Oswin slept for 7 hours after Chris showed him to one of the few still existing huts, not a single complaint or comment the entire way.
Cris knew he was properly sleeping and not faking because the Rootmind told him every time the man shifted, which was often, he wanted to attribute it to what the world tree was doing but knew it ran far deeper than that. Whatever he'd been through had left marks that sleep alone wouldn't fix quickly, but sleep was where it started so Chris left him alone in the spare hut and went about his morning.
By the time Oswin emerged he seemed confused as he blinking against the light with his ankle wrapped tight in shadow berry leaves and his clothing having been lightly cleaned, still somewhat wet though from the world tree's root trying to clean him up using the mist well he slept, Chris was at the fig tree coaxing a new branch into a more useful angle that would allow it's fluid to flow and drip. He heard the man stop and even the sharp intake of breath.
He didn't look up immediately. He'd learned to let Oswin have their first proper look at the village without an audience.
Oswin took a long time before he responded, either amazed by what he saw or waiting for Chris to speak first.
"The rumors," he finally said breaking the silence, "seem to have been embarrassingly inadequate."
Chris finally glanced over at him. The merchant's eyes were doing what they'd done at the gate counting, connecting and calculating. Landing on the rows of newly grown bamboo then tracking to the cloud tree's mist swirling around them before dropping to the thick grass beneath his feet with an expression that Chris recognized as someone rapidly calculating and planning.
"You're doing calculations in your head right now and pretty much evaluating all I have here aren't you," Chris stated plainly.
"I'm always doing calculations." Oswin said it without apology and almost proudly. "It's kept me alive longer than anything else has, even if my own judgement over the last few months has been questionable and led me here, but I would prefer to believe it led me to a better horizon and possibilities." He paused, the proud look he wore slowly turning into concern as his gaze moved to where Korr stood at the northern wall, soon shifting over to Sera near the gate. "You're aware of who those two are correct?"
"Yes, both told me a bit about themselves, even a bit of there past during the time they've been here."
"And you're not concerned."
"They're my people now, citizens of my little village." Chris said simply.
Oswin looked at him for a moment then nodded slowly. "The Bloody Shadow and a former demon general. Somehow that's the least surprising thing about this place and a rather dangerous defense you have." He looked back at the village. "May I walk? I would like to see what else the rumors had missed."
Chris gestured broadly. "Go right ahead but don't touch anything that looks like it might touch you first and don't steal anything, if you try it won't go well for you."
Chris soon found himself falling in step alongside him without really planning to, partly because he was curious about Oswin and partly because the plants would need someone to translate if he accidentally offended one of them by getting to excited.
The merchant moved methodically, not wandering but working through the village in a pattern that Chris realized after a few minutes was a proper survey. He crouched beside the shadow berry vines and studied their leaves with genuine attention. Pressing his palm flat against the silver bamboo after getting permission before looking up at its height with narrowed eyes. He soon stopped at the wooden bowls and cups stacked near the crafting hut and picked one up, turning it slowly, running his thumb along the grain noticing something.
"These grew like this? Shaped into what they look like now." He asked.
"More or less. I guided the shape but the wood did most of the work." Chris told him plainly.
Oswin set it down carefully. "The grain is tighter than anything from the northern mills and there's little to no further processing needed, it even seems sealed, is it waterproof?"
"Mostly, but I do have others treated with fig sap that are completely waterproof."
Something sharpened in the merchant's expression. "How many can you produce in a week? Both the waterproof and semi proof ones."
Thinking it over for a moment and talking with the plant Chris answered steadily, "It depends on what else needs growing but If I have it expand a bit and maybe grow another probably more than I could carry."
Oswin said nothing for a moment. Just looked at the stack of bowls with an expression that Chris was starting to recognize as the one he wore when a number exceeded what he'd previously considered possible before they reached the fermentation corner and Oswin stopped completely.
The bottles were lined in bark-carved rows, each labeled in Chris's shorthand. Different brews at different stages, the oldest ones darkened amber through the wooden stoppers. The smell was rich and complex in a way that the open air shouldn't have allowed.
"You've been making these alone," Oswin said. It wasn't a question.
"Mostly. Korr helped me figure out a few of the processes and I have a specific plant that produces it, I find mixing volumes of berries and even a few flowers or leaves creates different reactions and potency."
The merchant crouched and looked at the labels without touching them. "What's your distribution?"
Chris blinked. "My what?"
Oswin looked up at him. "Who are you selling these to."
"...Nobody. We drink them from time to time to try and relax or calm the nerves but never to the point of intoxication just yet."
The silence that followed had a specific quality to it. The kind that precedes a man realizing he has found something extraordinary in a place no one was looking.
"Nobody? You hold such goods but make no real use of them?" Oswin repeated quietly.
"There's nobody out here to sell to."
"There will be," Oswin said, straightening. "There already are, they just don't know where to find you yet." He turned to face Chris fully. "Which brings me to something I want to say before I go any further and before you decide whether to let me stay or leave, or if I choose to stay or go."
Chris waited, rather curious about what he had to say.
"I know what I look like right now," Oswin began. "I'm a man who lost everything to someone smarter and more ruthless than him who didn't see it coming until it was too late. I walked into a wasteland on a rumor because I had nothing left to lose and enough stubbornness left to be angry about it." He looked around the village. "I spent twenty years building trade networks across three cities and none of them came close to the potential I can see in this place. You've built something extraordinary and you have no idea what it's worth to the outside world because you've been too busy keeping it alive to think about it, about the profit you could earn, the dependency you could create."
"I know what it's worth," Chris said quietly.
"Maybe in potential, in what it can provide to people but not in gold you don't." Oswin held up a hand before Chris could respond. "I'm not suggesting you need gold, as you said you have no place to spend it here. I'm suggesting that gold can buy protection, information and time. Three things I suspect you need considerably more of than you currently have if the party I passed days ago was any indication." A pause. "I'm not asking for charity either though, I'm proposing a partnership. You let me build the connections, manage what leaves this place and control how your village is seen from the outside, possibly hiring more people to help protect this place and goods you no doubt need. In return I take a percentage of the profits, one small enough to be fair well the rest goes to you and your needs, though this I start rebuilding what I lost through something no one can take from me because it's rooted in soil that can't be stolen, controlled by someone else who I hope wont stab me in the back."
Chris looked at him for a long moment.
The Ancient Ent made a sound from across the village. Low and considering rather than amused this time.
"What would you actually sell though? I figured the alcohol and maybe the wooden goods but would they even be worth it?" Chris asked.
"Yes, the alcohol would be first as its always a popular product, be it bars, those in the slums or high society, good alcohol is always a great seller and there's nothing like what you have here in the northern markets. The wooden goods would also sell rather well if the 'fig' juice as you called it preserves it well and you can produce them consistently." Oswin's eyes moved back to the shadow berry vines. "Medical supplies are also something always in demand, everyone with half a brain knows all sides are stalling but the fighting still happens for appearances, so if they work the way they appear to, and if my healed ankle is any indication that they do it would also be invaluable. Spices if you can grow them could also be rather profitable, salt already saturates the market but saffron? That alone would—"
"I can grow anything," Chris said. "The soil here is rich enough. If I know what it looks like and what it needs I can grow it."
Oswin went still.
"Anything," he said carefully with notes of disbelief.
"More or less, it's how I grew my defenses and have had us survive till now."
The merchant was quiet for a long moment and for the first time since he'd arrived the calculating look in his eyes was replaced by something that took Chris a moment to identify as wonder.
"Cotton," Oswin said softly, almost to himself. "Or maybe silk-grade fibre plants? Cold-climate spices that the Empire pays through the nose to import from the east would also be a good hook for the markets." He looked at Chris. "You understand what I'm telling you? You could produce luxury goods that kingdoms spend small fortunes acquiring, from a location that answers to no one! That means no tariffs and no trade guild taking their cut for expenses."
"And you would manage all of that for me? Is that what your proposing?" Chris knew it was a risk; Oswin was new here; he knew nothing about him and yet he felt like he could trust him.
"I'd manage all of that for you, handling all the marketing and even the financial side of things." He met Chris's eyes steadily. "You have my word. For whatever that's currently worth coming from a man who arrived in your village half dead and already owing you his life." He added with a weak smile.
Chris was quiet for a moment, listening to the plants around him. The Critic pulsed something thoughtful through the network about understanding the potential it had, how the poison laced bowls and cups could be useful if used right, a stealthy way to eliminate those in power but risky as he wouldn't know when to trigger it or how far his reach to do so extends along with how becoming a source of goods could prove to increase the target on there back, Chris simply replied that it was already large, that this wouldn't change much, rather it held potential to give them access to things they couldn't get easily including man power and would no doubt entice others to come and settle here.
"You can stay and we can try it," Chris finally said. "But you pull your weight the same as everyone else here. The percentage will be negotiated properly when you're not still limping no matter how faint it is now, your ankle is mostly healed but I don't want to risk it just yet." He paused. "And Oswin. If you try to take something from this place that isn't yours to take, the vines will know before I do and they won't be gentle."
Oswin looked at the strangle vines coiled at the edge of the path, their offshoots moving slowly in the still air.
"Understood," he said with a faint bead of sweat forming on his brow as he gulped nervously. "Completely and thoroughly understood."