Culture…? (2)

Idlen watched intently as I drew, her expression turning to mild surprise. When the sketch was done and I asked if she recognized it, she nodded and replied,

“It seems you’re referring to the Mansia seed?”

“Mansia?”

“It’s a tree that bears thumb-sized fruit. The fruit itself tastes unpleasant, but the seeds are quite fragrant — we steep them in water to make a drink called ‘tea.’”

“Do you happen to have any with you?”

Idlen nodded, then turned to the man standing behind her.

“Please fetch the Mansia seeds from the carriage.”

“But, miss…”

“Our goal is to trade medicine. And we are standing before the most important person in that trade. Don’t you think it’s right to show him exactly what he’s asking for?”

“Yes, my lady. I’ll return shortly.”

The man bowed and hurried out of the reception room.

It seemed there was some story behind their urgency.

“You seem to be in quite a rush?”

“There’s… one rather tight deal scheduled.”

“What kind of deal?”

“We’re supposed to visit Duke Balsen’s territory to purchase his finest wine. It’s only available around this season, and if we’re late, we’ll lose the chance entirely. That wine is highly sought after by nobles, so if we miss it, we’d have to buy it later through middlemen at great loss.”

“If it’s wine you deal in, our domain produces fine alcohol as well. Would you be interested?”

“We’d love to, but since we’ve never tried it before, we can’t judge its quality yet. We were hoping to buy a few bottles to test, but none were being sold publicly today…”

Her words trailed off, so I glanced toward Ariana, who was waiting nearby.

“Ariana, please tell the staff to bring samples of the festival wines — one of each type.”

“Yes, my lord.”

Ariana bowed gracefully and exited the room. Watching this, Idlen tilted her head.

“Do you… speak respectfully even to your attendants?”

“I do, whenever possible. It’s my way of showing respect to others. I don’t do so with slaves — I was told not to — but treating people as people helps build trust.”

“You’re not like most nobles.”

“Well, consider me an eccentric then. Anyway, what kind of medicine are you after?”

“Our situation isn’t much different from the rest of the continent. The southern lands aren’t free from the Demon God’s curse either.”

Ah — an aphrodisiac, then. That actually worked out nicely.

“In that case, I have something perfect for you.”

“What kind of item?”

“If you’re looking for an aphrodisiac, I have a wine infused with the same effect. It was meant to be featured at the festival — offered only to couples as a small, exclusive tasting event. The drink’s… well, let’s say it’s unique. The inns will be overflowing tonight anyway…”

I let my words trail off. Imagining the rest, Idlen’s cheeks flushed pink.

Well, she clearly caught the meaning.

“Both the medicine and the wine are available in sufficient quantities. But the key, of course, is price. Do you know how much the so-called ‘God’s Blessing’—the current market aphrodisiac—sells for?”

“I’ve researched it. But we don’t only need God’s Blessing. As I said before, herbs are rare in the south. Instead, we have plenty of poisonous plants and insects often used in alchemy. I’d like to pay partly with those materials and partly in coin, if possible.”

“Hmm. Let’s discuss the deal, then. How much do you need?”

Idlen hesitated and glanced at her advisor again; the man leaned in to whisper something. After a moment, she spoke with new resolve.

“We plan to postpone our trip to Duke Balsen’s lands and spend our entire budget here instead. How about twelve gold coins per bottle of God’s Blessing, thirty pills per bottle?”

Twelve gold per bottle — not bad. The market range for God’s Blessing ran from ten to fifteen gold, sometimes even up to twenty when inflated.

But now that Ingrad’s trade routes were open to other territories, medicine prices were dropping overall. Aphrodisiacs, however, remained stable due to their, well, special nature.

The Ingrad Apothecary—our state-run pharmacy—regulated both supply and pricing for stability. In rare-herb regions like the south, prices would naturally skyrocket. For me, though, any sale meant pure profit. So I asked,

“How much do you require?”

“A promissory note worth ten thousand imperial florins of the Terakan Empire.”

Ah, familiar paper currency. For a deal this large, it made sense. Then, two additional notes of one thousand each were laid upon the table.

“We’ll need one hundred thousand bottles of God’s Blessing.”

The Dust of Sands Trading Company was far bigger than I expected. Smiling, I nodded.

“I’ll include one thousand bottles as a service bonus. Now, shall we discuss the next item?”

(Cool trade, much appreciated!)

Idlen blinked at my casual tone but smiled faintly—just as a knock sounded at the door. Servants entered, carrying bottles of wine.

Eighteen different varieties were arranged neatly on the table—excluding my personal reserve and the imperial rum. The attendants bowed politely before leaving.

“To make them stand out, I had each bottle designed differently. What do you think?”

“…They’re beautiful—almost extravagant.”

Idlen looked genuinely impressed by the colors and craftsmanship.

“The hues are striking…”

“They should be. Each drink is brewed through fermentation of herbs, so its color reflects the plant’s essence.”

I pointed at one bottle.

“This one is the Aphrodisiac Wine.”

The bottle was sculpted in the shape of two nude figures embracing. Idlen studied it calmly before asking,

“This glasswork… was it your idea?”

“Not really. I just requested something fitting, and the artisans outdid themselves.”

I didn’t mention that offering them liquor as payment had only made them more enthusiastic about the design.

Admiring the artistry, Idlen asked,

“What’s the price for one bottle?”

“Rather than talk price right away, why not taste the others first?”

“Can we… open them?”

“Of course. Wine exists to be enjoyed. Let’s each have a drink.”

As I distributed the small, round glasses brought in earlier, the merchants from the Dust of Sands Company examined them curiously.

“These cups… aren’t shaped like wine glasses.”

“No need for aroma or color testing with these. You’ll understand once you taste.”

I uncorked a bottle of Vitality Wine, known for easing fatigue, and poured just a little into each cup. The merchants frowned at the small amount, clearly unimpressed—until they tasted it.

Ingrad’s alcohol was strong. Experiments had shown why: mana.

Brews without mana infusion stopped fermenting around 19% alcohol. Those infused with mana continued up to 41%.

Mana truly worked miracles—though recalling the trials to discover that fact still made my skin crawl.

After everyone had their drink, I poured myself a small sample too, but Seria and Ariana, who had entered with the servants, shot me worried glances. They clearly hoped I wouldn’t drink.

I sighed and set my glass down.

“You’re not drinking, my lord?”

“Ah, my stomach’s been off lately. You all enjoy it instead. Just a warning—it’s strong.”

At that, a few merchants chuckled audibly.

“How strong could northern liquor be?”

“Indeed. The booze up here’s usually weak as water.”

They took their shots—and instantly regretted it. Idlen’s face twisted as she swallowed with effort, while the others groaned.

“Kh—what in the world…?”

“It’s not distilled, yet… how…?”

As they struggled, I explained calmly,

“As I said, our domain’s liquor is potent. It’s not meant to be drunk in large amounts. That’s why I poured sparingly—for your sake.”

I gave a meaningful look to those who’d mocked northern alcohol. They averted their eyes, embarrassed.

Still, Idlen spoke in awe,

“The taste is sweet—so I thought it mild—but it’s not! And the aroma… how did you add such fragrance?”

“It’s natural. As you’ll learn in trade, we age our liquor in oak barrels. What you just drank has been aged for at least a year.”

“A year? Incredible…”

Proper aging required facilities, rare in this world. Thanks to Hare, we could operate such systems easily—a tremendous advantage.

Seeing the merchants’ fascination, I poured small samples of the remaining seventeen types for them to try.

Soon, some were flushed and dizzy, but Idlen remained composed, her emerald eyes steady as she said,

“I want to buy your liquor. As much as possible, every kind. This—” she placed another stack of promissory notes worth ten thousand florins on the table— “is all the capital we have available.”

Looking down at the thick pile, I thought, Now this is a profitable day.