"Little Roman, you stored alcohol, not food?" Brand asked.
"Yes, Brand, mainly gin and Yu Song liquor." Miss Merchant nodded.
Brand carefully examined the clean, distinct face in front of him—Roman also stared at him with bright eyes—the girl’s eyes always seemed to be filled with curiosity.
"Did you anticipate the war would end in July?" The young man couldn’t help but ask.
"A bit later, Roman didn’t expect the situation to take such a sharp turn either. But with Madara’s army stuck at Drage, I thought they would soon look for other prey? Didn’t you always say, Brand, that the timing of war lies in the details? The Commanders of the Undead should understand this too."
"But in any case, the nobles would need a celebration after the war ends, isn’t everyone talking about it?" Miss Merchant said, ticking off her fingers.
"How do you know all this, Roman?" Frey looked at her incredulously.
"A merchant’s little secret." Miss Merchant’s tail shot up proudly again.
"You learn really fast." Brand couldn’t help but reach out and flick Little Roman’s forehead, causing her to cover her forehead, frowning and retreating, complaining incessantly, "Don’t flick, Brand!"
But Brand thought it might not be about learning but a natural sharp instinct. Regardless, such a talented girl like Little Roman was really rare.
He then looked at the three money bags on the table with less than five thousand torrs in cash and thought for a moment. When he reached Brags, maintaining his current identity and realizing his plans step by step would indeed require a lot of money. Not to mention the future construction of the territory, which would be a massive money drain. As the saying goes, the Emperor does not starve the soldiers, and there are a lot of people under Reto relying on him. Brand rubbed his forehead, realizing he had missed a crucial step in his schedule. It seemed making money had to be a top priority.
However, things like advanced mana potions, the paintings of Princess Dark Brilliance, or those Endless Ice Earrings were out of the question. The buyers for such items would be too rare in the poverty-stricken Golan - Elson South.
Unless it was in places like the capital Kuerke of Golan - Elson, Free Port Ambeser in the north, White Sail City, or the kingdom’s capital Mensotros. In those places, there were plenty of wealthy people who wouldn’t draw much attention no matter what you sold.
After much consideration, Brand thought that besides pretending to be a Godman, his only way to make money was through alchemy. The former wasn’t reliable, with the risk of being burned at the stake. So, alchemy was a more reliable route, especially with Tama as his assistant, making success even more assured.
After all, the nobles were all conspirators. They would definitely love tree crystals, grave dust (spoils of war from Albton), and the poison made from them. Extra moonlight grass, black mage moss, and fluorescent moss could also be made into mana potions, which would surely be sought after by intermediate wizards.
Deciding on this, he asked, "Roman, how much money do you need, is one hundred thousand torr enough?"
"One hundred thousand?" Frey was surprised from the side, "Brand, we don’t have that much money."
"I’ve heard there’s a lot of money in Earl Najin’s treasury..." Brand rubbed his chin and replied.
"You, you..." The ponytailed girl’s face turned white in an instant. From Brand’s behavior in Ridenburg, she was really afraid he would actually do it.
But Miss Merchant didn’t seem to be worried at all, cheerfully replying, "A little more would be even better. Roman conservatively estimates a double return, oh—"
"Roman, don’t stir things up. At least try to stop Brand. He plans to, plans to..." Frey cautiously looked around, but couldn’t get the words out—afraid someone might overhear and report to the local gentry, and the three of them wouldn’t be able to leave this inn.
"Frey, Brand is trustworthy, you know." Roman replied.
"Trust you for what!"
Frey was nearly infuriated, but she thought it over and decided she mustn’t let Brand rob the nobles’ treasury. Last time escaping the prison in Ridenburg was a last resort; this time, no way.
The girl finally convinced herself that it was out of principle, and not because she feared Brand would hang.
Coming to this realization, she sat down, glared at Brand fiercely.
"Speaking of which, Brand, what did you bring everyone to this village early in the morning for?" Once she calmed down, she suddenly remembered another question.
This human village on the main road seemed just a settlement, no more than twenty-three households, with an inn—according to Brand, the kind of nameless village not even marked on maps.
But they’ve already spent half a morning here.
She couldn’t help but glance at Brand.
Frey didn’t realize that even Brand was getting impatient. He had sent Batom out nearly half an hour ago, yet he still hadn’t returned. Could he have miscalculated?
Yet looking out the inn’s wooden window—this place did seem right. Brand didn’t think his memory was so bad as to misremember such a place. Seeing the ancient beech tree by the carriage outside and the building styles beyond it, he was sure he hadn’t come to the wrong place.
Could it be too early, and that person hadn’t moved here yet? But didn’t the forum mention he was here at the start of the game?
Brand couldn’t help but frown.
Then he finally saw a flash of red at the street corner, Batom’s red beard.
Brand raised an eyebrow.
(PS. This is the fourth update today, fifteen thousand words already, the will be a five thousand word long Chapter. To celebrate the fourth wave of update, I’ve added twenty thousand words. I live up to the country and the people.
For the sake of the Party, brothers, give some support.)(To be continued, please visit www.qidian.com for more Chapters, support the author, support legitimate reading!)