Trade (3)
The negotiations were concluded in an instant.
Usually, negotiations drag on for at least a few hours, if not days.
However, these ignorant brutes believed they were getting the better end of the deal no matter how the trade was structured.
The barbarians considered ice trolls to be useless creatures, a perception born from their own abysmal leatherworking skills.
Ice troll hide was notoriously difficult to cut, and sewing it was a nightmare.
To utilize monster hides, they had to undergo a specialized heat treatment, a process that grew increasingly complex with higher-tier monsters.
For this reason, the barbarians preferred ordinary animal pelts.
It was the same story with ice troll blood.
While they vaguely knew it was an ingredient for potions, they had no idea how to brew them, nor did they possess the technology to do so.
Under these circumstances, an ice troll was nothing more than a monster carcass—devoid of any real value.
And what of the Mana Stones?
The decline of mana-based technologies affected the barbarians just as it did everyone else.
In ancient times, shamanistic rituals using tattoos were popular among the barbarians, but now they were used purely for decoration.
Consequently, Mana Stones were viewed as nothing more than pretty blue glowing rocks, carrying no special significance.
The various other items they brought were also things they couldn't utilize due to their lack of technological capability.
"They really are incredibly ignorant."
"...Thanks to that, the negotiations were exceptionally smooth."
"You did well."
"No, my Lord. I do not believe I deserve praise for such an effortless negotiation," Leila said with sincere humility.
She truly believed there was nothing easier than swindling barbarians.
She had thought the chiefs were reasonably intelligent, but apparently, that wasn't the case.
Through today's negotiations, Jeron established a rough market rate.
One ice troll was worth one sack of wheat; Mana Stones were traded at 1.5 kilograms per sack of wheat; and raw iron ore was set at a 1-to-50 ratio.
Medicinal herbs varied by type, but they averaged a 1-to-1 ratio, meaning a single sack of wheat could secure an immense quantity.
At this point, it felt less like trade and more like extortion.
A loud clamor erupted outside.
Naturally, the wheat was in such high demand that they couldn't sell it fast enough.
"Our Black Bear Tribe arrived first, so yield!"
"Hmph! The Green Mist Tribe got here first! So back off!"
"Are you looking for a fight?!"
"Do you want to die?!"
"Ooh! Fight! Fight!"
"..."
Fistfights broke out all over the place.
Jeron seriously debated whether he should immediately deploy the soldiers he had brought along to maintain public order.
The trading post was an absolute madhouse, with barbarians throwing tantrums left and right just to secure one more sack of wheat.
Watching the barbarian warriors trade blows and draw blood, Jeron called over Chief Lamak.
"Ah, my friend! What is it?"
"Chief, this is getting out of hand. Is it really alright to leave them like this?"
"Hahaha! Just leave them be. Boys will be boys; they grow up fighting."
"No, this goes beyond 'boys being boys.' Their noses are being broken, they're getting bruised black and blue, and blood is flying everywhere."
"To us barbarians, those are badges of honor! In fact, it is stranger to have no wounds at all. What does a broken nose matter? It will heal."
"I-Is that so?"
"We are a warrior race. If we do not fight, life has no meaning."
Hearing those words, which Jeron had previously heard from Mr. Kang, Jeron and his vassals were utterly dumbfounded.
What kind of crazy bastards are these?
It's a good thing we opted for peace. If we fought them every day, our casualties would have been astronomical.
These were people who considered dying on the battlefield the ultimate honor.
To them, fighting was a way to hone their skills before going to war—a daily routine and practically a form of greeting.
Seeing the reactions of Jeron and his vassals, Chief Lamak grinned.
"Do not interfere in the children's squabbles."
"What if someone dies?"
"It happens, so it does not matter. You only need to worry about things other than the fighting. Shall we call it a cultural difference?"
"Wow, you got me there."
Jeron let out a chuckle of admiration.
Even if it looked like utter chaos, he was telling them to understand it as a cultural difference.
Jeron nodded deeply.
"I'll let the fighting slide. It's not like our people are getting hurt. But more importantly, every tribe is causing a riot to secure even a little more wheat, so I need to get this sorted out. Gather the people for me."
"Will do."
"Great warriors! Our friend has something to say! Stop fighting and gather round!"
"Ooh! If our friend calls, we must go."
Once the treaty was finalized and the market officially opened to sell the wheat, the barbarians showed immense friendliness toward the people of the Farrow Territory.
Some even offered a high-five as proof of their newfound friendship.
Jeron cleared his throat and shouted.
"Are there a total of twelve tribes here today?"
"Yes!"
"Then let's allocate four thousand sacks to each tribe."
"But our tribe has more people!"
"The market will open again in three days, so you can buy more then. You all had better go back and gather as many goods as possible to trade. We have plenty of wheat, but your trade goods are limited. Surely you didn't plan on doing business for just today and calling it quits?"
"Of course not!"
Jeron's words snapped the barbarians back to reality.
Each tribe had scrambled to scrape together the ice troll carcasses and Mana Stones that had been lying around like trash.
But hearing Jeron's words, they realized they might run out of supply in the future.
Even these simple-minded brutes understood that much.
Naturally, the fighting died down.
Accepting the terms coolly, the barbarians took their allocated shares of wheat and departed.
"Man, are they simple-minded, or just naive?"
"I think they're both, my Lord."
Despite various minor incidents, the trade concluded in resounding success.
By evening, Jeron received a report on the day's trade earnings inside his tent.
"The total revenue is projected to be eighty thousand gold."
"Eighty thousand?!"
"Heavens! To earn this much from a single trade event... It is a new record!"
Cain, the treasurer, was beyond shocked; he looked ready to faint. He was so worked up that a trickle of blood even escaped his nose.
The territory, which had suffered from poverty daily, had recently begun earning massive sums of money, and now it had reached a peak.
It was no wonder the financial officials were reacting this way.
"How much did we purchase a sack of wheat for?"
"Eighty silver."
"Then the cost of goods sold is four thousand gold."
"Roughly a twenty-fold profit."
It was an insane profit margin.
While the items Jeron brought from Earth yielded about a ten-to-twenty-fold profit, the trade with the barbarians was on an entirely different scale.
The items from Earth were brought in small quantities, but the trade with the barbarians was done in massive bulk.
According to Chief Lamak, there were many chiefs in the Great Snowfield who were currently testing the waters. If they proved that this trade was legitimate, countless more tribes would flock to them next time.
The future trade held more than just high profits.
The knights evaluated that they had achieved great success in other areas as well.
"My Lord, today's trade has allowed us to estimate the overall scale of the barbarians. They say over five hundred thousand barbarians live in the Great Snowfield."
"Five hundred thousand!"
Even allowing for some exaggeration, it was a staggering number.
That meant an estimated military force of at least fifty thousand.
Fortunately, many in the Great Snowfield were self-sufficient, and they raided in all directions rather than just toward the Atun Kingdom, which was why the Farrow Territory had suffered relatively little damage.
At James's words, the vassals froze like ice.
"It would have been disastrous if we hadn't secured the trade rights."
"Indeed, my Lord."
A cold shiver ran down their spines.
They had prided themselves on defending well so far, but now that the lid was lifted, the scale of the barbarians was beyond imagination.
It was only because of the vast distance between the Great Snowfield and the Atun Kingdom that a large-scale invasion hadn't occurred.
If those brutes had continued to push south and settle near the Atun Kingdom, a massive war would have erupted within five years.
The knights' faces turned pale.
"Should we not send an official report to the royal court?"
"Is there a need?"
"Pardon?"
"We learned through this opportunity that the Great Snowfield is wider and has more barbarians than we thought. But so what? This just means we can make even greater profits. There's no need to create unnecessary tension and kill the goose that lays the golden eggs."
"Now that you mention it, that makes sense. Since the distance between the Great Snowfield and the Atun Kingdom is too great for them to easily invade anyway, your plan is to keep trading and reaping the profits?"
"Exactly. And we can also employ them as mercenaries."
Jeron established the policy then and there.
They would maintain continuous trade with the barbarians to generate revenue.
If they accumulated immense wealth through this triangular trade and developed the territory, Jeron might be able to elevate his family's rank from Viscount to Count within his lifetime.
Late at night.
Jeron quickly prepared to cross over to Earth.
The trade with the barbarians was finished, and he had achieved the feat of expanding his territory beyond the wall. To top it off, a steady stream of revenue was guaranteed.
Over the past few days, he had been too exhausted from the march to think about crossing over to Earth, but tonight he had energy to spare.
He had arrived in the morning and finished by the afternoon, so he hadn't overexerted himself.
Whoosh!
Flutter! Flutter!
The cold of the north was beginning to set in.
It was typical autumn weather—fairly warm during the day, but chilly in the evening and freezing at night.
He figured the temperature would align reasonably well with Earth's current season.
Jeron checked his backpack and packed the necessary items.
A day's worth of rations, a sleeping bag, a one-person tent, rope, a hand axe, and even his sniper rifle.
With everything ready, Jeron opened the dimensional gate.
Bzzzt.
The space on the other side appeared transparently.
He could see Mr. Kang's half-looted temporary shelter.
Swoosh!
Jeron immediately stepped through the portal and returned to Earth.
"Whew."
A biting cold rushed over him.
Since the Karen Continent was entering autumn, Earth's weather should have been warming up, but the thermometer indicated it was minus ten degrees Celsius.
"Is this the real weather of Earth?"
Now that humans had vanished and the planet was fully recovering, Earth was exhibiting stark, natural weather patterns.
Since it was currently early February, it would take a bit more time for a noticeable temperature shift to occur.
Jeron turned on the portable heater and put water on the kettle.
As the room gradually warmed up, he drank a cup of coffee and began his training.
Even with a clear goal in mind, his rule of training for at least one hour on Earth remained unchanged.
A massive wave of mana surged in.
Feeling the mana flow through his mana roads, Jeron thought about his tasks for the day.
Currently, the territory was in the midst of preparing for the subjugation of the Red Orcs.
The training was nearing its final stages, and Mr. Kang was doing everything he could to supply weapons in time.
If so, there could only be one destination.
It had been confirmed in a survivor's diary, and according to Mr. Kang's testimony, twenty crossbows were still left in the shelter.
And besides that...
There might be other useful weapons besides the crossbows.