The Gene of the Ancients (Rogue Merchant Book #2): LitRPG Series by Roman Prokofiev (ebook reader for comics .TXT) 📗

it’s a real drag. You’d have to make the rounds, take everyone’s cargo...the territory’s huge, it would take days. And we don’t have our own Astral carriers. Who’d do all of it?”

“I would. Provided properly arranged logistics, it wouldn’t take long.”

Olaf laughed out loud, quite sincere.

“Do you really think you’re so clever?” he asked me though laughter. “That nobody had this idea before, buying carebear goods cheap on-site and selling them at the Bazaar? Seriously?”

I didn’t think myself especially clever. Olaf was probably projecting. As I saw it, an idea wasn’t worth anything. It didn’t matter who had it first; the important thing was who could make an effort and achieve the goal.

“Those who don’t care are already selling their stuff to Phoenix,” said Olaf. “Their cargo barques buy out our tenants’ goods. It’s agreed that we don’t touch them. We vouched for their traders, even if we’re neutral to Phoenix themselves.”

So that’s how it was. Phoenix, the Red Alliance, were a huge aggregation of clans who inhabited the center of the continent, the rich territories around Golden Fairs. They had a diverse lineup, but gravitated towards farming. As for their military power, they outnumbered us, but their soldiers were weaker. The Watchers looked down on the “Reds,” but were eager to do business with them. I had a suspicion that our alliances had a secret mutual assistance pact in case a third party attacked us.

“So Phoenix buys out their goods. Why not us?” I asked.

“Because nobody cares about that, neither we, nor the carebears.”

“We, or rather I, care. Here, take a look at this when you have the time,” I said, sending him my calculations via a personal message. “As for the other party, we’ll make them care, too. We could arrange a situation where they won’t have a choice.”

“Interesting. And good for the clan, too...” After going through the data, Olaf threw me an interested look, like a professor looks at a caged monkey that suddenly learned to multiply. “But unattainable. How will we persuade the tenants? How will you remove Phoenix? And most importantly, it’s unlikely Komtur will ever agree to your scheme.”

“I’ll take everything upon myself, the tenants and the Reds,” I said. “As for Komtur...I have an idea, too.”

* * *

 

After obtaining Olaf’s consent, I proceeded to step one of my plan. First, I needed to get rid of Phoenix. The whole situation was infuriating: why were outsider peddlers buying stuff from our tenants? It was our cow, and we were supposed to milk it! However, I anticipated that negotiations and petitions wouldn’t produce any results, other than fuel tension between the alliances. Snatching a swallowed morsel from the mouth was way too hard. I needed a different approach.

First, I gathered information. The player in charge of the Reds’ trading was Zampotil, my old friend. It was really a small world! It was he who had sicced the Brotherhood of Whip on me a couple of months ago in response to the profits reaped by me at the Fairian auction. That knowledge added a special touch to my revenge. Pumped, I headed to Fairs and continued digging.

The Phoenix Alliance controlled the heart of the continent, the areas around Dorsa’s biggest trading hub, the City of Golden Fairs. It was a rich NPC kingdom, the most populated place of our world, and the starting location of most newbies. The local auction was owned by their traders, with the majority of lots belonging to them. No wonder they had perceived my attempt at speculating in arrows as a personal offense.

Zampotil, thankfully, was no Diamond player, and wasn’t hiding his nickname and stats. Evidently, he had been living there for a long time and felt completely at ease. More than a hundred of his lots were up for sale on the Fairian auction — the best, most in-demand items. More than half a million in goods, a pretty large sum: ammo, consumables, weapons, elixirs, lots of stuff. I carefully wrote everything down and entered their names on the website with Bazaar prices, also checking their prime cost via craft calculators.

As a result, I got a list of thirty-eight lots that earned eighty percent of my victim-to-be’s profits. His mark-up ranged from thirty to two hundred percent. The remaining lots were unimportant. From the looks of it, Zampotil was one of the greedy traders who put up everything they could up for sale, hoping to make at least a penny.

My next destination was the Bazaar. After passing through the frenzied crowd, I found myself inside the familiar VIP apartment, and the NPC doorman smiled at me, like I was an old friend.

I spent almost two hundred fifty thousand gold and two days to buy out all of the items on his list via buying lots. Then I found a ship — it was an Astral nave, as the cargo size was impressive — and sent all of it to Fairs via a contract.

A day later, without declaring a war, I started fighting. Dozens of lots appeared at the Fairian auction at the same time, the same as the items sold by the Reds, but with a lower price. I decided to pull the plug on Zampotil and strip him of his main source of income.

The Diamond account helped a lot, of course: as the seller’s name was hidden, so nobody could find me. The only thing clear — and I knew very well about it — was that an anonymous player had challenged the Reds in the heart of their domain.

The main battle started a few hours later: right and proper, with archers shooting from afar, the vanguard attacking, and the cavalry outflanking the enemy. I had reserves, too. Competing with Zampotil was a real pleasure. Still, I had an advantage. He wanted to drive the competition out, while my goal was to keep him from