NELNIFA CORLEDIA has a weak voice. When outrage sparks because of her mistake, she diverts the attention to the real problem: the truth to why their territory is poor. This takes Nelnifa to fishing ports, weaving districts, and back to the very plac...
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2404 Xavem 8, Reshpe
The ring of the minze during mating season was loud in Nelnifa's ears as she walked down the mountain and through the forest. Her neck was stiff from spending the whole day yesterday weaving baskets in the Weaver's Circle just to get the quota filled quicker. She had a deal with Morka, after all.
She remembered the day when she first approached the Circle's overseer after she realized she had to start somewhere if she was to find the reason why Desara's economy was suffering. It didn't take too long of a leap for her to pinpoint the economy being the problem. After her talk with her father, she began looking at Desara in its individual aspects—government, judiciary, society and culture, trade and economy, and even the lay of land. All the other aspects were in good condition, as it was managed by the Potentate and his consort and Nelnifa had enough trust in her parents. The only thing that could pose a greater influence in the territory's profit was, of course, their trade and economy.
Nelnifa, having finished all the modules given to her by her tutors, knew other territories were able to fund so many of their different endeavors like the military and their royal family's own coffers because they earn enough from either taxes or from trading. Taxes were next to nonexistent as a concept in Desara, with only the biggest production companies and the wealthiest merchants paying it, so it was out of the question. The people might riot a lot earlier if they started imposing a tax system on citizens now.
That leaves only the economy part. In Desara's case, it was handled mostly by the Consort and as customary, Nelnifa has started taking slices of it under her own wing. So, if she was to investigate, she had to start with the ones in her immediate reach.
Of course, Nelnifa wasn't thrilled when she realized she had to talk to more people with authority even though she, herself, was respected for being one. That's how she had wandered into the Weaver's Circle the other day, looking for a proper chance to talk to its overseer, Morka Stensa.
Nelnifa clearly remembered how she accidentally bumped into Kethana who was carrying an armful of weaved baskets in a pile so high the pink-haired sprite had to lean over to one side to see the road. The impact came suddenly, with Nelnifa briefly seeing a flash of orange and dark yellow fly in her periphery. Ketha's familiar "Ow!" rang in the early Oraytan air.
"Watch where you're going, would you?" Ketha had exclaimed, her frown deeper than a fumise could burrow. Then, their eyes met and Ketha realized who had just bumped into her. "I'm sorry, Nel. Didn't see ya there."
Nelnifa remembered the awkwardness seeping in her system. Even so, she had bent down and offered her friend a hand. "It's fine," she had said as Ketha took her hand and she hauled her friend up. The sand beneath them shuffled and stirred with their legs' movements. "I'll help you gather your baskets. Can you lead me to Morka?"
Ketha grumbled something under her breath, no doubt all about the warm sand or the fact that her work hours just got longer. Together, they scrambled after the baskets flung in a wide arc around them, muttering their excuse-me's as they weaved around the legs of passers-by and collecting the baskets in one, tall pile. Then, Nelnifa suggested they split the load and that she would help Ketha deliver the baskets first to wherever baskets go to be delivered. Begrudgingly, her friend agreed.
