"What is a merchant?"

What's a merchant!? The merchants' brows rose in unison, wondering what the heck kinda dumb question that was. Who didn't know what a merchant was? Even tiny children barely out of their diapers could answer that!

Marlo Coop's brows furrowed. "You kidding?"

Miote smiled. "I know what you must be thinking. Merchants are people who buy and sell products and services. Simple, right?" At Coop's humph, he finished, "Well, I do not see it that way."

Joanne Frye's tapping slowed as she pondered on his words. With a narrow gaze, she questioned, "What do you mean?"

"Consider this," Miote began, index finger raised in front of him. "Every kingdom, no matter how powerful or weak, no matter how large or small, depends on one thing to survive."

"Money?"

"Not exactly," Miote said with a shake of his head. "People. It depends on its people. Without people, there is no kingdom. An angry populace leads to a disjointed kingdom, which leads to war, which ends up in extinction."

"What's your point?" Jon Fox demanded dryly.

"What do people depend on?" Miote continued, fingers rising as he enumerated, "Food; Water; Clothing; Shelter; Medicine. These five fundamentals are imperative for every hume on this earth. And how are these essentials delivered to the people?" Miote paused, letting his words sink in as he placed his hand on the table. "Sure, if smart or strong enough, they could probably provide themselves with two to three of these necessities. But sure enough, a man good with an ax might not be as good with a hoe, nor might he be as good with a needle. Such a man would have to get these other necessities in one way or another. What is the easiest way for such a man in a rural village?"

"Trade?" Fox asked.

"Wrong," Miote refuted with a shake of his head. "There is no guarantee the woman who sells food will require the wood the first chops. To get the food he needs, he would first have to find out what the woman needs, then see if he can trade in his wood for that, before returning with it, and hoping said woman has not already sold to someone else."

"What use is this idle fallacy," Coop snorted, contempt in his gaze. "We have syros. No one trades by barter anymore."

"Yes, syros," Miote concurred, a glint in his eyes. "A universal currency accepted throughout the land, from peddlers in the swamps of Gockt, to great merchants in the Imperial City. Everyone can easily trade-in whatever they have for these pieces of 'money' and use that to get what they want for themselves. It's that simple right?"

The merchants paused, realizing the chesch was going somewhere with all this. Of them all, only Damah Dumm had a spark in his eyes, which portrayed his surprise and hidden joy.

"Wrong," Miote said, his tone grave. "Such a thought is so very wrong. Let's return to the previous example. Say, our village axeman can now trade his wood for syros. He can then use that syros to buy food. Easy." Miote paused, taking a sip from his mug before he continued, "In that village, there is a fixed amount of syros that circulates around its inhabitants forever, just on, and on, and on, without any influx from anywhere. That village will never improve, remaining stuck in its ways forever.

“Imagine a great mine with plenty of gold is found. With no way to get it out of the village, the mine becomes worthless as the inhabitants would use it up among themselves without bringing in any extra wealth.

“Worse yet, in the event, there is a commodity they do not have—say medicine, for example—they would not have a way to get it except one villager suddenly received a burst of enlightenment from the gods... hehe."

The merchants shared a chuckle. Despite them acknowledging and respecting the existence of gods, for these men and women who believed first in cold cash, relying on providences from the gods was a laughable endeavor.

"Heh point's getting clearer," Coop harrumphed with a short laugh. "This' where we come in, isn't it?"

"Exactly!" Miote exclaimed with a toothy grin. "We merchants allow food, water, clothing, materials for shelter, medicine, and most importantly, syros to flow between regions. These influxes can help a small village that finds a good mine or fishing spot to flourish, bringing more money from outside, allowing investments in the village to upgrade its standard of living. Improved standards of living allow humes to graduate from needs to wants. Thousands of jobs spring up all over the place to facilitate these wants because although needs can be satisfied, a person's wants never are. There will always be something more beautiful, more outstanding, more prestigious!" Miote forced his voice, which had begun to rise, down as he continued, "Thousands of people feel secure in their jobs because merchants are there to ensure their products get sold, if not to someone of the same town, then to the next town over where there is an actual need."

"This is why I always maintain that there is no merchant who is useless or unimportant." Miote's gaze brushed past each merchant in turn. "Take Fox-san as an example. As one of the biggest traders in the textile industry, you ensure the latest fabrics arrive on time in each region and in the best condition to satisfy both the poor's needs and the wants of the rich. It is easy to focus on the millions of syros that exchange hands during these deals but take a closer look. Farmers get paid for the original crops; tailors get paid for weaving these crops into fabric. There is the exchange between your industry and Frye-san's in which mercenaries get paid to transport your products across monster-filled lands safely. Before even, you finally get to the nobles who want these fabrics for the latest gala or ball."

Marlo Coop, who like the others, had long since abandoned any ridicule in their hearts, gazed at the chesch with narrow eyes, voice grave as he said, "You've our attention. Enough bullshite, get to the poi—"

"Power!" Miote boomed with tightly clenched fists. Money is the lifeblood of a nation! But we can only get money from the people’s taxes! Also, the people, in turn, can only return taxes on their standard of living! Rich people lead to a prosperous nation! A poor populace leads to a poor country! And who is responsible for ensuring the public becomes rich? The royal family? The elders? The guilds? No!

“We merchants are directly responsible. Without we men and women willing to risk our lives in these harsh lands for profit, there wouldn't be any circulation, and hence the blood of the nation would stop flowing and turn stale." Miote's gaze was intense, holding the merchants in his thrall, "As the people directly responsible for ensuring the flow, do you think we are powerful or not?"

Marlo Coop started, Fox ducked his head, and Frye frantically tapped on the table, eyes glazed over. Damah Dumm let out a serene smile as he answered, "We should be powerful..."

"But we are not," Miote finished, voice heavy. "Take a look at the Adventurers' and Mages' Guilds. Both are simply a coalition of all the adventurers or mages who sign up. Yet they are so powerful that no country would dare mess with them." Miote took a breath, rage, and dissatisfaction burning in gold eyes. "How is it possible that we, who control the blood of the nation, have no actual power in it beyond our direct businesses?"

"...Competition," Frye muttered, voice laden with irritation.

"No," Miote shook his head, understanding her frustration. Competition is an essential aspect of our business. Without competition, progress will stale, and although blood will flow in the nation, its quality will always remain the same. No, our problem is not competition exactly." He momentarily shut his gaze as he took a breath. "Our problem lies in the unchecked competition that inevitably leads to chaos."

Miote rested his elbows on the table and clasped his hands together. "Once again, I refer you to the Adventurer's Guild. Mercenaries are a group of naturally selfish and competitive people. Each one wants to complete that one quest just a little faster, a little easier than the other for them to receive more special requests directly from customers. Understanding their nature, the guild restricts the number of parties who can apply for certain quests, going as far as to punish any guild member who intrudes on an assigned quest and offering the rewards to those to whom the quest was appointed, without caring whether they accomplished it or not.

“This is for a very simple reason: To control in-fighting between groups and prevent larger parties and guilds from hoarding all the quests. I wonder, if those muscle-brained adventurers could figure out the gains from controlled competition, why is it that we intellectuals have allowed the cycle of chaos to continue for so long?"

The chesch's words struck a chord in the hearts of the merchants present. Who here had not suffered, shed blood, lied, cheated, stolen, all for the sake of reaching the top of the business world. There was no structure to the world of merchants. They slaughtered each other without mercy to prevent competition from rising. They cheated clients and swindled other merchants out of vast amounts of money for their immediate gain without thinking of long-term profit, thereby damaging merchants' names all over.

This text was taken from Royal Road. Help the author by reading the original version there.

Currently, to make it in this world as a merchant required a level of heartlessness, cruelty, cunning, and smarts if one did not want to be found six feet under, all his/her aspirations and dreams buried with them beneath the dirt.

"Strong words," Damah Dumm praised, his face a mask of serenity. "I assume you have a solution in mind?"

"I do have a suggestion, yes," Miote declared with an unwavering gaze. "It's simple. We create a coalition of our own. A union of all merchants, managed by a board that controls and ensures fair but effective competition between its registered members. The coalition will offer protection to its members. In the event protection fails, the union will hunt down any attackers and deliver swift retribution."

A crafty smirk began to spread on Miote’s lips as he caught the frantic expressions on the merchants' faces, each keying into his next words. "Like a country of its own, all members will be taxed a percentage of all sales, ensuring enough funds for the union to invest and experiment in new business ideas that would otherwise have been impossible on their own. A structured but fair advancement system will be set in place, allowing its members to increase in rank, earning more rewards and chances of loans for their respective businesses. Although members could purchase mainstream positions with money earned, there would be special positions that won’t be for sale, but instead will be rewarded to those with special contributions to the entire merchant world."

"HAHAHA!" Marlo Coop burst out laughing, a wicked glint in his eyes. "You talk a big game, chesch. Can't right say I detest yer idea." His voice dipped, eyes narrowed as he said, "There's just one thing..."

Frye's tapping paused, her eyes meeting the chesch's. "Why do we need you?"

"With what you have revealed, it would not be difficult for us to form this union," Fox stated.

To their surprise, the chesch did not wilt under their combined pressure. In fact, Miote held a small smile of ridicule as if looking at children performing circus tricks. "It's simple really," Miote started, voice level as he opened his inventory and begun taking out some scrolls from within. "You need us. We do not need you." Miote's strong tone held such arrogance and confidence that the merchants could not help but suck in a cold breath.

It had to be known that these three were the top dogs in Rosendun. Without their capital, it would be near impossible for Miote's Union ever to form, especially should he try to compete against them. Frye's tapping resumed, eyes narrow as she queried, "What do you mean? Do not try to fool me. I know the only reason your guild has been able to come this far is as a result of the royal family's favoritism. But I doubt the treasury will willingly lend you the amount of capital required for this venture."

"Indeed they won't," Miote agreed with a brisk nod. "Nor did I ever intend to get a loan from them."

"What then do you base this confidence on?"

"Heh," Miote chuckled as he tapped the scrolls on the table. "Remember when I said some people would be able to get into top positions in the union as a result of their contribution to the merchant world? Well, these here will be our contribution to whichever union we end up with. I assure you they are more than enough to earn us a place at the table. In fact, I can confidently state that profits for the board's personal businesses will at least triple by year's end as a result of the measures written in these scrolls. What's more, the board itself will have so much money its members would not know what to do with it."

"Talk is cheap," Fox drily stated, clearly unconvinced. "Let us see these claims of yours."

Miote waved his hand with a smile. "You may take any you wish and peruse its contents. When done, you can pass it to the next person."

Damah Dumm, intrigued by the confidence in the chesch's eyes, reached for a scroll and opened it. The room fell silent like a defendant against the judge, as the merchant's eyes rolled through the parchment, momentarily flashing, and other times a little raise of the brow. Eventually, about five minutes later, after repeatedly double-checking to ensure he did not miss anything, he shut his eyes for about twenty seconds in rumination. They opened, holding a peculiar glint in them as they regarded the golden chesch.

Gaze returning to normal, Damah Dumm wordlessly passed on the parchment to Fox, then reached for the next scroll.

Opposite him, Frye and Coop took this as a sign. They both reached for scrolls and began examining their content. As they read through, their gazes switched from nonchalance to interest, to shock, till they were on the edge of their seats, hunched over the documents. The merchants, too engrossed with the wonders before them, wordlessly exchanged scroll after scroll, sometimes casting a fearful glance at the relaxed chesch before once again delving into the thick of the documents.

There were so many technical terms in the documents they were either unfamiliar with or had never even heard before. As merchants, they were familiar with grain silos that allowed commoners and merchants to borrow grain from the government with an agreement to pay back at a later date. But what was this ‘bank’?

The one described in the parchment seemed a thousand times more complicated, somehow allowing money deposited in one location to be collected at any other branch. Furthermore, what were these interest rates and savings and current accounts? And what was this? They could use the money deposited for investments? Huh? Banks could print their own money??? What was all this? And what were these laws? Patents? Copyrights? Hmm?

Although they could not understand completely, the merchants were intelligent enough to smell the looming business opportunity. Especially when they read up on insurance? Ha... who could believe there was actually such a good scam er… thing? People would pay monthly for the off-chance they do get injured. And even then, the amount of money returned was subject to many terms and conditions?

Were there people who would actually pay for this?

But then again, thinking about it, this was a world of monsters and magic. Adventurers who go out into the field do so at risk to injury or life. For some of these men and women, losing an arm meant the end of both them and their families. In such a case, if packaged well enough, it would be a surprise if people did not flock towards these deals.

However, there would need to be a safe method to transport coin and messages between banks for all these things to work. That problem was easily solved by the metal monster labeled 'train' and the wooden ship described as 'skyboat.'

Although the merchant initially held some skepticism, when Coop did not say a word except for bulging eyes, they knew the chances of these devices being built were ridiculously high.

Damah Dumm placed the final scroll on the table, gaze laden with pleasant shock as he regarded the chesch. "Is all this truly possible? Can you make these a reality?"

"I swear," Miote replied with a smile. "However, I know to us merchants, swears are worthless." Wringing his hands together, Miote stated, "Suvron's Bridge and Tower. They will serve as Hopeful Maggots' Collateral in this transaction."

Damah Dumm sucked in a deep breath. Even a blind peddler on the street could see the future monetary potential of that tower and bridge. As the only passage between Rosendun and Merriheim, the amount of coin that would flow through that crossing would exponentially increase over time. Better yet, he had heard some rumors of the possibility of dungeons found underground. "Do you have that authority?"

"I control the money," Miote calmly declared. "So, yes. I do have that authority."

Damah Dumm took a deep breath to calm himself. Upon release, he asked. "I suppose the Rosen Kingdom will have a share?"

"In the end, everything we do leads back to the kingdom."

"I see," Damah Dumm muttered under his breath. "In that case..." He fixed the chesch with a resolute glare. I want fifteen percent."

The remaining merchants felt like thunderbolts struck their souls. Not only did Damah Dumm accept the chesch's proposal, but he directly demanded a sizeable but respectful share of the company. What did this mean? It was clear that Damah had chosen to be part of this project, and he also accepted Miote as his superior.

Given Damah Dumm's earlier proposal, none of the other merchants dared ask for more than him. They each took ten percent each, leaving fifty-five unused. After a round of deliberation, Miote decided to have the Maggots take thirty-five percent and leave the Rosen Kingdom with twenty.

With the distribution agreed, Miote spent the next thirty minutes penning out the most comprehensive contract the world had ever seen. It was so extensive that he required several scrolls to finish.

When he finished, Miote presented the contracts to the merchants, whose eyes bulged with shock as they flipped through them. What sort of level was this? Miote filled the scroll with every possible contingency—both plausible and implausible—in case of unforeseen issues.

The merchants signed on the appropriate spots, the confirmation of so many high-level merchants allowing Gachs Manolds, god of contracts to bless the scrolls upon which the agreements were penned from wind, rain and sun, and vastly improving its invulnerability to fire.

With the contract signed, Miote let out a hidden sigh of relief after completing his battle with resounding success. He had secured a stable foundation upon which the Hopeful Maggots would build in the future, never needing to worry about funding if things kicked off properly. With the online market opening in a few in-game months, when the mega-corporations would begin to pump money like water into the game, the Maggots would not be caught unprepared.

Hehe... Miote pictured a certain daeben standing in the desert sun, red eyes a mask of bloody murder. "Good luck..."