[Book 1 Completed] Industrial Mage: Modernizing a Magical World [Kingdom Building LitRPG]
B2 | Chapter 7 – Ruthless Theodore

"That him, Velka?" asked the tall man with the scar on his cheek and red hair.

"Yeah, Rufus, seems like it," the woman with the strapped daggers responded. "The noble."

"Huh." Rufus spat to the side, crossing his arms as he stared after the figure moving across the camp. "Figures. We clear out half the tunnels, then he shows up to take credit."

The man they were watching was obviously Theodore, and he didn't even glance their way. As someone used to being observed, questioned, and even despised, he moved on. And he didn't give a damn. He could have recited every word back if he had wanted to, but he chose not to. He didn't slow down whatsoever.

Apparently, these folks belonged to a guild. Of course, they wanted to be heard. A provocation, or perhaps a warning. Either way, they had guts to speak that openly in earshot of a royal. This indicated that they either had something to gain from this or that someone had emboldened them. Why, after all, did they have the courage to do that? Guilds were political beasts, not dumb like these people were being. He'd need to look into their background. Roland arched an eyebrow behind him. Theodore shook his head slightly.

Not worth the breath.

He moved inside the tent. It's time to handle Ashton.

***

Ashton was exactly what Theodore had expected.

With his refined manners and gentle hands, the Baron was a man who obviously oversaw mining rather than engaged in it himself. Eyes that darted about like anxious birds, middle-aged, with the first signs of jowls that spoke of too many fine dinners.

And he would not. Stop. Talking.

"—truly revolutionary, my lord. Simply revolutionary. My wife swears by your family's soap now. Says her skin hasn't felt this refreshed since she was twenty. Made a special order for a dozen bars last month. Told all her friends, too, haha."

With a courteous nod, Theodore wondered as to whether he might immediately get a [Patience] skill.

Roland stood at attention behind Theodore's chair. There was no sign of the boredom that must be eating at him.

That discipline was something Theodore envied.

"The wheelbarrows, too!" Ashton went on, his hands fluttering as though he were leading an unseen orchestra, "Genius, sheer genius. The balance is so much better. Output increased fifteen percent after we implemented them across all shafts."

"I'm glad to hear it," Theodore said, putting down his teacup with more force than necessary. "About the fervidite situation—"

"Oh, and the water filtration system your engineers designed—"

"Baron," Theodore cut in firmly, "I appreciate your enthusiasm. But I've traveled days through the Deadwoods, fought undead, and would like to discuss the matter at hand."

Like a balloon slowly leaking, Ashton deflated a little. "Yes, of course, Lord Theodore. Forgive me. It's just—we don't often host someone of your... caliber here."

Translation: he was nervous as hell.

"Let's discuss the mines," Theodore prompted.

The rehearsed façade of the cheerful host gave way to sincere concern on Ashton's face. He motioned to one of his servants, who rushed forward carrying a piece of rolled parchment.

"Our production has been complicated," Ashton explained, unfolding the map across the table. It displayed the vast system of mine shafts, denoted by a variety of symbols and notations. "We've had to seal off the entire eastern quadrant, which is our biggest yield area."

Theodore bent forward to examine the map. "The slimes?"

"Yes. But not the usual sort." Ashton's finger traced a path through the tunnels "We've dealt with slimes before. Nuisances, mostly. Easy enough to clear out. These are different."

"Different how?Theodore inquired, even though the early reports had given him a suspicion.

"They're organized. Coordinated. That suggests intelligence. And we know why." He gestured toward a big room located far into the eastern section. "The Slime King."

"You've seen it?"

"Lost one of my best men confirming its existence," Ashton said grimly. "Peak Rank 2 monster, at minimum."

Rank 2. Apprentice and Race Rank F equivalent. Though not catastrophic, it was undoubtedly more than a mining operation could manage. Additionally, monsters of the same rank were typically stronger than humans.

No wonder Ashton was nervous.

"And you're certain it's Rank 2?"

"The east overseer was a former adventurer. [Scout] class, Apprentice rank. He identified it before..." Ashton made a vague gesture. "Well. Before he didn't come back."

Theodore nodded.

Slimes were nasty business.

Though not particularly terrifying, these creatures were surprisingly dangerous. They could slip through cracks, absorb and digest almost anything, and the more they consumed, the stronger they became. They were particularly dangerous because they would latch onto your face, strangle you to death, and then leave behind what could only be described as eggs inside the corpse.

In comparison to its subjects, a Slime King would be dozens of times more dangerous.

"And the fervidite veins?"

"Our richest deposits are in that eastern quadrant. We've been making do with the western and northern sections, but..." He shrugged helplessly. "The quality is lower. Yield is down by more than half."

It made sense that they had been lagging behind on shipments. Theodore flipped the subject over in his head while he sipped his tea.

Slimes liked heat, and they were great insulators, as well.

Considering that they didn't simply vanish after dying... Without a doubt, Theodore could utilize their residues as insulation for the homes he intended to build. Actually, it was one of the main reasons he wanted to visit this place in order to try things out for himself. The challenging part was keeping the slimes in their liquid-like state since they solidified quite rapidly once they died.

Regardless…

"So you need the eastern quadrant cleared," Theodore stated.

"Yes, my lord. We've tried hiring adventurers, but—"

"But Rank 2 monsters require Rank 2 adventurers, minimum," Theodore finished for him. "And those don't come cheap."

"Exactly." Ashton hesitated, then plunged ahead. "A guild agreed to help us but they have been slow. In fact, it's just politics. Which brings me to my proposal. Your family has connections to the Adventurers' Guild. If you could arrange for a qualified team—at a reasonable rate—we would be willing to adjust the terms of our agreement."

"Adjust how, exactly?" Theodore asked in a neutral tone.

"A five percent reduction in prices for the refined fervidite for the next two years," Ashton joked.

Theodore nearly choked on his tea. Five percent. For dealing with a Rank 2 monster and its minions. After they'd traveled through the Deadwoods to get here.

He set his cup down slowly.

"Baron Ashton," he said, adopting the tone his father used when someone had profoundly disappointed him, "are you wasting my time?"

The color drained from Ashton's face.

***

Ashton had fucked up. Oh, he'd fucked up royally.

The tent flapped in the winter wind, sending another spray of dust across the conference room. Fitting, really. Everything around him, including the air they breathed, was turning to shit.

"Baron Ashton," Theodore had said, with that voice that chilled Ashton's blood. "Are you wasting my time?"

The words were as heavy as iron.

It had only been two years since Ashton last saw the wastrel, and the change was astounding. The spoilt and impulsive boy who had come to tour the mines ostentatiously was no longer there.

And Ashton's pitiful offer had just insulted him.

What had he been thinking?

In his mind, Theodore had been that same pampered noble brat. At the time, the tactic had looked so smart: start with an offensive offer, let the boy to become agitated, and then "generously" increase to something that was still very much in Ashton's advantage. Give the impression that the young lord has gained something when, in reality, he was actually duped. The same dance that Ashton had done over the years with innumerable unskilled nobles, whose gentle hands and gentler brains could not compete with a business veteran like himself.

A negotiation tactic as old as trade itself.

However, Ashton had seen his error in judgment written in the icy stillness of Theodore's eyes the instant that pathetic "five percent" had left his lips. This was not a green lordling in need of favor. Not only did Theodore's demeanor and business sense change, but he also allowed Ashton to hang himself with his own frantic words and used silence as a weapon. Theodore simply sat there, waiting for Ashton to reach the breaking point they both knew was coming, while Ashton was frantically making offers, each one more desperate than the last, and watching his advantage evaporate like morning mist.

"Lord Theodore, I—Perhaps I misspoke. What I meant to suggest was—"

"What you meant was to see if I'd accept scraps."

Ashton reached for his tea with a shaking hand.

At what point did his hands begin to shake like an elderly man's?

Only fifty-three and already falling apart at the seams in contrast to his father, who had toiled in the mines until he was seventy.

Theodore merely gazed at him.

Damnation, what a reversal this was. Holden had nearly fallen apart six months prior. Their investments failed, their mines ran out. Ashton had also seen a weakness and withdrawn from their trade contracts. He'd instead looked for better conditions with someone else.

And now? The heir to the kingdom's fastest-growing business, Theodore, now sat opposite him. Soaps that nobility fought over. The young lord had been busy. Very busy. And making a shitload of money in the process.

And here was Ashton, desperately in need of help. Winter was setting in. The passes would shortly be closed by snow. Winter also brought with it the migrations of monsters and beasts, many of which went directly through Westford. His militia was capable of dealing with the typical threats, but if something bigger appeared...

Not to mention the Slime King.

Ashton shuddered.

"Fifteen percent," he said, making an effort to maintain at least some level of face.

Theodore's expression remained unchanged as he took a sip of tea.

"Baron, do you know what I've learned in business these past few months?"

Shaking his head, Ashton felt like a schoolboy in front of a strict instructor.

"I've learned that people reveal their true selves when they think they have leverage. When they believe they're dealing from a position of strength." Theodore put down his cup. "Months ago, you canceled our standing order. Quite abruptly, as I recall."

Ashton felt his stomach turn.

He'd hoped—prayed—that the young lord wouldn't bring that up.

"Market fluctuations," he offered weakly. "Difficult decisions had to be made."

"Indeed. Just as I have difficult decisions to make now."

The ensuing silence was unbearable.

"Twenty percent," Ashton blurted.

Theodore's face flashed with something. Interested? Amusement? Disdain? It was impossible to tell.

"The Slime King grows stronger every day." Desperation drove Ashton to be reckless as he added. "It's consuming everything in the eastern tunnels. Metal. Rock. Men. We've found... pieces. Just pieces."

For the first time in almost an hour, Roland moved slightly at that point.

"It's becoming more than Rank 2, my lord," Ashton continued. "Soon, it might be that. And if it breaks through to the western tunnels... to the settlement..."

Theodore's eyes narrowed slightly.

Ashton flushed deep red. This young man wasn't giving him any respect!

"Fifty percent," Theodore said suddenly. "Add to that 1/10th of the mines transferred over to me."

Ashton stared with his mouth slightly open.

"Think about it. This is not just about monster extermination. It's about much more. It's a business relationship. We both benefit. I have plans for the mines, and they're in Westford. Given that, don't you think whatever I do will inadvertently end up helping you? Do we have an agreement, Baron?"

Theodore held out his hand.

And what could Ashton do but take it?

Fifty percent of something was better than one hundred percent of a mine overrun by an evolving Slime King. Better than seeing Westford succumb to winter migrations without any strong allies to rely on. One could even say that their relationship was starting over!

From the start, this negotiation had been in Theodore's hands.

"We have an agreement, Lord Theodore," he said, holding the young man's hand.

It was only then—only then!—that Theodore's face changed.

The slightest smile touched his lips.

"Excellent," he said. "We begin preparations immediately."

Thus, with sorrow in his heart, Ashton moaned in his thoughts.

This young man was too ruthless!

***

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