She nodded, and replied succinctly.
* * *
It was suppertime, and once again Fleur, Beltra and Ora seated themselves at the table.
Fleur had insisted on Milton’s presence, but he declined. But she knew he’d been selling clothes for the past four days, and had only come to her to discuss the terms of their contract. Surely, rest was more appropriate for him than supper.
She was speaking with Ora about her conversation with Milton as he pondered what to make of it.
“Hmm.”
He sighed the moment she finished. Perhaps it was his age showing, but he closed his eyes and leaned back before sighing even more deeply. It made her nervous, but he hadn’t yet frowned so she didn’t think it was that bad.
“Well, that’s Milton for you. He’s as good as I’ve heard.”
His appreciative reply took her by surprise.
“That good?”
“Yes. Not just good, but really good. Nobles’ minds change all the time, but their standards never do. It is currently in fashion to use frills and thin materials, and he even knows what’s in style so far away. I’m impressed. Now all that’s in question is his salesmanship.”
“I’ve looked into that.”
She replied with a bitter smile, and Ora coughed with a serious look on his face. She shot him another question.
“And the contract? Do you see any problems?”
Fleur was the one who composed the first draft of the contract, and Ora had checked it over. He never missed a flaw or questionable passage. He changed her version substantially.
It wasn’t just her terminology, but the phrasing that changed. Some sentences became quite unnatural. The experience reminded her of her childhood vocabulary lessons.
Ora had no tolerance for flowery language, and with every flaw they introduced he asked Beltra for a fresh sheet of paper. As they wrote each new draft, he frowned more and more at the amount of expensive paper they were going through.
“We’ll have to be extra careful. If there’s any flaw in the contract we’ll lose everything we earn.”
He’d lived in the world of business for as long as he could remember. For many decades. What he said had to be true. And yet, there was surely a limit to how careful they had to be, wasn’t there?
After all, Milton was the other party of the contract. He wasn’t a merchant, and relied heavily on his family’s reputation. It would probably wound him to learn that they were writing the contract with such scrutiny. At least, Fleur would be wounded if she were in his place.
Ora seemed to sense her thoughts, and read the contract once more at arm’s length.
“Under God, Fleur von Eiterzentel Boland and Milton Pabst, of honesty and virtue, who know each other in trade under God’s name, shall purchase wool, linen, and silver finery. By contract, Boland shall supply the funds, half of which shall be counted as a loan to Pabst. Upon sale, profits shall be evenly split. All items purchased with the money shall be under the ownership of Boland. May God watch over us.”
With that, his eyes halted and didn’t turn away from the contract. He still seemed to have reservations about the phrasing or terminology, but Fleur guessed what he was going to focus on.
“The amount we’re loaning.”
As expected. She grabbed a slice of bread and voiced her protest.
“Half is enough.”
Her short reply sounded determined, but Ora kept staring at the contract, unconvinced. It was a significant flaw with the contract. If they were ultimately forced to sell everything off as cheaply as possible, it was Fleur who would lose the most.
Ora wanted to count the entire amount as a loan to Milton. A greedier merchant would have asked for one-and-a-half times back, or even twice. It was rather heartless, but still within the range the Church would allow. Twenty or thirty percent a year was normal, and trades could last several years.
Yet the profit would be split. Even though half would count as a loan. It was the kind of mercy God would show. Ora had never read a contract like this before in his life. It wasn’t just the trust she showed to Milton, but something more vital.
They were losing money, and with it power. By contrast, Milton would only come out stronger. Milton, who had to bow to the wealthy just like Ora and Beltra did. And yet, Fleur had placed herself on the same stage as him, risking herself to help him.
Even Fleur thought it was naive, but this was the only way she could find a partner she could trust. So she explained to Ora that she believed they weren’t losing right out of the gate with this decision.. it was alright.
Ora simply glanced at her, then closed his eyes and finally sighed. He seemed to have forced himself to accept her perspective. Her tension finally relaxed, and her smile appeared.
“Then that’s all I have to say. I can only pray that things go smoothly.”
Having tidied up the papers, Ora finally reached out to take some of the bread Beltra had baked.
“It’s fine, you shouldn’t even have to pray.”
With such a specific contract and Milton’s skill, they probably didn’t even have to rely on God’s grace. But as Fleur happily reached her spoon out to sample the soup, Ora coughed loudly.
“Take care. You never know what lies ahead until you’ve reached the end of a contract. Even if our plans were flawless, they’d never go perfectly. Storms delay shipments, or they’re stolen by brigands, and so on.”
It was like he was throwing a bucket of cold water on her. Her smile vanished as she tasted the soup, thinking it over. What he said had to be taken seriously. No matter how good the plan, accidents did happen. But if one only considered the risks, they would never make a move in the first place.
“But this is what we, your servants, are supposed to worry about. You don’t have to concern yourself over everything.”
Ora hastily said this, realizing that Fleur wasn’t so much eating as she was sipping on her soup. Those words made her unhappy, even if they were true. There was nothing she could do about it but be displeased.
She looked up, and saw Ora’s bitter smile as he stared off into space. She’d seen this kind of look before, back when her ex-husband had been Ora’s master.
“My former master also liked to change his future plans. Well, it was more like he could see things that I couldn’t, and included them in his plans. Every time I would worry unnecessarily. There are two kinds of talent: the kind that opens up new roads, and the kind that follows and builds the roads. They’re so very different, and yet Milady..”
He finally looked back at Fleur.
“..is the first kind, I’m certain.”
He was speaking sincerely. It made her set her spoon down and rub her face, laughing in embarrassment.
“It’s terribly embarrassing to receive such praise.. but aye, that made me feel better.”
“It’s best that you feel this way. It’s my job to worry about the smaller details, and Beltra will also watch over you.”
Beltra, who sat off to the side and ate like a proper servant, hadn’t betrayed any interest in the conversation the two shared. Her mind only seemed to have space for household chores (that might be because she was now doing the chores of several housekeepers).
But as Ora finished talking, she seemed to snap back to reality. Her red face hung low, perhaps in anger.
“Oops, it’s the second worst thing I can do to make Beltra angry.”
Fleur smiled and said while she looked at Beltra, who was surprised.
“Oh, and what’s the first?”
Ora was playing along intentionally.
“Make her cry.”
Beltra, who hadn’t been paying attention up until now, covered her face and uttered her response.
“Please stop joking at my expense.”
She really has an adult’s toughness, thought Fleur affectionately, as she smiled at Beltra.
“It seems I have nothing to add this time.”
“And yet here you are, as us
ual.”
The old merchant had nothing to add, and just lifted his hands in a gesture that he was staying out of this.
“I’ll be praying for your success.”
The evening sky silently grew darker.
* * *
It was getting darker. Boats were quickly entering and exiting port. Yesterday’s fleet, which had come out of nowhere for repair and resupply, were now on their way out.. what a brief stay.
Even the number of people aboard the boats was decreasing, as well as priests praying for their safe voyage. If they missed this chance, they’d have to hold off for another month.
After speaking with Fleur the previous night, Milton hadn’t left the Jones company’s meeting room. But it wasn’t until now that Hans - the one representing the company in this deal - arrived.
Before entering into their contract with the company, Fleur and Milton both had other exchange contracts to settle.
“Will that do?”
It was a lengthy and detailed contract, setting their previous verbal contract in stone. Milton was no greenhorn, and wouldn’t need long to confirm its contents.
But nobles wrote their promises on paper as a sign they doubted the credit of others - it was little more than an insult. Fleur hoped the pain she felt in her chest was simply an illusion.
Milton eyed the paper, pretending to not even look at her. She shrugged and waited for his inevitably angry response.. which never came. Instead, he smiled as though he was perfectly comfortable with it.
“Alright, that makes me feel better.”
Fleur had no clue what he meant, so she felt compelled to ask.
“How so?”
“Well, it’s not just a verbal contract anymore. I mean I do trust you, Ms. Fleur, but you are the one lending me money worth more than our lives. If we simply kept it a verbal contract..”
He tapped the hilt of his short sword in jest.
“I’d defend your rights with my life, if I were a knight.”
Business relationships were nothing like the ones between nobles and knights. It had to be clear how the responsibility and profit were to be distributed. Otherwise too much trust simply meant you might earn less.
A less scrupulous merchant, trustworthy or not, might not bother with a written contract, but this was business. Knights would honorably pay with their lives, but not merchants.
“Yet I’m still the one who stands to profit the most in this deal. No merchant can feel bad when they’re being trusted like this, especially not when the numbers are so encouraging.”
They were still just theoretical numbers, but he felt it necessary to flatter her. Normally people would reply like this as a show of trust, but not in the boardroom of a company. Fleur chose her words carefully.
“An old knight who survived many battles once told me: you can only be the strongest when you cease worrying.”
“And trust can do that.”
Milton briefly scanned the paper before signing his name at the end. The terms of the contract were favorable, but he could incur a debt depending on how things turned out.
“Then let me kill your worries: I will sell all of the clothes.”
The image of her ex-husband came up in her mind. He was always shouting at people to buy and sell things in their home. It no longer seemed like he was just being a cheap man now. His words now took on the sound of a captain barking orders during a battle.
“In that case, we can make our purchases now.”
After Milton signed the contract, Fleur did as well, and rang the desk bell to summon Hans back into the room.
“Thin woolen fabric from Lubic, 22 sheets total, in assorted colors. Hempen fabric with the stamp of the worker’s association in Yilin, 20 sheets total. Silver finery from Kwaifoldt, 4-”
Fleur and Hans listened to Milton as he listed the goods they wanted. Fleur’s face was expressionless; it was difficult to read her mood. But Milton didn’t really expect her to jump into the conversation.
After all, they were planning on buying from Hans so it should be safe. Hans double-checked the names and numbers of their inventory and matched the colors to their prices. He then rubbed his eyes and looked to Milton.
“It’s uncertain if I’ll be able to get 22 from Lubic right now. They’re in high demand. They make enough of them, but they know our market so they keep their prices high. I doubt I’ll be able to get more than 10 or 15. They won’t be gold-trimmed, though the price will still be hefty. Do you still want to go ahead with that?”
Of course the company, being their intermediary, would earn more if they bought more. And there was no way to corroborate his story. But Milton still hesitated.
“Don’t go over the price, just get as many as you can in this range.”
“Alright.”
Hans scribbled some notes on his paper, then moved on to the next item.
“Those ones from Yilin.. that color won’t be a problem, and we should be able to get ones with the union’s seal at that price. As for the silver finery.. did you have any specific factory in mind?”
“Anyone is fine, as long as they have pearl or carol on them.”
Hans frowned for the first time hearing that.
“I see.. then amber’s no longer in fashion?”
“No.. I’m afraid not.”
They spoke uneasily, but like old friends. Fleur didn’t have the skill to keep up with them, so she kept quiet. It felt like she was hearing them talk about their secrets in front of her, as if she was being kept at arm’s length.
“Very well. I’ll do my best to get these for you. Please sign here.”
Hans tossed the list on the table and rather rudely pointed where the signature went. Was it something like a contract? Milton looked at her, and she nodded. He signed, then pushed it over to her.
“Please confirm the names of the goods again.”
Hans briefly uttered, standing at the other end of the table. It made sense, since they were buying goods from overseas - if they got it wrong, returning the items would be difficult, especially if they were dyed.
It was so troublesome to make a mistake that both Fleur and Milton were expected to sign to confirm the list and the notes that had been made. That way, there wouldn’t be any argument later.
But Fleur’s thoughts turned to what Ora had said earlier. She had a strange feeling.
“Is this correct?”
She checked several times before yielding her signature. Hans glanced at their signatures, then swept his eyes over both of them. Despite his poker face, they caught his surprise but said nothing.
“Then it’s my turn. In the name of God..”
Both Milton and Fleur were used to using pens, but Hans was even better with them. Despite not even sitting down, and signing while standing, his signature was even more bold and powerful.. even elegant.
A signed piece of paper might as well be a contract, a declaration under God. No objections would be permitted. Those elegant pen strokes of Hans’ might as well be the words of God. And how many times had he signed such papers? It was no wonder merchants commanded respect.
“Then, this contract is now formed between the two of you and this company, in the name of God.”
Fleur was only present at this high-level trade because of Ora’s help, and it was the first time she’d experienced anything like it. Hans’ declaration and that piece of paper felt like it set their destinies on a one-way path.
She felt something a bit like regret, but she still exhaled slowly. She was happy, even if she was nervous.
“Everything is up to you, then.”
Milton shook hands with Hans, who then extended his hand to Fleur as well. She was surprised, but thrilled. She felt a bit drunk on the idea that she was acting just like an independent merchant right now.
“It should take about two weeks to process this order.”
“That fast?”
Hans smiled at Fleur’s sudden question, and nodded.
“If we
had to go to the cities to buy the product, it would take far longer. But we know those rare places that stockpile them closer-by. Once we know what to order, we can find the right ports to order from. This order should take about two weeks to fulfill.. of course, that’s assuming the boats aren’t held up.”
Presuming the ink on the contract was dry, Hans carefully flipped it over and placed it into his desk drawer. Fleur was quite impressed, but then it wasn’t beyond her expectations for a typical company. After all, they didn’t have to worry about any other terms. They just needed to buy products. No one would complain unless they bought the wrong items.
Fleur averted her eyes by looking at the shelf against the other wall. There were so many papers on it - how many of them were contracts with other people like her? She couldn’t stop wondering about that as they left the room.
“Let’s hope it goes smoothly.”
Hearing Hans’s seemingly-unintentional words, Fleur and Milton smiled and nodded simultaneously as if by tacit agreement.
* * *
To celebrate, Milton and Fleur went to a pub suggested by Hans. The mornings were times when products that came off boats were hauled away by land, so the roads were busy. Nighttime, however, was when boats were unloaded, so the boats could leave the following morning. She’d been aware of that for years, but this was the first time Fleur really thought about it. She drank her beer without saying much, and Milton didn’t bother her. He just sat across from her and smiled.
Buy clothes, then sell them. Split the profits fifty-fifty, leaving each of them with a profit of about twenty percent the cost. It took some calculation to arrive at that figure, but each time they did this their profits would increase. The next time, they would make twenty percent of 120 percent of their original cost, and after four such deals they would double their money. By the ninth time they would have five times their original investment.
If they would have the clothes in two weeks, and it took about a week after that to sell them, they could pull off up to seventeen such deals in a year. Fleur couldn’t hide her smile as she considered this. She felt like a kid again as she ran the numbers through her head, and realized she could have twenty-two times the money she had right now in just one year.