Esmond Mars Backstory

Recordkeeping, Beer Brewing and The Road to the Amphitheatre

The light from a few scattered candles was flickering in the dimly lit room. Behind a desk in the far corner an ape was sitting with a pile of books stacked in front of him. The Ape ran two fingers through his finely trimmed moustache while letting out a deep sigh. The ledgers needed to be calibrated again. It was the end of the month, and all the numbers needed to be updated.

As the Ape reached for a book, he heard the telltale sign of trouble. A cane was used to hammer on the door outside the office. Three loud thumps. This could only be the Master Merchant of Tasama City, his boss. Before being able to answer the call, the door creaked loudly and a tall and rather paunchy ape wearing a top hat and monocle loomed in the door opening. “Mr. Mars!” The ape yelled. A pair of red bloodshot eyes staring furiously in the direction of the Ape behind the desk. “You are late! You know the procedure; we need to inflate the numbers to attract the new investors from Heolt. Those farmers are loaded with more $SOCIETY than wit, and we need to capitalize on it!” “Yes, Sir” Esmond Mars managed as he clenched his gold teeth together while swallowing hard. “There is a good lad”, the ape said with a smile. He quietly turned around, but as he was about to leave, he quickly spun around, slammed his cane on the desk of Esmond and pointed a finger straight into his face. “You better make this look good. Any funny business, and I will not give you another reminder of what will happen!”. Without waiting for a response, the robust ape quickly marched out of the office and slammed the door shut after him.

Esmond Mars was always good with numbers and records. Growing up in Tasama City he was obsessed with keeping track of things. How many carts would be driving down Cardman Avenue in a day, what were the count of the banana dealers at Dagmar Road each individual day of the week and what were the names of the apes going into “the gentleape’s club” at Gypsy Lane. It did not take too long before Esmond understood that these numbers gave him a reasonable amount of leverage and influence over others. Some apes would give him money to share his incredible detailed data while other apes would give him money, just as a matter or general precaution.

The money had always been good, but this was not really Esmond`s motivation in life. He loved the collection and storing of data and didn’t really understand that the leverage and the money constituted a risk to his safety. Of course, some more entrepreneurial apes soon tried to take advantage of the fact that Esmond had little experience with the darker shades of society.

Apart from performing his bookkeeping and counting Esmond didn’t have many grand interests in life. The one exception though was beer brewing. As it were, this turned out to be his Achilles heel and would land him in trouble with the Tasama City Merchants Guild.

Since money came easy to Esmond, he found out early that he needed to invest it wisely to hedge against bandits, moths, or any other liability to the existence of his money. An old warehouse by the river at Albert Road seemed to be the perfect place to start an operation. Esmond had studied brewing techniques in his spare time and knew what was needed to set up a decent operation. Money was spent, and Esmond would carefully assemble the apparatuses and equipment to get the brewing process going. To run the operation, he had hired three local apes that Esmond had been monitoring for years. Their walk pace and general wit and physique seemed perfect for the job in the brewery Esmond though.

From the very start things were looking good. The hired apes were exceptionally good at their work, the process of the brewery seemed to work as planned and Esmond had even managed to negotiate excellent prices for hop, barley, and wheat based on this knowledge of numbers. What he had not considered was that running such a tight operation with focus on cost and quality would impact the market situation. As it were, the Merchant guild of Tasama City was controlling the wholesale of beer through the district. They did not look kindly on the fact that Esmond Mars was now selling his brand beer “Hoppy Mars” for a fraction of the cost the Merchants guild could sell it for, and not just that, he was selling it retail to apes straight from his factory.

The Merchant guild was swift in acting. When the apes came to work one Monday morning after a particularly successful batch sale on the weekend, they were devastated to see all the equipment being smashed beyond recognition. Esmond was good at numbers, but less perceptive on the innuendo sent by the guild. Assuming it was thugs that had destroyed his operations, Esmond and his three apes went back to buying more equipment and set up shop yet again. The local apes of Tasama City were cheering on this endeavor as they had grown fond of the cheap quality beer provided by the friendly apes. Obviously, the Merchants were not used to this kind of behavior as most apes would take the message quite clearly and cease their operations immediately. This had now become a delicate matter for the merchants as it was clear that smashing the operations again could lead to the apes of Tasama City getting wise as to who was conducting the sabotage, and then maybe they would start procuring their beer from the neighboring districts.

The Master Merchant would handle the situation in person and found himself outside the brewery one evening that he knew Esmond would be there to count the inventory. Esmond was surprised to see such a respected member of the Tasama City community visiting his humble operation and dearly welcomed him into the factory where he would give him a tour. The Master Merchant commended Esmond on the fine establishment and said it would be a shame if the water supply to the factory were to be poisoned. Esmond replied that it was highly unlikely as he was recording all the quality levels at several intervals prior to applying it to the mix. The Master Merchant gave a sigh and pressed on. Well, it would also be very unfortunate if the whole building caught fire unexpectedly then. Again, Esmond assured him not to worry as the building was made of the finest bricks and he had laid in pressurized water pipes to cool it in an emergency. At this time the Master Merchant, now red faced, could not take it any longer and completely lost his temper. His cane would smash into the floor and with a primed monocle starred Esmond straight in the face and said that if he did not immediately stop this operation, he would personally see to it that only gravel remained of his factory at the end of the week. Esmond gave a sad expression and only managed to say that it sure would be a shame to see the factory disappearing.

Regaining his temper as it had finally dawned on Esmond what his message had been about, he gave a little boon to lighten the situation. “Say what”, the merchant suggested. “The guild will let you keep your little operation going here if you will be able to provide us with a few favors. The boys have been watching you for a while and know your prowess with numbers and records. Why don’t you come and work for us for a little while. We just need you to help us keep our ledgers balanced. Nothing big, just some small trivial tasks that I am sure you would find within your skillset. In exchange the guild will then also help you sell your beer. We will of course pay you the same amount that you receive today, but it goes without saying that you need to put a stop to this silly little notion of selling directly from the factory.”

Esmond had little talent for seeing the larger elements of a plot and happily agreed to support the Merchant Guild with his services. His beloved beer factory would continue to pour out “Hoppy Mars” and Esmond would find himself further and further ensnared in the guild`s business of illegal ledger manipulation. Now it seemed his talent for record keeping and counting had been used to fool apes against his will. Esmond was no longer a happy ape, but he kept at his forced job for the love of his beer, and the love of his comrade apes that was employed in the factory.

As Esmond was sitting updating the ledgers with fake sales and numbers it finally hit him that he no longer would suffer the wrath and fury of the Merchants. He leaned back in his chair looking at the ceiling and thought to himself. “How do I get away from here, and what really matters?” It then dawned on him that the situation was rather simple. He liked to keep records, he liked his beer, and he liked his companions. He already had the money, so the only thing that held him back was his perceived responsibility to the good apes of Tasama City to supply his “Hoppy Mars” beer. But surely, that could be done from elsewhere?

That very evening he made a big decision. He would pay his fellow apes at the brewery to follow him to a new destination. Here he would set up an even greater brewery and export “Hoppy Mars” all across the Society. He would surely also find a new profession that could satisfy his need to keep records as well. As a farewell, he wanted to devise a plan that would embarrass the merchants. He knew the books needed to be updated to fool the poor Heolt apes, so before the records would be finalized, he sought out the delegation from Heolt and told them about the Merchant schemes. The delegation was of course shocked and thanked Esmond profoundly for coming clean. They also said that they would provide refuge to Esmond and his apes and would gift him a Chateau on 16 Hartington Avenue, Heolt. Delighted, Esmond approved of the suggestion and proceeded to update the ledger. He would of course not inflate the numbers as the Master Merchant had instructed but would rather deflate the sales making it look like the whole Tasama City merchant organization did not sell a tenth of what they were claiming.

As it turned out this move proved beneficial for Esmond Mars. He now owned a Chateau in Heolt and could brew the finest “Hoppy Mars” brand from the rural landscapes of the northwest. The merchants in Tasama City could not reproduce the quality of beer by themselves and had now been outcompeted for the majority of beer business in their own district. Life was good, but Esmond had one more itch to scratch. Where could he use his talents with recordkeeping within Society?