Chapter 68
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Translator: Ace
Chapter: 68
Chapter Title: This is How You Make Money (1)
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"What do you think, human? Cool, right? Pretty, isn't it? Fantastical, yeah?"
Stonehammer puffed out his chest proudly and asked.
"It's beyond a masterpiece—it's a true work of art! No sculptor could create anything more beautiful than this."
"Eheheh!"
"Look at this smooth, glossy white sheen! Imagine colorful teas poured into it, with delicately crafted bite-sized desserts atop... This is a revolution! Every noble will be scrambling to get their hands on a set, their eyes bulging!"
"Ooooh!"
At Dominic's words, the dwarf's eyes glazed over dreamily.
That was exactly the dream Stonehammer, who longed to be called an artist rather than just a craftsman, cherished above all else.
"Everyone will want one...?"
"Of course! We'll make tea sets to sell, tweak the designs and sell more, summer limited editions, winter editions, festival editions... Heh heh heh."
Dominic, who had discovered the joys of limited-edition sales while peddling portable coffee cups, was already drooling at the thought.
The dwarf's pupils dilated at his words too. But not for the money.
'My creations in every house? Really? So many people will see my great artistic soul?'
Some artists chase one-of-a-kind exclusivity, while others dream of their work beloved by the masses. Stonehammer was the latter.
Back in the capital, running his forge making weapons and armor, his superb skills kept orders flowing endlessly. But luxury weapons and armor were always custom-fitted to the user—what you'd call bespoke production.
Most artisans in this world favored bespoke work, not out of stubborn pride in quality, but because pricey items' demand was unpredictable.
Imagine slaving two months over expensive iron, hammering out a luxury suit of armor, only for no one with the right build to want it? No sale.
'But if that human's right, people will buy whatever I make! Woooh!'
Maybe he could even infuse them with the creator's tastes over customer whims.
If that really happened...
"Human! I'll give you exclusive sales rights to everything I make! So sell 'em right—sell a ton! Sell every last one!"
"Contract! Contract! Pen! Pen! Where's the pen?!"
Catching the dwarf's sudden frenzy, Dominic lost his reason and started rampaging too.
Ian could only click his tongue, spending the afternoon struggling to calm one frenzied dwarf and one frenzied human.
A few days later, a grand event unfolded at the resort.
"They've brought all sorts of exotic goods from the desert, right?"
"Auctioning them off? Let's take a look. Those desert jewels were stunning."
"The scale's just different, you know. Hohoho!"
The long-term resort guests were deep in gossip at the lounge bar.
Coffee cups sat brazenly before them.
Lately, resort guests had taken to sipping coffee from celadon ware imported from the eastern continent. Savoring rare pottery from afar with the mystical brew stroked their vanity perfectly.
"Sugar?"
"Yes, milady."
At one lady's gesture, a server brought a silver dish piled with dice-shaped sugar cubes.
"Wish I could take some home."
"They'll be in the resort gift shop next week. Shall I notify your room once the exact date's set?"
"Oh! Would you?"
The coffee's aroma started nutty, then ended mysteriously floral, drawing sips—yet its bitterness still daunted many.
But Dominic, as if foreseeing it all, sold solid sugar and rich, fresh cream alongside.
Cube sugar tempered the lingering bitterness, sweetening the tongue just right for savoring the flavor. A dollop of cream made the mouth melt in softness.
"More sugar?"
"Ah, one for me too."
"Cream for mine as well. You, Misha?"
"Both are fine. Oh, ice for mine? It's better cold."
"Right away."
Four people, four styles.
Ordering coffee let them flaunt personal tastes—one reason it spread like wildfire among resort guests.
Customizing their drink made them feel effortlessly sophisticated, like insiders to a trendy secret.
"Speaking of the auction..."
One lady, midway through her coffee ritual, brought it up again.
"The dress code's a bit unusual."
"Ah! Desert theme?"
"Probably 'cause they're hauling in desert treasures. I asked the staff—they're remodeling the auction hall to match, full overhaul."
"My! What an exotic party it'll be! Hmm, what dress to prepare..."
"Why not check the new boutique in the shopping district? Run by a desert merchant, I hear."
"Shall we? But the dress needs to be ready fast... Hohoho!"
Images of glamorous desert women amid the sands flashed in their minds.
Bold colors, jewels from head to toe... and most of all...
'Exposure!'
Desert women favored sheer, flowing fabrics and daring designs bolder than imperial fashions.
First-time empire visitors to the desert often donned the revealing attire eagerly, yet puzzled over veiled faces (below the eyes), floundering for where to look.
Anyway, one lady discreetly shoved aside her strawberry shortcake plate, fork mid-motion. Another eyed her arm slyly and frowned.
"Oh, something came up—I must go."
"Me too, madam. Forgot something I need to buy. Hohoho!"
Tea time ended abruptly.
At least two would barely eat a meal a day until the auction party.
And inwardly:
'Gotta buy jewelry!'
'Secure that skilled seamstress...!'
'Tch—contact home, summon my old hair maid quick!'
The social season showdown had begun.
"This work? You'll wear something like it too, right, Knight?"
"Yeah."
Dominic and Ian had also summoned a tailor for outfits.
They chose pure-white desert traditional garb, barely bothering with accessories.
"Why make the dress code such a hassle? Not just 'cause the trade goods are from the desert."
Ian knew Dominic too well.
'He wouldn't splurge on remodeling the hall just to match some theme.'
He knew Dominic's "good is good" vibe well, hence the question.
Dominic smirked at Ian's words.
"Evergreen's got plenty of luxury shops now. Even some artisans who've settled in after visiting."
"And?"
"Time to give 'em a boom. More taxes that way. Heh."
"...Desert dress code boosts taxes?"
"Think about it. Desert women and rich folk—you saw 'em."
"......"
"Ow! Why play dumb? Head to toe in gold, silver, jewels—everything that jingles. Just hearing it made my hands shake thinking of the cost."
"...Was it?"
"Wah? You really ignored everyone's outfits? You, with your sharp eyes?"
"Not my interest."
"Ah, right. I was eyeing that stuff everywhere, but you're different, Knight. Wow."
Ian ignored Dominic's pout and pressed.
"Answer what I asked."
"Ah—. Think: Normal folk hear 'desert attire,' picture flashy first. Not you, Knight."
"Tch."
"So? Everyone else shows up gaudy. You plain? That's not plain—that's shabby. 'Cause the code screams 'flashy.' Skip it and you're rude, or dress up but miss 'flashy' and you're a fashion flop. What would you pick, Knight?"
"...Flop...?"
"Wrong! Can't pick either! Better refuse outright."
Afterward, Dominic chattered nonstop: how much shopping the resort guests would do, how much cash that meant, how full he felt without eating.
Ian grew paler, energy drained.
'Better that day comes soon. Seems he'll yap about it till the end.'
Ian couldn't fathom why money and food talk excited Dominic so.
Beeeep—thud, thud!
The day of the auction-masked party dawned.
Unfamiliar instruments played ceaselessly in the resort banquet hall.
"Welcome."
"Oh my!"
Even the greeting staff were costumed as desert women and warriors, their etiquette pure desert, not imperial.
The hall inside was a desert incarnate.
Geometric arabesque patterns, bold color splashes, exotic animal jewelry, bizarre plants never seen before!
"This way, please."
"Wahaha! Well done! Back in my youth, I visited a desert kingdom—their nobles' parties were just like this! Madam, over here."
"Truly sitting on the floor without chairs?"
"Of course! Lean back if you like... Is this a hookah?"
"Impressive discernment."
"Heh heh, madam. Care to try? Desert folk love it—such a unique scent."
The hall had tables and chairs cleared for floor sofas, giant cushions, low tables.
Sheer gauze draped from ceilings partitioned seats minimally; colorful glass hookahs and dishes brimmed with foreign fruits.
"Coffee is ready."
"Oho, splendid. Heard much about it."
The server bore a silver tray; at the sight of the teacups and pot, a noblewoman in desert guise straightened, gasping.
"What in the world...!"
Clink.
Carefully placed on the table: the coffee set.
Dark like the deep sea, yet translucently seductive blue—not murky.
The interior gleamed gold.
[Dwarves figured out gold celadon—waste it and you're a fool!]
Pure Dominic's input.
Overly gaudy risked tackiness, but the now self-proclaimed artist's fervor perfected elegant grace—a true masterpiece.
The server poured steaming coffee gingerly.
"Enjoy."
"Wait!"
The noblewoman grabbed the departing server.
"What is this? Eastern continent import? No, I'd know that!"
"Made with Evergreen's own pottery and glaze."
"Developed here? Not the east?"
"Yes, madam."
"Do you sell it?"
"Of course."
As prepped by Dominic, the server explained fluidly.
Same scene unfolding hall-wide.
Named the "Desert Collection," Evergreen's first porcelain set.
Only 50 sets sold—later fetching twenty times the price, or so legend goes.