My name is not Yona. It might as well be, though. Yona is the unofficial fake name I've come to use as a result of… circumstances.
I've never told anyone my real name, and I have no plans on doing so. But, the name Yona seemed to be common enough of a name that constitutes the female upper-class elites of YoonKao that it made for quite a nice cover up.
It also helps that no one can truly know my history as the brother to the current Lord Spar. My slim composition and bony neck area make me look a bit less of a Lord and more a Lady. It helps that the slight curls to my hair that I've inherited from my paternal side of the bloodline passes off my hair as that of someone of a complete opposite gender.
"Yona, eh?" They'd say upon hearing my 'name'. "Hmm, just another product of the times then!"
The perfect cover up.
It's been 4 years since I've adopted a fake name. It took 2 months to master my new identity after my sister's violent, fantastic liberation.
It took 7 months to apprentice under a forgiving merchant.
Then, it took me another 3 years and 3 months to leave the tutelage of my master merchant, and make a living as a traveling peddler.
Most of all, I believe it would take me a lifetime to fight my fantasies of righting the wrongs against my family.
Now, the four years I've spent surviving the wrath my sister sowed led me to this spot. The Golden Barb.
***
The Golden Barb is an Ale House at the center of Chao Tsang city —a lesser known city miles away from the capital of YoonKao, but still quite industries compared to what it was years ago.
Unlike the other Ale Houses in Chao Tsang, the Golden Stinger is quite special because most people here don't really use this place as a safe haven to get drunk. If anything, this has become the hub of trade and mercantilism, and a place for lesser beings to dwell and make backdoor deals.
How does that happen, you ask?
Well, the Golden Barb started off as a nursery for plants and exotic flowers. The bees that came to pollinate the flowers would produce unique flavors of sophisticated honey, and thus the honey made the two women who started the nursery very wealthy beekeepers. When the soon-to-be Ale House garnered enough wealth from honey sales —and enough demand from the general public— it expanded into an Ale House with its special exotic honey as its main recipe.
So, what does that have to do with mercantilism?
Well, when a place becomes the greatest Ale House with the most delicious recipe, people tend to drink more. Thus, more secrets begin to spill.
"Yennifer slept with her husband's brother, last I heard!"
"The docks by Needle Point shore? Yeah, I work there. The stupid guy who covers my shift always falls asleep. Not my business, though."
It's the go-to place to hear merchant secrets and inside details on trades. Sometimes, you don't even really need to hear secrets.
Take myself, for instance.
All I need is to hear the news from other regions to know what goods to stock up on and to whom I should peddle them to.
Bandit raids in the north? I'll stockpile iron and steel to sell to the private sell swords barracks. Unexpected drought? Light beers it is for everyone —for a higher price.
It's perfect for a peddler like me.
Outside the Golden Barb are heavy mahogany wooden doors that tastefully contrast with the red velvet carpet. Tall glass structures give the outside an appealing and clear architecture. The wide-brimmed lanterns hanging from the ceilings provide a dim glow that softly illuminates the interior and give its furnishings a gentle touch of sophistication.
Hardly an ale house.
I open the door and walk into an almost empty room where the hostess firmly grasped the quill in her hand with three fingers. She scanned the record book writing, well, something, with stately eyes and didn't bother to give me any attention until I inched closer and coughed, to which she raised her eyes and revealed two sharp emeralds peering into me.
"Ms. Yona. I see. It is you." She always spoke as if contractions didn't exist. She brushed the blonde bangs covering half her right eye as if she rehearsed it, and followed with, "How may I help you?"
"Is the sommelier here?"
"Yes, that year of ale is available. Right this way, please" She said, which was code for,
"You come here so often I know you by name, and I'm paid to keep my mouth shut… so why not?"
The hostess led me down past the bar and past the tender of the bar who looked past us with a bored expression on his face before returning to fixing another drink.
She led me behind two black curtains revealing a room with a single door labeled "CELLAR ROOM".
"Thank you, Sheia." I said.
She bowed a short bow, closing her eyes along the way. She made her way back to the front desk to pretend she was busy writing something.
With the Hostess out of sight, I made my way down the cellar, into the secret room of the Golden Barb. It's here that the real deals are made.
***
The one who truly runs the Golden Barb is the sommelier. He inherited the Ale House after the two founders made their fortune and were looking to retire to enjoy their riches together under the same house.
After everyone knew of their designs, there was of course an uproar. But, what could anyone do? They've made more coin creating the greatest Ale House in the region that no one would dare criticize their sexual preferences.
Hyke, the current sommelier used to run an underground lumbering market for Orphans Tears —ugly trees that droop like a toddler's boogers. But, they impart a wonderful flavor when barreled for wines, so their woods are coveted by fancy people. A smart man, Hyke bought the Golden Barb.
Now, he owns the fancy wood, the fancy ales and wines, and the fancy people who come to drink his fancy… drinks.
I sat on an empty seat. The smell of wines barreled in Orphan's Tears wood made the whole room smell rich. I waited in my seat pinching my skin and rehearsing the words in my mind.
I had one chance to suck out as many details as I could; weather reports from scouts, news of wars, crop yields, popular luxuries.
I would do as I always did every time I came into this dark and brooding cellar: get every bit of gossip as I can, make a plan, and book it.
*creak* *creak*
The sound of heavy leather boots grew louder.
I've done this forever, yet, for some reason, there was something about knowing that the sommelier's advice could make or break my profit for the next season. It made the room feel that much more claustrophobic.
*creak* *creak* *whoosh*
The thin curtains were lifted by two long hands revealing Hyke in his tall, thin frame. His grey hair hung over his forehead like a canvas, and it's wirey strands gave him a bit of a "scruffy" yet "fanciful" look. It was as if he tried very hard to look good, but not too good like he were trying too hard. Ironic since there was no one in the Golden Barb to even see us, and we were in his secret cellar.
"Yona… it's you!"
Finally. Contractions.
"How has your last trip treated you?"