Episode 10: Four Thousand Denars
At last, the day had come for the auction of the fairy crops.
From early morning, Baron Plian Verite was busy, and his second son, Zwart, who was in charge of sales, had been following him around receiving last-minute instructions.
“Son, each of these fairy-grown produce items is grade-A quality. They’re imbued with the power of the fairies, packed with magical effects. For instance, a single fairy melon like this should fetch a minimum of 15 to 20 denars. That means one cart of them should bring in at least 7,500 to 10,000 denars.”
He walked past a wagon of top-grade produce and stopped at another wagon, more elaborately adorned with particularly striking melons.
Fairy melons already looked different from normal melons, bearing a bluish porcelain hue, but these were even more remarkable, shimmering with a misty glow reminiscent of dawn.
“And these ‘extreme-grade’ melons are worth twice that. Even 30 to 40 denars per melon wouldn’t be unreasonable.”
Zwart nodded energetically, mentally reiterating the prices he had already memorized.
Baron Plian placed a heavy hand on his son’s shoulder, speaking gravely:
“In any case, this is an auction. Ultimately, the price is set by the bidders’ competition. But we’re not dealing only with long-time business partners—there will be all sorts of unfamiliar people gathered here. If some unexpected situation arises, you need to be well informed about each product’s value and effects.”
“What do you mean by ‘unexpected situation’?”
“As I mentioned before, one common tactic is to manipulate public opinion. Someone might loudly complain that ‘Nobody’s going to pay that much!’ and ruin the auction atmosphere.”
“I see…”
“That’s when you need to step up and set them straight. Explain why the price is what it is. That’s the responsibility of the sales manager.”
“Understood, Father!”
Plian glanced up at his tall son with a pleased expression.
Zwart, over 190 cm tall with broad shoulders and the bearing of a trained knight, was the perfect person to handle the auction’s front line. Most itinerant merchants would feel cowed just looking at him.
“I’m counting on you, my son.”
He gave Zwart a reassuring pat, then straightened and led the way.
Following close behind were Zwart, Perseta, and Illianne.
Now it was time to see how much the barony’s “miraculous” harvest would sell for.
The auction was huge.
No fewer than 152 trade companies from all over the kingdom had gathered, and Baron Plian had put enormous thought into laying down the auction rules.
He devised a system so even smaller capital holders could merge their resources to participate, and made sure that no one would be forced to pay wildly more or less than anyone else for the same product.
It was a fair yet fiercely competitive format that maximized the barony’s profits while keeping the merchants happy.
So well-crafted and straightforward that everyone in the barony nodded and applauded at its thoroughness.
However, before this splendid plan even had a chance to begin properly, a crisis arose.
Initially, the auction started smoothly.
At Zwart’s cue, a loud-voiced attendant announced:
“Our first wagon holds fairy grapes. As you know, they’re delicious, great for anti-aging, highly valued in magical rituals, and the seeds and skins are also used in various magical materials—nothing goes to waste. The starting bid for one wagon is 1,000 denars!”
One thousand denars was a huge amount—equivalent to ten thousand small (5g) silver coins or a hundred gold coins.
A free citizen with a specialized job might have to work and save every penny for two years to reach that sum.
And that was only the opening bid.
Baron Plian had said these fairy grapes should sell for at least two thousand denars a wagon.
Yet:
“One thousand denars.”
Merchant #1 lifted their bidding paddle.
Silence.
And that was all.
“Wh-what?!”
Zwart was visibly flustered.
It was as if all the other traders had agreed beforehand not to show any interest. They just looked away or pretended not to care.
In that moment, Zwart realized:
Could they have… colluded?
It seemed impossible. How could 152 separate trade companies coordinate so flawlessly?
As he struggled to hide his dismay, that first merchant—sitting in the crowd—wore a cold smirk.
You’re surprised? It’s no big deal to unite a mere 152 companies into one bloc.
Baron Biddell was a noble who had purchased his title with the immense wealth he’d amassed through commerce. He mostly operated in the royal capital but had come out to this eastern frontier personally upon hearing rumors of the Verite Barony’s phenomenal harvest.
“That baron thought he was clever, postponing the auction as long as possible to ramp up competition. A decent tactic… but he gave me time as well—enough time to bribe, threaten, and coax the 152 trade companies. Of course they’ll all stand down and wait. It’s just simple math: once I buy everything at the lowest price, I can sell it off to them with a modest markup, and they’ll still pay less than they would if they competed. Anyone who objects, I can pressure with my power and influence. Easy.”
Baron Biddell cast a smug glance at the now-pale Baron Plian.
This is how royal capital merchants operate, you country fools.
He practically snickered imagining Plian and his family patting themselves on the back for luring in “big city” merchants. It was like happily inviting a dragon into your house.
Then suddenly:
“Fifteen hundred denars!”
A clear young voice called out from among the crowd.
Biddell twitched:
Who dares…?
He scowled and found the speaker—Illianne Verite, the baron’s youngest daughter.
She was trying to salvage the situation, planning to buy their own goods at a higher price rather than let them sell at a lowball bid.
“How cheeky…”
But Biddell had already prepared for this.
“Look at that… so the hosts intend to artificially raise the price? No matter if they’re fairy-grown, they’re still just grapes. Who’s going to pay 1,500 denars for that, hmm? Miss Illianne Verite?”
His sneering tone made Illianne bite her lip, while Zwart stepped forward, letting his powerful aura as a knight school graduate radiate.
“We do not tolerate quibbling or attempts to alter the price mid-auction. Sir #1, please leave.”
At Zwart’s command, the barony’s guards clanked forward.
But Biddell’s knights immediately stepped up as well.
“How dare you lay hands on a kingdom noble! You would disrespect the authority bestowed by His Majesty the King?!”
Their threatening demeanor made the guards hesitate. They were just local soldiers, and the mention of “His Majesty” cowed them.
Zwart grit his teeth.
“You’re a noble?”
“Indeed. I am Baron Biddell, directly appointed by His Majesty.”
That left them cornered.
One couldn’t simply drag out a kingdom noble by force. Yet if they let him stay, he’d keep twisting the auction.
Exactly what he was doing now.
“I expected more courtesy among fellow nobles, but the Verite Barony is showing a crass merchant mindset. If you keep artificially inflating the price, no one will buy your goods.”
Zwart snapped back:
“Artificially inflate? These fairy crops are not just ordinary produce. Their magical properties—”
“We live in an age where magic is dying out. How intact do you think those ‘magical properties’ really are?”
An utterly shameless statement—this was precisely why their value was higher.
And if he truly doubted its power, would someone of his stature really have traveled so far?
Yet there was no solution in sight.
If Biddell continued this obstruction, the Verite Barony was at his mercy.
Illianne’s gambit had saved this batch of grapes from being sold too cheaply, but they couldn’t do that every time. And while these fairy crops lasted longer than normal produce, they were still plants. They couldn’t store them indefinitely.
They had to sell now—but all the would-be buyers had surrendered to Biddell’s enticement or intimidation.
Seeing Baron Plian, Zwart, and Illianne growing paler by the moment, Perseta decided to act.
He stepped onto the stage.
“Brother?”
“Let me handle this for a moment.”
Perseta stood in front of the crowd, blinking calmly as he began to speak, his clear mid-range voice carrying through the auction hall:
“Baron, you asked why these goods are priced so high?”
“And who might you be?”
“I am Perseta Verite, the baron’s eldest son.”
“Ah, Bardente’s disciple?”
Biddell sneered openly.
Among the murmuring crowd, some voices hissed, “Isn’t he the dullard of the Verite family?” “He’s that so-called ‘genius’ who never came out of the tower, right?”
Perseta showed no reaction, gently lifting a cluster of fairy grapes from the wagon. Unlike typical purple grapes, these had a rainbow sheen under certain angles of light.
He tilted the grapes to catch that shimmer, then spoke:
“Did you know that one of the Demon Lords, Amorix, loves wine made from high- or extreme-grade fairy grapes? There are records stating: ‘Amorix delights in wines that shine with the radiance of seven colors.’”
The merchants stirred.
Someone asked:
“Is that true?”
“Yes. It was first documented two thousand years ago by Archmage Hesiodus in his work Theogonia. It’s been mentioned in later texts as well. If you doubt me, you can inquire at the Grand Library of Arandria.”
The onlookers started to murmur with different undertones: “Well, he is Bardente’s disciple,”
“Such knowledge is no surprise if that’s the case.”
Some merchants clutched their paddles nervously, tempted to bid… but fearful of Biddell.
You could see regret on their faces.
They understood the implication: A standard “fairy grape” and a “fairy grape used to make Demon Lord Amorix’s favorite wine” were completely different products in terms of perceived value.
Heavenly and demonic realms (the “highest realms”) carried immense prestige.
If a demon lord favored these grapes, surely kings, dukes, even emperors would clamor to get them.
Biddell also recognized it and grew tense. If the bidding got out of hand, his carefully laid plan might fail.
“Not bad. But that’s not enough to break my hold. To defy me, they must be willing to burn bridges with one of the kingdom’s top noble-merchants. They’d need an even bigger profit incentive.”
If anything, it might still be good for him—he could seize these more valuable grapes cheaply.
But Perseta did not stop.
He pressed onward, weaving in more anecdotes about Amorix like a spell:
“There are additional records about Demon Lord Amorix:
‘Today, my concubine Lirita is in a foul mood; we must share some fairy wine.’
And another line:
‘I’m tired tonight; I should drink some fairy wine before I begin.’
From these, we glean that Amorix used fairy wine to lift his companions’ spirits and to boost himself.”
Initially, the merchants just thought, So the demon lord recognized its effects?
But they didn’t fully realize the significance…
…Until Perseta delivered the final piece of the puzzle:
“As everyone knows, Demon Lord Amorix is the Lord of [Lust]. So… it must be particularly beneficial for men, wouldn’t you say?”
Ruuummble—
Everyone in the room shot to their feet.
And the first to move—faster and louder than anyone—was Baron Biddell, paddle #1 clutched high:
“Four thousand denars!!!”
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