Chapter 40 - The Empty-Handed Stratagem

“Here?” Bede’s eyes widened in disbelief, “It’s at least twenty kilometers away from Tivandun—out in the wilderness!What are you doing staying here?

Let me tell you, don’t think those Goblins and Gnolls look scared now, but once you leave the caravan, they are each more vicious than the next.

I know you’re tough, Brother Gaven, but no matter how tough you are, it’s just the three of you.

You can’t withstand their numbers; these little green skins swarm in groups of ten or even dozens.”

“I am aware of all that Uncle Bede mentioned, but I have my own plan.

Do you remember the Gnoll Tribe we traded ores with before?” Gaven replied with a question.

“The one called Blackwell?” Bede was smart and caught on immediately, “You’re not thinking of targeting that Gnoll Tribe and their mine, are you?”

“Yes,” Gaven nodded, “I’ve checked their iron mine carefully, and the quality is good.

The soil in their cave is quite fresh, which means it’s newly mined.

The ore quality is this good despite being shallow, suggesting there might be a large vein underneath.

Most importantly, they don’t have many members, and their living conditions aren’t great.

With the three of us working together, I don’t foresee a problem taking them over.”

Bede did not reply immediately.

His eyes flickered rapidly as his brain churned, calculating the success rate and, more importantly, the potential profits.

An iron mine, one just twenty kilometers from Tivandun, managed by Humans and mined by Gnolls, could generate enormous profits.

In the end, Bede was nearly overwhelmed by the potential, his mind teeming with the prospect of tremendous opportunity.

“What do you need me to do?” Bede shifted the topic directly.

“I need your last cart of food, then help me purchase more food, mining tools, and weapons to bring back, no less than one cart of each.

When the time comes, I will buy them with iron ore,” Gaven stated his intention.

“No problem,” Bede agreed without hesitation, “I’ll give you this cart of food for free, consider it my personal investment.

But in return, you’ll sell all your iron ore through me.”

True to form as a shrewd merchant, he aimed high from the get-go, seeking to take a bite out of Gaven’s yet-to-be-secured mine, and the most lucrative part at that.

“Impossible,” Gaven shook his head without hesitation, “I’ll pay for the food, and under the same price conditions, I can only guarantee to supply you first.”

How could Gaven possibly let someone dictate terms to him, especially for just a cart of food?

“Deal,” Bede, too, was just throwing out a high price to see what he could get.

Having the first right to buy was good enough for him.

Moreover, all of this was mere speculation at the moment.

The real issue was whether this young man could stand his ground here.

Thinking about Gaven’s performance along the journey, Bede felt that this might not be a significant obstacle, considering how Gaven’s mental acuity far surpassed his youthful appearance.

Just for this reason alone, he was worthwhile to invest in.

After some back and forth, Bede’s cart of food was given to Gaven as an investment, hoping for nothing more than to see Gaven take down that Gnoll Tribe and secure his position here.

At first, Bede thought he had an exclusive deal, but it turned out to be an open secret.

Gaven had a private discussion with every Business Owner in the caravan.

Many with far-sighted vision saw promise in Gaven’s plan, investing more or less in him one way or another.

So, when Gaven left the caravan, he did so with three carts packed with goods.

Bede had reason to suspect that if they had more than three people and could handle more than three carts, they would have left with even more goods.

He also wondered just how many people Gaven had promised this so-called right of first purchase to.

If everyone held this right, what was the point?

Shrewd merchant!

Black-hearted shrewd merchant!

Even the usually good-tempered Bede couldn’t help but curse behind Gaven’s back.

A mine not yet in hand had already brought in a good sum of money.

Compared to this hairless little fox, their hearts were all aglow with envy. ᴛʜɪs ᴄʜᴀᴘᴛᴇʀ ɪs ᴜᴘᴅᴀᴛᴇ ʙʏ NoᴠᴇFɪre.nᴇt

In future dealings with this fellow, one must be extra careful, or else one wouldn’t even know how they were being conned.

The Maiden Priestess, driving the carriage in the middle, was filled with admiration for Gaven, almost to the point of worship.

She worked herself to death—providing healing, making Healing Potions, fixing carriages all along the way—and barely managed to trade for a carriage and a half’s worth of goods.

Meanwhile, Mr.

Gaven strolled along the way, just moving his lips a bit, and those normally stingy aunts and uncles became unexpectedly generous, giving him whole two carts of goods as if it was offensive not to accept their offerings.

And Gaven had that look of reluctant acceptance, as if he was doing them a favor by agreeing.

What do you call this?

Anna racked her little brain, but couldn’t find a suitable adjective.

The three of them, with their three wagons, had traveled barely two kilometers, rounding a bend to reach their destination—a modest valley flanked by a small hill with cliffs on three sides and a gently sloping mountain range on the other, a stream meandering through the middle.

Gaven and his companions reined in the wagons not far from a dark, person-and-a-half-high cave entrance.

Gaven called out loudly, “Leader of the Blackwell, come out and talk.

I am the friend who did business with you before, and I have a big trade to discuss with you.”

The only response to Gaven was the whooshing sound of the mountain wind.

It seemed as if not a single creature existed within the dark recesses of the cave.

Not just Gaven, but Anna too could feel that in the darkness, countless eyes were watching their every move.

“Vick, river, Fireball Technique,” Gaven ordered the Goblin Sorcerer by his side without any chit-chat.

Boom!

The Fireball Technique exploded on command in the center of the stream, sending water shooting up more than ten good meters.

The blazing flames burned over the water for quite a while before finally dying out, leaving innumerable fish and small shrimp belly-up and half-cooked.

“My left hand offers friendship and food, my right hand, swords and magic.

Which do you prefer?” Gaven called out again, “You would do well to dismiss the idea of a stalemate.

See the wagons behind me?

They’re full of supplies.

We have plenty of time and energy, and if you don’t fancy starving to death in that cave…”

“We choose the left hand, woof,” came a thin voice from the depths of the cave, cutting Gaven off.

Then, a humanoid creature with a dark red complexion stepped out.

This creature was slightly taller than a Goblin but only just, with a lizard-like head and a long tail.

Its skin was covered with scales the size of a pinky fingernail.

Because of the reverse joints in their legs and the balancing effect of their long tails, their center of gravity was a bit forward, giving them a slightly hunched appearance.

This was a Gnoll, a creature considered as cannon fodder just like Goblins.

“Come out, woof, it’s an honor for us to be led by such a distinguished person…

Come out, woof,” the Gnoll, while walking out, barked orders back inside.

Following his urging, a group of thirty to forty Gnolls emerged one after another.

Under the lead of the Gnoll, they knelt before Gaven with a thud, “Gos is willing to lead the entire Blackwell Tribe to pledge allegiance to the distinguished lord.

Please do not harm us, we are willing to do anything.”

Gaven, Anna, and Vick exchanged glances, seemingly surprised by how smoothly things were going.

Gaven especially, had a belly full of dirty tricks he’d yet to play—starvation tactics, smoke-out tactics, and more.

He had been prepared to engage in a war of attrition with this pack of Gnolls, grinding them down before finally subduing them.

But to his surprise, right after Vick cast the Fireball Technique, they surrendered immediately.

Gaven couldn’t help but wonder if that Fireball Technique had been a waste.

Would they have surrendered on their own if he had waited a bit longer?

Seeing the kneeling Gnolls, Gaven could guess why they had surrendered so readily.

There were quite a few Gnolls, but the elderly were feeble, and the young were weak.

The prime-aged were just a dozen or so, and they were all in tattered clothes with a look of malnourishment about them.

They were clearly having a tough time, without the means to start a conflict.