Each winter, the major trading companies in Northwind Province switch to buy-only mode.
Everything they acquire during the winter is shipped south once spring arrives—when their southern branches return north—and then sold for enormous profits thanks to the seasonal price gap.
Although the trading companies acted unilaterally, few dared provoke them—even among the nobility. No one wanted to risk a vendetta from a powerful noble backer.
Before the divine interplanar wars, trading companies were relatively marginal players.
But after the war, when the northern lands of the continent were buried in ice and snow, countless nobles migrated south, trying to escape the encroaching cold.
With so many nobles cramd into the warr southern third of the continent, conflicts were inevitable.
At the sa ti, the increasing quality of warfare—with supernatural legions and elite troops—ant that wars beca larger, deadlier, and more destructive than ever before.
It was during this turbulent era that trading companies rose to prominence, following their noble patrons into military campaigns. When victory was achieved, spoils of war were often handed over to these companies for resale.
Once warfare and trade beca intertwined, trading companies beca indispensable.
Still, the old saying remained true: there is no powerful trading company without noble backing.
The stronger the company, the more powerful the noble family behind it. Only nobles had the influence to protect such vast financial interests.
Otherwise, the tariffs and levies imposed by local lords would bankrupt them.
The most powerful company in the Florel Empire was, of course, the one directly under the royal family—but it wasn’t called the Royal Trading Company. Instead, it was known as the Imperial Trading Guild.
That’s because its largest profits ca from cross-border transactions with southern kingdoms and foreign nobles.
Although many stakeholders existed, the royal family held the dominant share.
The Imperial Guild’s Lingdu City branch was predictably lavish—even more extravagant than the estates of so frontier knights.
Naturally, they were careful not to outshine barons, and most barons wouldn’t dean themselves by comparing estates with a comrcial enterprise.
"Welco to the Imperial Trading Guild. How may we assist you?"
As Ryan entered the grand, open hall, a young attendant brightened at the sight of him and approached with a smile.
"I’m Baron Ryan. Have your manager co speak to ."
Regardless of one’s station, nobility always commanded deference. Ironically, if a noble behaved too politely toward commoners, it could even seem disrespectful.
The attendant’s expression dimd slightly, but she quickly went off to summon the manager.
"Chandler, humble servant of the guild, greets Baron Ryan!"
A fat-bellied middle-aged man waddled up with a fawning grin.
"I’ve got so goods. Let’s see how much they’re worth to you."
Ryan gestured, and the soldiers behind him brought forward the bearskin rug—the very one that Baron Hatton had once admired so greatly.
Chandler’s eyes lit up imdiately.
As a seasoned rchant, he instantly recognized the piece’s value. Southern noblewon would pay any price to get their hands on such a flawless, unblemished fur—perfect for flaunting in aristocratic circles.
But when Chandler nad his price, Ryan’s brow furrowed.
"Three hundred gold, Baron Ryan. I’m willing to offer three hundred gold coins for this bearskin."
Ryan didn’t reply—just stared silently at Chandler until the rchant’s neck shrank inward and he avoided eye contact.
"Is sothing dissatisfactory, my lord?"
Chandler still had so confidence. After all, if the Imperial Trading Guild had to bow to every minor noble, how could they possibly conduct business?
"Let guess. Viscount Miles collects quite a bit from your branch every year, doesn’t he?"
Ryan’s voice was calm as he leveled his gaze.
The offered price wasn’t just lacking in markup—it was below fair acquisition value.
Chandler chuckled and waved the flag.
"The viscount waived all guild taxes in Lingdu County. In return, this branch pays him a fixed stipend of ten thousand gold coins annually."
So that’s why.
No wonder the mont Ryan left the viscount’s estate, the guild had already heard about the orc incursion—and began depressing all local prices.
Without another word, Ryan turned and left.
Panic flickered in Chandler’s eyes. That bearskin rug could still net 3–5x markup in the south even if purchased above asking price.
"Baron Ryan, wait—we’re willing to offer six hundred gold... no, seven hundred!"
"Not selling."
Ryan didn’t even look back.
Naturally, Chandler didn’t dare openly obstruct a noble.
Ryan strode directly across the street—into the Razor Rose Trading Company.
"Welco to Razor Rose,"
A smiling woman greeted him. Embroidered on her chest: a thorned rose entwined with a blade.
That was the Razor Rose family crest, personally designed by the most dazzling Countess of the Empire.
"What would you offer for these?"
Ryan motioned for his soldiers to bring everything in. He was confident the Razor Rose Company, having seen him erge from the Imperial Guild, wouldn’t play any tricks.
The manager, a woman nad Irina, summoned a few appraisers. Within just two to three minutes, they returned with a valuation.
"Baron Ryan, our company is willing to offer six thousand gold coins for your goods."
In minutes, they already knew his na.
Irina’s smile was intoxicating. Bathed in golden profits, even Ryan had to admit her charm.
Still, he kept a cool head.
These were the spoils from Viscount Whitman’s estate. Ryan had estimated their worth at 4,500 to 5,000 gold. Razor Rose was offering significantly more.
He studied Irina with curiosity.
"Is this how you always do business?"
"Not at all. If Baron Ryan had co any other ti, our offer would have been 4,200 gold."
"The extra gold cos with a request—or rather, a proposal."
"Oh? Let’s hear it."
"Just recently, the Imperial Guild made a deal with Baron Kendra, paying 1,800 gold for 100 sets of armor and 300 longswords. They also signed a contract for 30,000 jin of grain, to be delivered within two weeks."
"I’m guessing Baron Ryan knows why."
She leaned closer, her subtle perfu soothing and delicate.
"1,800 gold for a bit of intel. You people are quite generous."
Ryan didn’t shy away from her boldness. He stared into her eyes.
"But I’ve promised Viscount Miles not to share this information with a second party."
Irina laughed.
"Baron Ryan truly lives up to his reputation—a rising star transforming the Frozen Soil Territory."
"Very well. 6,000 gold—deal."
Though Ryan said nothing directly, Irina understood everything.
Razor Rose didn’t need the full truth. Ryan’s subtle hints made it clear: do whatever the Imperial Guild does, and you won’t lose.
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