After a moment of silence in the basement, everyone burst into joy. Right, even if that Alaric is targeting us, he couldn't blatantly break the law, could he?
As a hardworking businessman, feeling unwell is nothing unusual. I've been in the trade for so many years, don't I deserve to enjoy a bit of relaxation?
I'm just taking a few days off, what did you say? They're resting as well? Pure coincidence.
So, the gathered merchants decided to wrap up their goods for the next two days and to take a mutual break from the market the day after. Then they all scattered to their separate ways.
---
Inside the study at 2 Clyster Street.
"Master, do you think those merchants will really go on strike?" Pepe asked Murphy, who was hunched over writing letters at his desk.
"Of course, they have to. They can't openly oppose Alaric, can they? They're betting he won't blatantly overstep the mark by taking this laid-back approach," Murphy replied off the cuff.
Pepe nodded, "I see. But what about the commoners who can't buy what they need?"
Just as Murphy had finished writing his letter, he waved it in the air to dry the ink faster and said, "The solution is right in this letter, my dear~ And it's gonna cost us a bit more this time."
"What do you mean 'cost us a bit more'?"
Murphy said with a chuckle, "Means we're about to spend a pretty penny~"
He stretched out his arms to mime a hug, "About this much!"
Pepe looked up at Murphy with awe and asked, "Master, do we even have that kind of money?"
Murphy squatted down to the little girl's level and countered, "Who said anything about spending our money?"
---
In the wee hours, Alaric was up for a night-time stroll, holding a lamp with a fire guard through his house. Passing his study, he peeked inside and noticed a faint light.
Alaric quickly reviewed his evening's activities and realized neither he nor his wife had used the study, and his son, along with Byron, had been sword-fighting in the yard. A sense of unease flooded him; he feared an assassination attempt as much as he hoped for new instructions from Mr. Toras.
His unease didn't last long, though. Reinvigorated, Alaric pushed open the door to his study and once again found an envelope sealed with a skull on his desk.
Alaric skillfully used a letter opener and read the contents by candlelight.
[My dearest Mr. Alaric,
Long time no see.
I must apologize, albeit abruptly, for missing your inauguration. My sincere regrets.
To make amends, I have both bad and good news for you.
The bad news is, the other merchants of City of Gath have formed a coalition against you, planning to give you a bit of a headache within the bounds of the realm's laws.
The good news? As newly elected head of the merchants' guild, your first test is to burn these unruly mongrels to the ground.
P.S. Congratulations on proving your worth and joining my team as a full-fledged member. As a new recruit, the help I offer is at the location of my subordinates' abode. Hope you like it.
Your kind and sincere friend, Toras.]
Alaric, learning from past lessons, read the letter three times in one breath, then exhaled deeply. Had he indeed become one of that noble's men? He didn't know if it was good or bad news, but at least 2 Clyster Street would back him up amid the looming difficulties.
---
Alaric believes that anyone who doesn't rise before nine in the morning is no better than a rat in the sewers, a pest in the gutters, utterly lackluster.
Pepe, born and bred in Little River Village, naturally followed the early-to-bed, early-to-rise routine.
But to Murphy, if you've got nothing pressing and you still get up at nine, that's blasphemy to life itself.
Alaric planned to visit 2 Clyster Street at nine in the morning, but Byron’s insinuating advice convinced him to make it just before lunch instead.
At half-past ten, accompanied by Byron, Alaric arrived in front of the genteel and somewhat opulent house at 2 Clyster Street. Although he bought the place to give away, he couldn't help but feel envious of the exquisite courtyard and the house.
Alaric could afford such a home; he just always pretended to be poorer than he was. He planned to buy a quiet, safe plot of land to build a house with a garden when he could no longer run his trades, and there, enjoy his twilight years.
This story originates from Royal Road. Ensure the author gets the support they deserve by reading it there.
Appreciating the diverse greenery in the courtyard, Alaric spotted a problem: such a large house without any servants? There wasn’t even a doorman, let alone a maid. Who takes care of all the chores? He doubted Mr. Toras's subordinates would stoop to such tasks.
In reality, Murphy didn't handle chores personally. The cleaning and even pruning of the garden plants were entrusted to Buster, not a person, but a dog. As for more assistant-like tasks, they were delegated to Pepe.
The thing was, 2 Clyster Street didn't lack for servants; it’s just that considering Pepe's human need to eat as well as everyone else's need to maintain their human disguise, Murphy was considering hiring a thoroughly vetted chef.
Reaching the center of the courtyard, Buster bounded out from the flower bushes, barked a greeting to the newcomers, and dashed inside to wake Murphy.
Shortly after, a hastily dressed Murphy, rubbing his eyes, ushered Byron and Alaric into the drawing-room.
Alaric handed Murphy the letter from Mr. Toras.
Murphy couldn't help but smirk upon seeing the letter that had, in a roundabout way, found its way back to him.
"Um, young... sir, can I help you with something?" Alaric, needing a favor, showed due respect to Murphy, who must have been either born noble or incredibly talented to be in Toras's camp at such a young age.
"Nothing much; just gets a chuckle out of me seeing this wax seal; it reminds me of Mr. Toras," Murphy replied with a smile and a feigned glance at his own letter.
"Oh, I see. Well, Mr. Alaric, rest assured, now that we are on the same page, I shall, of course, assist you through this predicament." Murphy confidently slapped his chest, "In fact, you hardly need our intervention; your own smarts are more than enough to resolve this matter."
"I'm not sure I follow you," Alaric confessed, puzzled by Murphy's words.
"Mr. Alaric, consider how they might try to trip you up. Especially with Byron, the skilled swordsman, at your side," Murphy coaxed, smiling encouragingly.
"Legally, yes. That way, I have no justification to punish them," Alaric said, following the train of thought Murphy was leading him on.
"And what, pray tell, is the most lawful form of resistance for merchants?"
A light bulb went off in Alaric's head, and he knew the answer: "To strike! If they stop selling their wares, they can undermine my standing as the head of the guild without breaking any kingdom laws, gradually nudging me out of power."
"Well done, you got it right!" Murphy said, jumping up from his seat with ridiculous enthusiasm. "So, how do you plan to counter them?"
At the question, Alaric’s face fell, "Sir, it's an open conspiracy; there's no simple trick to resolve this."
"Now, why resort to tricks? Why not meet conspiracy with conspiracy, and counter an open strategy with an open strategy? Sound good?" Murphy's voice rose as he shook Alaric’s slumped shoulders.
"But if they don't sell, what can I do?"
"If they won't sell, you will! After all, the saying goes if you won't do it, someone will."
"But all I have is a general store aboveboard…"
"Then source elsewhere, secure everything they're not selling into your hands and sell to the common folk," Murphy suggested.
"The amount of gold that would require is immense..."
Before Alaric could finish, Murphy snapped his fingers, and on cue, Pepe entered, pushing a wheelbarrow brimming with coins right up to Alaric. Like showing off, Pepe tipped the cart, spilling the coins onto the floor in a tantalizing cascade.
Such a fortune, even by Alaric's standards, was immensely tempting. He swallowed and asked, "All this for me?"
Murphy gave him a funny look, "Not waking up yet? It's a loan! Lend, not give!"
Realizing he’d been daydreaming, Alaric chuckled at his own folly, "Right, of course, a loan. What was I thinking?"
"That's the spirit," Murphy said, with a 'teachable-moment' expression. He then became serious, "We’ve decided to lend you three thousand gold coins to tide over the crisis, but that's not charity; we expect ten percent interest."
Alaric pondered for a moment and concluded there was still profit to be made, responding with a smile, "Fair enough, loans should carry interest."
"Now you're talking! Let's move on to how you're gonna handle things," Murphy said, prepared for the next phase of their plan.
"Sir, there’s really no need. I'm an old hand at this kind of thing…"
Alaric hesitated. Although he wanted to trust the frivolously behaving young man he’d only met twice, he was confident about his business acumen and reluctant to take advice.
Hearing this, Murphy grew interested. Did Alaric actually doubt his skills in commerce from another world?
"I get your point. How about we lay all our cards on the table? Whichever plan you fancy, we'll go with that. Deal?"
"Deal, let me give mine first." Alaric boldly presented his straightforward plan, "Use the borrowed funds to quickly procure the goods the striking merchants aren’t selling, then continue normal sales in City of Gath. As long as we keep the market stable, the other traders will eventually give up, and I can slowly repay the debt and interest."
"It's too small-minded!" Looking down at Alaric, Murphy said the words with a trace of arrogance.
Alaric, unoffended, was curious to find out where his plan fell short.
"I have no objections to acquiring goods from elsewhere, but I believe we needn’t follow the striking merchants’ method in selling them."
Murphy stared into Alaric's eyes, "I didn't peg you for a saint. They want you gone, and you’re content just to stabilize the market and wait for them to give up?"
Alaric knew he wasn't a saint, his face flushed with embarrassment, "How do I not want to crush them in business? But this strike doesn’t seem a good opportunity."
"You're wrong. This strike is the perfect opportunity. Take advantage when they aren't selling; seize the market, and do it thoroughly so they'll have no chance when they return."
"How can I do that when many commoners are loyal to certain shops? Mine will always be just an alternative."
"Loyal customers? If they even exist, it's out of habit. We need to break that habit."
"It’s not easy to change people's habits."
"Eh, I think it will be. Two words," whispered Murphy, "Discount heavily."
Murphy cleared his throat, "My plan is to expand your shop fivefold while bringing in the stock and selling categorically. Basically, a one-stop-shop with prices undercutting those merchants' prices, just a tad above cost – a volume trade approach."
"But the profits would be..." Alaric interjected.
"Don't interrupt me," Murphy continued, "We need to keep slashing prices and marketing ourselves aggressively, deepening the commoners' impression of your shop. How long will they strike? A week? A month? A year? I say, the longer, the better. The longer they're out, the deeper the impression we make, and they'll find no business when they return."
"In the next phase, when they realize their goods won’t sell and they get desperate for cash, we’ll buy them out for peanuts. Kick them out of Gath’s trading circle for good. Thus, achieving our goal, and crushing them in business, killing two birds with one stone, right?"
Alaric was speechless, not anticipating that this seemingly flippant young man could conceive such a targeted plan. Even if he had similar ideas, his cautious nature had always held him back. In comparison, Murphy was a born trader, and it was no wonder he was one of Toras's chief lieutenants.
Seeing Alaric’s reaction, Murphy waved a hand in front of his face, "What are you thinking? Don't just stand there. I've got to go over the plan with you in detail, divide the tasks, and then let's get to work. I can't wait to see those basement dogs begging for mercy."
Imagining those once haughty merchants grovelling before him, Alaric felt a surge of adrenaline, "Brilliant! I'm all ears for the fine details, Mr. Murphy."