Chapter 21
Chapter 21
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Translator: MadScientist
Chapter: 21
Chapter Title: The Alchemist of Nothingness (3)
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“From what I know, you're selling sugar at 25 silver coins per 10 kilos, and sometimes when supply runs short, it goes up to 30.”
“That's right. You know the market prices well.”
“Thank you.”
The Doge now looked me straight in the eye, as if testing me, his voice brimming with curiosity.
“Then, do you happen to know how much sugar gets imported here?”
For a split second, I wanted to say, 'Around 100 tons, give or take.' But after I'd already nailed the exact market price, giving even a vague answer like that...
No matter how I thought about it, it wouldn't look good. And sugar was practically a strategic resource in this era—unless I had access to classified documents, there was no way I should know.
Best to play dumb.
“No idea. But seeing the massive quantities traded even in the outer markets, I figure a huge amount must be moving through.”
The Doge seemed pleased with that, smiling as he replied.
“Of course you wouldn't. Only me, a handful of senators, and the top brass of the Spice Guild know how much sugar changes hands.”
“I see.”
I kept my face calm on the surface, but inside, relief washed over me—I'd dodged a bullet with a solid answer.
Ignoring my relief, the Doge pressed on.
“Indeed. Word is, you've brought sugar from four carts. Given what I know of your territory's imports, you couldn't buy that much without going through us... so how'd you get it?”
“I've developed a way to make sugar myself. That's how I could bring so much.”
At those words, the Doge showed the most stunned expression I'd seen from him yet.
It was only natural—a bit of exaggeration, and what I'd done was akin to turning some mystery ingredients into gold, a downright miracle.
Even if no one knew what those ingredients were, producing gold made it miraculous all the same.
“You're not lying to my face, are you?”
I shrugged casually, feigning nonchalance as I answered.
“No matter how hard we tried, you know we absolutely couldn't import sugar without going through Hamburg, right?”
The Doge pondered for a moment, then sighed with a grumble.
“...True, the Spenians could smuggle some, but they'd have to be insane to smuggle this much when buying from me is three times cheaper. No reason for that madness.”
“So, will you believe me now?”
“Fine. Two carts, I'd suspect a quick dump of smuggled goods. But four? That's over two tons of sugar. Not even a duchy would smuggle 5,000 gold coins' worth. Let's get to it—how much do you want for it?”
I pretended to mull it over, then spoke in a cocky tone.
“25 silver per 10 kilos. But any quantity you want. Unlike the Spenians, I swear I won't jack up prices with lies about bad harvests, Excellency.”
“Cut the nonsense. Whatever it cost you to make, it has to be cheaper than 25 silver, or you wouldn't be here.”
The Doge thought it over, then grinned at me.
“Alright, fine. I'll be generous. 17 silver per 10 kilos. In return, no tariffs when you sell here, and I'll buy as much as you bring.”
Hearing that, I barely kept a smile from creeping onto my face.
Even at that price, we'd net 15 silver per 10 kilos—a tidy profit.
But if I let my excitement show, he might push for 10 silver. Had to play it cool.
This was profit, sure, but the merchant's way was to squeeze every last coin, right?
To maximize gains, I decided to swallow some pride.
Even China's great general Han Xin crawled under a thug's crotch when he had to—what was this?
“...No way at that price... Even if we've got a cheap way to make it, we need to eat too. How about 23 instead, Excellency?”
“23? Not bad, but aren't you profiting too much? 23 silver... cheaper than Spenia, sure, but for folks with a new method? Fine, generosity it is—18 silver.”
“18? Please, up it to 20.”
Then, I bowed my head low, pleading for mercy.
Seeing my groveling, the Doge brightened, convinced he held the upper hand.
Nobles never bowed to anyone but king or liege—me doing so made any trickery seem impossible.
The Doge chuckled.
“No, haha... 18 it is. But we'll take special care of your lands. Or better—reduced tariffs on all our trades? Can't top that.”
He grabbed my hand, shaking it with a devilish grin.
....
What did history's great negotiators do here? Wait, that PhD senior mentioned Im Sang-ok once.
“Im Sang-ok selling red ginseng to the Qing bastards is always a thrill. When they balked at must-have ginseng, he torched it all, saying 'buy or burn.' And he could because...”
He monopolized the ginseng the Chinese couldn't get enough of.
I didn't have total monopoly, but if I threatened to destroy all the sugar factories he didn't know about...
He'd cave at 20 silver easy.
And taking 18 now? He'd whittle us down to 17 later, like big corps squeezing subcontractors.
I closed my eyes, steeled myself, and declared quietly.
“Excellency, I absolutely can't go below 20. Even then, it's 5 silver cheaper per 10 kilos than Spenia. One ton alone is 50 gold—and your sales to Franche, Elaine, Britannia, Romania must top 200 tons. If we supply all that... we'd barely scrape by.”
The Doge stammered, shocked by my sudden boldness after all the bowing.
“I-is that so?”
“Yes. If not here... we'll sell through Salzburg to the east of Nant County. We'd get 22 there—even after tariffs, it'd net more than 19 here.”
I said that, but no ships went that far anyway.
Even Hamburg's info-savvy Doge wouldn't know road and sea trade details for our backwater barony.
Seizing the silence, I pushed harder.
“You could ally with Salzburg and boycott us for a year or two. Then we'd...”
“What would you do? Stop making sugar?”
I grabbed his hand first.
“Yes. Burn it all. The tech too—we couldn't maintain it a year without sales. Oh, and don't think of poaching our techs. We'd kill them first. Siel von Kroitel doesn't yield what he can't have—he destroys it.”
I didn't mean it—even if the deal fell through, I wasn't some psycho who'd kill for it.
No plans to slaughter our serfs who learned sugar-making.
Unaware, the Doge stared in horror.
“So you're saying you're ready to fight me if things go south?”
I said nothing.
Silence hung, then he sighed.
“Fine, fine. 20 silver per 10 kilos—for these four carts and beyond. No more concessions. Sugar flies off shelves to feast-blind nobles, but we need to eat too.”
His eyes burned: Push more, and it's war.
“Perfect. Sold. So, how much by next year?”
“Bring 40 carts of sugar. 2,500 gold upfront, 3,500 on delivery. Don't fail me.”
The sum dazed me.
Enough for 100 suits of plate mail, 100 warhorses, weapons galore.
Ah, feed a 1,000-man army for two months easy.
Full payment? Two years' Nant County budget.
Expansion's the issue... buy slaves, boost production.
Current setup yields 100 carts yearly... factoring construction, triple the workforce.
Good thing we planted three times the sugar beets as backup.
Now just print money.
I tried hiding my grin but failed.
“Would we ever?”
“Go now.”
**
Days later, an elderly steward from the Doge's house arrived with the cart.
Counting the gold coins inside confirmed it: exactly 2,500.
With that gold, I...
Hired slaves, gear, and techs to photocopy more money via sugar, while snapping up weapons and armor.
Per the novel's lore, crisis loomed—we had to prep or perish.