That afternoon, George the merchant came to Allen's place. He looked as though he had suffered some injuries, but Allen would not pity him. After all, he had already warned him.
"Now it seems you have no choice but to follow me."
"Of course. Although I don't entirely approve of what you did, I still have to thank you. Allen, you are my master now." With that, he prepared to bow to him, but Allen immediately stopped him.
"What are you doing? You're only a follower, not a slave. Don't be so nervous. We've known each other for so long. Don't you know what I'm like by now?"
George straightened up gratefully. As a shrewd merchant, he suddenly realized that following Allen might be the wisest gamble of his life.
Allen then told him about his work. There was actually nothing particularly major to it: he would manage all the daily needs of Allen's followers, as well as handle the external sales of all his potions.
To motivate him, Allen promised that for every potion he sold, he could receive 5 percent of the net proceeds, provided that the price was no lower than the market rate.
These terms left George deeply alarmed. He told Allen that, as a follower, he could only serve Allen unconditionally.
But Allen shook his head and told him, "Listen, George. Don't think this will be easy. If you really manage it, that will be down to your talent and ability.
"I've always valued capable people. Take my followers, for example. They train every day, and whenever someone performs well, I never stint on rewards.
"Lastly, as a merchant, you should understand the appeal of profit. It can make anyone work willingly."
No matter what Allen said, George still believed that accepting this would disgrace