[Regardless of the quality of the goods your colony produces, there will need to be a reduction in the price due to your very nature,] a snooty brathian merchant says to me.
Inside the bubble, these, I'm assuming, exceptionally wealthy men and women aren't quite as impressive as they are outside of it. Their flowing robes and elaborate garments are adorned with loose fabric that dances and swirls through the water as they move through it. In the bubble, it attempts to do the same, powered by some enchantment, but ultimately it fails to be nearly as impressive.
[We're monsters,] I reply, flatly, [though I suppose you could make an argument we are similar to the bruan'chii. Only the first Queen was actually born from the Dungeon, the rest of us are her children, either directly or by several degrees.]
[The bruan'chii don't have cores.]
[Oh, we're obviously more monster than they are, I don't mean to imply otherwise. You were saying something about our nature?]
[Monsters don't adhere to the same levels of cleanliness or hygiene as the civilised races,] the merchant declares as if stating the obvious. [There is no doubt your produce has more contamination than would otherwise be the case.]
No way she said that. I focus a bit to see a little more clearly. Yeah, I'm pretty sure she's a she. Imagine attacking a colony… not just any colony, the Colony, about cleanliness!
It's been the same with all of these merchants. They don't necessarily mean what they're saying, all they want is to find an angle to drive down the price. The fact that they're talking to me at all and attempting to haggle means they're interested in buying.
[We clean ourselves with acid,] I snap. [Acid. Do you clean yourself with acid?]
[What? Of course not!]
[Then please take a step away, I don't want my carapace contaminated. Look, look at that ant over there, you see what she's doing?]
I point with an antenna and the merchant turns to see.
[It—]
[She.]
[... She… appears to be rubbing her legs all over herself.]
[You need to look a little more carefully. Look at the hind legs, see how they stretch to the back. It's quick, but you can see it.]
[Yes… yes I think I see what you mean.]
[She's collecting a diluted form of formic acid on her back legs, then using it to clean her legs, then rubbing those across her carapace. You are watching an acid bath happening in real time. No mould, no dirt, no nothing! We are the cleanliest species on the entire planet. We wash our walls down, our tools down, our floors down, everything, with acid.]
This seems to take the merchant aback.
[The entire reason she's doing that, and so many other members of my family, is because we don't feel clean here in your city. We live packed together in nests surrounded by earth and stone, we can't afford for the air to grow foul or anything nasty to accumulate.]
[Why aren't you doing it, then?]
Holy moly, I want to. My legs are practically twitching.
[I can't move too much while I'm here on the ship. Anyway, we need to discuss compensation from the city for imposing its poor hygiene on us, who should I speak to about that?]
~~~
[I am interested in these ingots,] Smithant said. [I sense an unusual mana inside.]
[Yes, I see what you mean,] Cobalt confirmed. [The smelting method seems rather unusual, notice the folds in the metal?]
[Of course.]
The two carvers turned to their 'agent'. The Island Conglomerate had sent someone to accompany the carver contingent who were out browsing the markets.
[We are interested in these ingots here. Could you inquire as to the price?]
[Of course.]
The mage, Irisod, turned to the agent and relayed the ants' request. The owner of this particular stall smiled, despite watching the two monsters nervously, and replied.
[He's asking for two-fifty. That's at least thirty percent overpriced.]
The two ants turned away, disappointed.
"Every place we go is asking significantly over the value of the goods," Smithant said, irritated.
"Hopefully, we'll find someone more reasonable soon."
Behind them, the merchant protested as the ants began to move away, and the mage reached out to them again, laughing.
[He's willing to come down in price. He's asking two-twenty five.]
[That's still twenty percent too much,] Cobalt replied, not bothering to turn around.
They took another step.
More discussion, more urgency, and Irisod reached out to them once more.
[As you are very discerning customers, the merchant is willing to come down another ten percent.]
There was definitely a rising sense of mirth over the mind bridge, but the two carvers didn't understand it.
[Still ten percent too high,] Cobalt refuted, [why would we ever pay over the market value?]
It simply didn't make sense. If the items were worth a certain amount, then they would pay that amount for them, gladly. Every merchant they spoke to seemed to expect they would spend much more than they should.
Smithant and Cobalt took another step.
The merchant, visibly sweating at this point, spoke again, and they halted, waiting for the translation to come.
"We could be looking at other stalls," Smithant grumbled.
"It doesn't hurt to be polite," Cobalt said.
[The merchant congratulates you on your hard-nosed business acumen and agrees to lower his price by another five percent,] Irisod told them, attempting to muffle her laughter.
Smithant turned around, a hint of irritation showing in the brusque movement of her antennae.
[We will pay one-seventy,] she said shortly. [It would have been one-seventy five, but our time has been wasted. Is this acceptable?]
After some grumbling and arm waving, the merchant eventually agreed and the ants walked out, several cores poorer but in possession of some bright new ingots.
[I genuinely can't tell,] Irisod said to them, [if your species are the worst hagglers I've ever seen, or the best.]
[We don't understand this 'haggling',] Cobalt explained. [We simply wish to exchange for goods at the correct value.]
[The whole point of haggling, is to try and get more, or pay less than the correct value,] Irisod tried to make the practice clear to them. [To us, it is like a game of wits where we try to best the other party.]
To the ants, the entire thing reeked of selfishness. You were not entitled to pay less than an item was worth, nor were you within your rights to charge more. The individual was served, not the collective.
Selfish.