Plan (6)

"Did you say you wanted to cooperate with us?"

Sifu looked at Roy Brando, the caravan leader who had dealt with the tribe many times before. His sharp-nailed fingers lightly tapped his bone staff. "You want to sell the fruit mash brewed by the Stone Crow Clan?"

As he spoke, he turned his gaze toward Gar, Orkash, and the others. Under the old chieftain's scrutinizing eyes, all the orcs lowered their heads to stare at their own chests, as if they had leaked some vital tribal secret.

"Please forgive my presumption, Elder."

Roy bowed slightly. He had never before spoken face-to-face with the true leader of the Stone Crow Clan. Before a spellcaster who might be a grand mage, anyone ought to show respect. "They cannot be blamed. Your warriors are simply too straightforward; they could not bear to see us suffer under the curse."

He spoke up for the orcs who had traveled with him to the Duru Basin, hoping to win their favor.

"Wizard, ever since that accident, I have been deeply remorseful. To be honest, I sympathize greatly with your unfortunate plight, and I have always hoped to find some way to make up for my mistake."

Roy wiped away tears that did not exist, looking utterly heartbroken. "But I am only an utterly ordinary merchant. Other than praying to the gods day and night, what else can I do?"

"But today, I found a way to repay you all."

His expression shifted from grief to excitement. "So long as you entrust the fruit mash to my caravan for sale, I, Roy Brando, swear upon my honor that in the near future, I will bring you a great fortune to improve the Stone Crow Clan's current circumstances."

The old chieftain did not reply.

In truth, the one conversing with Roy was not the wizard, but Caesar, far away in his mountaintop lair. Sifu had established a mental link with the black dragon, then relayed Caesar's words through his own mouth.

A brief silence followed. Throughout it, Roy stared unblinkingly at the old orc's expression, trying to divine his thoughts.

"The recipe cannot be given to you. It is a secret passed down through the Stone Crow Clan since ancient times," the old orc said.

What a load of crap.

Roy sneered inwardly. This damned orc clan had probably not even been in the Wilds for two hundred years. Who knew whether they had stolen the recipe while serving some evil dragon as retainers? Yet they still had the gall to prattle on about secrets. They were even more hypocritical than humans.

He had never expected that his casual guess would come so close to the truth.

That said, Roy knew it was unrealistic to pry the fruit mash recipe from these orcs. The hope was vanishingly slim, so he did not press the matter. He nodded lightly, the words rolling right off his tongue. "I understand. I have great respect for the customs and taboos of the various clans."

"Though I am merely an ordinary merchant, I have quite a few friends in the Northern Kingdoms. So long as you entrust the finished product to me for sale, I believe that, through my hands, tons of grain will reach the Stone Crow Clan in the near future."

Such a firm promise seemed to put the old orc Sifu somewhat at ease. He gave a grunt and asked, "What... what split?"

What split?

Roy froze. Profit-sharing was quite a fashionable business model in the Northern Kingdoms, generally found only in the economically developed south and in maritime trade. In the relatively backward Northern Kingdoms, merchants selling goods for others usually worked on a model of collecting regular commissions.

He had originally thought that once the Stone Crow Clan handed the fruit mash over to him, it would have nothing more to do with these dim-witted orcs. The orcs had no way of knowing the market situation. He could simply hire a professional merchant to spin any tale he liked.

When the time came, he could directly swallow all the profits for himself. These filthy, low-witted orcs deserved only to trail behind and sip a little broth.

Yet to his surprise, the word "split" had actually popped out of the mouth of these supposedly ignorant orcs. The old fellow's wisdom and insight were far greater than he had imagined, throwing his carefully ordered thoughts into a tangled mess. He needed to reconsider his plan.

Roy fell silent for a moment.

Still, he was one of the heirs of a great family, and he soon sorted out his thoughts.

"There is one fact that cannot be denied: the fruit mash is indeed painstakingly brewed by the orcs."

Roy quickly made up his mind and tested the waters. "But please allow me to remind you that I will bear responsibility for everything, from transporting the goods to selling them throughout the Northern Kingdoms. Moreover, it will not be easy to build trade routes and distribution channels in every country from scratch."

"Therefore, I propose a thirty-seventy split, with the Stone Crow Clan taking thirty percent. Would you agree to that?"

He blurted it all out in one breath, mixing in many obscure terms the orcs could not possibly understand. His purpose was to muddle the old wizard's mind, then let the current carry him into accepting the terms.

To his surprise, the old fellow ignored everything he said and immediately shook his head in refusal. "No. Stone Crow Clan gets seventy percent."

"How could that be possible!"

Roy looked as though he had been startled, his face full of alarm. "My friend, please understand me. I am only a merchant. It is no easy task to sell the goods of another race in the Northern Kingdoms. Those city guards and nobles back home are all vampires... I need at least sixty percent."

"Stone Crow Clan gets seventy percent. Humans get thirty percent."

The old orc remained unmoved and refused to budge. "If you do not agree, you may cancel this cooperation entirely."

This was where Caesar's earlier arrangements showed their effect. If the Stone Crow Clan had approached humans on its own, asking them to sell Summergrass, it would have been crushed beneath their heel. No matter how great Summergrass's profits were, the clan would have been exploited until only a layer of skin remained.

Instead, he had arranged for the caravan to discover the orcs' fruit mash "by coincidence," then succumb to temptation and make the offer themselves. Since they needed the Stone Crow Clan, the humans were naturally at a disadvantage in the negotiation, while the orcs firmly held the initiative.

No matter how silver-tongued Roy was or how wildly he spun his lies, so long as Caesar would not yield, there was nothing he could do.

In the end, Roy could not resist Summergrass's enormous profits. He agreed to reach an arrangement with the Stone Crow Clan: the tribe would provide the finished Summergrass fruit mash, while the caravan would sell it in the Northern Kingdoms. The profits would be split forty-sixty, with the Stone Crow Clan taking sixty percent.

"Then let us sign our names together under the witness of the God of Truth."

The old orc's words snuffed out Roy's last shred of hope. He gritted his teeth. Considering that this was still a business requiring no capital from him, even forty percent was better than no income at all. With great reluctance, he signed the name "Roy Brando" on the contract.