Chương 83: Chapter 2.20: Worth the Paper

Favius looked from side to side.

"This time, neither of my sisters will be involved." Marcus nodded.

"However, there will still be four shareholders." Marcus narrowed his eyes.

"Son, I do not believe it wise to inform anyone else of this project." He looked around the room, his lips tightening for a moment.

"Even now, I worry that too many people know the truth of this venture." Favius replied with a grin.

"In that case, it's a good thing that nobody who's not present in this room shall get involved." Marcus's eyes narrowed, but Serran gasped.

"Young Master, you don't mean—" The Senator's eyes widened, and he glanced first at Serran before his gaze fell onto Brutus.

"And how, pray tell, do you envision the shares to be distributed?"

"In the case of papermaking, I will hold thirty-one parts. You, twenty-nine. And both our most faithful retainers, twenty percent each, though conditions apply there." Marcus ran a hand through his beard.

"Before we discuss—" He gestured to the side.

"May I assume that our roles will still be the same, except that you are also taking care of daily operations?" Serran cleared his throat.

"Young Lord, I thank you for the offer, but I am naught but a loyal servant of the Familia. I live well. I do not require additional compensation." Marcus tilted his head in consideration, studying Favius. The boy smiled.

"I would not doubt your loyalty, Serran, and would not dare to think that you could be bribed. But—" He tapped his knuckle against the desk for emphasis.

"I have read that while duty ought to suffice, a wise leader will always seek to align a man's self-interest with his sworn obligations." Serran opened his mouth to protest, but Marcus raised two fingers.

"Do not protest, old friend. In truth, this might be seen as a fitting reward for your long and loyal service."

"And," Favius added, "an investment in its future. After all, you do not own a sum, but shares, which must be tended and cultivated over the coming ten cycles of seasons to reach the numbers—" He smiled, turning his head to both sides.

"—we are all salivating about. And that will largely fall on your shoulders, Majordomo."

"Hmm?" Serran's expression was somewhere between uncertain, hopeful, and aggrieved. He slowly turned his head to the side, and something passed in a long, intense stare between Majordomo and Senator.

"Very well. I shall provisionally agree," sighed the man. Favius couldn't help but smile. He seems so unflappable. But this... he looks as if I just aged him by ten years. Brutus cleared his throat, and all eyes fell onto him. All right, let's see how this goes.

"As for Brutus," Favius began, "he has, in fact, already invested in this venture."

"Invested?" murmured Serran, but Caliga gasped.

"You mean when he lent Arryn his blades?"

"Indeed," said Brutus.

"I have staked my steel and honor on this particular project. And is it not customary that the proceeds of any heroic venture are shared among those who pledged their blades?" Marcus smiled broadly.

"That is a rather..." He paused.

"Liberal interpretation of that tradition, Brother." Brutus toasted the Senator with his cup.

"Call it what you want, Brother. Yet the facts remain." Marcus closed his eyes before nodding.

"Very well. What shall be the responsibilities of the other shareholders?" He looked at Serran.

"You all but spelled out what my dear Majordomo will be expected to do in addition to his regular duties. Yet—" He paused for a long moment.

"No offense to your skills or intellect, Ovinius Kestrelo, but—""Security," Favius interjected before anyone could get offended.

"Brutus will be responsible for the security of this endeavor, as well as of the other projects."

"Security," Marcus repeated, his eyes narrowing.

"Would you care to tell me what his exact obligations will be?" Favius pointed at his draft of the contract.

"Well, we already discussed that counterespionage is going to matter. Beyond that, my security and that of the workers and experts we are going to need. It will be on him to..." Favius paused as he got to the core of the matter.

"Arrange and organize what needs to be arranged and organized to make that happen." Marcus threw his head back in laughter."' Necessary arrangements' are just the kind of broad formulation that you seem to be quite fond of, my Son. Yet I'm not going to hand you license to have your retainer build a personal army. After all, woe to the patriarch who allows his heir that kind of freedom."

A flash of gold seemed to emanate from Marcus's eyes, and for a brief moment, Favius felt like he stood below the man whose face was a towering, regal edifice. Then Brutus's presence washed the impression away like the memory of a dream. Favius stared across the table, his heart beating faster. He breathed. Casually. Slowly. Deliberately. When he had recovered, he gestured with his thumb to the side.

"Father, do you believe I need an army if I want to do you harm?" Favius studied the Senator, who studied the cultivator in turn.

"Point taken." Marcus's expression relaxed, turning from angry to curiously confused.

"But then why?" Favius chuckled. Taken from Royal Road, this narrative should be reported if found on Amazon.

"I literally gave you a list of reasons. None of them are a front for anything untoward, Father." Internally, Favius swallowed. Goddammit. I had hoped he would just allow me to do this. After all, he isn't entirely wrong. More loyal retainers and a private security force. I'm going to need that at some point. Favius's eyes flicked across the room to the others, but his sisters had shrunken back in their chairs, and both Serran and Antonius were silent, their eyes downcast.

Several seconds passed with Father and son staring at each other. Finally, Marcus sighed.

"Very well. I shall permit it. But—" He nodded.

"At most a Decurii. All men will be selected by Ovinius Kestrelo and vetted by me. You may only recruit from the household guard. That is non-negotiable." Favius paused for a moment, but it was only for effect. Well, that's pretty much what I wanted. After all, this was about a contingency, not some plot. But soldiers are always a thing you're better off having and not needing than the other way around.

"Agreed," Favius added, smiling and gesturing to the others as the tense atmosphere dissolved.

"With this"—Marcus's bitter smile belied his cheerful tone—"little provision out of the way, what other changes did you have in mind?" Favius picked up an olive, and soon Caliga followed his example.

"Nothing as onerous, Father. It won't even concern you." He looked first at Brutus, then at Serran.

"While it is true that I intend to give both of you twenty percent of the shares, there shall be a special provision. Only five percent—" He broke apart a loaf of bread.

"—a quarter of what you will be given, is inalienably yours." He chewed and swallowed the cheese-crusted bread before holding up the remaining three quarters.

"The fifteen percent can be purchased back at a reasonable price determined by all shareholders, as I laid out in the contract, at any time." Marcus again narrowed his eyes while Favius maintained a careful smile. This way, contract by contract, I'm pushing him closer to proper joint-stock companies and capitalism.

After all, Brutus was right to point out that if I went for what would have been fine, even basic, on Earth right away, neither Marcus nor Serran would be able to grasp that kind of framework as something acceptable. Marcus nodded.

"It is a curious addition. Yet assuming the shares are redistributed equitably to the two of us, I find no issue with it." Favius nodded.

"Indeed, Father. Any redistribution of them must be done honestly and with full agreement from both of us." He agreed, careful to keep his phrasing just right. Marcus nodded without relaxing. Favius smiled to himself. Good, good. One step closer. Interesting to see that his thoughts haven't jumped to the obvious possibility that he might sell those shares to others who are not involved yet. Then again— He looked at Brutus, whose aura was prickling against his skin.

Our focus on operational security is probably biasing him against that. Urania, having recovered from the conflict, finally sniffed.

"All right, let's not draw this out much longer." She extended her hand, and Favius shoved the contract over the table.

"Let's take a look at the details, shall we?" Serran and Marcus leaned in over the document. The Majordomo murmured while reading it.

"Thirty to seventy to one hundred and fifty workers within ten years." Favius nodded.

"The making of paper is far more labor-intensive than either the beehives or the soap." Caliga cleared her throat as Serran murmured about the details of the next section.

"Yeah, and for how much we are producing, a reasonable batch might be a hundred stoneweights of paper, with each individual sheet weighing fifteen thousandths of a stoneweight." Favius smirked. That's still an awkward way to say fifteen grams, but whatever.

"Meaning about..." Serran tapped a particular place on the wax tablet.

"Six thousand sheets per batch."

"That's a lot," murmured Marcus.

"But then again, the mathematics can't be faulted, can they?"

"That's the nature of numbers," interjected Urania with a smile.

"And the inputs? Are they similarly cheap as what is required for the soap?" Favius tilted his hand from side to side.

"They're quite similar. Fuel and caustic essences will be reasonably cheap. The issue is the fibers. I haven't been able to find prices, but if you can acquire old clothing, especially if it is torn into dirty rags, that would be best." Serran narrowed his eyes.

"Why not just use fresh fibers? After all, we grow a good quantity of flax and jute." Favius's expression soured.

"The softness of the fibers matters a great deal. That's why my attempt to use the fibers in wood failed so badly. Sure, we could use fresh fibers, but after clothing was worn for many years—""Its fibers are nice, soft, and raggedy," added Caliga.

"That is the first time I've heard anyone appreciating threadbare clothing," concluded Serran dryly. Marcus snapped his fingers.

"That oughtn't be a problem. I will simply commission a merchant in Cindrath to gather clothing at a good price. After all, worthless rags are ordinarily considered garbage." Favius smiled.

"Indeed," said Favius.

"The real advantage is not merely that the rags are cheap. Imported papyrus usually costs somewhere between four and eight lead senati per sheet, depending on quality and availability. Parchment is ordinarily dearer still and often exceeds ten. Fine vellum..." He spread his hands.

"Well, the price becomes whatever some wealthy fool is willing to pay." Marcus blinked.

"And our paper?" Favius smiled.

"Three lead senati per sheet. That way, we still make a good profit while undercutting all southern merchants." Well, if paper actually becomes a huge industry, there might come a point when there isn't enough old clothing to be found. But at that point... If I can master water power, we can process fresher fibers into something useful. Serran shifted from side to side.

"Not that I believe that to be an immediate problem, but neither the Egyptians nor the Collegium of Tanners will appreciate us undercutting them."

"True, but they have no leg to stand on. It would be a wonder if they managed to set aside their bickering and unite against us," Marcus dismissed with a wave of his hand. Urania continued, pointing at another line.

"Our estimates are that we need one hundred and fifty stoneweights of old clothing per batch, and that with all the ingredients—" The conversation devolved into details, mostly being led by Urania and Serran, with occasional interjections. While Favius nibbled at a honey cake, Urania concluded.

"So, with all that said, in the beginning we will be making five thousand stoneweights annually, meaning a quarter of a million sheets. Depending on how good we get at making paper thinner, we might end up somewhere between twenty and thirty thousand stoneweights annually at two million sheets. And even that is only going to cost us eight gold senati." Marcus raised an eyebrow.

"Such gains in efficiency are possible?" Favius shrugged.

"Maybe. But even if they are not, it does not change the profitability much." He smiled. After all, while you shouldn't lie while pitching a business, putting an optimistic spin on things can't hurt, as long as you're not exaggerating too much. Urania cleared her throat again.

"As Favius said before, if we sell each sheet at three lead senati..." She continued, and as Favius finished his honey cake, she concluded the final round of calculations.

"... with that, we will ultimately earn roughly fifty gold senati in the beginning and perhaps three hundred to four hundred within ten cycles of seasons. Any questions?" Favius smiled as his moment arrived.

"It wasn't easy to estimate, but I believe that we might provide something like three to ten percent of the Republic's yearly usage of papyrus." Marcus let out an impressed whistle.

"That is considerable."

"Indeed it is."

"But tell me, Son, you were rather excited about demonstrating the capabilities of your printing press. If I read this right—" He pointed at a certain set of lines.

"—those provisions suggest that you intend to include that in the papermaking venture." Favius failed to suppress a wince. Fucking hell. Wanted to keep this quiet and just treat it as part of the daily operations, but... well, he just spent three days going over a similar contract with a fine-toothed comb, so of course he noticed.

"Yes, Father, it is indeed included. After all, it's intimately connected to the quality of paper, and the printers need to work alongside the papermakers." He swallowed without showing it outwardly. Well, if I say it confidently enough, maybe he doesn't notice that that argument is as flimsy as the paper we are making. Serran gave Favius a wolfish smile.

"I do not believe that to be a problem as long—" He picked up his wine cup.

"—as you pay for the printing out of your own profits. After all, it should not consume the entire business, should it?" Favius looked from side to side at both of his sisters, who wore chagrined expressions. Finally, he shrugged.

"Well, Father, I can work with that. Are we in agreement that we will sign this contract as well?" Marcus briefly considered and looked at Serran, then at Antonius. Surprisingly, the unassuming man cleared his throat.

"Dominus, if I may?" He leaned in and whispered something into Marcus's ear. The man's expression turned from curiosity to thoughtful worry.

"Please, Antonius, speak your concerns out loud. After all, maybe my Son has an answer to this as well." The servant lowered his head.

"Young Master, I do not seek to critique your goals, yet only want to point out a potential obstacle in your way." Favius rotated a hand in the air, and the man inclined his head slightly before a gentle smile split the man's lips.

"Yet if this much money, in time hundreds of gold senati per year, is earned..."

"Yes?" asked Favius as Antonius paused and swallowed.

"Surely, if we gain such sums, somebody else must be losing them. And few people are fond of poverty." Favius hummed in appreciation while a smile spread over his face. Well, that is an observant question. And he's genuinely concerned. My Father certainly found a good apple there.

"Well, Son," added Marcus, "this is indeed a concern. After all, if our wealth doesn't merely create avarice but also makes us enemies, we might need to reconsider these endeavors."