Exotic Trades: The Contract (Part 1)

It was 10 am when Raddan Alwaddan lounged in his office, his artistic cursive handwriting finishing up his paperwork in pure boredom while a cup of warm tea waited nearby. The tiredness still lingered on his face; he’d torn himself out of bed to work that day.
His sharp wordplay made its way through black ink on the paper forms, and when he drew his elegant signature rapidly at the end of one form, rapid knocking came from his door. By the time he looked up, Zumain Bahramour had already barged in, looking tense and concerned.

“Good morning.” Alwaddan greeted, like some old headmistress who hardly gave anything any fair interest. “Raddan, you won’t believe what Bnayd did. I’m gonna kill him.”
Alwaddan reclined back to his chair, calmly guessing in his nasal voice, “He donated half our earnings, again?” Zumain folded his headdress in restlessness, “No, even worse. He sealed the deal with that rascal Mazeer.”

“How did he do that?” Alwaddan found the act so silly. “I’ll tell you. He snooped around my office yesterday, and found the contract dumped in my drawer. Just now, I received a letter of gratitude from Mazeer for us accepting the deal. I’m gonna kill that brother of mine. 3.000.000 Voyens just vanished in the air.” Zumain angrily ranted in his raspy voice as he restlessly walked back and forth past Alwaddan’s desk.

“And, what made him snoop around your office?” Alwaddan raised a curious brow at his frustrated partner. Zumain froze as he stared at his partner’s dull yellow eyes, slowly standing upright with an unpleasant revelation. He slapped his forehead with his hand and turned to walk aimlessly, “I’m a darn idiot!”

Alwaddan pulled his teacup closer to him with his psychic powers, before using the same unseen ability to drop the sugar cubes in and stir with a small spoon, “Calm down and just say what happened.”

Zumain grumbled beneath the face palm he made and impatiently explained, “He called me yesterday afternoon; he wanted a signed copy of last month’s deal with Croyen & Co. I was busy so I told him to pass my office and pick it up. Then I suppose he inspected all my drawers until he found the contract I dumped. He always supported the deal so he decided to act like an insistent parent who wants my own welfare and take action without me knowing! I want to mush him into the sugarcream he so loves!” Zumain got more frustrated the more he talked about it.

“I never thought he’d do such a thing. I’d expect such acts to come from you.” Alwaddan coldly took a sip from his tea. “Take back that remark, Alwaddan! I do things for people when they mean mutual welfare, not doom us with a ten-year partnership with a bunch of naïve moneykissers!” Exclaimed Zumain, with one flap of his headdress falling down his shoulder.

“Look, Bahramour. Those ‘naïve moneykissers’, they’re customers, regardless of how naïve or ignorant they may be. If you’re going to handpick every client who comes to you then you’ll be getting nowhere.” Alwaddan logically explained.
“You support this crap too?!”  Zumain was shocked with Alwaddan’s opinion about the issue and went grumbling across the office, “Oh dear God have mercy, have mercy on a psychologically torn man like me.” Alwaddan simply blinked at him and said, “I’m neutral, my opinions are neutral.” Zumain gave a sharp sigh before sternly continuing, “I’ll tell you; my company isn’t the Saturday market where everybody comes and goes and buys everything in the open! I pick my clients, I keep my circle pristine and neat, and why won’t I have the right to do so?! I handpicked you, Nahham and Murdooch, and look at how swift the company is running under my management!”

“Well it’s too late now; you say you received a letter of confirmation from Mazeer. Next time you better dispose of unwanted documents instead of hording them in your dusty old desk.” Emotionlessly spoke Alwaddan. Zumain laughed sarcastically, “Scolding me, aren’t you?” Then he walked to Alwaddan’s desk and slammed his hand down on it, “Save it, general; because I’m going to file a form to withdraw my signature from that contract, making it no more than a paper that’d you’d wipe your mouth with after eating your tea biscuits.” He hissed before storming off Alwaddan’s office, slamming the door behind him.
Alwaddan rolled his eyes and returned to his paperwork, muttering, “I should’ve taken the day off.”

***

Later, at one of the state-of-the art shipyards at the time that resided on the coast out looking the azure waters of the Coastal Bay, was the merchant of pearls and the master shipwright himself, Bnayd Bahramour, as he supervised his construction crew as they were faithfully building a ship with outmost quality and skill.
“Excellent, excellent work, gentlemen. If only our ancestors would see you now, they’d be proud by what they’ve passed on and lived as mastered crafts and quality.” Bnayd kindly spoke out to praise them, as he strode along with hammering noises filling the vast place, dressed in his finest. “Praise you, O Bahramour!” The crew got excited by how he praised them.

Bnayd left to the more mechanical, steam-based technology that operated with powerful rhythmic sounds and roaring motors; it was the technology that Johan Von Murdooch (otherwise known as Dukh Almurdooch) introduced to Bnayd’s glorious business of the traditional craft of shipbuilding. The foreign merchant, dressed in fine traditional attire, saw his taller partner approaching, and flew to him with his one-of-a-kind jet boots.

“How are they working, Murdooch?” Asked Bnayd, loosely holding his hands behind his back, with both merchants admiring the sight of the great magic-operating machines preparing long slabs of wood that would be hammered onto the ship’s skeleton to construct its shiny body. “Perfectly; the machines are quite lively today; the men’s vibes are optimistic and good, thus the machines feel the same and encouraged to serve. Very impressive crew you have, I must say.” Happily spoke Murdooch, rubbing his hands in excitement.
“It’s amazing how even the most powerful machines rely on the faithful eagerness of humans in order to operate. Truly remarkable.” Added Bnayd, very impressed by the partnership of humans and machines before him.

The two then walked side by side to where the ship was being built, talking as the good partners they were. Little did they know that they were having an unexpected visitor…
Some builders whom had the privilege to oversee the vast shipyard from above saw a man walking into the area, his red traditional garments clearly identifying him as Bnayd’s older sibling, Zumain. “Look, it’s the Red Bahramour!” One spoke out in awe. “It’s the first time we see him here, isn’t it? Very unusual for him to drop by.” The other wondered.

Bnayd and Murdooch were walking peacefully when suddenly, “Bahramour?” a stern call of a familiar thin voice echoed in the area, making Bnayd jerk to see his brother who was approaching him. “Is it just me or does he sound like an angry dad?” Murdooch confusedly whispered to Bnayd, who was already startled, hadn’t waited for Zumain to approach him; but rushed to him instead, “What is it, Zumain? Is something wrong?” He was concerned by his brother’s frustrated features up close; it was uncommon for Zumain to be clearly in rage like that.

“You tell me, brother. Is something wrong with my own management and decision-making?” Zumain quite fiercely began the discussion. Bnayd was baffled, as if his brother was speaking in a different language, “No…why would you assume that? You’re the eldest after all, aren’t you?”

Zumain was on his nerves. He glanced at the concerned Murdooch behind his taller brother, before coming closer to Bnayd, hissing quietly, “Because you clearly seem disapprove of my decisions and take matters in your own hands when things don’t seem to suit your finicky taste.”

Bnayd was getting more puzzled the more Zumain spoke. “What are you talking about? I can’t seem to… *turns to Murdooch* Do you know what he’s talking about?” Murdooch shook his head. Bnayd turned back to Zumain, “I don’t know what you’re talking about!”
“Why in the world would you take actions behind my back?! I thought you were righteous!” Exclaimed Zumain, that’s when Bnayd was most uncomfortable and concerned, “My God! I am righteous! What have I done to- Oh, come with me, just come along and let’s discuss this before we cause some unwanted gossip to spread.” Bnayd eagerly took his brother from his arm to a private office room.

Murdooch watched them leave, then noticed how the men’s tools fell quiet; the construction crew were watching all along. “Don’t stall yourself with such drama, just carry on.” He assured them and made them get back to work, while he waited worriedly as he flew around with his jet boots.

Zumain entered first, and then Bnayd came in, closing the door behind him, “Alright, Zumain. What’s wrong?”

“Stop asking me what’s wrong! Just stop it!” Shouted Zumain. Bnayd cringed at how he discharged his rage. _{"I’ve never seen you this mad since your ruined marriage…"} Mumbled Bnayd. “How could you sign the deal with Mazeer without my approval?” Zumain sharply accused his brother.

Bnayd fell in silence and stared back at Zumain’s piercing grey eyes that where sleekly drawn with kohl. He arranged his shattered thoughts in his mind then replied, “That deal from last week? The one I was supporting but then you insisted to reject and was dropped at the end?”

“…Yes. That stupid deal, the one worth 3.000.000 Voyens to be paid to those wannabes. Why did you bring it up again and accept it?” Zumain interrogated as he crossed his arms in a hostile position. “What? I didn’t bring it up; you convinced me that it was most unwise to accept those fools as clients!”

“Oh really? Then how come I received this just now?”  Zumain gave him a formal document. Bnayd took it and read it silently to himself. Then, when he understood the contexts, “What?! ‘As signed by Bnayd Bahramour’?!” He was shocked, and glanced at Zumain, who became cold in rage. “How could’ve have this happened…Who sent this to them? Didn’t you dispose of this in the first place?”

Zumain rudely grabbed the paper from Bnayd’s hands and approached him like a predator, trapping him against the wall, “Don’t act so surprised, Bnayd. You’re terrible at acting. You know how much I hate my work to be manipulated.” Zumain took a few seconds to stare into Bnayd’s cold grey eyes, “I’m banning you from my partnership.” He cruelly stated.
“What?! You can’t do that!” Shrieked Bnayd; from there, shock and disbelief turned into rage and anger towards the unfair judgement he was put against. Bnayd clenched his fists and wore a stern face, “Listen to me, Zumain. Many, many times in the past have you played around with me like some rag doll, meddling with my work, controlling my trades behind my back. I’ve seen catastrophes from you, but I let it slide, giving you only some scolding that you deserve, only because you convince me with promised welfare. So how come when it comes to having your own work manipulated, you blaze up so intensely to even realize the reality of having my hands clean of such acts?”
Bnayd’s height and strong, well-structured body that took a dominant pose made Zumain back away uneasily; like a while against a thin sea serpent. Bnayd cornered him in a place he never like to be: a tight place where he was to be questioned about his actions in such a depth.

“Don’t bring things from the past to cover up from the present. Unless you’re explaining to me your ‘revenge’ for what I’ve been forced to do for the common good.” Zumain held his ground as he fiercely replied back.
“I have done no such thing!” Shouted Bnayd, frustrated by how the argument seemed endless. Then, Zumain replied with an equal tone of voice, “Your actions speak for itself when you called me yesterday and asked for that darn form and I let you waltz into my office and rummage through my drawers only to find that damn contract, grab it, sign it and send it off in the fax!”

Then, silence fell as Bnayd tried to understand what Zumain was throwing at him. “I never called you yesterday. I was out of town, or did you forget the auction I had to attend?”
Zumain’s stomach tossed; he was foolish to even realize that Bnayd wasn’t in town when the whole thing happened. His expressions loosened. His eyes widened in shock. He slowly rested his hands’ on Bnayd’s broad shoulders, looking closely at his taller brother in worry, “You weren’t in town…but then…who called me and came to my office?” He fearfully wondered. Bnayd grew fearful as well, “My God…someone used my identity to sabotage our business!”

“We need to withdraw the contract, now.” Stated Zumain, while he rushed out of the room. “Zumain, wait!” Bnayd followed him out of the room, until he caught with him and said, “You can’t simply withdraw it, it’ll fall under infringement and we could get sued terribly for it.”

“Not if we sue them first for identity theft and breaching our own properties and trespassing like nosy kids.” Zumain eagerly folded his headdress. Murdooch saw them coming and caught up with them, “You two! What happened? You distracted the entire crew!” He inquired, levitating with his jet boots. “We’ve had our business penetrated and manipulated. We’ve made a deal that we never made and never wanted to make. We must withdraw it now before it’s too late…Before our company gets a punch in the gut.” Explained Zumain, in a hurry. “Oh dear, that’s preposterous!” Spoke Murdooch, furrowing his eyebrows behind his large round glasses.

***