British hegemon

Chapter 135 Northern Merchant Guild

On April 2, 1306, the spring chill lingered, and all things began to revive.

The wind from the Scottish West Sea, carrying a warm, damp chill, lapped against the mast of the Seawolf Kirk. With its sails lowered, the ship moved slowly forward amidst the undulating waves and the unison horns of a dozen or so oarsmen. The black ship's red eagle flag above the mainmast fluttered in the wind.

The fishing villages and ports of all sizes on the plains along the Clyde River are receding from view at a visible speed.

Roger wore a grey-black robe embroidered with his family crest, a plaid blanket draped over his shoulders, a knight's longsword hanging from his belt, and long, pointed leather shoes, standing firmly on the deck of the ship's tower.

This outfit didn't suit Roger's taste. Generally speaking, except for important banquets and serious occasions, he preferred a clean and tight-fitting "cousin's outfit" or simply a chainmail suit.

However, since the purpose of this trip to Glasgow was to deal with the heads of those chambers of commerce, I had no choice but to make myself look more like a nobleman than a farmer or soldier.

Behind the noble Roger were eight soldiers from the Milk House Manor, led by Marne and Olaf. They were all dressed as professional soldiers—in chainmail, cotton armor, iron armor, or leather armor, with swords, axes, and hammers at their waists. The only thing that showed they belonged to the same organization was a dark gray robe stained with the emblem of the Black Ship and the Red Eagle.

Roger doesn't consider the armed force at Milk House Manor to be an army yet, so there are no strict rules for their equipment, uniforms, or daily training; everything is decided based on personal habits and convenience.

The eight soldiers embarked on this voyage for two reasons: firstly, it served as a collective long-distance training exercise to familiarize the team with each other; secondly, Roger's strong sense of crisis compelled him to keep his sword by his side, even at double pay. As for why no one was left to guard the Milk House Manor, he believed that Whiteface John wasn't foolish enough to do that yet.

Unlike the seven or eight sergeants who were pacing back and forth on the deck chatting idly, the crew and sailors of the Seawolf were all busy at this time.

Toran was a competent captain, and under his leadership, the dozen or so hired crew members and sailors from Ramrush Bay and Arun Island were busy in a tense but orderly manner. Apart from two boys who were cleaning the deck with pumice stones the size of Bibles, the rest were rowing and steering.

Soon the ship arrived at a place called Trident in the middle reaches of the Clyde River. It was a small dock at the confluence of two rivers, three miles west of Glasgow.

The Seawolf can only dock here for now, because Glasgow's commercial port has banned cargo ships from Aran Island from docking at will, and those that want to dock must pay a port tax of one-twentieth of the total cargo value.

Blackie Sigurd and Big Donald, clad in armor and carrying swords, disembarked and followed along, each carrying a heavy bag. Marne and Olaf led the remaining soldiers to stay on board and look after the cargo, as this cargo ship, laden with textiles and salt, represented the majority of Roger's fortune.

As soon as the three of them crossed the pier and stepped onto land, a figure hurriedly ran over, bowing and hunching over, followed by a young man with a long face.

Upon closer inspection, the man was wearing black leather boots, black wool trousers, black rat-skin gloves, a black wool sweater underneath, and a hard leather armor over it. His black dog-skin felt hat hung askew on his head, barely covering his bald patches.

"My lord, my lord, you've finally arrived!" Bald Neil scrambled up to Roger, tugging at his clothes and brushing off the dust, looking just like a lapdog who hadn't seen its master in a long time. After receiving news that Roger was coming to Glasgow, Bald Neil had been waiting at this small dock for a day and a half.

Roger cursed the good-for-nothing bastard in his mind several times, then raised his hand to interrupt his fawning, "Were you getting impatient?"

Bald Neil shook his head and said, "No, no, sir. Even if you make me wait a few more days, I won't complain at all."

Although Bald Neil still looked like a good-for-nothing thug, Roger still enjoyed dealing with such scoundrels. After hearing a few flattering words from Bald Neil, Roger's heavy mood eased a bit.

Bald Neil led Roger to an inn in the small port, where a carriage was prepared for Roger. It was a four-wheeled, two-horse carriage with a carriage, a privilege reserved for at least minor nobles, befitting Roger's status.

After resting briefly at the inn, Bald Neil settled the bill for his food and lodging, and Roger, accompanied by four attendants, headed toward Glasgow.

Along the way, Bald Neil kept recounting how he led Cader and the others to choose shop locations in Glasgow, purchase business licenses, and manage relationships in the city, as well as how they were repeatedly harassed by the Chamber of Commerce, and how he mediated and coordinated during the process.

Listening to the thugs outside the car window bragging about everything under the sun, taking all the credit for Cader and Mann's work, Roger didn't interrupt. Only after bald Neil finished his rambling did Roger ask, "Since you played such a big role in Glasgow, then you should also take responsibility for all the problems that happened to us there, right?"

Bald Neil then realized he had exaggerated and quickly shifted the blame, "Hey, I mainly deal with the Chamber of Commerce through Kader and Mann. I focus my energy on other forces in the city."

"My lord, let me tell you, I have thoroughly investigated the relationships between all the major and minor powers in Glasgow these past few days..."

""

Amid Bald Neil's incessant boasting, the carriage soon arrived in Glasgow.

Roger was here for the first time. Although he had seen the scale of cities in this era, the "city" in front of him still disappointed him somewhat.

By modern standards, this place is merely a small riverside town with a small port and low walls, consisting of hundreds of haphazardly arranged thatched-roof houses of varying sizes and narrow, muddy roads.

Although it is a bit dirty and dilapidated, it is indeed an important industrial and commercial center in the central and western regions of Scotland. From large textile mills and shipyards to medium-sized mills, blacksmith shops, breweries, and gold shops, to small bakeries and tailors, all the common industrial and handicraft industries in life can be found here.

North of the port, far from the harbor, lies an area with churches, monasteries, and tall residences, clearly Glasgow's affluent neighborhood.

Roger's shop in Glasgow was located in a place where the wealthy area met the market town. It was a two-story building with a separate courtyard. There were two shops on the street side, with shops downstairs and accommodations upstairs. The courtyard was at the back, with a back door for vehicles and goods to enter and exit. The courtyard also contained facilities such as stables, warehouses, and a well.

"...This used to be a grain store. Although it was a bit secluded, it was close to the wealthy area. Our cloth and salt were also targeted at merchants and the rich, so we weren't too worried about customer traffic."

Roger, accompanied by Kader and the others, inspected the shop. The first floor, including the shops and courtyard walls, was made of stone, while the second floor, which served as the living quarters, was made of wood but was also very sturdy. There was also an attic on the top floor.

Roger nodded in satisfaction. "How much did this mansion cost?"

Kader placed his fat hand on his large belly and said with a wicked grin, "Sir, the original owner wanted fifty pounds for this house, but I used a little trick and got it for less than twenty-five pounds."

Roger turned his head and listened with great interest to the fat, unscrupulous merchant's story.

The building was originally owned by a grain merchant, but his ships that transported grain from the south kept having accidents at sea, either being capsized by waves or attacked by pirates.

The grain merchants' ultimate fate was bankruptcy.

Having learned of this information beforehand, Kader initially only gave the grain merchant twenty-five pounds for the house.

Such a shop building with a courtyard would cost at least four thousand pounds in Glasgow, and the grain merchant simply kicked Kader out the door.

Next, with the help of Bald Neil and Horse Face, Kader began to secretly spread rumors that the building was cursed and that any merchant who stayed there would go bankrupt.

Moreover, Kader also paid several groups of passing merchants to negotiate prices with the homeowner under the guise of buying the shop, always offering 21 or 22 pounds, never more than 25 pounds.

That wasn't all. Kader also had Bald Neil find the bankrupt grain merchant's creditors, saying that the grain merchant had already sold his house and was holding a lot of gold coins and refused to pay back the debt.

The creditors naturally went to the grain merchant three times a day to collect their debts.

After several attempts, the grain merchant, under pressure from both inside and outside the country, sold the courtyard shop to Cader for the low price of twenty-five pounds.

Roger clicked his tongue after hearing this, praising Kader and his group for their resourcefulness, but in his heart he cursed the ancestors of these jinxes. If it weren't for their sharp tongues, he wouldn't have had to personally travel to Glasgow to deal with this problem.

This is a bunch of bizarre geniuses.

Upon entering the shop, only one of the three storefronts was currently in use, furnished with some shelves and cabinets, as well as some cloth and salt in cloth bags. Since only four people, including Kader and Bald Neil, used to live in this shop, much of the space was left unused.

"The cloth and salt we brought here were mostly supplied to those merchants, but the goods that came from Arun Island later didn't sell much," Kader explained. "Because of the merchant guild's interference, merchants with any real power didn't dare to buy from our shop, and the few customers we had didn't buy much at all."

Roger didn't reply. He wandered around the shop, touched the slightly damp salt bags, and then went outside to look at the wooden shop signs hanging outside the second-floor railing. One sign depicted a piece of cloth, and the other depicted a cloth bag with the word "salt" written on it.

"There's no shop name on this wooden sign?" Roger asked.

This question left Kader and Mann speechless. They were both making "pictographic" signs according to the usual practices of each shop and had no idea what Roger meant by "shop name".

"It's the name of the shop! The brothels on the island have a name like the Moulin Rouge, can't our shop have a name too?" Roger explained.

Generally speaking, shops use graphic signs that represent their industry characteristics as their signs. For example, bakery signs are usually drawn on a wooden board with a long loaf of bread, beer shops usually have beer mugs, and hotels and brothels may occasionally have names, but they are not engraved on their signs.

"That's novel. Then please, sir, bestow a name upon this shop. I'll have an artist add it tomorrow." Kader didn't quite understand the purpose of a shop name, but that didn't stop him from showering it with compliments.

Roger pondered for a moment, the words of a certain trading group from his previous life flashing through his mind, but something felt off. After thinking for another moment, he blurted out, "Northern Trading Company."

"Good, good, good." Kader and the others clapped and praised, even though they didn't know what this strange word meant.

Roger then led the group around the courtyard, inspected the large warehouse where cloth and salt were stored, and gave them instructions on fire prevention and moisture control.

"Are there many people coming and going in the alleyway in the backyard?" Roger asked, pointing to the back gate of the courtyard.

"The courtyard is surrounded by warehouses and stores. Occasionally, carriages come and go, but there aren't many pedestrians."

"Kadel replied."

Roger nodded. "From now on, in addition to buying and selling goods, this place will also be used to receive our intelligence personnel traveling to and from various places."

Roger realized he had once again used outdated terminology, so he added, "It's like those guys with the ponytail and the henchmen who go around gathering information."

Roger continued, "Sometimes it's inconvenient for them to reveal their identities, so it's best to partition off a hidden dark room in the backyard warehouse for them to live in when necessary."

Ponytail Earl has begun his second intelligence mission. This time, they have learned from their previous experience and have started setting up transit stations and supply points. This shop with a courtyard is the intelligence station for this small team.

The shop was very simply furnished and was not suitable for someone of Roger's status. Under the arrangement of Bald Neil, Roger checked into a three-story luxury hotel in the wealthy area of ​​the north of the city.