Red dragon: in charge of natural disasters

Cassius looked down at him.

"Don't do it again."

"Emissary of the Church of Waukeen, remember, put away your unpresentable tricks. I am not one of those human lords who are easily deceived."

"Yes, Your Majesty."

Sherwin still answered a little awkwardly.

So, Cassius easily took the initiative in the speech and guided the future direction of this cooperation.

"The Empire has drawn up a perfect cooperation plan, which is enough for both parties to achieve a win-win situation."

Cassius said so.

However, he had lost interest in the envoy of the Church of Waukeen and felt a little impatient - greedy businessmen were really boring.

So, the red dragon lazily lay back on the iron throne again and winked at Rump standing beside him.

Rump immediately understood what he meant. He took out a thick stack of plans from his arms and took out a parchment contract.

"The Empire and the Waking Church will cooperate on an equal and friendly basis, and abide by the business principles of honesty, trustworthiness, equality, mutual benefit, and common development."

Shelwin listened for a long time with his ears perked up, and it was all useless nonsense. His ears were almost worn out, but in the end, he still found the key points in the long speech.

"The Empire has a large number of goods for dumping, and the Waking Church has temples all over the continent of Fianso. The two sides complement each other's advantages and have a full basis for cooperation and common interests."

"The Empire will join hands with the Waking Church to establish the 'Empire South Continent Company'. The Burning Empire will provide goods and goods, and the Waking Church will provide sales channels and trade transit stations."

"In this cooperation, the Waking Church can get a certain commission share, and the Empire must occupy a dominant position."

Shelwin frowned slightly and asked: "Trade cooperation company? Do you want to sell goods to the south?"

"Yes."

Rump nodded and replied.

However, he had seen doubts in Shelwin's eyes, but he didn't show it because of the presence of the red dragon.

Xueerwen's doubts were indeed justifiable - the Anzeta wilderness was remote and desolate, and magic was depleted all year round, while the south was rich and colorful, far more prosperous than here.

How could Anzeta's products be sold in the south?

Rump tapped the ground with his staff, and with a ripple in space, he took something out of the void.

Xueerwen adjusted his nose glasses and saw clearly that it was a wool sweater - there was no trace of enchantment, just the most ordinary woolen thread, and even the craftsmanship was not exquisite.

"Does the Anzeta barbarian who has never seen the world actually regard this kind of thing as a treasure?"

The believer of Wojin thought with contempt in his heart, but because of the red dragon, he still hid the contempt from the bottom of his heart.

Rump smiled and said, "Please guess - how much is it?"

"20 silver coins?"

Xerwen answered casually.

As a believer of Woking, Xueerwen knew the prices of various commodities very well, and he was confident that he would never make a mistake.

But Trump just shook his head.

"15 silver coins?"

"10 silver coins?"

Xueerwen finally put away his contempt in his heart, his eyes full of disbelief.

10 silver coins, this is already the wholesale price in the famous textile city in the south. There is no lower price than this in all parts of Feianso Continent. If it is lower, it will be a loss.

And Trump just stretched out five thick fingers and shook them in the air.

"This, this is impossible!"

Xueerwen couldn't help but exclaimed.

Trump said calmly:

"Nothing is impossible. The price of the Empire's wool sweater is five silver coins, and there is even room for further decline."

"And with the current production capacity of the Empire, with sufficient raw materials, we can produce 7 million such wool sweaters a year, and after the industrial construction in various places is completed, this number is expected to increase by at least ten times."

"You, how did you do it?"

Xueerwen was shocked.

He knew very well that the most important thing in the production of these wool sweaters was not the wool, but the skilled craftsmen - they made money by weaving wool.

But the price of the empire's goods was extremely low, and the output was so huge that he could not figure out how it was done.

Magic?

Impossible.

The cost of magic is much higher than hiring craftsmen.

Even if southern magic is popular in the world and people are no longer surprised by magic, it still cannot serve the general public.

But even the most skilled craftsmen can only weave three or four wool sweaters a day at most.

Did the Burning Empire capture hundreds of thousands of craftsmen and make them work day and night?

This idea, which seemed particularly absurd to him, came to Xueerwen's mind.

Rump threw the sweater to the ground and said in a steady tone:

"You don't need to know how the Empire did it."

"You just need to help us sell these goods and make money from them - this is very simple for you, the Church of Woking. This is your business, isn't it?"

"Of course."

Sherwin's eyes suddenly showed greed, as if he saw a pile of gold.

The benefits here are too huge.

If the price of the goods of the Burning Empire is really so low, then if they are sold to the south, they will definitely be snapped up by people.

And if, as Trump says, the empire's production capacity can reach that terrifying volume, then the influx of their woolen sweaters into the market will definitely bankrupt wool workshops on the mainland - but at the same time, every year trade will generate profits of millions of gold coins.

With so many gold coins, even a little bit flowing out from his fingers is enough for him to eat a lot.

"Who is your general manager?"

Trump's voice interrupted Sherwin's fantasy of stacking gold coins.

"That's me, my lord."

Xue Erwen's voice trembled, but it was just because of excitement and excitement.

Trump waved his hand and said disdainfully: "I'm talking about the general person in charge of your Waking Church, not the mission. You are not qualified to sign a contract with me and decide the direction of future cooperation."

"Sir, this is Tiona Ludwig's holy coin."

Xue Erwen calmed down and realized that he was just a messenger and could not decide such a major matter.

He hasn't been dazzled by gold coins yet.

The Woking faith throughout the entire continent of Fiansol is a unified system, led by an archbishop known as the "Holy Coin".

Tiona Ludwig, the current Holy Coin Bishop and goddess spokesperson, works hard to unite Woking's faith in the "Golden Tower" temple, a huge church overlooking the Free Trade Federation.

Trump's ugly face showed a confident smile.

"Okay, then go back and tell her that there is a business order worth tens of millions of gold coins and ask her if she wants to sign it."

"Yes, sir."

Xue Erwen suppressed his excitement and bowed with special respect.

This is the charm of gold.

A great and infamous cooperation is about to begin, which will bring about the glory of free trade and the ruin of countless people.

After the Waking Church's mission hurriedly left, another brief conversation took place in the empty palace.

"Trump, you should know what I want."

"Of course, Master, these profit-seeking Watkin followers must not be trusted. Their greed will never be satisfied."

"We just want to use their power in the south."

"Once the company is fully established in the South, we will kick them out and replace all the employees with our own people."

"Good, you understand."

When the ogre angrily rebuked the abominable greed of the Woking Church, he did not realize that he was the greediest and stingiest one, and he was not even willing to share a sip of soup with outsiders. (End of chapter)