A Partnership of Blood
We'd raked in dozens of gold in a matter of days. And that was only the deposits. Once the rest of the payments came through, we'd be looking at hundreds without breaking a sweat.
The sugar trade hadn't cost us a single coin of capital, which made the profit margins downright obscene. On top of that, I didn't pay a copper of tax on anything I sold in Coulon Territory — a privilege Count Coulomb himself had guaranteed me.
"Keeping a trade this profitable bottled up inside Coulon is just stupid. Let's secure routes into the neighboring territories."
Grea wanted to push the sugar trade across the whole of the Myles Kingdom. Sell Snow Sugar to every corner of the realm, and we'd be raking in money with both hands.
Getting there, though, would take a great deal of preparation. This world crawled with cunning bandits, mountain brigands, and hostile monsters. A long-distance caravan always carried the very real possibility of being wiped out to the last man — which was why anyone who ran one poured a fortune into hiring mercenaries.
"No point paddling around in a pond forever. We'll have to pay taxes once we leave Coulon Territory, which is a nuisance, but the profits will more than make up for it. I'll leave establishing the out-of-territory routes entirely to you."
"Got it. Leave it to me! But I'm going to need a little time."
"Take the long view and don't rush it. For now, it's fine to keep your focus on business inside Coulon Territory."
Flush with the fortune from the sugar trade, I shot to stardom in Coulon's high society. I'd already made a name for myself as the merchant who'd fought in the territorial war and been personally commended by Count Coulomb — but now there wasn't a noble in Coulon who didn't know who I was.
And it wasn't only the nobility. Rival merchant houses came calling as well, begging me to share the import route for Snow Sugar. They laid beautiful goldwork at my feet to curry favor. Naturally, I told them nothing.
Grea ran the Walker Guild brilliantly. She poured more than seventy percent of our earnings back into expanding facilities, hiring staff, and developing new techniques, building the house with the same long view she would have brought to a company of her own. I had given her full authority over the guild's operations and made a point of not meddling. An amateur sticking his clumsy fingers into an expert's work only makes trouble.
We hadn't even been in the sugar trade a full month before the Walker Guild purchased a three-story building in the heart of Coulon — bought entirely with sugar money.
"This is going to be the center of trade in Coulon County from now on!"
Grea's bold cry was no idle boast. I had brought more than just sugar from Earth. If sugar was a luxury for nobles and merchants, this next item was a staple for commoners.
"What kind of bread is this? All neat and square — they put some real work into this."
"Oho! Soft wheat bread, packed with flour. We can really try it? You're not going to charge us after, are you?"
"Mmm. Incredibly soft! Nothing like that coarse rye. It's like eating a cloud."
Choosing trade goods wasn't as easy as it sounded. First, I had to be able to source them easily on Earth. Second, they had to command an enormous price in the Solari World. At the same time, I couldn't bring anything too alien — goods more than half a step ahead of the era simply wouldn't sell. A merchant's foresight still had to play within the bounds of ordinary common sense.
The product that satisfied every one of those conditions was sliced white bread. Thanks to modern mass production it was cheap as dirt, and in the Solari World it counted as a high-end luxury. Bread made from wheat alone, with no rye, oats, or barley mixed in, belonged on the tables of wealthy commoners and nobles. From a Korean point of view, it was about on par with white rice.
I went ahead and ordered dozens of crates from a bread factory. It couldn't touch sugar for added value, but selling mass-produced modern sliced white bread in this world would still generate more than enough profit. That said, this particular product wasn't really about the margins. It was about raising the guild's brand. According to Grea, market dominance mattered every bit as much as net profit in determining a house's worth — which was to say, winning customers was as important as making money off them. So I priced the bread low enough to hurt.
"A whole loaf of this big sliced white bread for two coppers? That's only a little more than rye of the same weight."
"Wheat bread usually costs twice that. I'm buying a pile of these."
"I'll take some!"
The bread I'd brought sold out in a heartbeat, riding a wave of word of mouth. Once the guild's name was on everyone's lips, I could take my time moving into the food trade. Food was a category the people of the Solari World would accept without the slightest sense of disconnect.
The work itself was simple enough, but it was a hassle. Buying enormous quantities of sliced white bread on Earth and shipping it over was a genuine pain. Still, I threw myself into it. It was my money we were making, after all. A month of that, and there wasn't a soul in Coulon — from high nobles down to ordinary commoners — who didn't know the name of the Walker Guild.
From there we slowly broadened our catalog. We weren't only selling what I hauled in from Earth; Grea took personal command and began dealing in all manner of daily necessities. With deep pockets behind us, we could undercut every other house on price. The guild's growth went smoothly from there.
"Master. Count Valte has invited you to a social gathering."
Sera set a beautiful party invitation on my office desk, a bright smile on her face. The invitation had been made from thick parchment and decorated with a sheet of beaten copper so thin it was almost foil. Grandiose flourishes in brilliant colors seemed to exist solely to advertise the power of the man who'd sent it.
Elper, who had been servicing me under the desk, lifted her head. A pair of black-rimmed glasses sat on her face. A secretary's got to have glasses, after all. I'd picked up a non-prescription pair for her on Earth.
"Count Valte is the head of one of Coulon's most distinguished martial houses. He wields enough influence to make himself felt even in the capital. His name came up often even in Count Ernest's territory, where I formerly resided."
Elper, who knew aristocratic society inside and out, began her briefing.
"I know. He's one of our biggest clients, after all. Hmm. Now that I think about it, I don't believe I heard Count Valte's name even once during the territorial war. A man with that kind of power should have taken the field."
"I understand he did not participate. His relationship with Count Coulomb is a delicate one. Rivals, one might say — or perhaps something a degree rougher than that. They are not openly hostile, but the air between them is decidedly uncomfortable."
Come to think of it, there had been something like that in the original novel. A landlord and his tenant on bad terms, if you wanted a comparison.
This was Coulon County, and Count Coulomb was a king in all but name here. A noble who maintained a prickly relationship with a man like that… it didn't sit easily with my sense of how the world worked.
"Is it actually safe to fall out of Count Coulomb's favor inside Coulon County?"
"Count Valte has the strength to afford it. His Ostorlang Knights are stronger than Count Coulomb's Reiss Knights, and his personal fortune is immense. Even Count Coulomb cannot treat him lightly. I expect His Lordship regards him as a thorn in his side."
"Hmm. Sitting on that kind of force and still sitting out the war… Count Coulomb's the type who would have swallowed his pride and gone in person to ask for his help."
He'd come to a commoner like me to plead for aid, after all. He would certainly have asked Count Valte. And since Valte had never taken the field, he had clearly refused.
Figured there was no reason for a tenant to stick his neck out in a landlord's fight and take a loss? The judgment itself might have been sound — but now that Count Coulomb had won the war, I wasn't sure how comfortable Valte's position was going to be.
"I have heard that Count Valte refused Count Coulomb's request. The two of them are said to be colder toward each other now than they have ever been."
Well, anything else would have been strange. If I were Count Coulomb, I would find some pretext — any pretext — and have Valte removed.
The present Count Coulomb had to be thinking along the same lines. A magnate who stood by with his hands behind his back while dark clouds gathered over the territory was, without question, a serious threat. If Coulomb wasn't a fool, he would already be looking for ways to cut Valte's influence down to size.
That said, the territorial war had drained both his treasury and his troops. He wouldn't be able to move anytime soon. Count Coulomb had a complicated hand to play.
"I've a feeling that accepting Count Valte's invitation is a good way to earn Count Coulomb's dislike."
"Shall I send a letter of refusal, then?"
Sera's ears perked as she asked. I shook my head. Count Valte was a VIP client who bought a full three kilograms of sugar every month. When money's on the table, even your own parents don't count. If he invited me, I was going.
"Tell him I'll go. Count Valte is an important cash cow."
Sera bowed her head and said she understood. The way she left the room, tail swaying, was extremely sexy. So I grabbed Elper by the hair and came in her mouth.
"Nngh!"
Count Valte. The most powerful magnate in Coulon County after Count Coulomb himself. The Myles Kingdom was, at its foundation, a country of weak royal authority — which was another way of saying that the nobles who ruled each region were very strong.
Of course, the king who governed the capital and its surroundings still outstripped any individual aristocrat. Combine the three most powerful nobles in the Myles Kingdom and they still would not equal the crown. Compare the nobility as a whole to the king, however, and the nobles held a clear advantage.
One of the reasons territorial wars were permitted in the Myles Kingdom was precisely this: they were a royal check on the aristocracy. Let the nobles hammer each other so that no one house grew too large. Let them feud so that they never found a common center. Under circumstances like these, a provincial noble might as well have been a king in his own right. The king of Coulon Territory was Count Coulomb; the king of Ernest Fief was Count Ernest.
And here was the amusing part: the same pattern repeated inside those little provincial kingdoms. Count Coulomb reigned over Coulon County like a monarch — but even within his county, there were powerful local magnates. Count Valte was one of them.
"Welcome, sir. His Lordship is expecting you."
A servant whose loyalty was written across his face received me in front of the mansion. Count Valte's estate sat in the suburbs, a little way outside Coulon's city streets. I am not joking when I say the place was as vast as a lord's castle. I had been here once before to sell sugar, and the scale of it had genuinely startled me. It might even have been larger than the lord's castle itself.
I strolled through a garden where beautiful flowers bloomed in lavish profusion and stepped inside. The lobby was already packed with guests — nobles and merchants — and with hired entertainment, jesters and dancing girls among them.
"His Lordship has requested a private audience with you, Master Walker. He is waiting in the inner rooms."
Without so much as asking my opinion, the servant led me to the second floor. I had no particular intention of refusing, so I followed. We passed down a corridor heavy with luxurious ornament and stopped before an antique wooden door.
"My lord. I have brought Master Walker."
"Show him in."
The servant opened the door with perfect posture and stepped aside.
I went in. The first thing that caught my eye was the walls, lined with the stuffed heads of predators and monsters. A handsome fire crackled in a cozy hearth, and a carpet of beast hide covered the floor.
Count Valte sat in a chair fitted exactly to his frame, waiting for me. On the table before him stood fine wine and cheese.
"Have a seat."
He indicated the place across from him. I sat. A maid who had been waiting in the room filled my glass.
"These days there is nowhere in Coulon one can go without hearing your name. Even the snot-nosed brats wandering the alleyways are carrying wheat bread from your guild."
"I'm honored that you've taken notice. Though I could hardly compare to Your Lordship's own reputation."
Most men of high station enjoy having their asses kissed. I flattered him just enough.
"Hahaha. Quite an eye you've got — I suppose that's a merchant for you. In any case, the reason I wished to see you in person is simple. I should like to become your business partner in a rather more serious sense."
"Are we not already excellent business partners?"
He was my biggest buyer of sugar, a VIP of the first order. From where I sat, he was a hen that laid golden eggs.
"I want a relationship closer and more intimate than one of mere coin. I pride myself on being a fair judge of men, and as I see it, you are a man of considerable stature. Well? It is hardly a poor offer from your side either, is it?"
"A relationship closer than one of coin would mean…"
Blood. In other words, he was proposing a political marriage.
Among nobles, political marriage was nothing unusual. If anything, marrying for love was the stranger idea. An aristocrat who failed to grow his power through arranged matches was bound, sooner or later, to be left behind.
"My daughter is still unwed."
Count Valte laid it out without the slightest pretense. And his words sent a spike of murderous intent through me.
The reason was simple. I had seen Count Valte's daughter. She was a sow of a woman, uglier than anyone I had ever laid eyes on — and the sole reason the Count bought three kilograms of sugar at a stretch was for her sake.
And with that delisted scrap of toilet paper, he meant to acquire a blue-chip of my caliber. Forget a thief's heart. That was a psychopath's.
"If we join forces, the master of this land might well change."
That, at least, was enough to catch my interest. I tilted my head. Count Valte flicked a glance at the maid. She bowed and left the drawing room.
"What we discuss in this room goes with us to the grave. Though a man as clever as yourself hardly needs to be told that, I imagine."
"Of course. A client's personal information is a closely guarded secret."
I sharpened my attention and waited to hear what Count Valte would say. He stroked his chin, then opened his mouth at last.
"Both of Count Coulomb's sons fell in the recent territorial war. A tragic affair, to be sure — but for House Valte, it is an opportunity the likes of which we will never see again."
The absence of an heir. From a ruler's point of view, it was a lethally exploitable weakness. History had proven as much a thousand times over.
"Count Coulomb is still young… well, I wouldn't go that far. But he is hardly past the age of siring an heir."
Count Valte nodded at that.
"True enough. But Count Coulomb will never sire another heir. Because…"