Alden's voice softened, "The choice is yours." He said. "This opportunity offers a chance to be part of something revolutionary. Think it over, and if you're not interested, feel free to leave."
A storm of outrage erupted among the merchants. Murmurs escalated into angry shouts and heated exchanges. Words of abuse and frustration flew across the room, yet the fear of the merchant guild’s authority kept their actions in check. The guild’s influence loomed over them, a strong reminder of its power.
Samuel’s hands trembled as chaos unfolded before him, his heart pounding with anxiety and awe. He admired his friend’s ability to command the room and stand unflinching amidst the storm of dissent.
Time ticked on, each second stretching the silence like a taut string ready to snap. The tension in the room was palpable, a heavy weight pressing down on everyone. Despite the uproar, nobody left the chamber; their eyes remained fixed on the vague figures, torn between scepticism and the enticing prospect of untold wealth.
Suddenly, a voice pierced the heavy atmosphere, slicing through the tension like a knife. Jones, observing with keen interest, finally spoke. “Auction it off! Let the highest bidder win.”
The merchants grunted in disapproval. They knew that an auction would likely mean losing their share of the pie. The prospect introduced a new layer of uncertainty, fueling anxiety and fear of being outbid by wealthier rivals.
Alden’s gaze shifted toward the voice; he was surprised to see a teenager sitting among the seasoned merchants. Jones’s confident tone marked him as someone used to command and influence. Alden guessed he was both famous and wealthy, while quickly assessing the situation.
Alden had considered an auction previously, but it didn’t align with his long-term plan. Alden wanted the holistic development of the barony, ensuring ample opportunities for locals. Therefore, he discarded the auction in favour of a broader strategy.
“No auction,” Alden said firmly. “Maybe we can work together later, but not now."
Many, restless at the thought of losing the opportunity, finally sighed in relief as the room exhaled collectively.
“Including the payment, there’s one more requirement in the contract,” Alden said, gesturing toward Samuel.
Taken from Royal Road, this narrative should be reported if found on Amazon.
Wrapped entirely in black cloth, Samuel slowly descended from the stage and approached the merchants. As he moved closer, they leaned in, curiosity piqued by the mysterious figure who had remained silent until now.
Samuel handed a stack of papers to be passed among the merchants. They quickly distributed the documents, recognising them as contracts with the merchant guild, acting as a proxy. Many inventors preferred to avoid the limelight. They used the guild as an intermediary, paying a small fee for its services. The guild leveraged these arrangements to enhance the ease of doing business.
The contract was concise, containing only two clauses. The first required transferring funds to a private account in Elysian Vault for the soap formula.
The second mandated establishing production facilities in Silverfield Barony, with a stipulation that the factory remain in the barony for at least three years. Afterwards, merchants could relocate the facility as they saw fit.
The second clause was crucial for Alden’s broader vision. It aimed to diversify the barony’s economy from agriculture to manufacturing and establish a consistent source of tax revenue. Alden’s father, Frederick, was a kind baron who often covered tax payments to the empire from the barony’s coffers when farmers had poor harvests. This generosity, however, came at a cost—less focus on fortification and garrisoning the barony. Silverfield Barony had only Rodrick as an Iron Knight, and its army was more symbolic than functional.
Furthermore, Frederick needed substantial resources to advance from a Bronze Knight to a Silver Knight. Alden hoped the increased revenue and stability would enable his father to achieve this breakthrough, enhancing the barony’s security. Most importantly, Alden wanted to align the merchants’ interests with those of the barony.
As he considered these factors, Alden remained unfazed by the surrounding chatter. He knew no one would dare break the contract. The merchant guild’s power was too significant to dismiss, and this arrangement would ultimately benefit the merchants. All he had to do was wait a few days and check his anonymous private account in Elysian Vault, which Samuel had created on his instructions.
“Everyone, please consider the proposal thoroughly. You can collect the detailed formula and guide from the merchant guild after payment.” With that, Alden left the chamber with Samuel, exiting through the back door.
Jones, still mulling over the identity of “Mr. Enigma,” watched the retreating figures. His initial scepticism that these were the baron’s men began to waver. Why would the baron pass up such a lucrative opportunity? Having tested the product himself, Jones knew it would be a surefire hit. The notion of a one-time payment for a formula—typically a fiercely guarded secret—left him puzzled. It made little sense to trade it for what appeared to be a modest sum. With the right buyers, this could have fetched much more.
As he scanned the room, Jones noticed the merchants clamouring, most with limited influence and reach spanning only a few viscounties. He recognised this as a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity for them. If possible, he would have preferred to monopolise the formula himself, but Mr. Enigma had been too rigid in his stance. With one last look around, Jones left silently, knowing he had much work to do.