Chapter 29
Chapter 29
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Translator: MadScientist
Chapter: 29
Chapter Title: The Capable Scoundrel - 2
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I'd figured out Frontia Trading Company's ambitions, but I didn't chase them off with a scolding.
I was personally curious just how far they'd go to get their hands on the Elixir.
I sank deep into the parlor sofa, donning the mask of a wastrel.
"You're the merchants here for the Elixir, right? Come on in."
"......It's an honor to meet you, Viscount Altesia. I'm Parson, guildmaster of the Frontia Trading Company."
"And I'm Sam, the vice-guildmaster of the Frontia Trading Company."
The two bowed politely.
But their eyes burned with naked greed.
"You know my name, so let's cut to the chase. How much are you offering?"
I propped my legs cockily on the oak table, lounging back with a smug grin.
My utter lack of manners should have irked them, but their smiles didn't falter a bit.
That ironclad poker face was stoking my competitive fire.
"We heard it cured the princess's incurable illness—even the Holy Kingdom's priests couldn't touch it. Ten gold coins per vial, perhaps......"
"Ten gold coins? Teeeen goooold coiins? Are you saying Her Highness's life is worth a measly ten gold coins?!"
"Th-that's not what we meant! We were just proposing a minimum price!"
Sam flailed his hands in panic. It was quite the sight, watching his face drain of color.
I sank back into the sofa with a snort, casually picking my nose at leisure.
"A minimum price, huh? Whew, had me scared there for a second. If you had any brains, you wouldn't lowball an Elixir at ten gold. Right?"
Sam's lip twitched at my blatant mockery.
This time, it hit home—tiny beads of sweat dotted his forehead.
But to claim the Elixir, they had to swallow this humiliation.
"Jokes like that aren't funny at all, so let's talk real numbers."
"How much do you value the Elixir at, Viscount Altesia?"
Parson asked with a serious glint in his eye.
I spread my left palm wide and balled my right fist tight.
Sam and Parson's faces lit up noticeably.
They even sighed in relief, convinced my price fell within their expected range.
"Fifty gold is steep, but our company can manage it......"
"What are you talking about? Not fifty—five hundred."
"Whaaat?!"
Sam's scream echoed through the parlor.
Parson lost his composure too, eyes bulging.
"Five hundred is way too much! No renowned elixir on the continent trades for that!"
"You think I peddle this for free? Do you have any idea the material costs?"
The Elixir's production costs were genuinely high.
Their initial ten-gold offer had actually offended me.
So I'd slapped on a fifty-fold markup out of spite.
With the process and ingredients being trade secrets, they had no info to counter my bluff.
"This miracle potion cured Her Highness in one shot. Even at five hundred gold, I'm practically giving it away through gritted teeth. Got it?"
"Even so, five hundred is impossible...!"
"His Majesty the Emperor was overjoyed at Her Highness's recovery and promised me vast lands as reward."
It was thanks to my silver tongue before the Emperor, but I'd secured an entire territory for one Elixir vial. Fact.
Thus, five hundred gold was a bargain compared to imperial favors.
Convincing myself of that made the words flow like water.
Parson and Sam's eyes began to waver under my brazen confidence.
Come to think of it, fabricating tales about the Emperor could mean execution for insulting the crown.
They had no choice but to buy it.
"Even so, five hundred gold is outrageous for a mid-tier company like ours."
"Couldn't you show some mercy and lower the price a bit?"
"You think? No money, then scram. What's a merchant without cash?"
"Th-then just one vial! One is all we need!"
Desperation plain as day.
They planned to snag one, analyze its components, and whip up knockoffs.
Clueless that I already knew their scheme, their frantic flailing was a spectacle.
At this point, letting them off easy felt like a waste. Time to squeeze more sweat out of them.
"Not planning to turn a single vial into profit, are you? What's it for?"
"Th-that's...!"
Sam stammered, panic rising—
—when Parson cut in with a grim face.
"Truth is, Sam's mother is gravely ill! We scoured the empire's best doctors, but they all said they couldn't pinpoint the cause. Then we heard rumors of the potion that cured Her Highness's incurable disease and came here grasping at straws!"
"What? Not merchants, but a dutiful son desperate for Elixir?"
"......We thought to turn a profit on the side, but we never dreamed it'd cost this much. Please, just one vial out of mercy!"
Unlike transparent Sam, Parson wore shamelessness like a pro.
His unflinching performance was downright impressive.
Yeah, a real merchant needed that gall.
"Your mom's sick? Can't say no to that."
"Then could you knock the price down a little?"
"Money over your mom's life, huh?"
My icy retort froze Sam's face.
I shook my head with a tsk-tsk.
"I was gonna bend rules for your sob story and sell one, but now I gotta rethink."
"Ack!"
Parson elbowed Sam's ribs mercilessly.
It screamed, "Don't ruin the meal I cooked!"
Not stopping there, Parson grabbed Sam's nape and forced his head down.
"We're truly sorry! This fool spoke out of turn—he's got no tact! But Viscount, Sam's mother is like my own to me! Please reconsider and show mercy with one Elixir!"
Parson sweated bullets cleaning Sam's massive mess.
Pulling the "close family friend" card to tug heartstrings.
True or fresh fiction? No telling.
But stonewalling now would paint me petty.
"Fine, sold. And if you repeat exactly what I say, I'll knock off fifty gold special."
"R-really?"
Sam, fresh off a beating, brightened instantly.
Parson fidgeted, unease plain—a merchant's instincts screaming warning.
"Alright, repeat after me: 'The Frontia Trading Company will raise no complaints against the Altesia Count House hereafter!'"
"The Frontia Trading Company will raise no complaints against the Altesia Count House here—"
"Hold it, Sam...!"
Parson's instincts kicked in to stop him.
But I had zero intention of playing fair.
I shot up, bellowing at Sam.
"That the best voice you got?! Louder!"
"The Frontia Trading Company will raise no complaints against the Altesia Count House hereafter!!"
"Perfect, full of vim! Maribel, give this sucker an Elixir!"
Maribel, who'd stood silently behind me, pulled a vial from her pouch and handed it to Sam.
Sam grinned ear-to-ear with the prize; Parson facepalmed.
Unable to take it, Parson slammed a heavy gold pouch on the table.
Then he snatched Sam's wrist and dragged him out.
No goodbye to the host, but it didn't bother me.
A satisfied smile crept across my face instead.
No loss—pure profiteering perfection.
Bickering voices faded down the hall beyond the door.
Couldn't catch details, but easy to guess.
Parson chewing out Sam's folly; Sam sniping back that fifty-gold savings beat nitpicking.
Just parroting words—not even a verbal contract. What's the issue?
I eyed the perfume bottle in the parlor corner.
Looked ordinary, but the lid flickered faintly.
I rose, twisted the lid rightward lightly.
Then—
"The Frontia Trading Company will raise no complaints against the Altesia Count House hereafter!!"
Sam's voice—not perfume—poured out.
Lena's recommended disguise recorder magic tool. Way better than expected.
Hard evidence locked in—verbal contract fully binding.
No grounds for protests or claims now.
"Today's deals are done."
I dumped the pouch, counting coins one by one.
One short of 450, and I'd alert the guards to strip their carriage bare.
Backstabbers plotting fake Elixirs? Cash dealings had to be ironclad for peace of mind.
"A year of study might barely crack one ingredient, huh?"
"Doubt they'll get that far."
Maribel glided over quietly as I counted.
She scooped handfuls, stacking neat ten-coin towers for easy tally.
"What do you mean?"
"The Elixir we gave them? You forgot a key ingredient, so it was a dud you meant to trash."
"You handed over a failure?"
She nodded with a lovely smile at my question.
"You knew it wasn't for saving his mom, right? No pure intent there, so no need for the real deal. No guilty conscience over junk either."
"Brilliant!"
Unjust markup, sneaky recording, unanalyzable dud sale.
Every trick to screw them—flawless scam.
I thumbs-upped Maribel, sharing the glee.
Then Tyrfing's voice echoed in my head from my belt.
[A vicious couple through and through...] 'Just getting started?'
[......] Tyrfing fell silent.