Muller Merchant Guild (1)
As I stepped out of the merchant guild, the landowner's groans still echoed in my ears. A surge of rage clenched my fist, but I took a long, deep breath to suppress it. 'That old man's just a powerless commoner bullied by Peluah's massive guilds anyway.' Blaming the weak wouldn't get me anywhere. I already knew exactly who the real culprit blocking my path was, so I'd just confront that bastard Muller later and make him pay back every coin with interest.
"Like there's only one plot of land near Peluah."
I turned on my heel without regret and unrolled the map again. Tracing along the Rene River, I spotted another site upstream from the downstream plains I'd originally marked. The terrain was a bit uneven, and the road to central Peluah was narrow, so it'd cost more for earthworks, but it had everything essential: abundant water supply and solid bedrock.
"Perfect. This one's it."
I headed straight for the new site's owner and didn't give him a chance to pull any tricks this time.
"Three silver coins. Above market rate. But you sign this parchment right now."
What I pulled out was none other than a lower-grade Veritas Oath Scroll, infused with the god of contracts' power. It wasn't as ironclad as the one I'd made with Aila, but the landowner freaked out at the sight of a sacred scroll for a mere land deal—yet he couldn't resist the fat pouch of gold and stamped his seal.
Whoosh!
As the light signaling the contract's completion seeped in, I finally cracked a satisfied smile. Now, even if Peluah's market officials held a blade to his throat, this land was unequivocally mine.
Back at the Golden Fleece Guild after securing the site, I sank deep into the sofa in Aila's office. We talked through how things had gone down.
"So, the Muller Guild stuck their noses in and sabotaged it?"
Aila scowled, slamming her desk after hearing my report.
"That greedy pig bastard! He knew damn well you had our guild's backing and still pulled that shit? This is a blatant provocation against the Golden Fleece's third branch!"
"Whoa, whoa. Calm down. We got a solid upstream plot anyway."
"Still! You missed out on that perfect plain your father left behind! You sure you're okay with this? I could send my private guards right now to flip that old geezer's guild upside down and—"
"I'm fine. Don't worry."
I chuckled and waved her off.
"We're not gonna stick to cotton textiles forever, right? That land not falling into our hands now might actually be a blessing."
"What the hell are you talking about?"
Her emerald eyes sparkled with curiosity at my words.
"Once this textile venture blows up big, we'll have enough capital to buy all of Peluah. Then we'll crush the Muller Guild, take that land back, and build something that makes a cotton factory look like a joke."
I tapped my temple with my index finger and played it cool.
"It's a secret for now. Just know it's a massive beast belching steel and fire."
Kang Woojin's knowledge was sketching out massive blueprints in my head: trains roaring across the continent on plumes of steam, colossal blast furnaces smelting iron, a true heavy industrial complex. That vast plain Father left would one day become the continent's premier industrial hub.
But it was too early to unveil the grand master plan.
"Hmph, slithering out like a sly fox again? Fine. When you rake in all of Peluah's gold with those machines, I'll hear that precious secret of yours."
From that day on, unprecedented construction kicked off along the Rene River outskirts of Peluah. Thanks to Aila's deep pockets, hundreds of laborers and carpenters worked day and night, and massive red-brick buildings began rising in grand splendor.
Once the factory frame was complete, I rolled up my sleeves and oversaw the interior design and machine layout myself.
"Line 2 main shaft over there! If it's off-level even a hair, friction heat could spark a fire! Redo it!"
I dashed madly through the factory clutching blueprints. This wasn't just plopping down machines willy-nilly. I was transplanting modern factory automation layouts straight from Kang Woojin's engineering classes into this fantasy world.
"The massive external waterwheel spins the central main shaft with hydropower. Long rotating shafts cross the ceiling, linked by dozens of leather belts to distribute power simultaneously to the Spinning Jennys and Power Looms!"
A centralized power system where gears and belts meshed organically. Plus, I built a streamlined flow from raw materials in to finished goods out. Cotton entered the left-side intake on the first floor, where powered Spinning Jennys churned out thread nonstop. The thread went straight via rail carts to the central Power Loom lines, and the woven cloth flowed naturally to the right-side dyeing and packing area. No more workers backtracking with heavy loads, wasting motion.
I even added massive ventilation through the ceiling and walls to prevent fires and lung issues from cotton dust, and safety guards over all high-speed gear sections. A mad dash to nail efficiency, safety, and overwhelming output.
"Finally... it's done."
A month later, standing with Aila on the second-floor manager's railing, I gazed down at the forest of machines sprawling below. Hundreds of Spinning Jennys and Power Looms stood in perfect ranks—a sight to behold.
"Elpanso. Shall we get this started?"
Aila signaled me, her face flushed with excitement. I drew a deep breath and bellowed to the factory manager waiting on the first floor.
"Open the sluice gates! Engage the main gears!"
Rumble-rumble-ruuuuumble!
The massive external sluice opened, and the Rene River's fierce current hammered the house-sized waterwheel. Screeeech-clang!
With a heavy metallic groan, the waterwheel's torque transmitted to the ceiling's main shaft. In that instant, hundreds of leather belts linked throughout the factory snapped taut, coming alive.
Clank! Shunk! Clank! Shunk! Shunk!
Like hundreds of percussionists striking in unison at the conductor's cue. Thousands of gears meshed in perfect ratios, shuttles flashed through warps like lightning, and bolts of white fabric began pouring out.
"My god..."
Aila gripped the railing, transfixed by the deafening mechanical symphony and explosive productivity. Dozens of unskilled workers just checked belt tension, tied broken threads, and sorted the deluge of cloth—yet output dwarfed all of Peluah's artisanal workshops combined, faster and vaster.
The clanking machine roar pounded my ears like a grand symphony. With every gear turn, a new era was being woven.
"Now, all that's left is selling it."
Peluah Central Square. Normally teeming with crowds, today it was lavishly controlled with massive tents and red carpets. The Muller Guild—big fish in Peluah's cotton trade—had gathered heavyweight peddlers and distributors from foreign lands and territories for a grand 'wholesale auction.'
Considering the fortune spent renting the central square, it screamed the Muller Guild's clout. Guests realized this flashy spectacle proved Muller's iron grip on Peluah.
"Come, come! Raise your glasses, honored guests from afar!"
Muller, the auctioneer, beamed smugly from the platform, his greasy face smug. Behind him towered mountains of expensive cotton fabrics squeezed from Peluah's finest artisanal weavers.
Muller swirled his crystal wine glass and launched into a leisurely toast.
"You all know Peluah's handicraft textiles are the continent's best. This batch is flawless—top-grade, not a single defect!"
"Ooh, as expected from Foreman Muller."
"Gorgeous stuff. I'd haul it back to my territory and sell to the nobles right now!"
Muller's ego soared at the merchants' fawning praise. He puffed up and continued.
"Ah, but there's this hilarious sideshow in Peluah lately. You know Elpanso, that legendary idiot who tanked the Carnoble Guild?"
Laughter and snickers erupted among the merchants at the name.
"Who doesn't? Continent's top wastrel."
"What dumb shit's he up to now?"
"Get this: he builds some crumbling red-brick shack in the boonies, calls it a 'factory,' and blows cash like water! Says he'll weave cloth with machines that don't need human hands? Haha!"
Rumors—spread by Elpanso's own hires—had reached Baron Muller's ears. Those who'd seen it knew it was different this time, but types like Muller scoffed: 'Rumors in this business are a dime a dozen.'
The rumor boiled down to one thing: Elpanso Carnoble was fucking up again.
As Muller roared with laughter, his belly jiggling, the square turned into a cauldron of mockery.
"Tsk tsk, poor Aila of the Golden Fleece. Stuck wasting her blood money on that wastrel down the drain."
"Tell me about it. Real fabric needs artisans hand-weaving every stitch."
With the mood ripe, Muller flashed a sleazy glint and got down to business.
"Enough laughs—let's talk the goods. We're handing these fine batches to you, but one condition."
He nodded, and his men circulated parchment contracts to the merchants.
"For the next three years, your guilds handle only Muller cotton—exclusive. Price jumps to 35 coins per unit, up two-tenths from last time. But without our stuff, you can't trade, so suck it up."
Unilateral hikes and unfair long-term monopolies. Merchants' faces twisted, but crossing Muller—who controlled Peluah's cotton—meant no goods tomorrow. They grudgingly grabbed quills.
As Muller smirked victoriously and raised his wine—that very instant.
Thud-thud-thud-thuuud!
Earth-shaking hooves and rumbling cart wheels echoed from the square's entrance.
"Wh-what? Who dares barge into my auction?!"
Muller scowled and barked just as a massive procession tore through the perimeter tents.
Dozens of heavy wagons pulled by sturdy warhorses. At the lead wagon's cargo bed stood Elpanso and Aila, arms crossed, smiling leisurely.
"Th-that's the Golden Fleece banner!"
"Aila? And that's Elpanso next to her!"
As merchants buzzed, the wagons halted in the square's center. Muller's face flushed purple as he pointed accusingly.
"Y-you bastards! Do you know where you are, crashing in like this?! Guards—!"
"Shut your trap, Muller."
"Sh-shut my trap? You dare, here? This is my auction!"
"Really? Isn't this the Peluah Cotton Auction? Can't rent the central square for your private party."
"...Shut up!"
It was a public auction hosted by Muller, open to all with legitimate business. In name only—Muller's solo show, with a few token small guilds as props.
But.
'I'm here.'
Armed with the power to crush the Muller Guild.
I snapped my fingers, and drivers yanked the massive canvas covers off dozens of wagons.
Shwoooosh!
The square fell deathly silent. Piled on the wagons were mountains of plain cotton fabric that made Muller's warehouse stock look pathetic. Snow-white, flawless weaves—uniformity and density impossible by human hands.
"M-my god... how many bolts is that?!"
"Look at that sheen! The weave is insane—no errors at all?!"
Merchants who'd just praised Muller's handicrafts gaped, eyes bulging. Even Muller stood slack-jawed, glued to the colossal volume.
"Wh-what the hell is... that..."
Ignoring Muller's frantic flailing, I grinned down at the foreign merchants from the platform.
"Welcome, continent's trading titans. Since you're in Peluah, I rushed to show you the real deal."
Behold. This is real fabric.