Trade (1)

The next morning.

Jeron summoned the barbarian chiefs, who were still in a daze after drinking until dawn.

Still half-asleep and nursing hangovers, the chiefs looked utterly confused as to why they had been called to the lord's office.

“Lord Jeron! Did we not finish our negotiations yesterday?”

“The negotiations are finished, but one final step remains. We people of the Atun Kingdom place great importance on written contracts.”

“A contract? What does a worthless scrap of paper matter?”

“Whatever you might think of it, as a noble of the kingdom, I need a signed contract to justify my actions to the crown. Think of it as a cultural difference.”

“Fine, a cultural difference. I understand.”

Jeron smiled faintly as he slid a densely written sheet of A4 paper toward them.

A meaningless contract?

If the other nobles of the kingdom heard that, they would have mocked the barbarians as lawless savages.

The people of the Atun Kingdom were obsessed with contracts. If the barbarians failed to honor this agreement, Jeron could use it as a casus belli to launch a kingdom-sanctioned war against them.

Jeron had spent the entire night carefully drafting the document.

‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠

Naturally, it was heavily biased in favor of his territory.

The chiefs skimmed through the contract.

At a glance, it didn't seem to pose any issues, but it contained several poison pills.

First, by establishing the market across the Lemberin River, Jeron was effectively expanding his territory.

If Jeron could push his sphere of influence past the Great Wall all the way to the Lemberin River, his people could farm, hunt monsters, and gather resources in relative safety.

The benefits were astronomical.

Until now, the Farrow family had been too busy fighting constant wars against the barbarians to even dream of expanding beyond the wall.

But now, using the trade market as a pretext, they could build a new wall and claim the land permanently.

Second was the peacekeeping force.

The contract stated that Jeron would dispatch troops to maintain order, but it made no mention of allowing the barbarians to station their own forces.

This meant that if push came to shove, Jeron's forces could wipe them out at any moment.

However, the barbarians weren't entirely foolish. Chief Lamak voiced a slight concern.

“Doesn't this put us at a disadvantage? Shouldn't we dispatch troops to secure the market as well?”

“Establishing this market is already a massive concession on the part of the Farrow territory. I assure you, nothing will happen. If you cannot agree to this term, then I cannot proceed with the trade.”

“Hmm...”

Lamak fell into deep thought for a moment before finally nodding.

From their perspective, as long as they could trade for food, nothing else really mattered.

True to their impatient barbarian nature, Lamak and the other chiefs signed the document after just a single reading.

Jeron smiled warmly and spoke.

“Excellent. For our first trade, I plan to bring about fifty thousand sacks of wheat to the market. Return to your tribes and gather the goods you wish to sell.”

“Oh! Fifty thousand? Truly?”

“Of course. As a lord, I would not lie during such an important negotiation.”

“How generous!”

Murmurs of excitement rippled through the barbarian chiefs.

It was only recently that they had risked their lives raiding villages for a mere dozen sacks of wheat, so they understood exactly how massive this quantity was.

The contract was officially sealed.

Jeron escorted the barbarians to the Great Wall, and they thanked him repeatedly before departing.

The vassals watched the barbarians head north with broad grins on their faces.

“One sack of wheat for a liter of ice troll blood! This is an absolutely astronomical profit margin!”

“Now, now, a profit margin? We are merely selling our goods for a fair price. We aren't running a charity here, are we?”

“Haha, indeed we aren't!”

At Jeron's words, Sir Garcia grinned from ear to ear.

The other vassals felt the same.

With a profit margin of at least tenfold guaranteed, they couldn't even begin to calculate the sheer amount of wealth that would soon flood their treasury.

South of the Farrow territory.

A massive merchant caravan was crossing the border into the fief.

The caravan was escorted by three hundred armed guards.

Dozens of wagons were piled high with wheat, and at the front of the procession rode Junior Baron Romid, a tax collector serving Count Hanes.

Jeron Farrow had been steadily selling crafts and rare goods to Count Hanes, and Romid had arrived today to settle the payment.

Junior Baron Romid clicked his tongue in awe as he observed the rapid development of the Farrow territory.

To organize the districts so quickly... And is that an aqueduct? They've drawn water directly from Lake Labitan.

It wasn't just the farmland.

Using cranes that appeared to be powered by magic, workers were lifting massive stones to construct the outer walls at an unbelievable speed. Countless other construction projects were underway simultaneously.

But what shocked him most was the attitude of the commoners.

“Hurry up over there!”

“On my way!”

“If you're that sluggish, how do you expect to make a decent living?”

“I'll move faster, sir!”

Their movements looked less like laborers and more like a disciplined military unit.

They dashed across the ramparts as if their very lives depended on working as fast as possible.

The villages were being rebuilt, and even the serfs were working with frantic energy.

And it wasn't just the humans being pushed to their limits.

Even the oxen pulling the plows seemed to be straining with everything they had.

After staring blankly at the bustling territory for a moment, Junior Baron Romid shook himself out of his daze and recalled the strict orders he had received from the Count.

“Baron Farrow will soon begin trading with the barbarians. It is no exaggeration to say the Great Snowfield is the primary source of ingredients for high-grade potions. Ice troll hides, rare herbs, and ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠the carcasses of unique monsters fetch whatever price the seller demands. Make sure to secure a guaranteed share of that trade.”

“Will Baron Farrow willingly hand over such a lucrative monopoly to us?”

“Of course he will. We belong to the same faction, and we are neighbors. Since the Farrow territory is also part of the North, securing a share shouldn't be too difficult.”

“It will likely cost us a steep price.”

“When there is a mountain of gold to be made, what does the price matter? Secure a preliminary contract at whatever level you deem reasonable.”

“I will not disappoint you, my lord!”

Junior Baron Romid viewed this transaction as his ticket to becoming a full baron.

If he succeeded, he might be granted a small manor or a fief of his own. He steeled his resolve.

Seeing the flag of the House of Hanes, the guards opened the gates without delay.

Since Junior Baron Romid visited the Farrow territory frequently, the guards let him pass without any suspicion.

And then, the interior of the fief was revealed.

“Good heavens...”

It was a sight so transformed it felt as if the heavens and earth had been turned upside down.

The streets were pristine, and the entire layout of the town had been completely overhauled, changing by the day.

What on earth am I looking at?

Inside the lord's castle reception room.

Jeron sat across from Junior Baron Romid, the vassal of Count Hanes.

Romid was far more polite than when they had first met.

This was because Jeron's name was now famous throughout the kingdom.

He had officially secured the patronage of Duke Langton, and unofficially, numerous nobles of the Crown Prince faction maintained friendly relations with him. It was only natural for Romid to show respect.

“It is an honor to meet you, Baron Farrow. Wherever I go these days, people speak of nothing but your achievements. To build such a reputation in such a short time is truly ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠astonishing.”

“You flatter me. A reputation is nothing but a castle built on sand.”

“You are too humble.”

Jeron and Romid exchanged light pleasantries.

The only difference from before was that since Jeron had officially inherited his title, his social standing was now higher, allowing him to speak to Romid in a more casual, authoritative tone.

Though Jeron was only in his late teens and Romid was in his forties, the strict hierarchy of the nobility dictated their interaction.

“Ahem, Baron Farrow. I heard that you are establishing trade relations with the barbarians. May I ask how the negotiations went?”

“Naturally, they went well. Why else do you think I have been importing so much grain?”

“Indeed. Your foresight is truly remarkable.”

Romid showered Jeron with praise, but Jeron remained unfazed by the cheap flattery.

He could easily guess what special mission the Count had entrusted to Romid. Now was the time to negotiate the terms.

After nearly ten minutes of continuous praise, Junior Baron Romid finally got to the point.

“Allow me to congratulate you once again on securing trade with the barbarians. Recently, the prices of high-grade potions, ironware, and premium hides have risen significantly. Goods from the Great Snowfield, in particular, command premium prices. While I know a complete monopoly is impossible, we hope to secure as much of the trade volume as we can.”

“How much are we talking about?”

“Around thirty percent of the total trade volume...”

Tap. Tap. Tap.

Jeron tapped his index finger against the table.

The thirty percent trade volume Romid requested wasn't actually that much.

Until a canal was built, Jeron would have to export his goods through the Count's territory anyway. The same applied to any goods sold within the kingdom.

Considering his close ties with Count Hanes, granting that much was reasonable.

However, he needed to drag out the negotiation to secure more favorable terms.

“If I grant the Count thirty percent of the trade volume, what can he offer me in return?”

“What is it you desire?”

“Tax exemptions and special privileges, I suppose.”

Junior Baron Romid's expression grew tense.

The real negotiation was beginning now.

“We can offer a ten percent reduction on the transit tax.”

“That seems a bit lacking, don't you think?”

“Then please, tell me frankly what you want.”

“I want you to handle the transport of all the grain imported into my territory.”

“What?! But that is not a decision I can make on my own. Considering the transport costs...”

“I will increase your share to forty percent of the trade volume.”

“Oh!”

Junior Baron Romid gasped.

Selling forty percent of the goods brought in from the Great Snowfield through the Count's network?

If he could pull this off, the profits would be astronomical.

Of course, the same applied to Jeron.

The logistics costs are higher than one might think. As the scale of trade grows, we would need to deploy more troops to guard the caravans. My territory cannot handle that burden yet.

Regardless of the era, logistics were incredibly expensive.

In this godforsaken medieval world crawling with all kinds of threats, saving on transport costs would cause their net profits to skyrocket.

“We will have our goods ready to coincide with the arrival of your grain shipments. The cargo will be highly valuable, so think of it as a mutual benefit. Since you are already mobilizing guards for the grain, adding a few more men to protect the return cargo will solve everything.”

Ultimately, Junior Baron Romid fell for Jeron's bait.

“Very well! Let us sign the contract!”