A hundred million in losses

Maritime trade was the foundation upon which the Kingdom of Kul Tiras was built.

After the Second War ended, the nations of the Alliance had all been tempered by war, and their rulers began setting aside their prejudices and strengthening ties between their countries.

Riding the wave of open trade, the Kingdom of Kul Tiras turned every port in the kingdom into a trading port. In just a few years, Kul Tiras became the wealthiest nation in the Alliance.

In Alliance Square in the capital, Boralus, more than half the three-story buildings had been bought by major merchant associations and turned into trading houses.

With the list of contacts Jaina had given him in hand, Rowan and Byron found the largest building with green roof tiles and went inside.

As soon as they sat down, an attendant from the merchant association came over to ask what they would like to drink.

"Just some clear wine," Rowan replied.

Looking at the well-stocked bar and the pretty young women, Byron was visibly restless.

But Young Master Rowan was here on serious business, so Byron restrained himself and sat beside him, though his gaze kept drifting toward the bar.

"I'm looking for Gazlowe," Rowan said, handing the attendant his calling card.

The young attendant spotted the Norwington surname and immediately bowed slightly to Rowan. "Please wait a moment, Young Master Rowan."

About five minutes later, a green-skinned Goblin wearing a leather jacket, his hair tied up with a band, came into Rowan's view.

"A pleasure, Young Master Rowan. I'm Gazlowe, from Ratchet City on the western continent." Gazlowe came over to the table, leaped up, and climbed onto a seat.

Gazlowe's voice was not particularly shrill, and he maintained a warm, humble smile that made him seem quite refined.

Unlike the Goblins of the Venture Company, whose deceit was written all over their faces, Gazlowe looked more like a respectable merchant.

Rowan had a very good first impression of Gazlowe, but he was here to negotiate an order. No matter how many points Gazlowe's appearance earned him, it ultimately came down to money.

"Delighted to meet you, Trade Prince Gazlowe," Rowan said with a flattering smile.

As the administrator of Ratchet City, Gazlowe did not command many forces. He did not even qualify as a Trade Mogul yet.

In Goblin society, Trade Princes stood at the top, followed by Trade Moguls, then city administrators.

Gazlowe paused, surprised that the human boy before him had actually studied the structure of Goblin society.

"I'm only an administrator, Young Master Rowan."

"No, no, no. I believe our cooperation will make Gazlowe a genuine Trade Prince." As the only son of Norwington Estate and its future ruler, Rowan needed to use every advantage he currently possessed to take the lead in their trade dealings.

Granted, everything Rowan was saying amounted to empty promises. But in a business partnership, painting a rosy picture and discussing ambitions was perfectly normal.

Gazlowe's gaze briefly stilled. He quickly realized that this heir to the Norwington Family had not come to the merchant association just to dabble.

A human boy under sixteen who could handle himself so deftly in trade negotiations, and even subtly seize the initiative, was no ordinary person.

"May your words come true, Young Master Rowan." Gazlowe paused before continuing, "Your order is for ten tons of iron plate. At market prices, that comes to 7,000 gold coins."

Rowan waved a hand and pushed a glass of Drustvar Winter Reserve toward Gazlowe.

"Of course, of course. Since we're working together, we'll certainly pay you appropriately," Rowan said, steering away from Gazlowe's topic.

Who taught him to dodge the main issue so smoothly? Gazlowe frowned slightly, then followed Rowan's lead. "What do you mean, Young Master Rowan? Is there other business we could discuss?"

Dealing with a clever Goblin really was effortless.

"Exactly. I wonder if Prince Gazlowe has heard of 'blackstone' ore?" Rowan thought, Seven thousand gold coins is no small sum. I still need to buy a blast furnace and grain, which will cost another hefty amount. I should save wherever I can, preferably by bartering.

Gazlowe nodded without committing himself. First, he did not know the price of blackstone ore in Kul Tiras. If he made a rash offer, he would have no idea whether he was losing money or making a profit.

Second, Young Master Rowan clearly wanted to exchange blackstone for those ten tons of iron plate.

He certainly knows how to work the numbers.

"As for working together, you can go back and give it some thought. But as far as I know, blackstone ore sees widespread use among the Dwarves and Gnomes of the Eastern Kingdoms, and Goblin society consumes quite a lot of it too. Oh, and the Bilgewater Cartel also has a merchant association in Alliance Square. You could inquire about specific prices there."

Blackstone ore? Gazlowe was indeed tempted. There were not many blackstone mines in Kalimdor or the Eastern Kingdoms, and most were controlled by other Goblin factions within the Steamwheedle Cartel. The Bilgewater Cartel in the Eastern Kingdoms had also choked off the region's blackstone trade. Trade Prince Rizzagavi bought up all the blackstone arriving by sea, monopolizing the supply and deliberately driving up prices.

Gazlowe had originally intended to investigate blackstone prices in Kul Tiras, but Rowan's last remark put an end to that idea.

Like hell he's looking out for me by suggesting I ask the Bilgewater Cartel for a quote.

What Rowan really meant was that Gazlowe's merchant association was not his only potential buyer.

After thinking it over for a long while, Gazlowe made up his mind and asked, "Young Master Rowan, how much blackstone ore would you offer in exchange for my ten tons of iron ingots?"

"Since you're so sincere, Prince, I can hardly let you do business at a loss. Why don't you first tell me what blackstone sells for in the Eastern Kingdoms? Otherwise, if I name a price at random, you might not be able to accept it," Rowan said, keeping a smile on his face.

Gazlowe rubbed his forehead and quoted a lower price. "Sixty gold coins per ton. That's the delivered price."

"Eighty gold coins per ton. I also know Goblins won't take a deal unless there's at least a fifty-percent profit in it. But a steady stream adds up over time. As your ongoing supplier, I'll give you a discount: seventy gold coins per ton. I'll lose a little on every ton, and you'll earn a little more. Over time, that'll add up to a hundred million. Of course, I'll accept the loss. What matters is stable trade and a sincere friendship between us, wouldn't you agree?" Rowan sighed softly, pretending he had suffered a tremendous loss. He spread his hands, rose politely, and offered Gazlowe a handshake.

Yes, yes, yes. I'm making money, and you're taking all the losses. If I keep buying, won't you lose yourself into bankruptcy? Gazlowe's head was spinning. Rowan had nearly talked him dizzy.

In the end, Gazlowe shook Rowan's hand. "A pleasure doing business with you."

In all his years in trade, this was the first time Gazlowe had said those words so insincerely.

Indeed, there had been little pleasure in today's dealings.

They drew up a contract, and Gazlowe and Rowan signed it before discussing the supply arrangements.

About an hour later, Gazlowe left the merchant association with his assistant.

Just then, a young man only a few years older than Rowan appeared before them.

"Long time no see, Rowan. I heard you just signed a contract with a Goblin for iron ingots? Ah, your Norwington Family is pitifully foolish. You should know that the Goblins charge a full third more for their iron ingots than our Military Foundry does." The tall, slender pretty boy in a clean white robe made a show of himself in front of Rowan.

The speaker was Moss Ashvane, Lord Ashvane's son.

Seeing Rowan hesitate to speak, Moss hurried to twist the knife. "Then again, your Norwington Family has burned its bridges with us. We have no reason to sell you iron ingots."

"Oh, right. I heard you also went to some dilapidated shipyard? And you even declared that you'd make ships move without Wind Runes or the Tidesages' blessings. I honestly wonder whether you've recovered that pitiful intelligence of yours at all." Moss put on a woeful expression, pursed his lips, and spoke sorrowfully.