Chess Mage of Faerûn

Chapter 519 Eating Alone? Poisoned Food!
The allied forces representing the Order fought a scaled-down version of the Five Armies War against the lower-dimensional creatures that emerged from the dimensional rifts within the castle and the goblin orcs who originally inhabited the area. This battle was enough to be recorded in the annals of Faerûn, spreading far and wide with the footsteps of the bards, and forging a legend.

Compared to archers or other troop types, crossbowmen provide ample firepower, and their shorter training period allows militia members with weak foundations to quickly develop combat capabilities.

Don't worry about whether they were old farmers working in the fields just three months ago. When they're fully armored, lined up in formation, and flash their crossbows, even the nobles who pop out of some backwater or the heroes who do business without capital will be terrified. They'll have to think twice and plan ahead if they had any bad ideas before.

However, acquiring such a batch of good items came at a considerable price. While personal favors are one thing, business is another. Although Iltan offered a good price under the guise of depreciation, he still ended up with more than two thousand glittering little gems.

Adding to the previous expenses, Mr. Zhang, clutching his empty purse and looking even worse than if he had kidney deficiency, really wanted to say:
Damn it, even the landlords don't have surplus grain!
Looking back, when I had no worries, I led my adventure team across Sword Bay, living like a mythical creature that only took in and never gave out, rarely troubled by money.

Now that he has such a large and powerful family, and no longer has only a handful of people under his command, the seemingly glorious local lord is actually a huge hole. The clinking gold coins are thrown in, but fortunately, a few ripples are still made.

Unlike the convenience of teleportation spells on the way here, even at the speed of the Auerbach, the journey would take more than ten days, let alone when it was fully loaded.

The magic ship, sailing towards High Cliff Harbor, made a brief stop at Waterdeep City at the mage's will.

"Gentlemen, how are the preparations going? Is more than half a month enough time?"

The monk, who never visits without a reason, came to the Golden Alfalfa Merchant Guild again and got straight to the point.

"My lord, we have done as you instructed, abandoning those low-profit, scattered industries and concentrating our manpower on the remaining shops and merchant caravans."

Although Chairman Darius was old, he showed no signs of senility or confusion in his speech, clearly explaining all the plans and actions of the past few days.

Seeing the mage's somewhat satisfied expression, the old guild master took the opportunity to offer a suggestion:
"Since those peripheral and fragmented industries have been abandoned, all that's left for Golden Alfalfa are trading and timber. Although we need to prepare for the sale of soap, keeping the shop is fine. But could we move more manpower to the caravans? After all, winterless timber and furs are in high demand in Deepwater City. Just a winter wolf fur coat can fetch a high price here."

This is an old saying. Compared to the wealthy Waterdeep, Winterless, which is further north, is a poor relative that mainly exports resources. Many products are sold to Waterdeep, and the merchant caravans make money faster by making several trips back and forth than by sticking to a few shops.

Of course, its danger is also incomparable to the latter. Even with joint patrols and multiple crackdowns, the bandits along the trade route still harass passing merchants with the tenacious vitality of moss after rain.

Merchants who fall into the hands of intelligent races still have a glimmer of hope, if they are captured by savage creatures with big teeth and big appetites...

They'll leave a few teeth marks on your bones.

Darius also had his own considerations. It was true that high returns inevitably came with high risks, but he couldn't just disband the remaining caravans. Relatively speaking, having more people was better than having less power.

Moreover, he had some unspeakable ulterior motives. He learned about the situation that day afterward. A huge troll tribe was wiped out in the blink of an eye, and the adventurer captain from back then is now a mage lord!

Who knows, they might be able to spare some troops to protect their caravan? Who doesn't know that the most profitable and comfortable businesses in Deepwater City are those merchant guilds that have intricate connections with the masked councilors?

Although I am optimistic about the prospects of the new products, wouldn't it be more valuable to have a caravan that I can use myself than to be just an agent?

Unfortunately, the old guild master's opinion did not move the lord much; on the contrary, he was horrified by what he saw next.

"This, this is the new product we're selling? A... a magic clock?" "Yes, a magic clock!"

Old Master Zhang, whose face was covered in thick stratum corneum, seemed to suffer from intermittent amnesia, completely forgetting his earlier emphasis on the mechanical creation of this object in the Mysterious Hall, and insisting that it was a magical item.

Aside from the tech enthusiasts of the Church of Gunder, in the eyes of most people, any item that has the word "magic" on it is like a product from the previous life suddenly becoming high-end just by adding the name of nanotechnology or quantum technology.

Gentlemen who care about their image are naturally more willing to spend money on it.

Even in Waterdeep, a city teeming with arcane organizations and more secular, magical artifacts are not mass-produced, let alone sold in bulk.

The previous soaps were understandable, since they could be used as alchemical consumables, but looking at this elegant and dignified object with its extraordinary texture, Darius could only think of keeping it as a family heirloom. He couldn't imagine putting this treasure on the shelf at all.

Shouldn't you at least send it to an auction house?

The old chairman had no doubt that this thing would be so attractive at the auction that a bunch of wealthy gentlemen would be vying to spend money on it, which was precisely the right way to maximize its value and profit.

Darius, seemingly seeing small golden dragons flying out of his pocket to say goodbye, quickly offered his opinion, adopting the attitude of Bi Gan advising King Zhou, which can be described as heartbreaking.

"You're absolutely right, this is indeed a way to get from Deepwater City."
The gentlemen pulled out even more gold coins from their pouches.

The monk initially agreed with the former's viewpoint, but just as the other's joy was beginning to creep onto his wrinkled face, he kicked it away:
"If we could really monopolize such a large portion of the profits."

The old chairman's smile froze.

"If we only produce a few or even a dozen of these items and hoard them to create scarcity, we can indeed drive up the price. But what if we produce dozens or hundreds?"

The old chairman's gaze was fixed, and his pupils were dilated, clearly early symptoms of Alzheimer's disease.

"Leaving aside whether those early buyers who enjoy the benefits might feel cheated, what's even more problematic is..."

The monk's eyelids drooped, obscuring the sudden gloom in his eyes:

"With such enormous profits, do you think I'm Kelburn or Piergellen? Capable of enjoying this all to myself?"

The old chairman tightly closed his lips, and the pupils in his deep-set eyes contracted to the size of needles.

Thank you Ssczy for the monthly pass!

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(End of this chapter)