Porcelain Profits and the Merchant's Arrival
Hermann lifted the teacup, his face twisted in a complex mix of disbelief. The sunlight pouring down from above struck the milky white surface of the cup, emitting a subtle blue sheen. It was the first time I'd seen the ever-stoic Hermann this shocked. Before starting our conversation, I'd sent Clay back to the manor, then sat down with the butler for a proper talk.
"So, what brings this to the manor?" Hermann asked, still unable to tear his eyes from the teacup in his hand.
I casually pointed to the cart. "As you can see, it's not just one or two pieces—there are 200 of them. There's no way to offload this quantity by selling to a general store."
Hermann frowned at my words. I'd already agonized plenty over how to dispose of the porcelain. The best option would have been to keep my earnings hidden from the butler, but no matter how I turned it over in my mind, this was a dead end. In the village, there were three ways to sell porcelain: general stores, occasional traveling merchants, or the regular licensed trading company. But general stores and random merchants didn't have the capital to absorb this volume. They'd buy a few pieces at most. A store wouldn't restock until they ran out, and with merchants who only came once a month if that, I wouldn't sell half this amount in a year. The licensed company was big enough that if I gave advance notice, selling wouldn't be an issue—but the moment I did a bulk deal with them, the butler would find out. I couldn't exactly hide revenue by hauling it to the count's castle myself. Commercial activity would jeopardize my knight's title. Not worth considering.
In the end, no matter how clever I was, I couldn't hide my profits from the butler. So if I couldn't hide it anyway, better to lay it all out and get his help. To sell the porcelain for full value, I needed him to introduce me to a specialist merchant rather than relying on the trading company. I made a quick decision and let go of what I had to.
I added, "And when you factor in future production, we're at an impasse right now. I need an outlet. Taxes are an issue too."
On taxes, I'd learned the basics from Priest Ben's administrative lessons at the temple. According to the territory's customary law, producing anything in the manor meant paying 20% of the output to the landowner as tax. Usually, taxes were based on the value of goods produced, but I could pay in cash after selling or hand over a portion in kind. Artisans in the territory often paid by offering their best pieces periodically to the lord.
Hermann pondered for a long while before speaking gravely. "This isn't something I can decide on my own. I need to consult the master on how to handle it."
"...Understood."
Yeah... that made sense. I'd learned that mishandling taxation rights could be overstepping your bounds—could cost you your head. As butler, Hermann could collect established taxes on the lord's behalf. But from the way he spoke, there were no set taxes yet for firing and selling porcelain in the village. Looked like I'd have to wait a while longer to sell and get paid.
After that, we discussed what to do with the porcelain on the cart. After some back-and-forth, we agreed the butler would handle managing it.
Back in my room, I thought about next steps. Nothing pressing right now. To use the kiln, I'd have to clear the melted bricks and remake them, and I was out of clay and firewood—had to fetch more from outside the village. The sun was already high; leaving now meant it'd set soon anyway. Best to rest today.
I had plans laid out in advance, but they hinged on getting sales revenue, so they were on hold. Sending a messenger to Father wouldn't take long for a reply, but I pondered what to do in the meantime.
About ten days later, Father's response finally arrived. Taxes would be settled by offering premium pieces with each sale, and in exchange for the manor handling merchant deals, I'd pay a 10% commission. Once he got the reply, Hermann summoned a merchant right away, who said it'd take about a month to arrive.
In the meantime, before the merchant showed, I dug clay and fired regular bricks, then built settling tanks. I made them in the corner inside the workshop building. Each was a square about a meter on a side, 40 centimeters high. First, I laid bricks on the floor and built walls up to 40 cm for one tank. Right next to it, I built walls 40 cm high from the floor, filled with soil, topped with bricks, then added another 40 cm of walls. Next to that, walls to 80 cm, filled with soil, topped with bricks, then another 40 cm on top for a second tank. Three 0.4-cubic-meter tanks in a stepped arrangement.
I fired small pipes in the brick kiln and inserted them into the tank walls so water could drain to the adjacent tank. The building had drainage channels from its days as a stable or barn; the last tank drained into the edge channel. I made wooden lids for the pipe holes—truncated cones so they'd fit most sizes. Water pressure wouldn't be strong, so as long as they aligned, it'd seal fine.
The tanks were done, but I couldn't start sedimentation yet. Regular bricks leaked, and fine kaolin could wash away with the water. Needed waterproofing. Oil would contaminate the clay, and glazing like porcelain required high heat I couldn't afford or apply evenly to finished tanks. That's where lime came in. Crush limestone to fist-sized pieces, fire in the brick kiln to make quicklime. Add water, it heats up and turns to gray slurry. Mix in sand aggregate for lime mortar. Spread on water-tight spots, cure, and no leaks.
I'd already ordered limestone via the porcelain merchant contact. Merchants preferred loaded carts over empty ones, so no refusal there.
With time to spare, I bought lumber and whittled flat nursery spades for trowels to apply the mortar.
Time passed, and finally, the awaited merchant appeared in the village. From beyond the manor gates came the rattling of carts and the heavy thud of hooves. He led a cart loaded with the limestone I'd ordered and his own covered carriage. Eight hired mercenaries flanked them in formation, their gear and attire radiating a battle-hardened menace far beyond local border guards.
Front and rear were four spearmen each, gripping 2-meter wooden spears in one hand, shouldered, with sturdy round shields strapped to their backs, bound with metal strips. Flanking the carriage were two swordsmen with longswords at their hips, scanning the surroundings. In the center, two archers with shortbows slung over shoulders and quivers at waists. All wore dark brown padded armor for mobility, reinforced with leather. Deep iron helms shadowed their faces, hiding all but their eyes. Caked in road dust, their boots and hems filthy, but the muscled bulk showing through armor and the scars on gear spoke of veteran experience.
The dusty cart and mercenaries' grim looks reminded me this was still a lawless frontier. The carriage and cart weren't flashy, but the mercenaries' caliber showed the merchant had serious wealth.
Guided by a servant, the merchant entered the manor. Hermann personally greeted him at the entrance.
"You've had a long journey—welcome."
"Haha, my thanks for the warm reception."
Hermann bowed politely, and the middle-aged merchant in fine clothes laughed heartily in response. He ordered the mercenaries to stand by, then followed Hermann inside. The destination was the great hall, the manor's largest and grandest space. The long central table and side tables already hosted Hermann's carefully curated display of my finest porcelain pieces, gleaming in their spots.
It was a world away from the dusty workshop. On the luxurious tablecloths, the porcelain glowed softly. The milky white glazed teacup and saucer sets shone with a creamy light. Beside them, celadon-shimmering plates, bowls, and small cups arranged with cutlery exuded elegance. The faint blue tint on the white surfaces tricked the eye into thinking they were jewels.
"These are really... made in this territory?" The merchant's eyes filled with awe.