As dawn broke, the lobby of the Kasha Hotel was quietly coming to life. In its center, under the soft glow of the morning light, sat a modest wooden table that bore the weight of an impending, significant alliance. Around it, four distinct personalities, Logan, Fisher, Lion David, and Elf Pleti, positioned themselves, each ready to shape the course of their collective future.
"This is my proposal for our collaboration. Please, take a moment to consider it," Logan urged, addressing Elf Pleti with a mixture of hope and earnestness. As he spoke, the eyes of Fisher and Lion David shifted subtly, focusing intently on Pleti, gauging his reaction.
Fisher, having previously conferred with Lion David, was already familiar with Logan's vision for a joint caravan. Lion David, aware of the esteemed reputation of the Wind Walker Chamber of Commerce at the Templeton Royal Court and their significant commercial presence, saw no ground for objection.
"The alliance will not only be profitable but will also fortify our standing," he thought, internally voicing his support for the venture.
Pleti's response came with a poised smile, "I am agreeable to this arrangement."
The mention of a 10% share for Logan didn't faze him; after all, Logan was instrumental in the foundation of this venture. "However, how shall we apportion the remaining 90% among us?" Pleti inquired, his gaze piercing past Logan to rest on Fisher and Lion David.
Despite their less influential backgrounds in the grand tapestry of beatmen politics, their local authority was not to be underestimated. "This place here breathes of their lineage; respect is due," Pleti mused silently.
Fisher stepped forward, his voice steady with confidence, "I will ensure the safety of our caravans. Currently, we command the loyalty of three tenth-level masters. If needed, I can bring my father's mercenaries into the fold."
He paused for effect before adding, "You might know of the Storm Mercenary Group. While not the mightiest, my father's influence has attracted six tenth-level masters to our cause."
"I seek 30% of the profits," declared Fisher, his terms laid clear.
Pleti considered this, impressed. The reputation of the Storm Mercenary Group was indeed formidable, more so than rumors suggested.
The room's attention then shifted to Lion David, the robust scion of a legendary lineage, who matched Fisher's offer. "I too can contribute six tenth-level masters from my own ranks, along with additional skilled fighters," he stated boldly, not to be outdone.
"I will also claim 30%," Lion David declared, his voice resonant with the authority of his bloodline.
Logan listened, astounded by the caliber of allies his proposal had united. "Tenth-level masters are apparently a common currency among these titans," he marveled silently, appreciating the unexpected depth of his future partners' resources.
The dynamics at the table promised a powerful alliance, with each leader poised to merge their considerable strengths into a venture that could reshape their world. The Kasha Hotel, witness to countless negotiations, had never seen a morning quite like this.
As the agreements were made, Pleti remained oblivious to the undercurrents of strategy swirling around him. To him, securing 50% was a victory, unaware that he might have just played into a larger plan orchestrated by his counterparts.
Imagine, if the monthly production of our wine reaches a staggering one million catties, we're looking at a profit margin of 50%. That's millions of gold coins every month," Pleti explained, his eyes gleaming with the vision of wealth. "With such an income, we could rapidly expand our influence and capabilities."
Despite the enormous potential, Pleti faced a crucial limitation. Although his Chamber of Commerce boasted tenth-level strongmen, their allegiance was rigid, difficult to harness for personal ventures.
In his search for a solution, Pleti recalled a figure often dismissed by his elders as the black sheep of the Wind Walker family, his grandfather, a legendary magician renowned as much for his waywardness as for his power.
While Pleti felt uncertain about rallying support from other legendary elders, he believed he could sway this unconventional ancestor.
As they sealed their agreement with a hearty "Happy cooperation!" the smiles of Logan, Fisher, and Lion David were broad and genuine.
Pleti was about to propose discussing the structure of their joint caravan when Logan interrupted with a mysterious smile. "Hold that thought. I have something to show you." With a flourish, he took out four small wooden bottles onto the table, capturing everyone's attention.
"What could these be?" Pleti wondered aloud, his curiosity piqued. Fisher leaned forward, his eyes narrowing as if recognizing something. "Is this some new type of wine?" he asked, unable to contain his excitement.
The question hung in the air as Pleti and David also leaned in, intrigued. They were familiar with the distinct flavors of rice and rye liquors and were eager to discover what new concoction Logan might have brewed.
Logan, however, shook his head slowly, a secretive smile playing on his lips. "No, not wine."
Fisher's anticipation did not wane, his confidence in his brother-in-law's knack for surprises undiminished. "Whatever it is, it must be extraordinary," he murmured to himself, his gaze fixed on Logan.
Logan picked up a bottle, uncorked it, and poured a small amount into his palm. The room was immediately enveloped by a captivating fragrance. "What a delightful scent!" Pleti exclaimed, his previous concerns momentarily forgotten.
Logan then gently blew on his palm, and the perfume misted out, enveloping Fisher in a fragrant cloud. "What a lovely aroma, what is this?" Fisher asked, his voice tinged with wonder, trusting that Logan meant no harm.
"Perfume," Logan announced proudly, holding the bottle aloft. "This is Alloy Acacia perfume."
The room took in the soothing, pure plant fragrance, noting its calming effects. The revelation shifted the tone of their meeting, adding an unexpected layer of sophistication and potential to their burgeoning alliance.