Chapter 171: A Company of Men

Chapter 171: A Company of Men

A Company of Men

Caine

As the discussion between the lord and the guildsmen continued, Caine, the mason guild representative, grew weary. Several times he had resorted to wiping the sweat from his forehead, though he was merely standing and listening in a cool, well-ventilated hall. The mental effort of processing the Lord's offer proved quite taxing.

The other guildsmen fared similarly. The drinks offered to them barely cooled their heads or helped them continue. From their reactions, Caine could see they were wondering whether they were dealing with a merchant, a war general, or something else entirely.

For a long time, Caine had questioned whether the Lord of Korelia was one of them, a profit-seeker. Previously, many had suspected his brilliance originated from one of his advisors, like the late Sir Callahan, Sir Michael, or even the shrewd Sir Omin. But now, he no longer felt the need to find an answer. It was clear that beneath the veneer of a warm and empathetic noble in times of peace and a cold-blooded warlord in conflict, lay a shrewd mercenary.

The Lord had proposed they "become an active part of this venture," which meant for the guilds to join the southern trade with their own caravans.

On the surface, it made perfect sense: Join the South Trade and you can conduct business as suppliers or providers of inns. Nothing sketchy about that.

However, his instincts warned him that it was as good as gambling against a weighted die. A deeper look revealed that the exclusivity meant each participant had to dig deep into their pockets to join. Moreover, it was tied to the caravan, meaning any guild that stopped participating the following year would be barred from trading. Thus, each year, the commitment would need to be renewed.

In essence, it was a limited membership. The Lord of Korelia was asking them all to pay for a permit to enter his exclusive trade network.

Suddenly, Caine realized that the Lord was treating the southern trade as if it were a guild.

A guild for guilds...?

A bead of sweat trickled down to Caine’s chin.

It was clear that Lord Lansius spoke their mercantile language. He had awed them with his Lowlandia peace initiatives, massive city-building efforts, grain trade, airships, and even new mattresses. Now, he had charmed them with his vision of a grand southern trade.

In the face of the Imperium's crisis, this route served as a lifeline in gold, reconnecting the westernmost reach of the Imperium to the easternmost Navalnia Empire via a more direct route. Leveraging their profit-oriented motives, Lord Lansius had effectively divided the guilds.

While smaller guilds could not afford to set up a long-distance trade caravan, the larger guilds with cash to burn would leap at the opportunity. This arrangement undermined Caine’s chance to negotiate, knowing that his informal group was an unreliable partnership; it was there to protect their interests, not to prevent one from gaining an advantage. Moreover, there was the looming fear of missing out.

Thus, like a coiled snake, the Lord's fat proposal had ensnared them. There was no escape. Even if half of the guildsmen understood, they would still willingly walk into the trap. The potential profits from the South Trade were too lucrative to dismiss.

In fact, Caine himself began to doubt whether it was justified to label it a trap.

"A shared profit is still a profit," the Lord suddenly said, answering a guild representative's question as if reading Caine’s mind.

Caine was humbled by those words, but his instincts screamed to keep his guard up.

Is there another catch? If so, where?

He looked inward with slight panic as he searched his mind about the proposal, knowing well that it would be best to find the issue and ask for clarification now in front of the other guildsmen.

"Well, I think I have said everything," the Lord suddenly declared, and Caine felt a jolt that made him stand ramrod straight. He was about to step forward when the Lord of Three Hills cleared his throat.

This prompted Lord Lansius to turn toward the speaker, who was seated to his left on a slightly lower platform. "Yes, Lord Jorge?"

"Lord Shogun, may I?" Lord Jorge inquired, his voice dripping with affluent charm.

"Be my guest," the Lord of the city replied with ease and pleasure.

"Gentlemen," Lord Jorge addressed the hall, "I believe this announcement will surprise no one. The shogunate has established the Lowlandia Office of Works, and thus every question and dealing will go through them. Think of it as a separate body designed to ensure our new institution runs efficiently. Furthermore, I believe it's only prudent for us to keep our dealings and contracts clearly documented."

Noble houses forming guild to protect their interests?

It was unprecedented. Caine had been informed about the transition from the Korelia Mason Guild to the Office of Works but had felt it was just another extension of the city's function. However, he now understood what it was really about.

The southern trade was a guise. At its heart, it was a venture and should be properly named: the South Trade Company.

***

Lansius

In under four days, the guilds came to terms, and many signed their contracts. A few small guilds, in a stroke of genius, merged to form a larger one in a desperate attempt to secure a share of the lucrative trade.

Lansius employed his talents to draft an ironclad contract designed to minimize loopholes. He also aimed to empower the Office of Works and appoint the Shogunate as the arbiter of disputes. Although not quite a neutral party, this arrangement was more equitable than anything previously available in the Imperium.

With so many dealings and fine details to consider, Lansius included seemingly insignificant points, such as requiring the guilds that signed to respect inventions made by the Office of Works.

Another clause stipulated that they could participate and be granted a license to produce a limited quantity, but production had to remain in Korelia for twenty years to protect the Office of Works' interest and trade secret.

It was also stated that anyone breaking this law would face the full might of the Shogunate, whether via diplomacy, economy, or military.

Some rumors came from Lord Robert's arrangement to have his wife stay in the Eastern Mansion with their daughter, Lady Astrid, who was pregnant.

The old viscount was known to have a close relationship with the popular Francisca, thus fueling rumors about them having a romance. Instead of dispelling the rumors, Lord Robert was only too happy to let them spread, as it would bolster his claim of regaining his virility.

Meanwhile, externally, Lord Jorge faced no issues that sparked rumors. However, internally, he was plagued by problems in his domain. While Sir Arius was capable as a governor, his cousin still needed reliable support. With the memory of last year's coup still fresh, Lord Jorge was considering whether to send Sir Morton home.

Unnoticed by all as they dealt with their various concerns, the first month of spring had quietly come to a close.

***

Ingrid

The educator felt her hand while she fed power into the earring, which lazily absorbed it. Unlike older dwarven artifacts that usually nibble aggressively at power or have their own temperaments and feeding issues, this one was rather dormant.

Ingrid understood that its laziness wasn't due to its mood but because it was entirely different.

"When I take care of dwarven gemstones, they usually nibble at my power aggressively," Ingrid explained to Lord Lansius and Lady Audrey in their comfortable private hall in the Eastern Mansion. "Some are a bit picky and have their own eating habits, but they all have that almost sentient-like personality. However, this gemstone," she held it up for the Lord and Lady to see, "doesn't have that sentient feeling."

"Then what is it?" the lady asked, resting on her soft couch after her mage training.

"It's a replica of a dwarven object," Ingrid replied.

"Replica?" the lord's eyes widened.

"Indeed. It's a craft that even the Mage Guild did not possess, yet clearly, there were people in history skilled enough to create such items."

"Could it be that the Grand Progenitors are the ones who made it?" Lady Audrey asked.

"To my understanding, every Grand Progenitor had an innate understanding of magic and runes, even more than the elves. I doubt a Grand Progenitor with thousands of years of experience would make such an inferior product," Ingrid responded.

"Especially when they are half-dwarves themselves," Lord Lansius added.

"Exactly, My Lord," said Ingrid approvingly.

Nodding while relaxing in her seat, the Lady asked, "Well, what does the artifact do?"

"Francisca told me that the famed Old Man Kae in Umberland used this to send pictures from one earring user to another. The half-beast tribes used it for hunting for several generations before it stopped functioning."

The Lord was piqued, leaning forward, he asked, "It can send pictures?"

"Yes, pictures or colors," Ingrid clarified.

"May I see it? How do they do it?" the Lord asked, and Ingrid readily offered the gold-encrusted gemstone.

Smiling, the Centuria-born mage explained, "It's an earring. I believe you only need to wear it, My Lord."

At the Lord's side, the Lady quipped with the same reaction, "Obviously you can't wear it unless we pierce your ear first. Should we?"

The Lord chuckled and took his time to examine and admire the earring before handing it to the Lady, who turned to Ingrid, asking, "May I try it?"

"Yes, it's safe; I've tried it before," Ingrid reassured her.

The Lady removed her earring and put on the new one.

"When My Lady uses it, it will activate but won't do anything," Ingrid explained.

"Yes, I can feel it trying to do something," the Lady confirmed.

The Lord suddenly rose, his voice filled with unexpected excitement. "Come, we need to go somewhere."

"Eh, why?" Even the Lady was perplexed by his sudden urgency.

"I'll explain later," he promised, his eyes alight with an unspoken plan.

"Where are we going? Do we need to bring Ingrid?" the Lady inquired, rising with Ingrid's aid.

"Yes, bring Ingrid, and don't forget Francisca," the Lord instructed as he led the way. The three hurried out to the waiting carriage, with their entourage scrambling to keep up. The Lord's instruction to the coachman was simple: "To the new workshop complex."

***