Steel, gunpowder, and spellcasters

Chapter 324 Negotiation
The perspective shifts back to the farewell ceremony, where, amidst a sea of ​​Parathu dialect, three Venetians speaking in their distinctive "sea blue" accent seem to be having an encrypted conversation.

Mr. Leo was clearly puzzled by Andre's analogy, and he looked at Winters.

Winters sighed and told Mr. Leo the puzzle.

"What a wonderful metaphor!" Mr. Leo laughed heartily. "The first step is to lead the sheep across the river?"

“That’s right.” Andrei suddenly became interested: “How did you know?”

Mr. Leo seemed to have a great enthusiasm for solving the problem: "The second step? Bring the sheep back? Hmm, no, the sheep will eat the turnips..."

“Of course not.” Andrei said rather smugly, “The second step is the key, and it took me a long time to figure it out.”

Winters' head was throbbing. He had already figured it out: Fernando Leo always spoke to people in a way that suited them perfectly, seemingly eloquent but actually very shrewd.

If necessary, this partner of the Navarre trading company could discuss the issue of crossing the river with Andrei for three days and three nights without revealing a single piece of valuable information.

“What a bunch of weird old men and wolves!” Winters put down his glass and told Andrei bluntly, “It’s just a matter of mutual benefit.”

Mr. Leo picked up his glass and took a small sip.

Now it's Andrei's turn to be confused.

"What do we lack most right now?" Winters asked Andrei.

"Is that even a question?" Andrei answered without hesitation, "Food."

Because of the peasants fleeing and causing large amounts of land to be abandoned, Tiefeng County was already on the verge of famine.

According to Mason's calculations, if the food rationing system is strictly enforced, Iron Peak County might be able to hold out until next summer's harvest.

However, the large-scale attack by the Teldun tribe was like pushing Tiefeng County off the cliff again.

Nowadays, Mason spends his days sighing and lamenting while holding his ledger, and counting the number of hairs on his pillow has become an essential task for him every morning.

Winters, however, felt nothing.

He was somewhat anxious when he learned last year, after taking stock of the warehouse, that there might not be enough food.

Now that it's confirmed there won't be enough food, Winters has become more decisive.

Is Xiaoshi Town running out of food? Send military rations over.

The price of gluten flour is still rising? Then let's give bread to all the poor people in the city for free.

At the current rate of consumption, the grain reserves in Tiefeng County will not last until next summer's harvest, let alone this winter.

“Originally, I planned to buy grain from White Mountain County.” Winters looked at the golden liquid in the cup—the fermentation liquid was also made from bread, which seemed quite extravagant.

"Buy my ass." Andrei grunted. "Where would we get the money? Just—well, that'll do."

Mr. Leo kept his eyes down, his nose close to his mouth, holding his wine glass, as if he hadn't heard anything, as if he didn't exist.

“We can find a way to raise funds.” Winters blinked. “Besides, we still have ‘that’, don’t we?”

Andrei thought for a moment and said, "It's not that money can solve everything. What if we want to buy, but they won't sell?"

Winters took a sip of the fermented liquid: "They'll definitely sell it."

Andrei was stunned for a moment, then laughed in exasperation: "Isn't this... the same thing?"

“No, extortion and robbery are two different things in nature,” Winters replied sincerely. “If you pay money, it’s not robbery, it’s just forced purchase.”

"Hey!" Andrei said gruffly, "I knew it! The troops haven't disbanded yet, there must be something going on! Good, now that they've seen our strength, I doubt that bald guy would dare to challenge us."

The militia units recruited from Jungcheolbong and Hacheolbong counties are currently subject to a "freedom of movement" policy.

In other words, if a conscripted militiaman wanted to go home, he could collect a portion of dry rations, register, and leave; if he didn't want to leave, he could stay in the barracks and still have a portion of military rations to eat.

A significant number of militia members chose to remain in the military camp temporarily, such as Monkey and Doug.

Winters' eyes dimmed slightly, and he didn't intend to explain further.

Mr. Leo, standing to the side, spoke up: "In my opinion, many of your militia members are already homeless."

"So?" Andrei raised an eyebrow.

“Young, able-bodied men with no families, no property, no food, and who have seen the battlefield.” Mr. Leo shrugged. “Forcibly driving them away would probably cause more trouble.”

Andrei scoffed, staring straight at Mr. Leo: "You said you've already reached an agreement, so what business is it of yours here?"

“Me?” Mr. Leo replied with a smile, “I am a sheep—or rather, a cabbage.”

"Alright." Winters, unwilling to see Andrei being led around by Mr. Leo any longer, explained it to Andrei in detail.

The situation is actually not complicated; there are currently four players at the table:

First is Tiefeng County, which possesses horses and urgently needs food.
Secondly, there are the Venetian wool merchants, represented by Mr. Leo, who are wealthy and in dire need of wool and trade routes for transporting it.
Next is the Venetian Army. The amount of funding for the Venetian Army is unknown, but it can provide food and needs warhorses.
Finally, there are the regional governors of Plato, who have everything but won't give it away for free.

Winters' original plan was to raise funds and forcibly purchase grain. If necessary, he would exchange horses for grain. However, the number of captured horses was far too great to afford.

Mr. Leo believed that the plan was too slow to turn around and was a one-off deal, making it impossible to sustain the import of grain for Iron Peak County.

Leo offered Winters a rather imaginative solution—a tiered transportation system.

In the past, Leo had been actively involved in the traditional business of Venetta and Plato: the mule and horse trade.

As the saying goes, "From the east come oil, salt, soy sauce, vinegar, and sugar; from the west come cattle, horses, mules, and sheep." Horse traders all know that a herd of horses cannot be driven directly from the high-altitude Paratu to the low-altitude Vineta.

If horses are transported directly to Veneta by boat, they will either lose a lot of weight or die from illness.

Therefore, the common method is to set up a series of horse feeding grounds along the trend of decreasing altitude, and drive the horses down the plateau like going down steps.

Firstly, this allows the horses to gradually adapt to the air and environment of the lowlands, and secondly, it allows for a gradual change in the horses' feed.

However, this means that "there are always some horses in transit" that cannot be sold.

This isn't a big deal for small horse traders, because they transport a whole group of horses at a time, making deals in one go.

However, for large mule and horse traders, "there are always some horses in the process of transportation" means that "there is always a portion of capital tied up," which greatly compresses cash flow.

Over time, well-funded mule and horse traders simply stopped buying horses in the higher-altitude western part of Palatul and started buying them directly from the lower-altitude eastern part of Palatul.

Although the price is higher, it saves a lot of transportation time and allows for faster capital recovery.

Some well-connected mule and horse dealers were even able to buy horses directly from Palatine's military horse farms or even from the garrison.

The military horse farms that sold the horses made money, and then bought horses from the west at low prices to replenish their stock, easily making a profit from the price difference.

This information is just the tip of the iceberg of the "Palatu-Veneta" horse trade. It is not a secret to those in the business, but it is like a mountain to outsiders.

Without Mr. Leo's explanation, Winters would never have imagined that someone would be so audacious as to sell military horses privately.

Even more shocking information came later: according to Mr. Leo, most of the warhorses in the Venetia Army were purchased in this way.

Finally, Mr. Leo asked Winters to ask Antonio a few questions: "How many horses does the Venetian army need? How do they want to buy them? And what are they willing to provide?"

……

António's tent. Leo didn't know the number "three thousand horses," but Winters did.

So Winters' answer was: "Three thousand horses, a figure that takes into account the losses of horses transported over long distances and in short periods of time. The more warhorses Iron Peak County can provide, the better, but the minimum quantity for a single transaction must be enough to arm two squadrons—that is, four hundred horses."

As for what the Army could put on the scale: "As for money, the annual budgets of the Army and Navy are being tightened (Antonio sighed deeply). If it's food... perhaps we can put it under another account."

……

Mr. Leo's guest room.

"Grain won't do." Leo slammed his hand on the table, becoming somewhat agitated, his chubby face flushed red. "Grain isn't something that can be transported long distances, unless by water! What's the use of grain? Armaments! Armaments, that's more like it!"

Leo then taught Winters a set of rules that merchants used to estimate freight costs.

One of the lines is, "He transported grain three hundred li, then cried as he returned home."

This means that "when transporting grain by land, the transportation cost becomes equivalent to the value of the grain itself for every 150 kilometers traveled. Grain traders lose everything and go home crying."

This is a lesson learned the hard way by merchants—grain cannot be traded over long distances unless it is by water.

“Go ask General Serbiati,” Leo said thoughtfully. “Could they produce some military equipment? What would the price be?”

……

Antonio's tent.

“Armaments?” Antonio glanced at Winters, lost in thought. “No.”

……

Mr. Leo's guest room.

"No?" Leo sneered. "Then there's nothing to talk about. Tell General Serbiati that without weapons, there are no warhorses!"

"Wait a minute." Winters stopped Mr. Leo from getting into character, frowning as he asked, "Do I always have to be the mouthpiece? How about this, you represent me and negotiate with General Serbiati?"

Mr. Leo immediately deflated and shook his head vigorously: "No, no, if I step in, it won't be a negotiation, and we can't talk about it. Only if you step in can we sit on equal footing."

……

Antonio's tent.

"Ahem." Winters mustered his courage and looked directly at his adoptive father: "No weapons! No warhorses! You should go back and give this to my aunt for me."

……

Mr. Leo's guest room.

"Half food," Winters told Leo, "and half armaments. No room for negotiation."

Leo paced back and forth, his right hand unconsciously scratching his cheek. Despite it being winter, he was sweating profusely. "Mix it in half? That's not impossible, but the grain will have to be discounted!"

……

Antonio's tent.

“You may not know this, but the transportation cost for every 150 kilometers of grain transported is more expensive than the grain itself.” Winters took out his notebook and carefully calculated the costs for his adoptive father: “If the grain isn’t discounted, I’m losing out too much.”

António couldn't resist reaching out and tapping Winters on the forehead.

Winters was stunned, because it had been a long time since anyone had made such an intimate gesture towards him.

"You silly boy!" Antonio, oblivious to Winters' emotional turmoil, said with a hint of exasperation, "Mr. Leo is Mrs. Navarre's partner, not yours! You haven't even become her son-in-law yet!"

"Oh?" Winters was taken aback. "Huh?!"

António advised, "You think Mr. Leo is one of your men, but he's also a negotiator. The carriage came fully loaded; do you think it will leave empty? Tell him to stop hiding behind you and to talk things out."

Winters shuffled towards the tent flap, but stopped just as he reached it. He turned back to his foster father and asked hesitantly, "Mrs. Navarre... what exactly is your attitude... and what do you think of Anna...?"

Antonio stopped moving, his smile complex, a mixture of relief that "he's finally getting the hang of it" and reproach for "why he's messing around with it."

Antonio put down his cup and sighed softly, "What can I think? What else can I think? Do you know the enormity of your actions?"

Winters stood there dejectedly.

It should be noted that free love is generally a spice in married life.

From noble families to artisans and farmers, marriage has always been a contract of property, status, and power, not the end of love.

"Abducting" one unmarried woman of marriageable age—or rather, two—is such a heinous act that it could create a blood feud between two families that would last for generations, even more than ten generations, and even "making up for it" would be useless.

Mrs. Navarre might even send assassins to kill Winters outright—a glorious tradition in Veneta.

Moreover, Winters would never utter such trash as "Anna came on her own, I didn't abduct her."

“Cosa went to apologize to Madame Navarre in person.” Antonio sighed again: “You may not know, but the two of them haven’t seen each other for almost twenty years… Ah, that’s all old news for our generation, let’s not talk about it.”

Winters didn't know what to say.

"For a man, this might be a romantic affair he can boast about for a lifetime. But for a woman, it's a devastating blow to her reputation." Antonio warmed his hands by the fire, not looking directly at Winters. "So, what do you think?"

“Now please go to the Navarre family to propose marriage.” Winters asked bitterly, “Isn’t it too late?”

Antonio glared at his son: "That depends on whether they agree or not."

Winters paused, realizing his adoptive father's second meaning: "You mean... there's still room for compromise?"

Antonio poked at the fire: "Nominally, Miss Navarre and Miss Catherine are currently both at Blue Mountain Convent, serving as novice nuns."

In that instant, Winters wanted nothing more than to shout "Long live Madame Navarre!" three times.

“But I’m afraid we can’t keep this a secret for long.” Antonio sighed heavily. “You still have to talk to Mr. Leo about this. His presence here means he has full authority to represent Madame Navarre.”

“But…” Winters said hesitantly, “Mr. Leo didn’t mention Anna at all.”

Antonio gave a half-smile: "He didn't bring it up, so it doesn't exist? Have you ever considered that maybe he's waiting for you to bring it up?"

Winters was speechless for a moment.

He would rather jump naked into the icy river than face this intractable and unresolved trouble.

After much thought, Winters decided to use the simplest method. He carefully sat down next to his adoptive father and asked, "What do you think... I should do?"

Antonio gave a strange reply: "That depends on you, and on Ms. Navarre as well."

“I don’t understand,” Winters said, puzzled.

“Ultimately, this is a matter between you and Ms. Navarre.” Antonio’s face showed a nostalgic smile. “If you are determined to be together, then the process, the outcome, and what others think are all irrelevant.”

Antonio patted his son on the shoulder: "In comparison, I'm more worried that you two will eventually 'get tired of each other and turn lovers into enemies.' You know, married life isn't always so happy."

Winters' cheeks flushed as he retorted, "Aren't you and your aunt very happy?"

“Silly boy,” Antonio poked at the campfire and said slowly, “that only shows you don’t know how much we sacrificed.”

[A New Definition of the Technique!]
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(End of this chapter)