My Anime Shopping Tree & My Cold Prodigy Wife!
Episode : 60

Chapter : 119

Grimaldi’s eyes widened slightly. "Hardwood ash lye? Truly? And you achieved this level of saponification, this clearness of scent without harsh chemical masking agents? Remarkable." He shook his head, a look of genuine admiration on his face. "There is no trace of spirit energy manipulation, no arcane reagents forced into unnatural combination. This feels… pure. A natural process, expertly guided. The infusion of rosemary is clean, well-balanced, not overpowering. It speaks of a skilled hand in basic distillation as well."

He turned back to Roy. "Your Grace, from an alchemical perspective, this is a triumph of mundane chemistry. It is safe, effective, and significantly superior to any common cleansing agent currently available. The potential for irritation is minimal, the cleansing properties excellent. It is, in its own way, a perfect creation."

Lloyd internally smirked. Mundane chemistry. Perfect creation. He’d be horrified if he knew I was aiming for something that comes in a plastic bottle with a picture of a waterfall on it.

Roy absorbed Grimaldi’s assessment with a slight nod, then turned his gaze to the economics tutor. "Master Elmsworth. Your evaluation of the… market viability? The economic implications of such a product, and this… dispenser?" He tapped the oak and steel bottle.

Master Elmsworth, who had been observing Grimaldi’s analysis with rapt attention, cleared his throat, his eyes shining with an almost fervent light that Lloyd had never witnessed before. The usually dry, pedantic tutor seemed… visibly excited.

"Your Grace! Young Lord!" Elmsworth began, his voice higher pitched than usual, trembling slightly with suppressed enthusiasm. "This… this is not merely viable! It is… it is potentially transformative!" He leaned forward, gesturing animatedly. "Consider the current market! Crude, harsh soaps, sold by the block, often by weight, undifferentiated! This product," he pointed to the bar, then the dispenser, "introduces the concept of luxury, of refinement, into a basic necessity!"

"The perceived value, Your Grace!" Elmsworth continued, practically bouncing in his seat. "A gentler formulation, a pleasant natural scent, packaged in such an elegant and, dare I say, ingenious dispensing mechanism! This elevates the act of washing from a mere chore to an experience! Nobles will clamor for it! Wealthy merchants will see it as a status symbol! The potential for premium pricing is immense!"

He grabbed a piece of parchment from a nearby stack, seemingly forgetting his usual deference, and began scribbling furiously with a charcoal stick. "Production costs, if based on readily available tallow and carefully managed lye extraction… still significantly lower than imported perfumes or exotic spices! Yet the perceived value could rival them! The profit margins… Your Grace, the profit margins could be extraordinary!"

Master Elm looked up, his face flushed, eyes gleaming. "And the dispenser! This pump! It’s not just a container; it's a feature! A selling point! It encourages portion control, reduces waste, adds an element of mechanical novelty! It creates a desire not just for the soap, but for the entire system!" He was almost breathless. "If this can be produced consistently, marketed effectively… Your Grace, this is not just a new product. This is the creation of an entirely new market segment! An economic revolution in personal care! The Ferrum name would be synonymous with refinement, with innovation, with… with unparalleled cleanliness!"

He finally seemed to run out of steam, slumping back slightly, looking at Roy with wide, expectant eyes, still clutching his charcoal-covered parchment.

Lloyd watched the display, trying very hard to maintain a solemn, humble expression, while internally, his eighty-year-old self was rolling on the floor laughing. Revolutionary? Guys, it's soap. Basic, bog-standard soap. The kind you get for 99 cents a bar on Earth. The dispenser is a standard pump bottle mechanism I remembered from, like, every bathroom I’ve ever been in.

He sobered quickly. Of course, here… there’s nothing like it. No competition. So yes, in this context, it IS revolutionary. The realization was a potent reminder of the strange, asymmetrical advantages his past life knowledge afforded him. What was mundane on Earth was groundbreaking on Riverio.

Arch Duke Roy Ferrum listened to both assessments in silence, his expression unreadable. He looked from the excited Master Elmsworth to the impressed Grand Master Grimaldi, then to the elegantly crafted dispenser bottle, and finally, to his son.

Lloyd met his father’s gaze, calm, steady, waiting. The experts had spoken. The potential was undeniable. The ball was now firmly in the Arch Duke's court.

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Chapter : 120

The Arch Duke's study hummed with a strange, almost electric tension, a cocktail of residual expert enthusiasm, paternal scrutiny, and Lloyd’s own simmering ambition. Master Elmsworth, still clutching his charcoal-stained parchment like a sacred text, seemed to be mentally calculating compound interest on imaginary soap sales, his lips moving silently. Grand Master Grimaldi, a beatific smile playing beneath his impressive silver beard, regarded Lloyd with an expression usually reserved for perfectly synthesized Philosopher’s Stones or exceptionally rare moon-herbs. The scent of rosemary, a subtle victor over yesterday’s bovine assault, lent an air of surprisingly clean professionalism to the proceedings.

Roy Ferrum let the charged silence stretch, his gaze a heavy weight on his son. The dispenser bottle, an elegant sentinel of oak and steel, sat on the polished desk between them, a tangible symbol of this bizarre, unexpected turn of events. He'd listened, absorbed, analyzed. The experts, men whose opinions he valued, whose skepticism was legendary, were practically vibrating with excitement.

"You heard them, Lloyd," Roy stated finally, his voice a flat, unwavering baritone that cut through the lingering academic buzz. It was the voice he used when assessing battle plans or listening to envoys from rival kingdoms – devoid of emotion, razor-sharp in its focus. "Potential. Revolutionary. Extraordinary profit margins." He paused, the silence amplifying the weight of his next words, his dark eyes narrowing slightly. "The initial request, as I recall, was for one thousand Gold Coins. A sum for… experimentation. For a prototype. For establishing a fledgling workshop."

He leaned forward, the movement minimal but commanding every ounce of attention in the room. "But now," Roy continued, his voice dropping almost imperceptibly, yet gaining intensity, "considering the… shall we say, unbridled enthusiasm… of these learned gentlemen," (a flicker of dry amusement in his eyes acknowledged the near-hysteria of his advisors) "let us speak not of cautious beginnings, but of true scale. Of dominance. Of maximizing this ‘economic revolution’ Master Elmsworth so vividly, if somewhat breathlessly, describes."

His gaze sharpened further, pinning Lloyd like a specimen under glass. "If you were to aim for the highest conceivable profit, Lloyd, to utterly saturate this untapped market you claim to have discovered, to build an enterprise that would not merely add to the Ferrum coffers but significantly reshape our financial landscape… what level of investment would that ambition require from this Duchy?"

This was it. The gauntlet thrown down. Not a test of a single product, but a test of vision, of ambition, of the capacity to think on a ducal scale. Lloyd didn't flinch. He’d anticipated this pivot, or at least hoped for it. The numbers had been churning in his mind for days, a silent spreadsheet running parallel to lye calculations and wolf training.

"Father," Lloyd replied, his voice steady, devoid of hesitation, ringing with a confidence that felt utterly natural now, "if we are to pursue this venture not as a provincial curiosity but as a flagship Ferrum industry, designed for enduring profit and widespread influence, then the initial seed capital must reflect that ambition."

He met his father's unwavering gaze, a spark of his own formidable will answering the challenge. "To establish true market dominance, to build an infrastructure capable of meeting projected demand and maintaining unparalleled quality, I would estimate an initial capitalization of at least five thousand Gold Coins."

A sharp intake of breath from Master Elmsworth was audible. He dropped his charcoal stick with a clatter, his eyes bulging slightly. Five thousand! The sum was staggering, enough to fund a border fortress refurbishment or acquire a controlling interest in a major shipping guild! Grand Master Grimaldi merely stroked his beard faster, his ancient eyes gleaming with what looked suspiciously like delighted anticipation. This was alchemy on a grand scale, transforming base ingredients not just into soap, but into empire.

Roy Ferrum’s expression remained an unreadable granite slab. "Five thousand," he repeated, the words falling like lead weights into the suddenly hushed room. "A considerable sum, Lloyd. For soap." The last word was delivered with a deliberate, almost dismissive flatness, a final test of his son’s conviction.

"For an industry, Father," Lloyd countered instantly, his tone respectful but unyielding. "An industry built on innovation, quality, and meeting a fundamental, unmet need. The five thousand Gold Coins would not be idly spent. They would be strategically allocated to build a self-sustaining, highly profitable enterprise from the ground up." He began to tick off the points, his voice gaining momentum, the meticulous planning evident in every word.