting of its rights to the crown… the end of ownership in your system is a vesting of the rights to… everyone?”
“It’s the complete cessation of exclusive ownership rights, outright.” Emma ‘corrected’. Though that ‘correction’ bordered on outright insanity. “Enforced and recognized by the state, mind you, but given the state is an extension of the citizen, it blends into what is essentially just blanket rights for all. Which leads me to our first point, Etholin.” Emma expertly surmised, as I awaited a return to some semblance of normalcy in this negotiation gone astray. “I’m simply attempting to explain things as it works within my system. However, since these legal frameworks do not extend outside of our sovereign domain, I shall be acting as the custodian and stewards to the rights of this pen given that I am acting as the representative of earthrealm. Hence why I offered the 50/50 deal in the first place, Etholin.”
I nodded once, then twice, before reaching a hand to my forehead in a display of complete and utter exhaustion.
“Then… for the purposes of our venture… let us consider the exclusive rights to this pen to be your own, and by extension earthrealm as an entity?”
“That works.” She nodded.
“That… concludes that aspect of the contract, I suppose.” I continued with haggard breaths, feeling as if I’d just completed an entire class of physical education. “The machinery and what-have-you… can be discussed in further detail on a later date. I… assume that you have a firm enough understanding on that aspect of the venture, so I shall happily defer that to your camp pending additional deliberations on the details of its supply and production feasibility in Elaseer.” I prattled on, falling into the comforts of merchant vernacular; a momentary reprieve from everything else that had transpired prior to this point.
“Yeah, we can settle the details of that a bit later, I think.” Emma offered with a chuckle of her own. “So… shall we get that paperwork settled so we can finish handing all of this off to the merchant guild council?”
“Yes.” I smiled confidently.
=====
45 Minutes Later
The Transgracian Academy for the Magical Arts. Exhibition Hall. Grand Arcade. Central Thoroughfare. Prosperity Row. Local Time: 2315 Hours.
It should have taken scarcely a handful of minutes to finalize the agreement.
Yet Emma had somehow dragged talks for far, far, longer than it ever had the right to be.
Though admittedly, it felt as if it was much quicker than it otherwise could have been.
There was a strange cold and removed thoroughness when it came to her contract deliberations.
An ambiance and overwhelming aura not too dissimilar to those ‘contract wars’ Uncle often put us through at quill-point, where hours were spent into lightning-paced rounds of contract deliberations; all in an attempt to prepare us for the worst possible scenarios in our respective futures.
But while those sessions were often painted in a heated, sweat-inducing back and forth, where all parties involved continuously attempted to tear, claw, and gnash at the other in an attempt to gain the ‘better deal’, Emma’s approach was far more… impartial.
There was a methodical precision to her method, yes. An uncompromising one at that.
Yet there was no hint of that sense of fiery desire for dominance.
If anything, it all felt eerily cold; a commitment to the letter of the agreement without ever once giving in to the intensity of the negotiating table. A complete removal of emotions whereby neither casualness nor severe stoicism was conveyed, only… an emotionlessness where the written word had taken over all contextual pretenses.
What’s more… the fight taking place never once spilled over into a wrestle for dominance or advantage. Instead, Emma’s concerted efforts were squarely placed into a battle for equitability and completely impartial terms; a complete departure from Uncle’s lessons.
I had left… eerily unnerved by the whole affair. Though it wasn’t the most intense, stressful, or even the most remotely threatening.
It was simply… odd, in a way that proved to be completely foreign in nature.
Regardless, with the contract in hand — and the pen in the other — we now had our impromptu gambit assembled and ready.
This all came to a head as the council was reconvened, sitting high atop in their nestled alcove on the second floor, with their gazes locked on the both of us.
“Lord Etholin Esila, you have the floor for this second and final bid for membership. So please, proceed.”
There were no more polite courtesies extended; no more room for error or patience to be had.
Because even in spitte of the anomalous metals still remaining as they were behind me, even that could not part the unrelenting tides of ritual and history.
“Esteemed and revered councilors, I come before you with not an amendment to my mishandlings of a truly unprecedented situation, but a bold new step forward born from said circumstances.” I began with a merchant's smile. “For it is within turbulent waters and rocky seas that the merchants most capable will find themselves rising to the challenge, seizing the occasion, whilst those that don’t — sink.” I paused, craning my head to where Rostario stood. “It is with that preamble that I present to you a most innocuous of business opportunities, a dragon hiding in kobold attire, a bold new step that will disrupt and completely upend the penmaking business in my favor. My lords, ladies, and majesties, I present to you… the miraculous mundane marvel, this miracle for the meager of means, this mystifying manuscript-maker: the marvelous manaless pen.” I held Emma’s pen high up in the air, casting a light, then two, then three, reaching 12 distinct spotlights upon it, before finally lowering it from its glowing heights.
“Observe.” I quickly moved to a board that Emma had conveniently rolled in; a piece of parchment attached to its surface.
The same demonstration I’d done with Emma quickly followed, but to my surprise, the council was rather quick to decipher my meaning.
A few seconds of scrying soon followed, confirming my claims, and determining that all materials present were — in fact — manaless.
“Impressive.” Prince Fiswisk spoke first. “But what of the means of production?”
“That is where Cadet Emma Booker’s partnership will come into play, your majesty.” I bowed deeply. “She has the workshop, the knowledge, and the tools to make this a reality.”
“So you two are a partnership?” The blubbery man followed up promptly.
Though my answer, wordless as it was, consisted of a simple delivery of my contract via a telekinetic spell.
Several minutes of silent deliberation followed.
A scene unlike that of my first stageplay-like approach to negotiations played out in silent, ominous, stillness. Not even the murmur of deliberation or rustling of papers could be heard as a privacy screen had since been deployed within the alcove.
This went on for five minutes more before finally… a verdict was reached.
“Under careful and extensive review, the council has deemed this venture…”
I leaned in, hands clasped to my chest in earnest anticipation.
“... potentially worthwhile, and satisfactory in its goals.”
It took every ounce of energy within me not to break out into an all-out grin, as I maintained my composure, and awaited the full details of the verdict.
“The council has deemed it fit to grant you a conditional offer of entry. We grant you a temporary place in our council, but not the rank of member or councilman.”
I held my breath, then bowed in understanding.
This was to be expected given the novel nature of the venture.
It just meant the business needed to prove itself, which given the circumstances, I was sure it would be capable of.
“Thank you, wise and esteemed councilors.” I spoke with pride and excitement welling within my chest.
“With that being said, the guild will be closely monitoring your progress. And should you come into conflict with any of the established or vested interests within Elaseer… this shall be you and your partner’s responsibility alone to rectify. Now… was there anything else you wished to broach, Lord Etholin Esila?”
“No, councilors. I wish to simply express my deepest gratitude for your wise decision. I will be sure to return with only positive news!”
“This we hope to see, Lord Esila. This marks the end of your candidacy review. The council is adjourned.”
A series of claps were quick to follow.
And in the glow of what felt like victory, I finally understood what it was father had spoken of years ago.
“It is one thing to prepare and succeed in an exam, transaction, or business negotiation. It is another feeling entirely to have grasped victory from the firmly clenched jaws of defeat. I hope it is that you never have to experience the latter, but if you do… you shall know victory in its most exhilarating form.”
=====
The Transgracian Academy for the Magical Arts. Exhibition Hall. Grand Arcade. Central Thoroughfare. Prosperity Row. Just outside of the Merchant Guild Hall. Local Time: 2330 Hours.
Emma
I’d never seen Etholin just so… giddy before. And it truly warmed my heart to see such a formerly anxious and nervous noble, finally grasping fate by the throat.
“I shall perform the necessary primary market surveys by this weekend, following which, I should be in talks to acquire new storefront property within the following week. This means we shall have some need to discuss the specifics of your manufacturing processes either next week, or in the days leading up to storefront acquisition, as we will need to discuss the space requirements for the backend aspects of our venture.” He spoke firmly.
“Sounds good, Etholin. Just keep me posted and I’ll have some working machines printed out and in working demonstrations within sometime next week.”
“Excellent!” He beamed, before allowing the ambiance around us to drown out his excitement.
Exhaustion was quick to consume him as the adrenaline he was running on had now petered out, as it was clear that… everything within the guild hall had more or less worn down the confidence he’d managed to build up over the preceding weeks.
“Right then, I… I say this is as good of a time as any to bid you farewell!”
“Indeed.” I nodded. “Until next time, Etholin.”
However, before the pattenor could fully depart, he turned around for one final matter. “Emma?”
“Yes, Etholin?”
“Perhaps we can… discuss the specifics of your realm’s industrial potential later? When you’re free, of course! I… would love to see more of what you have mentioned—”
“Oh, I’d be more than happy to oblige, Etholin.” I beamed, garnering a glimmer of excitability to shine from behind the exhaustion slowly consuming his face.
Silence wouldn’t fall on any of us, as the busy streets around us were quick to fill in the void of the excitable ferret’s conversations.
“If there is nothing else, I suggest it is time we finally retire for the evening.” Thacea spoke up, taking the lead, leaving Thalmin to quite deftly handle the sacks of rare metals he carried in both hands. A flicker of mana radiation spikes clued me into what the prince was doing, as the WAID picked up some aberrant disruptions in the manafields concurrent with the strength enhancement spells found in Chiska’s class.
He was using this as a workout opportunity… what an absolute legend.
“Emma?” Thacea reiterated.
“Oh, yes, let’s! I think we last saw him at one of those food clubs.” I finally answered, as we walked in sync vaguely in the direction of the entrance.
However, it wasn’t long for another conversation to crop up, one led by Thacea of all people.
“Emma, if I may?”
“Yes, Thacea?”
“We have yet to have truly dived deep into the matter of your realms’... legal systems. But this discussion with Lord Esila has truly opened a great many doors, the likes of which I insist on being addressed prior to their closure.” Thacea’s eyes widened with genuine interest, a gleeful glint hearkening to the curiosity I mostly observed behind closed doors.
“Sure thing! Fire away, as long as you think the privacy screen’s strong enough that is.”
Thacea nodded, before diving deep into it.
“There are… a great deal of matters to address, but what I wish to touch upon before all else is the underlying sentiment beneath it all. I am certain that in a realm as diverse in ideas and rich in inventions such as yours, that exclusive rights must play some sort of a role. I understand that there may have been some liberties in curtailing what is assuredly a lengthy subject matter for the purposes of brevity and negotiations with Etholin, but I was curious as to the degree of that curtailment, and precisely what has been left to the wayside in favor of facilitating dialogue?”
“You took those latter words right out of my mouth, princess.” I grinned slyly, garnering but a perked brow from a princess who’d since gotten used to that aspect of my teasing jousts. “But yeah, you’re right in assuming that. I left a fair few things out to the point where it skirted the line of being reductive in nature. I’ll be happy to give you a bit more context, but I will have to say that the whole concept of intellectual property and exclusive rights have gone through… quite a fair bit of change ever since its inception as a modern concept. We’ve seen its boons, its protections for the common man, and we’ve seen it misused, misappropriated by large malicious actors. But to skip… a lot of history, I’ll try to explain things as they are today.” I took a deep breath, clearing my throat. “Scientific and industrial innovations, be they discoveries, creations, designs, and whatnot, don’t become property. They instead turn into something called contributions. The teams and individuals behind them are honored, credited, and awarded — but that crucial knowledge is returned to the public that made the whole thing possible. It’s… a different form of ownership, honestly, what we call authorship. As we do not deny that its creation is wholly the work of their efforts, but we also can’t deny that its boons and the resultant value generated by said boons, are the rights of all mankind.”
“So what, are those teams just handed resources completely without challenge?” Thalmin spoke up abruptly, more confused rather than indignant, posing the question in a way that I’d learned was his verbal equivalent of a fun spar. “Moreover, what exactly would motivate someone if they don’t directly see the boons from their own work?”
“Status.” I addressed Thalmin’s latter point. “And that’s a loaded term. To the selfless and self-actualized? It’s the joy of discovery and creation that drives them, but the motivator is the growth in their reputation and status, the latter allowing for greater chances at even greater resource allocation for future projects and ventures courtesy of their academic institution, research organization, and by extension, the state. But to the more… reward-focused and less selfless folk, it’s also the matter of status that compels them. They get to see their name plastered in circles they care about, or sometimes, even in public circles. It’s fame, attention, and also brownie points accrued amidst like-minded social spheres, as well as outright bragging points that they get as a result. Though there’s also the matter of a greater chance at gaining assignment of preferred scarce commodities such as certain niche living arrangements and whatnot, but that's a whole topic to be discussed another day.”
I found the pair completely coming to a standstill, as I’d yet to have realized we’d since stopped by the wayside along the footpaths ever since the end of my first ramble.
“There was… a bit of a dark period where this notion was challenged, but proprietary and non-standard construction of integral systems underpinning whole habitats and constructs meant that the free flow of information ultimately supersedes the exclusive rights to a great many things. Especially if those things underpin lives and livelihoods to an existential degree.” I continued, only to realize I’d rambled too far into the deep end. “Oh, sorry, I kind of went off course there.” I managed out with both arms raised behind my head. “Right, so, I forgot that my explanation only covers the whole big picture side of ownership rights and whatnot. I was kind of in that mindset given the whole pen business. But as it pertains to stuff like art and creative endeavors? That’s a whole other story. You see, there are many paths to tackling the creative arts. Given our current system, personal creative endeavors such as say… paintings, bespoke jewelry, hand-sewn bags, and whatnot, are considered part of the artisanal economy, something that can’t just be reproduced with a home or communal printer given that by its very production is limited by its very nature. The value, in turn, comes from authorship, and bespoke authenticity. The latter is what fuels the artisanal economy—”
ROOAAAARRRRR-SCREEEEEECH!
I stopped in my tracks, both Thacea and Thalmin turning up, as my sensors were quick to pick up on a sight that sent shivers down my spine.
High above us, veering back into view from behind a series of wrought-metal ledges, was a drake.
However, unlike the few drakes we’d seen overhead prior, cruising lazily and without much effort, this one was frantic, as if wrestling with its rider and jockeying for control.
The EVI was quick to auto-zoom towards the rider in question, but neither their name nor designation rang a bell, not especially in a situation as wild as this.
However, what was even more bizarre was the drake that flew just behind its wake, one that seemed to actually be in control, its wings beating in purposeful strides, ridden by none other than…
…
Are you serious???
“Is that… Ilunor?” Thalmin questioned, just as the out-of-control drake took another sharp turn, not in an attempt to evade Ilunor, but simply out of a loss of control.
“STAY CALM, I’M RIGHT BEHIND YOU, YOU BLITHERING IDIOT!” The EVI could just barely make out his voice.
But that was the least of my concerns.
As the drake took yet another sharp turn, but this time—
[COLLISSION IMMINENT!]
—it came straight down at us.