Winning Favor Was The Easiest Job! (8)

From my talk with the merchant, I was able to gauge the rough market value of my medicines.

“The Imperial Household plans to issue ‘genuine-product certificates.’ Our aim is to expand a sales network across the continent… but to do that, Viscount of Ingrad, I believe you must first… do something about this domain.”

“In what way?”

The merchant took a handkerchief from his breast and dabbed his forehead. He shot a glance at Muriel; not missing it, I ran through a few possibilities.

“A buyout…?”

If I followed the highest probability, it was that someone wanted me. I waited for the merchant’s pitch.

“Forgive my boldness, but… do you like this domain?”

“Well, I don’t think it’s bad. And I haven’t exactly felt its dangers.”

A people who could one-punch an Ogre Lord were following my lead. That alone secured safety, didn’t it?

Other parts of the living infrastructure were shaky, but I planned to adjust that in time—cut roads with the beastkin to nearby domains and bring goods in from there.

It would be hard at first, but entirely achievable.

“Th-then… here’s my proposal. R-return this domain… to the I-imperial family, and if you’re granted a new fief, your life will be far more comfortable and splendid than now…”

“I recognize it’s a fine offer, but I have no desire to hand this place back. And I don’t think my life now lacks much. If someone wants what’s mine, they’re the ones who need to move, don’t you think?”

A hairline crack ran across the merchant’s smile. Muriel, behind him, apparently couldn’t take any more; he rose and came to sit beside me.

“I don’t think the merchant’s proposal is bad. Can you explain why you rate this domain so highly?”

“Then let me ask you the reverse: why are you trying to persuade someone who’s doing well to give up his fief because it’s ‘bad’? If it’s merely for your gain, I don’t see the value in this conversation.”

Muriel glared; I met his look without flinching.

“Does Her Imperial Majesty know about this?”

“…”

Both men stiffened. Since he’d come with the princess, I’d assumed the man followed the Empress—but it seemed a few of the aristocrat-faction crowd had slipped in.

All the more reason: returning the domain was off the table.

“I appreciate the offer, but I refuse. And from what I hear, Her Majesty doesn’t seem intent on flooding the market with my medicines; perhaps I should rethink this whole deal.”

“Th-that’s not… I—uh…”

The merchant started sweating bullets, looking between me and Muriel. I’d probed on a hunch. Maybe he’d only made the offer under pressure.

The aristocrat faction had leaned on him; as a merchant, he had little choice but to go along.

“Is House Giltian aristocrat-faction?”

“…We are merely subjects who serve Her Majesty. House Giltian has—has manned the borders for generations, guarding the realm…”

Evasion, hemming and hawing, and hesitation at crucial questions—an answer that told me everything. Not the sharpest tool.

Still, I had no intention of dismissing the man sent as their representative.

“For today, Viscount Muriel, why don’t you rest from your journey; we’ll talk properly tomorrow.”

“Well… there’s time. Very well.”

As he moved to the door, he glanced at the maid there and asked, almost offhand:

“Do you also attend at night?”

What was that, hitting on another man’s domain maid? Inside the room, Ariana shook her head and said:

“Without the lord’s permission, we attend no one at night.”

Ariana sounded admirably firm. Did we have such a rule? I wondered, but Muriel simply said, “Pity,” and left; Ariana, cheeks burning, kept darting her eyes away from me.

“Well, it’s her business anyway.”

Honestly, if the maids wanted it, I had no intention of stopping them. It was their lives.

And the man was a noble—handsome enough, from a successful house—so he likely wasn’t used to refusals. I wanted to praise Ariana’s courage.

But the merchant in front of me and I still had business, so I laced my fingers and faced him.

“Looks like you and I have a long talk ahead of us…”

“Wh-what would you like to discuss?”

“Simple. I’m making lots of different medicines right now. When it comes to distribution, I need advice from a capable merchant who knows this field—with experience, breadth, and competence.”

At once he straightened, mopped his brow, and his eyes lit up. With Muriel gone, the tone had shifted completely.

“May I know which medicines?”

“Before that, can you sketch how distribution works?”

“Well, it depends on which medicines you entrust to me.”

“For example?”

He asked for paper to draw on; I turned to Ariana and asked for paper and a quill. “Yes!” she said, and hurried out.

Before long Ariana returned with a stack of paper, ink, and quills. As she set them down, she glanced at me, uncertain; I told her:

“I don’t mind. Tell the maids: you can ‘sell’ me if you like.”

“Th-thank you!”

I couldn’t help a wry smile at that “thanks.” The merchant gave me an odd look.

“What is it?”

“…You don’t act like a noble. Unlike any noble I’ve met, you don’t… lead with authority.”

“I dislike authority—titles—all that. I just want a comfortable life.”

“…I—see.”

He looked like he couldn’t process it. Well, nobles will be nobles. If nothing else, this firmed my resolve not to give back the fief.

After a moment, begging pardon, the merchant drew several circles.

On the first, he wrote characters I couldn’t read; I kept quiet as he began his explanation.

“First, the Imperial Household.”

It was the central circle—apparently the characters meant “Imperial Household.”

“We’re technically under that umbrella—more like a state trading company.”

“Do you divide into aristocrat and imperial factions inside it?”

“Practically speaking, individual merchants do follow different nobles, but please consider me neutral.”

So there was a neutral camp. He went on.

“Medicines you commission will likely go through the Imperial direct channel. Given both efficacy and value, commoners won’t readily buy them.”

“So nobles will consume them all?”

“Not exactly. Nobles, yes, but also well-off commoners, mercenaries, adventurers.”

“Then the Imperial direct channel sells everything?”

“No.”

He pointed to another circle.

“This is the rising aristocrat-faction market. A set portion will be allocated there.”

“What if I don’t want that?”

“Even then, it can’t be helped. Imperial law prohibits monopolies in the name of ‘fair trade.’ So some volume goes here, and some to neutral merchants.”

The two flanking circles clearly stood for aristocrat and neutral markets. So what was the last circle?

“And that last sector?”

“That goes abroad. It depends on the medicine, but if it’s recovery-related, it will be delivered to the Heroes.”

Unexpected. Heroes?

“Why them?”

“Those on the front line of humanity need supplies—many of them. And given the importance of each individual, recovery medicines of your quality are of immense value, so they’re routed to the Heroes. From there, small lots flow to various foreign markets.”

So that was four circles. The smaller lines and notes seemed to indicate the tail end of distribution—the end users.

It was essentially a chart of primary customer segments.

“Hm… the channels are quite complex.”

“Because it’s medicine. Ordinary daily goods wouldn’t travel a web like this.”

At “because it’s medicine,” my heart thumped a little—meaning our product would be handled with that much gravity.

Having gotten good intel, it was time to show product.

I took out the hottest item I had—the invigorator. Unlike the earlier batch, this one was made purely from botanicals. The effect was similar, but the beastkin reported “less post-encounter fatigue and a fresher body.” I added that for the merchant; veins stood out as he stared at the bottle.

“A… a new product?”

“…In a way, yes. Why?”

“P-previous reports noted severe stamina drain… But that review—is it true?”

“Given it’s compounded by combining ingredients from the Forest of the Demon Dragon with standard materia, I’d expect excellent results.”

“F-Forest of the Demon Dragon materia… th-the Demon Dragon…”

Why was he so shocked? Aside from being ~5× more potent, the plants looked and behaved like any others—just stronger.

Was it really that startling?

The duration, too, matched the conventional invigorator when mixed 1:1 with ordinary materia.

When I told him that, he kept wiping his brow. I began to wonder what the world looked like from his side.

“A revolution is coming! And you can mass-produce this?! Truly?!”

“Unless you’ve been lied to all your life—yes.”

“Oho—ohoho!!!”

His reaction was getting a little scary; I subtly edged away, and he made a proposal.

“For this run, I want to take as many invigorators as possible. As for other medicines—after this deal, later.”

“Why?”

“Because of the shockwaves. Medicines born from your hand are worthy of being called miracles. If many kinds flood the market at once, the existing pharmaceutical order might collapse. For now, I hope we contain the turbulence by limiting it to the invigorator—i.e., ‘Blessing of the Gods’—line.”

I wasn’t sure we needed to go that far, but the merchant was so insistent that I nodded. And thus, medicines that would one day rock the continent were, for the moment, sealed within the Ingrad domain. Still, I thought: there’s always a way.