The Wealthy Chain-Smoking Boss (2)
"Who is it?"
"Executives from the Grancis Trading Company. They want to set up a midpoint base in our city."
I'd heard of the Grancis Trading Company before. Weren't they that massive trading powerhouse that stood shoulder-to-shoulder with the famous Palling Trading Company?
Early in the inn's opening days, some merchants from Palling had stayed with us. I still remembered vividly one of them carrying a Sansa—one of Idi's black magic talismans. If she hadn't undone the spell on it, that guy probably would've met a gruesome end soon after.
Anyway... so Grancis was coming to our city? Well, Rosens was a key hub linking the kingdom's north and south—odd if traders didn't have their eyes on it.
"That's great. Trading companies have stupid amounts of money, so they'll pour a ton into the city. We can play hard to get on approvals and squeeze them for all they're worth."
"That's exactly the problem." Hildeva let out a sigh, shaking her head.
"What's the problem?"
"The too much investment. Not a single city Grancis has entered has ended up better off."
"That doesn't add up. They invest, but things go south?"
"That's just it."
Hildeva explained the contradiction. The Grancis Trading Company was infamous for its leader's aggressive business tactics. To expand, they pulled no punches—legal or not—as long as it turned a profit. They had branches scattered across major cities, dumping massive capital into each one. At first glance, it sounded good for both the city and the company. But the truth was uglier: it wasn't healthy investment; it was infiltration or outright privatization by outside money.
The takeover was blatant and sleazy. They'd use their vast funds to bribe everyone from market vendors to administrators down to the lowliest guards—and sometimes offer up sex workers too. Every favor was logged for later blackmail or arm-twisting. They'd snap up key production bases and facilities, then prioritize locals for jobs under the guise of "regional development," locking down the internal economy. They'd offer near-zero-interest loans to local businesses, slipping invisible chains around them. Once the city was fully in their grip, they'd block rival traders from passing through. At that point, the city ran not by the administrator, but by the branch manager's whims—like Apenzel, where the admin was a puppet and the mining guild boss pulled the strings.
It was a trading company in name only—this was straight-up gangster shit.
"That's filthy. The capital knows all this and does nothing?"
"It's all technically legal. They'd have to flip the whole city upside down to intervene."
"Then just block their capital from the start?"
"Not that simple. Grancis money's already flowing into the capital itself."
That was serious. No wonder Hildeva was worried.
"Don't stress too much. If I was the type to sell the city for a few coins, I'd have bolted last year. Rosens is the city I poured everything into defending."
No exaggeration there. Under Golruk's tyranny, Rosens had been a ghost town for years, but Hildeva stuck it out as administrator. The post was basically symbolic, kept by the capital to signal they hadn't abandoned it—a flag to deter neighboring lords from swooping in. No heavy mandate to revive it or anything. She could've just sat back and collected her salary, but she didn't. She'd managed steadily, scraping together funds for the day the city revived. That's why the capital recognized her efforts with promotions—and let her stay on.
"With you holding the center, Grancis won't go too wild."
"Thanks, Bertrand. The Grancis boss himself showed up here recently."
"What'd he say?"
"Predictable. Wants to establish a branch and invest."
Hildeva buttoned her shirt and gazed out the window. Under the bright autumn sky, the city's gabled roofs spread out in a picturesque vista.
"I sent him packing—said I'd report to the capital first. But his underlings are already scouting real estate everywhere. They've set up camp outside the city walls."
She turned from the window to me.
"They'll probably approach you soon too. The Crossroads Troll is Rosens' top inn—they'll covet it hard."
"Could be. I'll hear their offer at least."
Hildeva laughed and draped her arm around my neck.
"Hmm. If it were me, I'd offer a hundred million gold coins."
"That much?"
"One million for the inn. The rest to buy you."
"Haha."
We shared a long, deep kiss. Right then, aides knocked on the office door.
"Sorry, Bertrand. Lunch'll have to wait."
"No worries. I'll head out."
I left City Hall and walked back toward the inn. Grancis entering our city. If Hildeva's fears played out, it'd be a headache. Good or bad for the inn? Hard to say—but if the city ground to a halt, it'd hurt us all. Better prepare ahead. No clue how yet, but thinking on it now would yield answers.
That evening, mercenary captain Hardo dropped by the inn. He settled at the reception desk in the hall's corner to review incoming requests over dinner.
Perched on the desk, Hardo flipped through the papers, chatting with a dispatched mercenary. Sounded like a bunch of odd jobs had piled up. No surprise—word of the chimera hunt had spread.
He neatly gathered the requests, slipped them into an envelope, and sat at a table to order food. I grabbed a beer mug and took the seat across from him. Hardo always brought useful rumors and intel whenever he visited—talks with him were gold.
Today's scoop: the capital's response to territories rejecting the loyalty oath.
"A legion near the capital's marching on one of those holdouts."
"A whole legion? For one territory?"
"Probably to pressure three adjacent ones at once."
Made sense. Sending a full legion at a single territory was a declaration of total wipeout. Capital bureaucrats weren't that dumb. But no one brave enough to check Elua on mobilizing it, apparently. What the hell was that psycho thinking? Past kings didn't crush nobles with legions for a reason. She'd clashed with the noble council but kept appeasement cards in play for good cause... Anyway, legion was moving—no point griping now.
Elua's position wasn't totally incomprehensible. Young woman thrust onto the throne after the king's sudden death. Legitimacy or not, she hadn't proven her chops yet. Ignoring nobles refusing loyalty? Political suicide. Once "She won't enforce it?" spread, the crown would crumble uncontrollably. So, parading a legion for show...
"And there's another nasty rumor."
"What now?"
"Post-Demon King downsizing might reverse—conscription order incoming. Pure gossip, mind you."
"Conscription... Beefing up legions for what? War?"
"Dunno. She could take the noble council with current forces, so probably not internal..."
We stared silently for a beat. I broke it.
"Captain... you a reservist?"
"Yeah, luckily. You?"
"Same. Never did active duty, though."
"Good. No drafts for us."
Legions ran on enlistment, not drafts. And completed service exempted you from conscription, as far as I knew.
"Where'd you serve, Captain?"
"Lucia border guard."
"Rough gig."
"Don't remind me. That hellhole? Piss away from it."
Hardo, ever the mild-mannered gentleman, suddenly dropped f-bombs.
"Haha. That bad?"
"Fresh recruit, and boom—seniors haul out a mountain of hoarded snacks, order us to devour it all?"
"Heard of that. Akirrvarium, right? Ancient term for 'proof of courage.'"
"Spot on. Those fuckers expect you to wolf it down. Like that's courage... Anyway, I'm choking it back, about to hurl, and some asshole charges like a minotaur, slamming my chest..."
The refined Hardo turned beet-red, spitting as he unloaded his ordeals. I chuckled along until the inn door swung open. A few people stepped in, paused to scan the hall, then cleared their throats.
"Excuse me. Is the owner here?"