Bayam, a bar serving as a local base.
"Brando's shipment sure sold like hotcakes-"
Danitz leaned against the bar, tipped his head back, and took a long swig of fiery Lanti from the bottle.
This arms deal had gone exceptionally smoothly. The Resistance Army men had been full of praise for the brand-new weapons and ammunition, and had even placed an order for the next shipment on the spot.
To show their sincerity, they had actually paid in full this time!
In all his years at sea, Danitz had never seen these dirt-poor natives pay the full price upfront!
"Good merchandise really does sell itself." Danitz let out a drunken belch, unable to help marveling.
Not that he could blame the locals. Most resistance fighters and local militias counted themselves lucky to get their hands on obsolete firearms discarded by the Loen military or reloaded ammunition of inconsistent quality. Reliable new ammunition and standardized parts like this batch from Brando's factory were, in their eyes, the finest of the fine.
"Shit, I think I sold them too cheap." He took another swig, suddenly feeling he had shortchanged himself with this deal's pricing.
"No, next time I'm raising the price another twenty percent!"
"Hehe, at this rate, another two deals and I'll have paid off everything I owe!" A foolish grin spread across Danitz's face.
"When I go home, I'll buy the whole town! Let the old man and all those bastards who used to look down on me get a good look!"
"Haha!"
He picked up a Ripper from the table beside him and spun it in his hand, showing off.
Brando really does know his stuff. Could he actually be a follower of the God of Steam and Machinery- Danitz couldn't help wondering as he studied the finely crafted