A Letter to a Shady Merchant

Aurelian certainly wouldn't intentionally pour cold water on Charles; that would make it impossible to recruit a willing laborer. Free citizens had the right to refuse, at least on the surface.

He wouldn't tell Charles just how vast this world truly was—that beyond mere talent, there existed legendary bloodlines that were practically cheats, and that he was nothing more than an ordinary person, as ordinary as they come.

In this world, the gap between an ordinary person and a genius was greater than the gap between a human and a dog.

Perhaps because of the encouraging words Aurelian had just spoken, the distance between the two had been invisibly bridged, and things became much livelier from then on.

Charles seemed to have opened the floodgates; as he led the way, he chattered incessantly about his own experiences.

He brought up the thing he was most proud of: that his father's Iron Hammer could never touch him, not even by a hair, as he managed to escape every single time.

According to him, what he loved most was seeing the look of exasperation on his father's face.

Aurelian listened patiently the whole time because he found it quite interesting; after all, in his past life, he hadn't suffered any less from the "mixed doubles" of his own parents during his childhood.

Jeanne, meanwhile, remained expressionless, while the Roundball had already fallen asleep in her arms, snoring loudly.

Hume, the fat man who hadn't interjected once, looked at Charles with sympathy; the kid was going to lose a layer of skin at the very least when he got back, as Old Rune wouldn't let him off easily.

Not long after, they finally arrived at the place where the town's food was stored.

"My Lord, this is it."

Under the glow of the magic hand-lamp, Aurelian surveyed his surroundings. Many areas were empty; there were a few bags of flour in the corner, and several strips of black cured meat hung from the rafters.

"My administrator, is this all the food we have in storage?"

The Lord asked suddenly, and Hume the fat man hurriedly pulled a small notebook from his pocket.

Squinting his small eyes, he quickly cross-referenced the entries in the notebook, then wiped the sweat from his face and spoke hurriedly.

"My Lord, I've checked the records, and this is all that is stored in the warehouse."

Aurelian raised an eyebrow and questioned, "Then where did the rest go if it wasn't put in the warehouse?"

He wasn't suspecting Hume of embezzlement; he just wanted to clarify where the food had gone and whether it had reached the people who needed it.

"Over the past few days, everything that was supposed to be distributed has been handed out; the warehouse is basically empty."

"Does that mean the commoners shouldn't be lacking food at home right now?"

Aurelian rubbed his chin and asked.

"That should be the case. In the last few days, almost no commoners have starved to death; at least, there won't be any more jokes about people eating horse manure instead of potatoes."

A flattering look appeared on fat Hume's face again as he waved his hands incessantly.

Aurelian frowned. Where on earth did this guy hear that?

"Distribute the remaining flour and cured meat as well."

Aurelian shook his head. The issue of crop growth had been resolved, but his people were still living in hunger, scraping by on empty stomachs.

But he had to find a way to solve the food shortage.

"Let's head back for now."

Walking out of the warehouse, he bid farewell to the chatterbox Charles and reminded him to report to Master tomorrow morning.

Before leaving, Aurelian also gave Hume a task: to find out exactly how many people were left in the town, including the number of able-bodied adults, the ratio of men to women, and how much longer their household grain reserves would last.

Three hundred was his optimistic estimate, as the previous owner's neglect had led to a famine, and many must have starved to death.

He only hoped the real data wouldn't leave him breathless.

However, Winter Territory was his foundation; he had to manage it well to continue developing.

"That Stone Book hasn't shown any activity for a week."

Aurelian suddenly felt a sense of bewilderment, but he immediately realized he couldn't rely too heavily on this mysterious Stone Book; he had to do something himself.

"Magic potions are very valuable. Although the harvest is still a long way off, I should prepare early."

His eyes lit up as he thought of someone from his memories.

"That guy is actually quite suitable; perhaps I can make a big profit from this."

He and the maid rode their horses back to the castle.

Jeanne took the Roundball back to her bedroom; ever since it had hatched from its shell, she hadn't left its side for even a moment.

Heh, women.

Aurelian expressed his disdain, but he couldn't be bothered with that; he had real work to do, so he returned to his own room.

Thanks to Old Will, the place was spotless.

He sat at his desk and laid out a sheet of letter paper.

Picking up the quill from the side of the desk, he dipped it into the black ink and began to write on the paper.

This letter was addressed to Byron, a wealthy merchant living on the border of the Wall of Despair.

This guy was quite famous on the frontier. Before the previous owner arrived at Winter Territory, he had bought a lot of supplies from him, only to find that many were defective upon delivery, which had made the previous owner grind his teeth in anger.

As one of the largest and most cunning merchants in the North, this guy could buy gems at the price of stones and then sell them back at three times the price of gems.

They say there is no merchant who isn't treacherous; many nobles had done business with him, only to cough up blood in frustration after realizing the truth later.

As for why Byron, who remained a commoner to this day, had not been targeted by the nobility, it was because standing behind this fellow was a Border Count with real power.

Having someone to back him up made those nobles cough up three liters of blood, forcing them to pinch their noses and accept their defeat.

There was no helping it; a Border Count with real power was not someone just anyone dared to provoke.

But now, Aurelian intended to write a letter to him to initiate some cooperation.

This was a move born of necessity. As the northernmost Winter Territory of the Star Kingdom, situated beyond the Great Wall, the only person capable of transporting supplies here was this very arch-profiteer.

Although Magic Seed Wheat was one of the most common magic grains, its price had always remained high, comparable to gold and gemstones.

He estimated that every small bag of Magic Seed Wheat, or rather every jin of wheat, should be worth ten Star Coins; it was just that expensive.

Ordinary people simply could not afford it.

Aside from setting some aside for Master and the others, Aurelian planned to sell one thousand jin of Magic Seed Wheat to Byron.

This way, the money for the pensions would be resolved, with a large sum left over.

In the letter, the price he offered was three times the usual price for magic grain. There was no other reason; having learned from the lessons of his predecessors, he knew that when doing business with an arch-profiteer, if one wanted to avoid losing money, it was best to be shameless oneself.

Stuffing the letter into an envelope, Aurelian walked into a room.

The room was quite spacious, with several gold-rimmed birdcages hanging inside that looked rather exquisite.

On the perches within, a few small black birds with light purple spots were playing and frolicking, emitting chirps that sounded like a piccolo.

These were not pigeons, but Star Crows specifically used for delivering letters, considered a species unique to the Star Kingdom.