My Anime Shopping Tree & My Cold Prodigy Wife!
Episode : 61

Chapter : 121

"Firstly," Lloyd declared, "a dedicated Place for the Factory. The old smokehouse was functional for a prototype, but wholly inadequate for production. We require a purpose-built facility. Not just a workshop, Father, but a true manufactory. Ideally, situated with access to clean water, good drainage, and discreet transport routes for raw materials and finished goods. Perhaps a disused estate building further from the main residence, or even acquiring a suitable plot on the city's outskirts. This building must accommodate separate, specialized areas: a secure, fireproof zone for lye production and storage – the most hazardous element.

A dedicated boiling and mixing hall with multiple, large-capacity, heavy-duty cauldrons – copper, perhaps, for better heat distribution if the budget allows. Temperature control will be paramount. Vast, airy, well-ventilated drying and curing rooms, with racks designed for optimal airflow to ensure the hard bars cure properly and the soft soap stabilizes without spoilage. A scent infusion and blending laboratory, a clean room, almost, for someone like Master Grimaldi’s potential input and our own experimentation with delicate botanicals. And of course, secure storage for valuable raw ingredients like imported oils and finished products awaiting distribution. This isn't just about space; it's about process control, hygiene – yes, even for soap production – and security for our proprietary methods."

He paused, letting the image of this sophisticated facility form in their minds before moving on.

"Secondly, Manpower. Jasmin has proven herself loyal and capable, a diamond in the rough," he offered a brief, sincere acknowledgment. "But she cannot churn out thousands of bars and bottles single-handedly. We need a core team, Father. Not just laborers, but skilled artisans, meticulously trained. We'd need individuals with a careful hand for measurement, for maintaining precise temperatures during the long boiling process.

Others with an eye for quality in molding the bars, in filling the dispensers. Perhaps even someone with woodworking skills to craft the dispenser bodies initially, though mass production might require dedicated carpenters or even a contract with a local woodworking guild, overseen by us to maintain design integrity. They must be trained in our specific methods, in hygiene, in the careful handling of lye. Their loyalty must be absolute, ensured not just by good wages – which they will receive – but by fostering a sense of pride in creating a superior Ferrum product. Discretion will be paramount; our methods, our formulations, are our advantage."

"Thirdly," Lloyd continued, his pace quickening, " Ingredients. The lifeblood of the enterprise. Securing bulk supplies of high-quality fats is essential. Tallow is a good starting point, plentiful and relatively inexpensive from our own estate and local butchers. But for a true luxury line, Father, we must explore beyond tallow.

Olive oil, as I mentioned, sourced from the southern provinces or even imported from across the Azure Strait – its properties are renowned for gentler, more moisturizing soaps. Perhaps almond oil, coconut oil if we can establish reliable trade routes. These will command premium prices. Then, the lye. Consistent, high-quality hardwood ash for the 'hard fire' lye, perhaps even establishing dedicated ash collection from specific estate forestry operations. And for the 'soft fire' lye needed for true liquid soaps, we may need to experiment with potash sources or even controlled chemical synthesis, something Master Grimaldi could advise on. And the scents! Rosemary is a fine start, clean and invigorating.

But imagine, Father, a whole line of Ferrum Soaps! Lavender from the high meadows, citrus zest from imported fruits, pine and cedar from our northern forests, perhaps even rare floral absolutes for an ultra-premium 'Duchess's Blend'." He shot a quick, charming glance at his mother, who looked undeniably intrigued by the prospect. "Securing these botanicals, establishing our own small-scale distillation for essential oils where possible, or sourcing high-grade imported oils – this requires significant upfront capital for bulk purchasing, allowing us to negotiate favorable terms and ensure a consistent supply chain, insulating us from market fluctuations."

"Fourthly," Lloyd’s voice took on an even more earnest, almost fervent tone, " Research and Development, and rigorous Quality Control." He tapped the dispenser bottle. "This first batch, the prototype, is promising. It proves the concept. But it is far from perfect. The hard bars will need weeks to cure properly; we must test their mildness, their longevity, their lathering properties over time. The soft soap – it’s a good start, but to achieve a truly clear, elegant liquid soap, we need to refine the formulation.

Chapter : 122

Different oil ratios, precise lye calculations, stabilization techniques. This requires ongoing, meticulous experimentation. A small, dedicated laboratory space within the factory, equipped for testing, for sample analysis. Every batch, Father, every single bar and bottle that bears the Ferrum mark, must be flawless. Consistent in quality, in scent, in performance. We cannot afford to damage the Ferrum reputation with an inconsistent or inferior product. Our brand will be built on unwavering excellence. This means dedicated personnel for quality assurance at every stage, from raw material inspection to final packaging."

He paused, taking a breath, his gaze sweeping across his father, then briefly to the engrossed scholars. "Five thousand Gold Coins, Father. It sounds like a vast sum. But it is the necessary foundation to build not just a product, but a brand. A symbol of Ferrum innovation, Ferrum quality, Ferrum prosperity. An enterprise that will generate returns far exceeding this initial investment, and enhance the prestige of our house across the Duchy, perhaps even beyond."

The study fell into a profound silence, broken only by the frantic scratching of Master Elmsworth’s charcoal stick as he attempted to map out the complex supply chains and projected revenue streams Lloyd had just conjured. Grand Master Grimaldi was nodding slowly, a deep, thoughtful frown etched on his face, but his eyes held a distinct spark of alchemical excitement. This wasn't just soap-making; it was applied material science, complex organic chemistry, and artisanal perfumery all rolled into one.

Roy Ferrum leaned back in his chair, his fingers steepled, his gaze fixed on Lloyd, unwavering, intense. The initial shock of the dung demonstration, the surprise at the product’s efficacy, the bewilderment at his son’s sudden transformation – all these had been processed, filed away. Now, he was assessing. Assessing not just the business plan, but the architect. The boy who had fumbled sword drills and yawned through economics lectures was gone.

In his place stood a young man radiating quiet confidence, sharp intellect, and an ambition that was, frankly, breathtaking. He hadn't just thought of a product; he’d envisioned an entire industry, complete with infrastructure, logistics, R&D, and branding. The sheer scope of it, the meticulous detail… it was the work of a seasoned strategist, not a naive youth.

Where did this come from? Roy mused internally, the question a persistent echo. This sudden flowering? The marriage, yes, Rosa's influence, perhaps a catalyst. But this depth of planning, this grasp of complex systems… this is not learned overnight. Has he been hiding this all along? Practicing in secret? Or is this truly… new? The thought of the true Ferrum power, the Steel and Fire, flashed through his mind. Could unlocking that hidden potential have also unlocked these other faculties? It was a tantalizing, if unsettling, possibility.

He looked at his son, truly seeing him perhaps for the first time. The quiet determination, the controlled ambition, the spark of ruthless pragmatism that reminded Roy, disconcertingly, of his younger self. This wasn't just about soap. This was about legacy. About the future of the Ferrum line.

Finally, Roy spoke, his voice a low, powerful rumble that seemed to vibrate through the very foundations of the study. "You make a compelling case, Lloyd." He paused, the silence stretching, heavy with unspoken implications. "So compelling, in fact," he continued, a rare, almost imperceptible glint of something – pride? Calculated risk? – entering his dark eyes, "that I believe your estimate of five thousand Gold Coins is… too conservative."

Lloyd blinked, genuinely taken aback. His carefully constructed proposal, the sum he’d thought audacious, too conservative? Master Elmsworth’s jaw dropped, his charcoal stick frozen mid-scribble. Grand Master Grimaldi’s eyebrows, already impressively elevated, threatened to disappear into his hairline.

"If this venture," Roy declared, his voice resonating with the full authority of the Arch Duke, "possesses the potential you and these gentlemen so… effusively suggest, then it deserves to be launched not with mere adequacy, but with overwhelming dominance." He tapped a decisive finger on the polished surface of his desk. "I will grant you ten thousand Gold Coins."

A collective gasp, quickly suppressed, rippled through the room. Ten thousand. An almost unimaginable sum. Enough to fund a small war, or build a new wing on the Ducal palace. For soap.