"How does that sound? We've already made a very generous offer. With a quantity this large, who knows how long it would take you to sell it all in Zack Town?"
Lemanski took a sip of hot water and watched the young herbalist, waiting for him to counteroffer.
Kraun gave a shy smile and spoke in a low voice. "My prices are already as low as they can go. Why don't we work out the numbers first?"
"Generally speaking, aside from external injuries like bruises and sprains, when people get sick and fail to recover, they go to the church once their condition worsens and buy Holy Water."
"For treating a severe cold and fever like this, the lowest grade, No. 3 Holy Water, is enough. At the Church of the God of Fire, for example, each vial of No. 3 Holy Water costs 50 Silver Coins and can be used four or five times."
"Assuming it's used five times, people usually need to drink it twice to recover. That puts the cost of treatment at 20 Silver Coins."
"One vial of Bupleurum Potion can cure this illness, and I'm selling it for 5 Silver Coins. That leaves you with at least 10 Silver Coins in profit, doesn't it?"
"I also have to cover the cost of the herbs. By that calculation, 5 Silver Coins is already too little."
Kraun spoke at length, laying out his argument with impressive clarity.
The old man's expression darkened. The numbers were crystal clear.
This kid wouldn't be easy to deal with.
Lemanski sighed inwardly and put on a troubled expression. "Your math checks out, but we have to pay for your goods up front, tying up some of our capital. We don't know how long it'll take to sell everything, and in the meantime, the goods take up space in our wagons. And things can always go wrong during transport. If we run into Monsters along the way, we might have to abandon the entire load and run for our lives."
"In short, we're taking on more risk. I've studied Herbalism extensively myself, so I can more or less work out what herbs went into your potions. Most of the ingredients in Bupleurum Potion are ordinary, common herbs, right? I'd guess that the ingredients for one batch cost no more than 5 Silver Coins. And one batch of ingredients can make two sets of three vials each."
He knew his stuff. Kraun smiled faintly. "What's the highest success rate an experienced herbalist can achieve? Can they reach 100 percent?"
The old man had no answer. Even a skilled potion maker using a potion recipe they knew well could only reach a success rate of 50 or 60 percent at best.
After a while of trading arguments back and forth, they finally settled on the purchase price of the potions.
Each vial of Bupleurum Potion would go for 4 Silver Coins and 50 Copper Coins. The price of Pink Potion would remain unchanged at 20 Silver Coins per vial.
The people counting the potions finally finished. Their leader, a Gisai, said a few words to the old man in a language Kraun couldn't understand.
Lemanski nodded slightly, then turned to Kraun. "Six hundred vials of Bupleurum Potion and one hundred vials of Pink Potion. Is that right?"
"That's exactly right."
The old man said something to the people who had counted the potions, and they began carrying them away.
Once the table had been cleared, the old man clapped his hands. The little girl who had had a fever the previous night came running over and handed him two boxes.
"Take a look. Here's what you asked for."
Kraun opened one of the boxes. The Black Sage inside was in good condition, with hardly any broken roots. He nodded in satisfaction.
He opened the other box. Inside were blue, dried flower petals.
He sniffed them gently. A sweet fragrance wafted up.
Kraun took off the leather satchel on his back and pulled out a tiny case.
He opened the case and took out its contents, setting them in place. It was a set of scales.
After weighing everything with practiced ease, he smiled. "I'm satisfied with the goods. Let's settle the bill."
Kraun took a pencil and a few sheets of scrap paper from his cloth bag and quickly began working out the numbers, muttering to himself.
"My goods: 600 vials of Bupleurum Potion, 27 Gold Shields; 100 vials of Pink Potion, 20 Gold Shields; 47 Gold Shields total. Ten stalks of Black Sage, 5 Gold Shields. One hundred grams of Blue Tulip Petal, 15 Gold Shields. You still owe me 27 Gold Shields. Yes, that's right."
When he was done, Kraun handed the sheet of calculations to the old Gisai.
Lemanski glanced at it, then took a pouch from inside his coat and counted out the exact amount in Gold Shields.
"We were originally going to leave for Rhine City tomorrow. Since you say you can make Blood-Boiling Potion, I can wait until noon the day after tomorrow."
Taking the heavy Gold Shields, Kraun gave a loud whistle.
"No need. You'll see what you're looking for tomorrow at noon."
It was his first time making a Transcendence potion, and he wasn't sure how it would go. That didn't stop him from being confident.
He had bought ten sets of ingredients. Since high-grade potions required refining and purification, each set could produce only one batch—three vials.
There would definitely be all sorts of mishaps when he first tried making a new potion. He planned to divide each set of ingredients into three portions and practice one vial at a time.
With thirty tries, he ought to succeed once or twice, right?
Another all-nighter awaited him!
Kraun sighed inwardly.
To gain more leverage with his own distributors, he decided to show as much of his potential as possible.
The Gisai were a nomadic people, but they were tightly knit and always helped one another.
If he could win over Lemanski's little caravan, he could build ties with the entire group behind him.
"Then I'll see you tomorrow," Klaan said, rising to take his leave.
"See you tomorrow."
As soon as he stepped into the inn through the back door, the lively atmosphere chased the chill from Kraun's face.
The weather really had turned colder. He'd only walked a few steps outside, but he was already shivering.
Kraun went to the counter and asked, "Old Jason, where are those two outsiders with longswords?"
"What do you want with them? That scar-faced fellow looks like trouble."
The innkeeper put down the rag in his hand and lowered his voice. "A drunk came by to pick a fight this evening. That white-haired guy punched him so hard he went flying out the door. He even broke his nose."
Kraun shrugged. "Don't worry. I'm just discussing business with him. He's buying some herbs from me."
"Oh, is that so? Upstairs, the last room," Jason said, pointing toward the stairs.
Kraun climbed the creaking stairs and walked to the end of the hallway.
Knock, knock, knock.
"Who is it?" came a slightly childish voice.
"Open up, Alan. It's me, Kraun. I'll treat you to roast lamb shank in a few days, too."
The door opened quickly.
"Big brother, you'd better keep your promise!"
Little Alan beamed up at him, his cheeks flushed as he excitedly ushered him inside.
"I will." After entering, Kraun saw Geralt wiping down his sword.
"I brought the Black Sage." He took a small box from his satchel and handed it to the Witcher. He had gathered the herbs himself.
The white-haired man took the box and opened it. He picked up a stalk and examined it closely, then smiled and nodded. "Good. You didn't damage the herb at all when you picked it."
"Alan, get Kraun his money."
Before you continue