My Anime Shopping Tree & My Cold Prodigy Wife!
Episode : 115

Chapter: 229

Lloyd found his stoic bodyguard later that evening, standing sentinel, as always, in a shadowed alcove near his suite. The man seemed to be a permanent fixture of the estate’s architecture, a silent, living gargoyle radiating quiet menace and impeccable professionalism.

“Ken,” Lloyd began without preamble, his mind still buzzing with factory schematics and lye-to-oil ratios. “The manufactory is underway. Now, we need to feed it.”

Ken inclined his head, his impassive gaze indicating he was ready to receive his instructions. “Your requirements, Young Lord?”

“Ingredients,” Lloyd stated, handing Ken a neatly written list he had prepared with Alaric’s meticulous assistance. “In bulk. Consistently. And discreetly.” He ran through the list, elaborating on the specifics. “First, tallow. Jasmin’s efforts have been commendable, providing us with enough for our initial experiments. But for large-scale production, we need more than the trimmings from the estate’s kitchens. We need a primary supplier. A large-scale butcher, a slaughterhouse, perhaps a contract with the Butcher’s Guild itself. We need clean, high-quality beef fat, rendered or raw, delivered weekly. And we need it at a price that reflects our volume.”

Ken scanned the first item on the list, his expression unchanging, but Lloyd knew his sharp mind was already sifting through a mental database of contacts, guild masters, and potential pressure points.

“Second, wood ash,” Lloyd continued. “Hardwood ash, specifically. Oak, maple, birch. The fires in the estate are a start, but again, insufficient for our needs. We need to establish a collection system. Contracts with local logging operations, charcoal burners, even large inns with constantly burning hearths. The quality must be consistent – no softwood contamination. This will be a logistical challenge, but essential for creating our ‘hard fire’ lye.”

“Third, and most importantly,” Lloyd’s voice took on a more serious tone, “the oils. This is where we elevate our product from merely functional to truly luxurious. Olive oil. The finest we can procure, sourced from the southern provinces. Almond oil. Walnut oil. Perhaps even, if it can be found, coconut oil, though I understand that is a rare, expensive import from the far-off tropical isles. We need to identify merchants, importers, agricultural estates that can provide these in significant, reliable quantities. This,” he met Ken’s steady gaze, “is the most critical, and likely the most difficult, part of the procurement process. These are premium goods, their supply chains often controlled by powerful, established merchant families who will not be eager to deal with a new, unknown enterprise.”

He paused, letting the scale of the task sink in. “Your mission, Ken, should you choose to accept it,” (his internal monologue couldn’t resist the Earth-based spy movie reference, though Ken’s face, of course, remained utterly devoid of any recognition), “is to use your… network… to make this happen. I need contacts, contract terms, price negotiations. I need to know who controls these resources and how we can best approach them.”

Ken simply nodded, tucking the list securely into his tunic. “The network will be mobilized, Young Lord. I will provide a preliminary report on potential suppliers and logistical pathways within forty-eight hours.” The certainty in his voice was absolute. Ken Park’s ‘network’ was a thing of legend within the estate’s inner circle, a web of contacts and informants developed over two decades of serving as the Arch Duke’s eyes, ears, and occasionally, his very sharp, very silent sword. It extended from the highest echelons of the noble courts to the grimiest corners of the city’s underworld, a testament to his intelligence, his discretion, and the deep, unwavering loyalty he commanded (or perhaps, quietly intimidated) from those he dealt with.

“One more thing, Ken,” Lloyd added, lowering his voice slightly. “Leverage. Use the Ferrum name, use the implicit backing of my father, use the newly signed Ducal deed for the enterprise. Let them know this is not some personal whim of the heir, but a formal, well-funded venture of House Ferrum itself. But,” he cautioned, his expression serious, “I want fair dealings. We are building an empire, not a protection racket. We pay fair market prices, we honor our contracts, we build relationships based on mutual benefit, not intimidation. Use the Ferrum influence as a key to open doors, Ken, not as a club to beat down prices. Long-term supplier loyalty will be more valuable than short-term savings. Understood?”

Chapter: 230

For the first time, a flicker of something that might have been surprise, or perhaps even approval, touched Ken’s stoic features. He had expected, perhaps, a more ruthless, typically noble approach. “Understood, Young Lord. Fair dealings. The influence of the house will be used to establish credibility, not to coerce.” He offered another of his almost imperceptible nods. “I will begin at once.” And with that, he melted back into the shadows, a silent, deadly accountant off to balance the books of Riverio’s commodity markets.

Over the next few days, while construction and cleaning continued at the old mill, the first fruits of Ken’s labor began to appear. Reports, delivered discreetly at odd hours, detailed potential suppliers. A formal, if slightly wary, meeting was arranged with the Master of the Butcher’s Guild, a man whose initial skepticism about selling vast quantities of ‘waste fat’ to the Arch Duke’s heir quickly evaporated when presented with a draft contract co-signed by the Arch Duke himself and offering a price slightly above the usual rate paid by tallow chandlers. A deal was struck. The tallow supply was secured.

The wood ash proved more complex, a messy network of smaller suppliers. But Ken, with the aid of a few ‘persuasive’ conversations conducted by his less visible associates, managed to establish a regular collection route from several large timber operations on the estate’s periphery, ensuring a steady stream of high-quality hardwood ash.

The oils, as Lloyd had predicted, were the real challenge. The olive oil trade was dominated by two powerful, rival merchant families who were initially dismissive of this upstart ‘soap-making’ venture. It was here that Master Elmsworth, his academic fervor now channeled into practical application, proved invaluable. Armed with Ken’s intelligence on the merchants’ current shipping routes, their key clients, and their simmering rivalries, Elmsworth, with Lloyd providing the overarching strategy, drafted a series of proposals that were masterpieces of economic leverage.

To the first merchant family, they offered a long-term, high-volume contract that would provide a stable revenue stream, subtly hinting that if they refused, the offer would go exclusively to their hated rival. To the second family, they offered a similar deal, but also included a proposal, backed by the implicit authority of the Ferrum name, to help them secure more favorable docking rights in the northern ports, a long-standing point of contention. It was a classic pincer movement, playing the two rivals against each other while offering tangible benefits beyond mere coin.

The negotiations were tense, protracted, conducted through a series of formal letters and discreet meetings in neutral locations. Lloyd, guided by Elmsworth’s expertise in formal negotiation and Ken’s constant stream of background intelligence, found himself enjoying the intricate dance of commerce and politics. It felt… familiar. Like the corporate boardroom battles of his Earth life, but with more silk robes and a slightly higher chance of being challenged to a duel if you insulted someone’s olive oil quality.

Finally, after a week of careful maneuvering, a deal was struck. A reliable, large-scale supply of southern olive oil was secured. The lifeblood of their future luxury line was guaranteed. The supply chain was in place. Ferrum’s Cleansing Elixirs was no longer just a plan on vellum; it was a functioning logistical entity, a testament to the combined power of ducal authority, a master spy’s network, an economist’s strategic mind, and the audacious vision of a reincarnated engineer who just wanted to make a decent bar of soap. And a few billion System Coins. The details were still being worked out.

By the end of the week, Lloyd’s SC balance had ticked steadily upwards, the daily ten-coin conversion from his personal funds and the small but consistent rewards from minor, background Guild tasks (retrieving lost books for scholars, procuring common herbs for apothecaries – tasks he delegated to Jasmin’s growing network of trusted junior maids) pushing his total to 395 SC. He was getting closer. But the real prize, the thousand-coin reward for the factory itself, still felt tantalizingly distant. The foundation was laid, but the real work, the messy, volatile, alchemical work of creation, was about to begin.

---

With the foundational infrastructure of the old grain mill slowly being wrestled from the clutches of dust and decay, and Ken Park’s invisible network diligently securing the lifeblood of their future production, it was time for the heart of the enterprise to begin beating. It was time for alchemy.