Two Silver Coins

On the bustling market street, a merchant was hawking his wares with his daughter by his side, though sales were proving to be quite dismal.

"If we don't sell much today, it'll be even harder on normal days," the man said, sitting back down on the carriage frame. His goods weren't the most expensive, as the Imperial City never lacked excellent products, and nobles certainly wouldn't stop at his stall.

So, the items he brought this time were mostly mid to low-end, including paper and pens. His target audience was scholars, who weren't particularly picky about quality as long as the items were usable.

He had also visited some bookstores in the city. The quality of paper in some of those shops was even worse than his, yet they had a stable customer base and established trust through long-term trade relationships.

It was difficult for a traveling merchant like him to get a share of the market.

"Could it be that I bought this batch of low-priced paper and ended up falling into a trap?"

He had originally intended to sell these items at cost, but the low price made people suspect the quality of the goods, making them even harder to sell.

"Dad, you don't have the talent to be a great merchant," the girl said as she tidied the goods. In the glow of the streetlights, her originally dark skin had a warm hue.

In reality, as long as the price was right, there would always be customers. People like Mel Carlo would buy them. Not selling anything at all was simply bad luck.

"What nonsense are you talking about? I'm a born merchant."

As the man sighed, a man in leather clothing stopped in front of their stall.

The merchant quickly greeted him, "Sir, what can I get for you?"

"No, I just want to ask if you sold some paper and pens to three children?"

"Sir, my prices are absolutely fair. I definitely didn't cheat any children; it was a willing transaction," the man immediately explained. His travel-worn face, covered in stubble, looked dejected.

From the moment this person appeared, he had already determined his identity. He estimated him to be a member of the Imperial City Gang, likely of a rank higher than a minor leader. It seemed the gang was still investigating the matter of the Duke's daughter's wallet.

After all, the Imperial City Gang had suffered a loss and had to hand over a minor leader to appease the Duke's mansion's anger. This meant that either he or those three children were being targeted.

Regardless of his suspicions, he always maintained a smile on his face – that was the basic quality of a merchant. "Would you like some paper and pens as well?"

"Sure, how much are they?" the gang investigator asked, smiling at the man.

He had already gathered some information. From inquiries with nearby bookstore owners, he learned that this traveling merchant was doing business nearby, and the paper and pens were likely bought from him. If he wanted to buy something, he would definitely have to pay.

"Three booklets of paper for one silver coin, and the quill pens are the same price."

"I can buy the paper, but the quill pens are too expensive. Since that's the case, I won't beat around the bush. You probably guessed my identity already." The gang investigator's demeanor instantly turned cold. "What about the money those three children spent? I want that money."

"Sir, with so many customers coming and going every day, how could I possibly remember everyone? I thought you were one of the children's parents and that I had cheated their money," the man replied, not nervous at all. This was the Imperial City, and the guards patrolled frequently. The Imperial City Gang wouldn't dare to act openly against him.

He didn't feel the need to keep the secret either, but he intended to sell this secret for a good price. If that child chose to escape the Imperial City with his help, it would mean he could get 2,500 Oren in one go.

These goods couldn't be sold in the Imperial City, but they could be sold elsewhere. For him, it was at least not a loss.

"It seems you're not going to say anything!"

"No, sir, I am a merchant. Different people have different ways of behaving. If you are willing to buy more goods, perhaps I can answer your questions."

The gang investigator's face darkened, and he placed his hand on the dagger at his waist, but then gave up as he heard the footsteps of guards passing behind him.

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"How much do you want?"

"How about 500 Oren?"

"Fine, you merchants are truly cunning." The gang investigator directly threw eight silver coins onto the small stall.

One of them was for the paper, two were for the exchange of stolen goods, and the remaining five were the reward for this information.

"Alright, sir, I'll resolve your issue right away. Claire, please pack these three booklets of paper into a burlap sack for this gentleman." The man gave the instruction and then took two silver coins from his money pouch. The silver coins were very new, more like collector's items than currency circulating in the market.

"Are you sure?"

"Yes, sir. I believe you can tell at a glance that these two silver coins are very new, almost as if they haven't been circulated among people often."

A good merchant knows how to weigh risks. For 2,500 Oren, he might be killed by the gang, and that kid might not even come to find him. However, these 500 Oren were direct and at least covered his travel expenses back.

That kid probably never expected that months would pass and the gang would still be investigating.

The gang member took the two silver coins and gently pinched them between his fingers. The merchant was right; these two silver coins were very new. Perhaps by taking these two silver coins to the Duke's mansion, he could find out, but this matter was already past. If he went again, it would be like asking for trouble. So, it was better to start with the piglets.

"Sir, perhaps you could buy all this paper. I can give you a suitable price. If you have sales channels, you can definitely earn a lot."

"Haha, foreign merchant, you probably don't know yet, but these high-profit goods are already monopolized by the nobles' guilds. Forget about you, even I have trouble selling them. When you arrive, they will lower prices to make sure you can't sell. A merchant like you probably can't withstand much of a storm." The gang investigator laughed. He certainly knew some of the situation.

The fewer traveling merchants there were, the higher the profits for local merchants with stable sources of goods. It was monopolistic and stable.

However, this young merchant in front of him was clearly caught in the crossfire of a merchant war.

"Go home early, country bumpkin!" The gang investigator turned and left, carrying the burlap sack.

This was a kind of well-intentioned reminder. Once the number of refugees in the city increased, their goods might even be robbed. The war between the Outland and the Demon King's Army had never stopped, and more and more areas were falling.

The merchant's expression did not ease. It wasn't the sarcastic remarks that provoked him, but rather that he understood the problem involved and couldn't solve it.

No one was targeting him directly; it was simply a war between local big merchants and foreign big merchants, which had made him a victim. The big merchants were engaging in price wars.

They would first lower prices to occupy the market, squeeze out all competitors, gain a monopoly, and then obtain pricing power to arbitrarily harvest the market.

"Father, why didn't you give him all three silver coins?"

"Because I'm still planning to earn the remaining 2,500 Oren."

"Daughter, perhaps I should write a book about merchants," the man said, looking at his daughter, Claire. Perhaps his daughter would become an outstanding merchant, inheriting his keen intuition and her mother's ruddy complexion.

"Don't bother. Knowing you, Father, I think you might get your head chopped off by His Majesty the King." Claire wasn't in high spirits. Who would have thought her father would suddenly want to become a merchant?

"Can we go back now? At least we have enough for the travel expenses. Or do you want to sell all these goods at a loss?"

"I know. Fortunately, it hasn't rained heavily lately, or the paper would have gotten damp and been hard to sell."

"We can't sell them anyway, so you don't need to worry about that, Father."

"Always saying such gloomy things, who did you learn that from? I don't remember your mother being like this either."