Just like in 21st-century Korea, when any product goes through the hands of middlemen, the price skyrockets. A cabbage that costs 500 won at the farm can magically cost 5,000 won after passing through three middlemen. A similar phenomenon occurs on a larger scale in the Toscano Empire—a medieval fantasy world.
Especially when "military supplies" are involved, the process becomes so intense that even a Buddha would lose his patience.
“We’re just trying to make a living here. Even if we sell at this price, we hardly have anything left after paying our porters,” Rafaello, the merchant in front of me, was saying, in the same way a market vendor might.
“Aigo, there’s hardly any profit selling at this price! I’m just breaking even, I swear.” People may feel good thinking they got a deal, but in reality, even if merchants make slightly less profit, they never sell at a loss. It was clear Rafaello was using the same tactic here.
I needed to remind him that there was no need for pretenses between us. If he realizes that, he wouldn’t dare try this kind of petty talk among other merchants.
“There’s no rat or eavesdropping pigeon here—just you and me. And I don’t plan to nitpick about the times you’ve overcharged us before.” If I were an ambitious officer driven by a sense of duty, it might be different. But as someone trying to rise as a merchant, I have no reason to recklessly make an enemy of the empire’s merchant guilds.
‘To survive making all of them my enemy, I’d need to be at least a Count. As it is, I’m just a junior Baron.’
“Between us, I’m only 21. I’d rather finish work and go enjoy some time with a favored maid than die over a feud with the Benaldi Guild.” The only reason I clashed head-on with the Pereira Guild was that the Emperor ordered it. Without that order, I’d have been groveling before them instead.
As I hinted that I had no intention of enmity, Rafaello’s frown eased. “Alright, let’s negotiate a reasonable price then.”
I pulled out a bundle of receipts showing past deals Rafaello had made with other brigades. “One sack of 120 kg of wheat costs one gold coin, 100 liters of beer costs four silver coins, and 75 kg of bread costs eight silver coins. That’s more than double the market rate. Isn’t it excessive to charge 2.2 times the market price, even for military supplies?”
There are two main reasons they can get away with this. First, the price includes bribes for the NCOs, officers, and commanders. Around 10-13% of the price is evenly distributed among the soldiers. As for the second reason, it’s because many nobles have no clue about market prices.
“Alright, let’s be straightforward—how much can you lower it?”
Rafaello sighed deeply. “How about nine silver coins and ninety pennies for a sack of wheat?”
“Let’s lower it to eighty-five pennies. At that rate, you’re still charging 1.7 times the market price.”
Rafaello’s expression showed he was caught in a dilemma, torn between not wanting to anger his superior and knowing he couldn’t push his luck any further.
“Eight silver coins and fifty pennies—that’s as low as I’ll go. And reduce the prices of the other goods by fifteen percent too.”
Reluctantly, he nodded.
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After Rafaello hurried out to sign the adjusted contract, I brought it to the brigade commander, Baron Ducat. He grinned as I presented the results. “Impressive. How did you manage to cut the price by fifteen percent?”
“It was simple. I just found evidence that Benaldi’s merchant was inflating costs, and we adjusted from there.” I knew it was best to make the most of any task given by the Emperor. After all, when you produce results, it pays off in promotions and bonuses.
And, as expected, it wasn’t long before the soldiers began to praise the new logistics officer, Fabio de Medici.