Three merchants traveled together in a cart that resembled a covered wagon, spending the entire journey worried only about navigating the most hazardous stretch of road located at the boundary between Baltas Barony and Selitas Barony.
The danger lies in the fact that any mishap here cannot be decisively assigned to anyone. Despite being merchants representing their lords, they were essentially commoners. No one would risk accusing an aristocrat without indisputable proof or motivation benefiting another aristocrat.
Finally, in this anxious frame of mind, they crossed Baltas' territory and entered deeper into Selitas'. Relief came only when they spied the village belonging to the other lord.
— Burt, let's examine those documents the girl gave us, — suggested the skinny merchant, withdrawing a scroll from his sack.
Others followed suit, and soon each was reading their own scroll, occasionally comparing with others'.
— Burt, what does this mean?
— Our next purchase will enjoy a 20% discount and free accommodation on Baltas' territory until the goods arrive, — Burt summarized. — They'll sell us the goods at 20% off, with no negotiation required.
Saying this felt unrealistic even to him. After all, they hadn't even initiated negotiations, yet secured a 20% markdown. Usually, sellers hike prices while buyers attempt reductions, resulting in minimal savings rarely exceeding 5%. Here, they obtained a flat 20% discount, no questions asked...
— We'll deliver the wine and return here. If this proves true, we'll buy as much wine and other goods as possible, — instantly grasped Burt. — Likely, they assume we won't buy much and hope to lure us in. But we're savvy players ourselves. This will be the final time they make such a blunder.
All three relished their astuteness and anticipated immense profit.
***
Victor wasn't occupied with such matters. He simply mimicked this technique from his previous world, where retailers offer discounts.
Prices seem lower superficially, but few reflect that businesses don't operate at a loss voluntarily.
Here, such discounts weren't customary, and Baltas' products—particularly wine and salt—were perceived as extravagantly priced. However, the discount applied universally to all goods manufactured or sourced by him. Planned to run such promotions periodically, encouraging merchants to visit more frequently or settle permanently on his territory, lest they miss out on the event.
Victor began confronting issues related to wine purchases from neighbors. Local lords grew suspicious, raising prices.
Regardless of how steeply they inflated rates, they couldn't rival cost-efficiency, and if they did, he could simply block supplies to their regions or raise prices himself.
Hence, it was crucial to attract as many merchants and lords from distant lands as possible, ensuring an overlap of interests within his domain. Thus, he could constrain those aiming to sabotage his enterprise.
Still, all this economics eluded him. He relied heavily on limited insights gained from his former world. Even the discounts he introduced were mere experiments, unaware of potential repercussions.
Urgent priorities included establishing a camp for clay extraction and brick-making, as this product held paramount importance for him and could emerge as a marketable good.
Construction had already begun, and based on pace, preparing the site would consume at least a week, while erecting fences and setting up workstations would take another month minimally.
He hadn't even considered ovens yet, since constructing the initial oven would demand stone and require hiring a mason proficient in shaping stones and building ovens.
Once the camp was operational, the toughest challenge awaited.
Determining the clay composition necessitated experimentation. Simply excavating clay, filling molds, and baking in an oven wouldn't suffice.
Extracted clay would have to be manually screened for contaminants, then appropriate water ratios added. Fatty clays would need sand for dilution, demanding transport from beaches.
Each phase involved extensive manual labor and vast human resources, prompting Victor to initiate one oven and organize a makeshift lab for serf-run experiments.
While daunting, he planned simplification: specifying exact amounts of clay, water, and sand per bucket, iteratively adjusting variables for successive trials. Ingredients would be mixed like dough and molded into drying shapes.
Around two hundred test samples with varied compositions would be required, exposing a weakness: he lacked literate workers.
Record-keeping fell to Celasia, blacksmith's daughter, who already struggled managing storage inventories amid inexperience and overflowing petty merchants.
Weighing options, Victor proceeded to the castle, sharing his blueprint with Jinn, assigning him oversight responsibility.
Despite reluctance, the butler expressed concern for his master. He wasn't perturbed by others assisting the lord, but feared his master inviting random individuals, even serfs, into the castle.
Finalizing arrangements, Victor retired to his study and settled at his desk.
Sorting through documents and reviewing reports, he detected faint whispers. Glancing around, assuming someone hid behind the door, he approached cautiously. Two guards greeted him, surprised by his gaze.
— May... — came a clearer whisper.
Realization struck: he wasn't mistaken. Hearing actual whispers or...
Lacking alternatives, he waited silently. Five minutes later, he returned to his seat, resuming paperwork.
— Bless our lord for a long life, — echoed a distinct female voice.
Instantly, energy coursed through him, aligning with the whispered words, subtly drawing him toward their origin.
Acting swiftly, the lord left his study and marched outside. Emerging, he heard the whisper again, feeling the energy resonate.
Hastily ordering his horse fetched, the baron vaulted aboard and galloped toward Ironwood, pinpointing the whisper's source.
Forty minutes later, he stood in the village center, but the whisper vanished.
"What's happening? Am I hallucinating? Could soul-transference drive me insane?"
— My lord, I wasn't aware you'd arrive, — a voice interjected.
Glancing over, Victor noticed the village elder bowing submissively, awaiting commands. Uninterested, he ignored him, focusing inwardly, unsure what was unfolding.
Walking aimlessly through the village, he observed nothing unusual, heard no sounds, yet couldn't relax. If this were an effect of soul-shifting and incipient insanity, trouble loomed.
— Thanks, — suddenly uttered a crisp female voice.
Victor pivoted sharply, spotting only villagers casually moving about, occasionally glancing at him and bowing. All maintained a ten-foot radius, isolating him slightly.
Among them, one figure drew his attention: a woman in her forties clutching a child's hand. Bowing upon recognizing the lord, she flashed a gentle smile.
Oddly, other serfs eyed him fearfully.
— Elder, — the baron addressed the man — Who is that woman with the child?
Confused, the elder tried identifying her, only comprehending after Victor clarified. He confirmed her identity as Lata, wife of Quintus, a commoner dispatched earlier to construct a new camp.
"Could I have heard her prayers? But why would she bless and thank me? Recently, I've hired and fed countless others."
Unclear about events, he sought logical explanations, ultimately settling on one: his energy reaction wasn't delusional; he clearly experienced growth, impossible to fabricate internally.
Expressing gratitude to the elder, Victor retreated to the castle, planning to trace future energy shifts.
"This concept of 'paladin' must imply something. Coincidence doesn't explain these occurrences. I distinctly heard a woman's voice, and my energy responded to it. Feeling strengthened, akin to ascending to bronze rank."
Absorbed in reflection, he returned to his study, retrieving the previous paladin's diary from inventory, but it remained inert. Abandoning the attempt, he studied documents laid before him.
Late evening, finishing chores, he retired to bed, assisted by servants.
Waking up, morning light flooded his bedroom. Stretching backward, gazing upward, he noted an unusual sensation: his energy swirled intensely, signaling imminent transformation.
Sitting upright, he concentrated on the sensation, striving to retain it. Like a fragile snowflake poised near his heart, every heartbeat threatened collapse.
Balancing precariously, Victor stabilized the fleeting emotion, engulfing his heart. Propagating outward like shock waves, energy spread through his body.
A thousand prickles stabbed each inch of flesh, converging at fingertips.
Opening his eyes, he confronted Lulu squatting a meter away, staring straight into his eyes.
— Everything's fine, I'm awake! — grumbled Victor, tapping her forehead with a finger, toppling her onto her bottom.
— You always promise not to fall asleep like that, and you always break that promise, — protested the petite maid, rising and dusting her dress. — Later, I find you in bizarre states, and we don't even have a doctor!
Silently enduring chastisement, Victor appreciated the interaction. With Jinn absent, etiquette and aristocratic protocol relaxed.
Crucially, he sensed elevation to a higher rank. Though uncertain of the exact tier, he guessed at least advancing to intermediate bronze level. However, confirmation required consultation with Alganese.
Baron Baltas delayed visiting him, as post-breakfast obligations demanded blessing troops at training grounds.