Chương 82: Chapter 2.19: Round Two

Brutus nodded at Favius the moment he entered the hallway. He turned away from his gossiping sisters. The man's facial expression was a clear message, but Favius smiled. After all, why make assumptions if you can get answers?

"So?"

"Serran says we should not expect any complications." He flashed a grin.

"They spent most of the time figuring out what was actually going on." His sisters paused for a second, then erupted into giggles. Favius rolled his eyes but smiled.

"Well, that makes sense. Shall we?" Favius gestured to the room where his Father was already waiting. Brutus nodded and knocked.

"Come in." They entered through the door. Favius briefly acknowledged the room they had been in previously. Fireplace, food, spiced wine, and a huge number of wax tablets covered in dense writing. Caliga put down Favius's wax tablets, and Favius noted with amusement that this time she settled on his side of the table. Brutus was the last to close the door and settle. The moment after he had sniffed his cup of steaming wine, he released his aura. Favius hummed as he felt it and pushed against it gently.

There's still the taste of violence, of killing intent, but if he's careful, he can almost fully suppress it. Marcus leaned back and steepled his fingers, the richly dressed Senator framed against the firelight.

"Well, Son, first of all, I want to thank you for answering all my questions over the last few days. I've had—" He looked to his sides.

"We've had a lot of cause for thought." Antonius and Serran chuckled dutifully.

"However, before we can proceed, I need you to answer one last question." Favius leaned back in his chair and raised an eyebrow. Well, I have answered a hundred questions over those last few days. What can he possibly—"Why?" said Marcus, his voice somewhere between pleading and curiosity.

"Why is this making so much Allfather-damned money, Favius?" Urania tilted her head.

"Because we are taking cheap materials and turning them into a valuable product that only we can sell?" Marcus chuckled and ran the back of his hand over his brows.

"Yes, yes, that is obvious, but also not the problem." He gestured at a stack of wax tablets in front of Serran.

"I and my Majordomo have gone over every individual step from beginning to end again and again. It all makes sense. Each one, from the first to the last, makes sense. There is no mistake, no magic in any of them. Yet the end result..." He shrugged sharply, and Serran continued.

"By conventional wisdom, nothing short of discovering a gold mine ought to create such wealth." Favius smiled slowly. Nice to see I'm not the only one flabbergasted by this entire thing. He let out a long breath. I explained this to myself, but that was using Earth economics. Now how do I explain industrial fortune-making without referencing Earth or the Industrial Revolution? He thought for half a minute before nodding.

"Fundamentally, I believe it to be a matter of scale, Father."

"Scale?" interjected Serran. Favius nodded, raising his fingers one by one.

"The Republic has large markets, large populations, large trade networks, large amounts of wealth, and all of this creates the ability to scale a venture up. If I was cooking soap..." He briefly looked to the side at Brutus.

"... beyond the borders of Celtia or in the Rhexioni Wilderlands, I might only supply a few tribes. The very same process, the very same organization, would not make the same amount of money." Marcus hummed, but Serran snapped his fingers.

"That is certainly an explanation. And if we add to that that we may dictate the price because we are the only ones providing such a desirable product..." He trailed off while stroking his chin. Favius nodded along. And then there are factors which I cannot explain. Our organization is simply better than anything that was done in the Middle Ages, and so is our development process and chemistry.

Hell, this is not England in the early Middle Ages, and I'm using industrial chemistry that probably wasn't seen till 1850. Caliga spoke up.

"I don't think we can expect this to stay as it is, Father."

"How so?" Caliga nodded.

"Well, we discussed this with my beekeeping already. The moat may be bigger. It might be harder to find out what we are doing, but in the long run..."

"Indeed. Spies, saboteurs, and infiltrators are an unfortunate reality," said Brutus. While Marcus exchanged a look with Serran, the warrior turned to Favius and gave him a wink. Well, he's not letting an opportunity to work on our plans slide. This content has been unlawfully taken from Royal Road; report any instances of this story if found elsewhere.

"Yes, Father. In the long run, competitors will emerge, others will imitate us, and our margins will shrink." He noticed a sour expression before raising two fingers.

"But," he said, the interjection piercing forward like a spear, "at that point, we will have experience and scale on our side. Never mind that the process for making something sophisticated can rarely be stolen by a single spy. Only its principles are vulnerable to that." Marcus took a long sip of spiced wine before sighing.

"Son, that might be the best explanation that I've heard yet."

"Indeed," rumbled Brutus.

"Maybe only the gods can know the truth of this matter." The side of Favius's mouth twitched as he remembered the endless white water and the entity beyond his perception. The gods. Or something disturbingly close to them.

"Very well." Marcus tilted his cup to the side at Serran.

"Majordomo, you may proceed." The man reached to the side and picked up first a stack of six, then two stacks of nearly ten wax tablets.

"What's that?" murmured Urania. Serran chuckled.

"The contract amended with the answers to all the questions your brother answered." He pointed at the smaller stack, then patted the two larger ones.

"And all my personal notes regarding this particular affair." Favius chuckled. That's a big stack. But by the standards of modern Earth, this entire contract is a cute affair. I don't even think an Earth company regards anything under a hundred pages as legally binding. They proceeded to have an early lunch, snacking and drinking while Serran slowly went over the contract, explaining sections.

Favius kept nodding, and while he remained alert, they truly had not tried to slip anything in there, just added clarifications and amendments. Well, all of that makes sense. He tasted his way through a collection of small buns with fillings of steamed cabbage, nuts, cheese, meat, and a variety of fruits. Clarifications, additional provisions, expanded definitions, and edge cases passed along with new and different tastes. Finally, Serran pushed away the last page of the contract.

"If nobody has final objections..." He looked first at Marcus, then at Favius. Antonius stepped forward, holding a roll of vellum.

"Allow me to write it up for signing."

"Oh, indeed. That reminds me." Marcus extended a hand without looking, and Antonius handed another scroll of vellum over.

"Of course, Dominus." They all stood up and walked to the side of the table, where his Father made a production of unrolling the contract for beekeeping. The black ink appeared to absorb every trace of light. Each stroke of the flawless calligraphy was immaculate, and the page's edges gleamed beneath delicate geometric gilding. A grin spread over Favius's face. That's how a real contract is supposed to look. All of them briefly scrutinized it, reading in content silence. One by one, they nodded.

"Then it shall be so." Antonius bowed again and brought forth a silver cup, an ivory ink jar, and several writing feathers. Finally, he produced an elegant knife shimmering with the telltale glitter of arcane steel. Favius raised an eyebrow, and Marcus explained.

"Blood oaths," he looked at Brutus, "are certainly traditional and useful for marking moments of great import. And while not every contract requires it, I believe these shall be ones where mixing the ink with a few drops of blood can be considered naught but reasonable." Favius nodded alongside his sisters. One by one, he, Caliga, and Marcus placed a shallow cut on the outer side of their forearms. Favius smirked as he let pneuma flow through his body to make the cut painless.

Don't know why so many stories have people just cut the inside of their hand. That's just dumb. Especially in a world where infections are deadly and the use of your hands is so important. Droplet by droplet, the blood was added to the ink, which was stirred by Antonius. Finally, black on white—or rather the beige of parchment—all of them wrote their names and titles. A Senator and two Martial Cultivators. Marcus grinned and gestured to a carafe standing close to the fire.

"Antonius, do get the mead." Favius raised an eyebrow as all of them settled back.

"Mead?" Favius murmured. Brutus smiled.

"That sounds good." A steaming red liquid was poured into cups. The first thing that hit Favius was the smell. Alcoholic, rich, sweet, yet also fruity. Marcus raised his cup.

"A special vintage. Hearty honey wine mixed with cider of spiritual cherries." Favius closed his eyes and sniffed. And yes, it's the same tingling, but it is smooth, almost gentle. Not like ozone mixed with a chili spice mix.

"To the future," began Marcus.

"To making a lot of money," Brutus roared.

"To our family," added Caliga.

"To progress," was Urania's contribution. Finally, their eyes settled on Favius. He swallowed and considered for a moment.

"To certainty!" he toasted. Marcus's eyes met his, and the Senator and patriarch inclined his head slightly. They all drank, and Favius couldn't help but lick the inside of his mouth. That's really nice. He took another careful sip. Brutus, meanwhile, emptied the cup in a single swallow.

"Ahhh." He stretched and held the cup out to Antonius. The others chuckled as the servant refilled the cup. This time Brutus took a dainty sip instead. He looked across the table at Marcus, who was staring.

"What use is the reputation of being a Rhexion barbarian if you cannot occasionally benefit from it, Brother?" Marcus snorted and shook his head. Soon the carafe was empty, and Favius settled back in his chair, a pleasant warmth in his stomach. Without changing his expression, he considered. I am feeling the alcohol. Not like I'm drunk, but there's a pleasant warmth. He looked across the table. Was that his plan? Goddammit. The problem with paranoia is that you never know how much is appropriate.

"Very well." He knocked a knuckle on the table, drawing everyone's attention.

"If all that is settled, let us speak about papermaking." Marcus winced and looked to the ceiling for a long moment. Favius smirked while the man shook his head.

"Very well, Son. There is no use in postponing this. Tell me, how bad is it this time?" Favius looked at one of the prepared wax tablets before glancing at Urania. Well, this time I actually bothered preparing properly, so at least on the front of profit there shouldn't be any surprises. Favius let a smile spread over his face and picked up the cup of wine. He put it to his mouth but didn't drink from it. Marcus's expression grew ever more stony. Finally, Favius nodded to himself.

"In the beginning," he began, "perhaps forty to fifty gold senatii each year." He let the words hang for a moment.

"And in ten cycles of seasons..." He smiled.

"Three hundred to four hundred."

"Ah, same as the soap?" Marcus let out a long groaning breath before chuckling. Serran's laughter came sharp and hard.

"Dominus, had someone told me but a cycle of seasons ago that that would be your reaction to learning that your wealth was going to increase again, I would have never believed it." Marcus shook his head.

"The part about becoming wealthy I can handle. The part about the suddenness..." He looked at Favius and shook his head. Favius gave his Father a sweet smile.

"Well, since when has anything ever come for free?"

"Indeed," he commented before looking over at the signed vellum contract.

"May I assume, Son, that we shall be negotiating the same kind of contract again?" Favius tilted his head from side to side, drawing out the moment. This. This is the fun part.

"Basically, yes, but..." He tipped his finger to a stack of his own wax tablets.

"I have a few changes and additions. Nothing major," he quickly added, seeing Serran's expression. Marcus took another deep sip of his wine. Assuming he is actually drinking and not just faking it as well.

"Very well, Son. What do you want?"