"Your father is a brave and fearless nobleman. The Ross Family's Chosen, 'Crimson Rose,' even left legendary tales behind in the Empire." Simon offered a string of pleasantries. In truth, the two had never had any dealings, and the old Count's first Chosen had died in battle long ago, in the war against the elves. Simon declared loudly, "I greatly admire his valor. I hope I'll have the chance to meet him someday."
Simon was a short, fat man with extremely pale skin, his face covered in freckles and growths. He reclined in the arms of two stark-naked maids. After speaking, he pursed his lips and sucked a cherry from one maid's hand, chewing leisurely before spitting the pit, along with his saliva, onto her snow-white skin with a "ptui."
The maid showed no displeasure. Instead, she kept giggling coquettishly.
It was truly depraved, but Field was hardly surprised. Many nobles were like this. After all, they had been able to get anything they wanted since childhood, leaving their threshold for pleasure so high that they needed ever greater stimulation to feel happy.
As long as they did not provoke him, Field did not care.
At Simon's gesture, Field sat in a chair and returned the pleasantries. "You're the most capable nobleman I've ever met when it comes to managing a territory. I've never seen prosperity like Mapleleaf City's."
"Haha, I like your honesty."
In the spirit of nobility, the two exchanged flattery for quite some time.
"Seriously, Field, you've inherited your family's valor and wisdom. Few people can venture into the Cursed Land and emerge unscathed." Simon struggled to sit up, then waved the maids away, signaling an end to the small talk. He stood. "Let's talk in the reception room. Since these ordinary beauties don't appeal to you, we'll leave it at that. Perhaps you'd prefer elves or merfolk. Heh, unfortunately, I don't have any on hand right now. The last batch was made into dishes and bought by other nobles."
Field felt a surge of nausea, but his face remained expressionless. "You even have merfolk?"
"Of course. Next time, I'll take you to an interesting Underground Banquet. I guarantee it'll satisfy all your tastes." Simon raised his eyebrows with a wicked grin.
"Haha, now I have something to look forward to. Just what I'd expect of Baron Mapleleaf." Field laughed heartily. He had little interest in the Underground Banquet, but as a seller, he naturally had to offer some flattery. Then he added in a relieved tone, "I owe my escape from Nightfall Territory to my soldiers and the Goddess's protection. I was surprised myself that I made it out alive. It seems luck is on my side for now."
Simon clapped in admiration. "I do love doing business with lucky people."
They arrived in the lavishly decorated reception room. Field's goods had already been inspected and delivered to the manor, and the Sherry Casks were visible outside the door.
"What are these?"
"Iron Hammer, bring out the monster and show Baron Simon."
Field did not rush to sell his goods. Instead, he had the guards bring over a skull. It belonged to a mutated rat from the Grand Winery. The head alone was as large as a young man's torso, with horns and sharp teeth, like a demon from hell baring a hideous, cold grin.
"This was the first supernatural monster I encountered in Nightfall Territory-a corrupted Giant Rat Demon. Purple demonic flames burned in its fur, and its claws could easily tear through heavy scale armor. A single breath from its mouth unleashed the shrieks of vengeful ghosts. In just one encounter, its Demon Flame burned seven men from my vanguard! Damn it, those were all knights painstakingly trained by the Ross Family, and they ended up as piles of charcoal."
"Hiss!"
Simon sucked in a cold breath and rubbed his chin. "Mapleleaf Fortress has never faced an attack from Rat Demons. They look truly dangerous."
Nobles cared little for facts. They valued prestige and grandeur far more.
Field raised the skull, putting on a look of lingering fear as he spun a fairy tale out of thin air. "This monster charged in and out of my ranks seven times. No one could withstand a single strike from its claws, and we had absolutely no way to counter it. Can you understand that despair? All I could do was pray for a miracle."
Simon nodded. "Like the despair of eating all your honey and having none left in storage."
"At that moment between life and death, the Goddess finally answered me. A bolt of lightning carrying divine might struck this damned beast on the head. Only then did my knights find an opening to kill it."
"Thank the Goddess!" Simon listened, dumbfounded. He traced the God of Love's prayer symbol over his chest and said with lingering fear, "The Northern Frontier Province is another name for hell. The Church and the Royal Family have launched numerous campaigns against it, all to no avail. Your return from there alive is a miracle in itself."
"Yes, but for the peace of the Empire and precious treasures, I'm more than willing to take risks." Field shrugged and tugged at his collar to cool himself. "Especially precious treasures, such as a rare vintage that disappeared ten years ago: Black Pearl Grapes Wine. This greedy Rat Demon was a clever monster with an eye for quality, too. It guarded that precious wine fiercely."
"Heavens, what did I just hear? Black Pearl Grapes Wine? The wine from ten years ago, reserved for royal banquets?" Simon's eyes lit up. "Let me see those rare vintages. I can't wait!"
Nobles had no resistance to precious things. Although obtaining the wine had not been particularly difficult for Field, making it sound harder drove its price even higher and gave it considerably more prestige.
When the cask lid was pried open, the rich aroma of wine filled the room. Simon eagerly tasted it, then looked utterly enraptured. "That's the taste! Do you know? My father treasured a bottle and only let me have one cup on my birthday last year! That velvety smoothness-I bet my father will be green with envy."
Field smiled. "Of course. Noble beauties need noble patrons, and noble wine needs noble people to savor it."
Even modern shoppers were more willing to buy a product with a "story." Take the simplest example: "Folks, I've brought you an amazing deal! This stuff originally cost nine hundred million, but I held the boss at knifepoint and made him slash the price. Now it's only nine! What are you waiting for?"
"I feel like I've found a kindred spirit. I'll buy this precious wine," Simon admitted without reservation. Then he summoned a servant and whispered a few words. "One moment, Baron Field. I need to discuss the price with my adviser. This is no small transaction."
"Please, go ahead."
After a brief discussion, Simon offered a price of 500 gold coins per cask.
That was exactly the amount of Field's starting capital for his journey to Nightfall Territory.
A standard Sherry Cask held roughly 500 liters. One liter equaled 2.1134 pints, and one cup of wine was one pint. The wine nobles drank generally cost 25 copper coins per cup, so an entire cask of ordinary wine cost approximately 26 gold coins and 41 silver coins.
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