Iron Harvest: When Farming Becomes Conquest
Chapter 106 - 10: The Era of the Future

Chapter 106: Chapter 10: The Era of the Future

Fury Grand Duke’s intentions were unclear.

Earl El had no choice but to prepare for war, halting the sale of iron ingots.

When this situation reached Roman, Morry’s caravan was half a month late and Hos’s caravan was delayed by a month. How much development time had this cost him?

It was only when Earl El received explicit orders that he was willing to release those iron ingots, which had a clear destination but had not yet departed.

"Earl El asked me to bring you a message."

Hos knew he shouldn’t have said it, but he spoke it anyway.

"Given the forthcoming instability, if you still want these high-quality iron ingots, there might be a price increase from the Iron Tree region."

Roman merely gave him a faint look, one devoid of surprise or anger, filled only with calmness and scrutiny.

Hos’s heart tightened. He had intended to speak boldly and assertively, but now he dared not to posture as more than he was.

He hurriedly explained, "The price increase will apply to all buyers of the iron ingots," quoting Earl El’s exact words.

The far-sighted had already sensed it, a turbulent age was approaching.

It wasn’t targeting anyone in particular; it was an era that everyone would face.

Roman lifted his chin slightly and said, "Then this will be our last transaction."

Hos widened his eyes, unable to believe the resolute attitude of this young lord who discarded the business contract as if it were an inconsequential trifle.

But it was not inconsequential.

It was iron!

The material for swords, spears, arrows, and even armor!

The absolute hard currency of this land!

If it wasn’t ill-suited as a currency, the trendiest would surely be iron coins!

More often than not, more vital than food!

Do you know what you’re saying?

How long can you make use of the iron I brought?

It’ll be worn out in at most two years!

What will you use after two years?

If it weren’t for that useless brother of mine reaching out to me, if it weren’t for the big profits I could make, why would I haul iron ingots from Iron Tree to your place just because you have salt here?

Well, maybe add some maltose...

"If you grant me the sales rights for maltose, I could secure a special price for you," Hos babbled, not sure what he was saying anymore.

Roman’s reaction was entirely outside his expectations, both regarding maltose and his response to the iron ingot price increase.

Hos had intended to use maltose to persuade Earl El, to offset the ever-increasing iron ingot prices and to profit from it.

Previously, it was 25 kilograms of iron ingots for 500 kilograms of table salt.

In the future, it will be 30 or 40 kilograms of iron ingots for 500 kilograms of table salt plus a barrel of maltose.

But Roman was indifferent to this.

He wasn’t interested in purchasing iron ingots in the long run.

If Earl El wanted to increase the price, and Roman disagreed, they’d just part ways—this separation was already on his mind, whether or not there was a price increase.

The transaction concluded here, the iron ingots would suffice for the short term.

And for the long term?

If iron couldn’t be refined within a year, he would jump into the sword casting furnace.

Roman instructed Seth to arrange for the unloading of the iron ingots from Hos’s boat.

There were other goods in the hold. A competent merchant would utilize every space of the transport ship, carrying dozens of different products, the five thousand kilograms of iron ingots wouldn’t even fill one cargo ship’s space.

After receiving the iron ingots, Roman selectively purchased other goods from Hos, all materials for development.

But Hos lacked enthusiasm.

The profit margins on the flax cloth and furs were low.

He could only watch helplessly as Morry’s crew unloaded barrel after barrel of maltose from the wagons, hoisted them on their shoulders, and loaded them into the ships.

He counted again and again, and found that there were hundreds of barrels, filling two merchant ships’ holds.

In this era, sugar sources were extremely scarce, and nobles and lords only symbolically levied a sugar tax, not really considering sugar a qualified tax commodity.

Thinking of the immense profits, his eyes turned red with envy.

Disregarding cargo capacity and manpower, that was nearly a hundred gold coins!

"Morry, you really should be cursed for getting so much sugar."

Hos muttered bitterly.

Seeing Morry make money was more painful than losing money himself.

Morry glanced at Hos, indifferent to his venomous curse.

As a merchant, he had heard worse insults.

They dealt with both dignified and respectable nobles and the deceitful lowest rung, the latter’s vulgar abuses almost amounted to linguistic art.

"If you want it, come and get it yourself."

"Morry, you’re just an indecisive coward, you’ll never achieve anything significant!" Hos mocked coldly, "Of course, if you give it to me at cost price, then I’ll start to respect you."

Morry chuckled, "You know the family rules."

Hos grimaced, "I certainly won’t be begging you for mercy. Don’t forget, Morry, I am the one Father values most..."

Morry did not continue to waste words with Hos.

This time, he transported away one hundred thousand kilograms of edible salt from Sige Town, needing only to pay Roman 100 Gold Coins. He transported so much, truly out of necessity, because he needed to use this salt to cultivate relationships.

Hos had also transported away one hundred thousand kilograms of edible salt because of the five thousand kilograms of iron ingots he brought.

Morry knew that even without securing the maltose, Hos had made a huge profit, this batch of salt would last him several months to digest.

Roman told Hos that if he wanted to take salt from Sige Town in the future, he would have to exchange it with actual silver and gold, or slaves.

This was an incredible temptation.

A stable and high-yielding, high-quality Salt Mine was irresistibly tempting for merchants.

Because not all merchants could always purchase large amounts of salt, and salt merchants would never flood the market, as it would just ruin business for everyone. Key channels had to be opened.

Without connections, merchants couldn’t acquire salt, and this was true for any salt-producing region.

This was a tacit agreement among the Nobility, used to harvest the wealth of the land.

But Roman, who barbarously sought profits and reckless growth, didn’t care about this.

He thought all Nobility were fools, unworthy of maintaining any so-called mutual understanding or rules, almost wishing he could flip the table and smash them all with a single punch.

Two trade caravans left Sige Town one after the other.

The river gradually widened.

From the front of the ship, Hos called out distantly to Morry, "Morry, where are you heading?"

"Ice Island."

"How dare you go there!" He couldn’t help but shudder at the mention. "Those brutal pirates will board your merchant ship, plunder your goods, tie you up and hang you from the mast to extort a ransom—don’t expect me to pay your ransom then. If those pirates can’t squeeze anything out of you, they will surely chop off your head and kick it into the sea."

Thinking of that savage and bloody scene, Hos forced a smile.

Morry eyed his half-brother wordlessly. Hos might appear arrogant, but he was actually quite cowardly.

"I’m not headed deep into Ice Island, just contacting the slave traders there. Lord Roman has asked me to send him 300 slaves every month, so there’s no need for you to pay any ransom for me."

Hos immediately responded emotionally, "You got the Riptide Family’s... But he’s just a vassal noble, he has no right to bestow upon you the Riptide banner. Did you get his personal banner? Damn, you actually did such a foolish thing!

"Nobody would overlook important Nobles to instead acquaint with a minor noble, right? You really are a fool, his name wouldn’t spread far! It can’t even reach beyond the lands by the Bro River, his friendship is useless to you!

"Do you think that forsaken place holds any potential? Their lord wouldn’t even repair the docks.

"Even if they could produce salt, what then? Salt mines bring not only wealth but also the envy of other Nobles.

"Earl El has possessions in Iron Tree Territory, so he doesn’t care about that place, but that does not mean other nobles don’t want a salt-producing area, especially other salt field Nobles... Just wait and see, without Grand Duke Riptide’s intervention, they will attack by next year!

"The iron ingots I transported added up to just over ten thousand kilograms, he can’t even form a force of more than 500 men, nor afford Armor.

"Morry, you must be mad! To agree to transport slaves for such a minor noble? Do you realize how much of a burden this is for you? If those slave traders can’t arrive in Sige Town on time, you’ll have to use all your strength to fulfill this task..."

Hos rambled on and on.

Under the blazing sun, he was like a buzzing fly over the Bro River, swirling around one’s ears, increasingly aggravating.

Morry remained indifferent.

Hos declared him mad. Called him foolish.

Perhaps so.

For Hos, who had obtained Earl El’s friendship and could engage in the steel trade, this was an inexplicable act.

To such an extent, for the friendship of a minor noble from a remote area.

That meant he had no resources left to cultivate relationships with a second noble.

And Morry knew the absurdity of what he had done.

Selin’s comments about him were "indecisive, unlikely to achieve great things."

The comments for Hos, though, were "too conspicuous, exceeds moderation."

—The long classic language essentially meant this.

After reaching adulthood, the children of the Selin family could only receive some initial funds and then had to strike out on their own.

The most outstanding child would inherit all of Merchant Selin’s legacy in the future.

Thus, Hos constantly pursued the highest profits, sparing no effort to suppress other competitors, hoping to become the heir.

While Morry always sought the safest environment.

Morry and his brother didn’t really have anything in common—except for intersections in business—they cooperated, but essentially, they were competitors, fierce enough to snatch business from each other.

Morry knew what he was doing.

Ever since that witch named Shasta left his caravan, yet gained fame in the Northern Land, a certain alarm had been ringing non-stop in his heart.

A chaotic era was imminent.

All Gods overlooked the earth, the King and the Pope amidst flashing blades and shadows, Dukes plotting, Knights charging. Pirates reveling, Barbarians dancing, Witches with daggers in the shadows. Sparks flying, war spreading, blood and fire flowing everywhere.

The land would soon face a tumultuous, ominously unpredictable Dark Age.

Every time Morry thought of that scene, he would shudder like a fish sensing an approaching storm.

He swam forward with all his might, seeking to grasp a strand of light from the era that was passing.

But he swam too slowly, the sea was too vast, and he returned without accomplishing anything. He could only watch helplessly as that gleam in the gloom sped away like thunder, while darkness doggedly chased him from behind...

It was too late.

It was too late.

All he could do was stir a negligible ripple on the vast sea with his tail, then turn and vanish into the depths.

He must find the safest haven before the Dark Age set in!