Chapter 12

They arrived at Engelfurt as twilight fell over the city, passing through its southwest gate with little more than a nod and a wave.

The ease of their entry annoyed Ludmila to no end, and she used her Skill to gauge the officers at the gate. This further annoyed her since they were not too different from the average customs officer in E-Rantel. A small part of Ludmila reminded her that it was probably an exercise in futility to even try to judge those outside of her jurisdiction, but the result was still irritating.

After they disembarked from their carriage in the yard of a merchant inn called Angel’s Rest, Liane sent a look in her direction.

“What’s with the big mood?”

“Big mood?”

“Yeah, you look like you’re about to glare a hole into my carriage.”

“I’m just annoyed over how easily those officials at the gate let us in,” Ludmila said. “I thought that maybe it was the look of the carriage that encouraged them to carelessly wave us through.”

Liane walked over, followed by Florine. The former pointed to the side of the cabin. Ludmila followed her gesture, gaze coming to rest upon the two sigils on that side of the vehicle: the rolling hills of Gagnier and the eight-spoked wheel of Wagner.

“Should be those, right?” Liane said, “Even if we’re not from the Empire, those guys’ll’ve memorised the sigils of their suzerain’s nobility. We’re way too big for ‘em and they know it – their superiors’ll probably give ‘em three kinds of hell if they give us any trouble.”

“They should be performing their duties regardless of who appears at the gate,” Ludmila frowned. “Why would their superiors get mad at them? Why would we, for that matter?”

“We wouldn’t,” Liane shrugged, “but they don’t know that. We’re from the evil nation of monsters or something. Plus, little folk know that they’re likely to get squished if they get underfoot around the powerful. That’s just the way it is – it’s not as if they have two Death Knights and an Elder Lich backing them up like our guys do.”

They didn’t, but the rationale did not mollify Ludmila’s feelings on the matter. There was such a thing as being flexible and having the talent to interpret and process things so that interactions went smoothly within the bounds of what was proper. The behaviour of the officials at the gate, however, was just criminally negligent. To Ludmila, they were two people entrusted with the city’s security letting someone through the gate because they saw something that wasn’t worth the personal risk to confront.

The Empire was lauded for its supposedly superior administration, professional armies and levels of magical integration unmatched in the region. This image was something Ludmila looked forward to witnessing in action more than anything else on their journey. Even being aware of Engelfurt’s circumstances, however, her first impression ended up riddled with disappointment.

“Still,” Liane tilted her head as she continued looking at the sigils, “no matter how I look at ‘em, they’re tits.”

“They’re hills!”

“Okay, now you’re just bragging.”

Florine reached out for Liane, who deftly evaded her. For a while, at least. Eventually, retribution was visited upon the Countess of Wagner. Nearer to the inn’s entrance, Clara turned away from speaking to one of the footmen.

“The staff wants to know whether…what are you two doing?”

“Being attacked by a boob demon?”

Florine released Liane, but not before whacking her friend once more. The two city Nobles straightened their dresses.

“The staff wants to know where we’ll be dining,” Clara said. “They’re already moving our things up to our suite, but–”

“The tavern, obviously,” Liane said. “We’re here to have fun!”

“Was there some issue with dining in public?” Florine asked.

“According to the footmen,” Clara answered, “it appears to be free of any glaring issues. The answer was more to let the inn staff know what preparations to make.”

A sudden downpour chased them indoors, where they went upstairs to take a look at their suite. Ludmila grew confused as it went from an inspection to her three friends changing out of their dresses. Aemilia looked at her with a question on her face, but Ludmila shook her head.

“Why is everyone changing?” Ludmila asked.

“Because it’s the tavern of a merchant inn,” Clara said.

“Come to think of it,” Liane’s head popped out of a fresh chemise, “have you ever been to an inn before, Ludmila?”

“I have,” Ludmila said carefully. “Once.”

“…and what did you do there?”

“I was there for an investigation, so I worked in my room.”

Her friends stopped to exchange glances.

“She won’t change out of that,” Clara said.

“Mmh…it’s fine, maybe? This isn’t really her thing.”

“What ‘thing’?” Ludmila asked, “We’re going down to have dinner, yes?”

“That’s partially right,” Liane said, “but mostly wrong.”

“What she means,” Florine told her, “is that we’re mostly here for the entertainment. This is a merchant inn – an arena of commerce.”

Liane was right: it wasn’t really her thing. Her friends – now garbed as well-to-do Merchants – were here to mingle with the tavern’s patrons and conduct trade.

“After we’re finished with dinner,” Ludmila said, “I can head out and take a look around. I don’t want to get in anyone’s way.”

“What? No!” Liane walked up and grabbed her wrist, “We’re here to do stuff together, so let’s do stuff together. It’s not like we’re trying to chase you out or anything.”

Liane’s hand phased through Ludmila’s wrist. She tried several more times.

“Why don’t we have one of these…these…whatever’s doing that?”

“If you had one,” Ludmila said, “your Shadow Demons wouldn’t be able to grab you and fly to safety if it was needed.”

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

“That effect can be quite annoying,” Clara said. “She left it on one time and I kept phasing through her while we were sleeping.”

“Note to self,” Liane said, “Clara is a clingy sleeper. Anyway, dealing with Merchants might not be for you, but there’s plenty of other stuff that’ll keep things interesting.”

Upon returning to the tavern, they found their table already prepared. A portly man with a greying beard and receding hairline awaited them. He seemed to sweat at their appearance.

“W-welcome, my ladies,” for some reason, he saw fit to bow three times, “the name’s Otis, proprietor of Angel’s Rest. It is my greatest pleasure to…”

His voice trailed off as Florine stepped forward and smiled up at him.

“Thank you for your welcome, Otis,” she said. “It would please us if you simply treat us as you would your other guests. Might I ask what is being served for dinner?”

“Of course, my la–of course,” the proprietor straightened and cleared his throat. “The night’s meal is the seasonal fare: breaded cutlets with cheese, ham and spiced potatoes with onion gravy and a creamy vegetable stew. I also recommend the cyser that we just imported from the north.”

After ensuring that they all found the meal agreeable, Otis hurried off into the kitchen. Their booth was nestled in a corner overlooking the tavern. Nearby, a well-stocked hearth sent waves of warmth into the air. Liane ran her fingers over the worn surface of the table with a satisfied expression before producing a file folder.

“What’s that?” Ludmila asked.

“Reports left by my caravans that’ve come through here in the past few weeks,” Liane answered. “Things have been turning out quite nicely.”

“It didn’t feel nice coming in,” Clara noted.

“Well, yeah,” Liane replied, “but it’s a good opportunity for us.”

Leafing through the contents of the folder, Liane split them into four sets.

“What do you mean by ‘didn’t feel nice’?” Ludmila took her papers in hand, “Something like Fassett County?”

“It isn’t the same as Fassett County,” Clara told her. “It’s a different sort of feeling – like this city is sick. I suppose it’s more a sense for Merchants, or maybe Merchant Nobles? We can see signs of it everywhere.”

On the sheets of paper were reports which were haphazardly scrawled with handwriting from multiple individuals. The contents were spare in detail, listing what appeared to be inventories or at least estimates and various notes attached to them. As she flipped through, Ludmila thought she recognized a common theme.

“This is mostly surplus…the aftermath of the Eighth Legion’s dissolution?”

“Yup,” Liane grinned. “Told ya you’d find something interesting.”

Their meals arrived, and they put their reports away. Unlike dinners hosted at their respective homes, her three friends seemed to be in a rush to finish their meals. Ludmila smirked at their focused expressions as she slowly took her time with her own.

“The type of food they serve here looks similar to what we often have at your place,” Ludmila said. “What part of the Empire was your family from again?”

“The eastern part,” Liane said. “One of the towns north of the Wyvernmark. I’m not sure if I have any relations left there…well, if there are I guess they’ll pop up once they realise how well we’re doing in the Sorcerous Kingdom.”

“My second assignment is in the Wyvernmark. Have you ever been there?”

“Nope. I’ve been all the way to the Great Steppe and back, but we never cared to take a detour to our ancestral lands. Not that it’s a particularly bad place – just quiet and out of the way of anywhere worth visiting.”

Her briefing with the Grand Marshal’s general staff mentioned as much. The southeastern frontier was the least-developed part of the Baharuth Empire. It did not have the convenient waterways of the north and it was out of the way of the great trade route that included E-Rantel, Arwintar, Karnassus, and the cities in the lands beyond Human influence.

Before Ludmila was a quarter of the way done with her meal, Liane had already finished hers. Clara and Florine were not far behind. They pushed their plates out of the way and pulled out Liane’s reports again. Ludmila could only shake her head: did she look like that when reviewing military matters?

She finished her meal a few minutes later, joining the others in their reading. The inventories weren’t so much supplies for an army as they were the supplies for those who were supposed to support that army. Raw materials, textiles, tools – everything for the industries of Engelfurt that had built themselves up around the forces once stationed in the Katze Marches.

“If you knew this was happening,” Ludmila asked, “why weren’t you already taking advantage of it?”

“Because it was something we could sit on for a bit,” Liane answered. “Things don’t become ideal the moment something changes. It takes time for markets to shift around. You should already know that from watching the grain and timber prices back at home.”

“So you were waiting for prices to drop.”

“Yep. The Empire is the Empire’s biggest customer – especially when it comes to stuff that’s meant for Humans. The presence of the Sorcerous Kingdom is still hurting trade from the Theocracy and Re-Estize. Humans are a minority in Karnassus. There aren’t enough ways to get this stuff out of here, so, eventually, the merchants here will liquidate to put their money back to work again or prevent their inventories from becoming a liability.”

Ludmila drained what remained of her cyser. The tart liquor was far better than she expected it to be. Liane’s reasoning seemed sound, even with Ludmila’s limited knowledge of commercial operations. The Merchants of the city were stuck with goods that barely had any demand and proper storage incurred costs. Breaking even was probably an acceptable outcome and cutting losses was better than paying to hold onto their inventories through an uncertain market.

“This seems a bit exploitative,” Ludmila said. “What stops you from eventually having them give you everything for free?”

“Other merchants,” Liane shrugged. “Eventually, people on both ends of the trade will think that things are good enough and they shouldn’t get too greedy. It’s like a Merchant’s test of mettle. Also, it’s not ‘exploitative’: it’s a risk that was taken and didn’t pan out. We’re simply making trades at a mutually agreed-upon price.”

She looked to Clara and Florine, who nodded in agreement. If they thought so…

“With that said…” Liane leaned forward, “split?”

“You mean we’re ganging up on them?” Florine asked.

“Why not?” Liane answered, “It works great and there’s something in it for all of us.”

“I suppose we always do this,” Florine started marking out things with her pen. “I should be able to make quite a lot of this work…”

Liane looked over to Clara.

“I don’t mind,” Clara said. “We have the room, and raw materials at these prices…what about the tools? Your workshops put out far superior ones and we’re trying to establish equipment standards in our territories.”

“It’s scrap at worst,” Liane replied, “and we’ll probably be able to sell most of this stuff back to the Empire in a few months.”

“The Empire can’t get rid of these goods,” Ludmila frowned, “yet you think you can sell them back to the Empire?”

“It’s a trade just like any other,” Liane shrugged. “Mmh…I guess most people think that trading is about buying something cheap in one place and selling it for a higher price elsewhere. It’s actually just making a profit on goods however you can. You don’t even need to go anywhere – that’s what those warehouses and storage lots in E-Rantel do, yeah? They buy in bulk from the Merchants coming in and wait to sell to the city when the price is right. We’re doing the reverse of what the people liquidating here are doing: we have a lot of unused warehouse space and we’re storing goods until the prices go back to normal again. Anything we haven’t used by then, we just sell back across the border for a profit.”

“Costs for shipping and tolls won’t hurt your margins?”

“A bit, but not enough at these prices. Oftentimes, all you need are the right resources on hand to take advantage of an opportunity.”

Now well into the evening, the rest of the tavern had mostly filled with occasional additions coming in soaked from the rain. After a fresh round of drinks was delivered to their table, Liane peered at her.

“Switch spots with Clara, Lady Zahradnik.”

“Why am I Lady Zahradnik, all of the sudden?”

“Since you’re in that getup, we may as well use it. You’re Baroness Zahradnik. We’re the mysterious, talented, and beautiful Merchants working for you.”

“And then what?”

“And then we bring the local Merchants gathered in the inn to our table.”

Ludmila scanned the tavern floor. People occasionally moved about, going from table to table as they dealt with one another.

“You weren’t going out there like those other merchants?”

“That’d be fun, too,” Liane replied, “but we’re employing some different tactics. This is the best spot in the tavern too: everyone would rather get cosy at this table than anywhere else. Anyway, let’s get this started. We’ll perform the negotiations; all you have to do is sit there looking like you’re dissatisfied with something as usual.”

Shifting out of her seat, Ludmila moved to trade places with Clara, wondering how often she would be playing a similar role.