Trade

Alvin was woken from his dreams in the middle of the night by his personal guards. When he emerged from the fortress at the center of the camp with Abberton, he saw that the sky to the northeast, which should have been black, was dyed a fiery red. That was the direction of Zul'Aman.

Events had unfolded more smoothly than expected. Even the boy who had first proposed the plan hadn't imagined that the Trolls wandering the forest would spark a conflict on their very first night back in Zul'Aman. More surprising still was the Mossflayer Trolls' decisiveness. Just as Maxwell had gathered his troops and was preparing to seize the upheaval within the Trolls as an opportunity to strike, hoping to catch them off guard, the Troll high priest—having swiftly quelled the infighting—sent an envoy to sue for peace.

"Better to be shattered jade than an intact tile." To many, the phrase was a cry of honor, something only a true hero could live up to. But sometimes, surviving with your dignity compromised took more courage than dying a glorious death.

It was said that a famous modern Chinese diplomat had once remarked: "What annoys me most is people constantly shouting, 'Better to be shattered jade than an intact tile.' What gives you the right to say that? You can choose to be shattered jade as an individual, but can a whole nation? A nation isn't just your generation. You have descendants. What right do you have to lead an entire nation to ruin? We have to return to reason."

Whether or not he had really said those words, they did make a fair point—

In any case, whether out of cowardice or wisdom, Zulsh, the high priest and supreme leader of Zul'Aman, had chosen to compromise with the humans. The army of the Kingdom of Lordaeron had already completed more than half of its mission.

The original purpose of starting this war had been to secure the home front before dealing with outside threats, while also giving the troops training. But everyone knew that passing up a good deal was foolish. They had spent so much manpower and material without earning a penny. Even if they had achieved their original strategic goals, the result still wouldn't look good.

So, driven by self-interest, Maxwell not only made the planned demand that the Mossflayer Clan send agents to help the High Elves attack Zul'Aman, but also made an exorbitant demand for a large quantity of furs and medicinal herbs as war reparations.

There was no help for it. Like most primitive tribes, the Trolls who lived in the vast forest didn't use precious metals like gold and silver as currency. Their currency was furs that could be made into clothing, herbs that could treat injuries, and food to fill their stomachs.

In their eyes, gold and silver were worthless things that couldn't be eaten or put to use. And since these metals weren't widely used as currency, the Trolls didn't bury their dead with such "junk." Instead, they laid them to rest with tokens of their honor: weapons they had wielded in life, bones from their hunting trophies, and charms obtained from priests.

That meant there was no chance of getting real gold and silver from the Mossflayer Trolls through this war. Maxwell had to settle for furs and medicinal herbs they had stockpiled. These goods sold reasonably well in Stratholme. Even after passing through an extra middleman, they could still bring in a handsome profit.

Alvin also urged the young commander to make the Mossflayer Clan an offer they couldn't refuse: open up trade between the two peoples. Under the plan, the Kingdom of Lordaeron would turn the unfinished fortress where its command post was located into a trading post. There, it would use Lordaeron's currency to buy the Trolls' surplus furs and herbs, while the Trolls could use the coins they earned to buy food and everyday necessities from the kingdom.

Though the forest's abundant resources could support the Mossflayer Clan even with nearly half its population gone, who knew whether some disaster might strike in the years to come? Planning ahead was a necessary skill for any primitive tribe's leader. If they could peacefully obtain the necessities of life, who would want to take up arms and enter a battlefield where life and death were uncertain?

"Use war to bring about peace, and trade to secure profits."

Though Alvin, a former engineering student, didn't know much about economics and all that, he had heard how a certain superpower used the green banknotes it printed to keep other countries in its grip—

They could trade gold and silver, useless to the Trolls, for the goods the Trolls produced, then have them use that currency to absorb the superpower's excess production. Compared with simple barter, this method not only accelerated the flow of wealth but also fostered dependence on the currency the kingdom issued.

As long as the Kingdom of Lordaeron remained powerful, the Mossflayer Clan—dependent on it economically and unable to match its military strength—would have no choice but to remain tied to the kingdom's fortunes, a captive market for goods produced by the human realm.

"General, all the goods you requested have been loaded."

At the foot of the slope below Zul'Aman, High Priest Zulsh stood respectfully before the human commander, Maxwell, his already hunched back bent even lower.

This was the last shipment bound for Stratholme. Afterward, the Kingdom of Lordaeron would leave two thousand human soldiers here and settle the ordinary Gnolls of the Blackpaw Clan around the small fortress in the forest. They would keep watch on the Trolls of Zul'Aman while also protecting and facilitating trade between the humans and Trolls.

In addition, a squad of twenty Troll warriors from the Mossflayer Clan would leave the forest with the human army. They would be taken to Northland Fortress to await word from the Ghostlands. Until the High Elf general gave permission, no human would attempt to pass through the Thalassian Path.

As the boy departed, he rode a snow-white colt, with his small squad of guards and personal bodyguards following at an easy pace behind the convoy laden with goods. Whenever he looked up at the seemingly endless line of heavily loaded wagons, he couldn't help marveling at how war really was a great way to make money. But he knew they had only gotten such a good deal this time by chance. Aside from the Gnolls' help, the more important reason was that the Kingdom of Lordaeron itself was powerful enough.

In this world, where every race competed with the others for living space and resources, only strength could bring fairness. If things came to the point where "the powerful could throw their weight around, while the weak had no justice to speak of," then the weaker side—like the Mossflayer Clan now—would have absolutely no leverage to negotiate.

Without comparable strength to back them up, diplomatic negotiations with an enemy couldn't be a matter of bargaining. The weaker side would have no choice but to sign on the dotted line. Only overwhelming strength could allow humanity to protect its people and wealth in this era of endless war.