“What I do is my own business,” Folke said as he turned around and saw a human merchant clad in brown clothing, riding a horned horse.
“I understand, I understand. I just wanted to tell you that doing good deeds isn't done quite like that. Good intentions can easily lead to bad outcomes.” The brown-clothed merchant leaped down from his horse, then bent down to perform a standard interior noble greeting toward Folke and the others. “I am Kakafiel, a merchant of the frontier.”
“A merchant?” Folke felt slightly surprised upon seeing Kakafiel's flawless etiquette.
Meanwhile, the initiator of this whole situation—the mysterious knight—simply watched the scene coldly without speaking a word.
It was as if none of this had anything to do with him.
“Are you from the interior?” Folke glanced sideways over his shoulder, no longer paying any mind to the mysterious knight. Instead, he focused his attention entirely on the merchant before him.
“Young Master, I know him...” Lange whispered into Folke's ear, sharing what he knew of Kakafiel.
Lange hadn't let his spare time go to waste recently; he had used it to learn about some of the affairs of the frontier lands so that they might be useful at some point.
He had learned the importance of information from Ogre. By a stroke of luck, this Kakafiel right in front of them happened to be among the information he had gathered.
He had learned about him from a noble's bastard son in a frontier town. Apparently, he was a dishonest merchant.
Oddly enough, however, the man's reputation among the town's commoners seemed rather good, which made the newly arrived Lange somewhat wary.
A dishonest merchant? Folke questioned in his mind. He wasn't the type to blindly believe everything he heard. Because of Kakafiel's timely warning earlier, he still harbored some doubts regarding Lange's information.
“My ancestors were frontier people. I only lived in the interior for a period of time,” Kakafiel said with a smile.
“I am Folke, and this is Lange. We are from the interior. Is there something you want, and what are your thoughts?” After introducing himself and Lange, Folke went straight to the point.
He had grown somewhat interested in this peculiar merchant. If doing good deeds wasn't done like that, how else was it done?
“Would you be willing to make a wager with me?” Kakafiel rubbed his hands together.
“What wager?” Folke asked reflexively.
“Young Master, don't fall for this swindler's tricks,” Lange warned.
Folke waved his hand at Lange. “I know what I'm doing.”
“You see those people gathered outside the town, don't you?” Kakafiel pointed toward the main gate. “They are all waiting for the cotton coats I brought on this trip.”
“What are you trying to say?” Folke rarely encountered someone he couldn't read, and he couldn't quite grasp the man's line of thinking.
“Without these cotton coats, many commoners won't make it through the winter.” Kakafiel rubbed his hands together and breathed out a puff of warm air. The weather had already turned much colder, and if this trend continued, it wouldn't be unusual for people to freeze to death.
“Since you love doing good deeds, why don't we wager on whether they will appreciate your charity?” Kakafiel offered a mysterious smile.
“What do you mean by that?” Folke detested people who spoke in riddles, but Kakafiel's wager had indeed piqued his curiosity.
“You buy this carriage of cotton coats and sell them to them yourself. If most of them show satisfaction, then I won't charge you a single copper for this carriage of coats. But if they aren't satisfied, I expect you to pay me double. What do you say?”
Kakafiel pointed to the horned horse carriage behind him, indicating it was filled with cotton coats.
“As simple as that?” Folke thought it would be some grand task, only for it to turn out like this.
“Yes, but in the process of selling them, you cannot use physical force or make threats against the customers.” Kakafiel added, showing a grin of teeth. “Do you dare to accept, young noble master?”
“Why wouldn't I? Let's agree beforehand—I get to set the price, correct?” Folke confirmed once more. Regardless, he didn't lack this little amount of money... they were just a few coats, how expensive could they be?
“Just so we're clear, the original price of each of these cotton coats is two gold coins,” Kakafiel chuckled.
“That expensive? Are your cotton coats made of mana-spider silk or something?” Lange had truly met a swindler now. Although he wasn't as sensitive to money as Ogre, he still had a general idea of market prices.
“How is that expensive? These are high-quality furs stitched together with cotton coats that I'm selling. I've always sold them at this price for years, okay?” Kakafiel complained about his hardships while not forgetting to goad them. “Surely you can't be unable to afford them? Time is money, make your decision quickly.”
“You bastard!” For some reason, Lange found this face incredibly detestable. He realized that there might be a very good reason why everyone hated merchants.
“It's fine, Lange. We accept,” Folke said confidently. He then opened his void pocket and pulled out a heavy pouch of gold coins. Just from its appearance, one could tell its weight was significant.
“If I lose, I will naturally pay you. I swear on the honor of the Cromie Family,” Folke said, shaking the coin pouch in his hand. He didn't think for a moment that he would lose.
“Keduo, bring the carriage of cotton coats to this young noble master.” Kakafiel clapped his hands and shouted backward. A stocky, gray-skinned short servant then drove the horned horse carriage forward.
A gray dwarf...
Folke looked at the servant before him in surprise. This was a rare slave.
In fact, slaves of intelligent civilizations were rare commodities, with the sole exception of ordinary humans.
“Lange, unload the goods.” Folke's temper was piqued as well, and he immediately signaled Lange to unload the carriage.
Before long, the stall was set up.
There were eighty cotton coats in total, which was just about the optimal balance of cargo weight that a single horned horse could pull.
A bit few... but there's nothing wrong with the goods. He doesn't seem like a swindler. Folke looked at the unloaded clothing with slight surprise.
He knew his goods. Although these clothes were expensive, considering the various costs involved, the markup wasn't actually that exorbitant. After all, with the cold wave drawing near, it was normal for prices to multiply several times over.
If it's free, I won't complain. Deep down, Folke didn't believe he could lose. What he cared about was not the money, but the underlying significance.
“How much do you plan to sell them for?” Kakafiel asked from the side.
“Basically... free,” Folke said, a smile pulling at the corner of his otherwise flat mouth.
“Hmph... It's good for young people to have ideas, but I suggest you set a purchase limit.” Kakafiel shook his head, no longer paying attention.
Seeing that Kakafiel kept his word by not interfering and had even pointed out a potential loophole, Folke was taken aback for a moment. He nodded at Kakafiel in understanding, then sent Lange to begin shouting to the crowd.
The crowd had already gathered when they were unloading, and with Lange's shouting, they quickly swarmed over.
“Give me one!”
“I want one too!” Many commoners had already pulled out pouches of silver coins—most of them only had silver coins. They had prepared for a long time just to get a warmer set of clothes.
This was a winter that came once every two years. Without clothing, they likely wouldn't even survive until the beast tide arrived; they would freeze to death on the way to the refuges. Not to mention, this year's cold wave was even harsher.
“Quiet down!” Under Folke's gesture, Lange used battle qi to project his voice, allowing it to carry further.
“Today's coats are only one silver coin each, limit one per person!” Folke confidently had Lange shout the price he had prepared in advance. This price was practically no different from giving them away for free compared to two gold coins.
“What? One silver coin!”
With the reinforcement of Lange's battle qi, his voice quickly swept across the entire entrance of the town. Now, even the people inside the town could hear him. Some who had originally intended just to spectate swarmed over upon hearing the price.
“Out of the way...” A town guard squeezed through the crowd. Upon seeing Folke, the seller, he tactfully shut his mouth and simply joined the line to purchase.
“I want one!”
“Me too!”
“Why are you cutting in line!”
“You already have coats, why are you still buying!”
The scene instantly fell into chaos, though they were mostly just jostling to get ahead in line. This caught Folke somewhat off guard, and he could even faintly sense the precursor to a violent conflict.
“Line up!” Lange couldn't help but roar. Seeing Lange's gear and his battle qi, the crowd quickly quieted down—they did not have the courage to offend a noble.
“Please, let me go to the front...” a woman cried out, unable to hold back her tears. She had only come to buy a cotton coat. Why were there suddenly so many people...?
“I beg of you...”
Moved by the woman's crying, some of the younger men felt a stir of compassion and wanted to let her cut in. However, a burly man standing behind them threatened, “Anyone who dares to cut in line, hmph!”
“Exactly! Either get to the back and let the people behind wait, or what is this? If you want to play the good guy, step out of line and give her your own spot!”
As soon as those words were spoken, any thoughts of giving up their spots instantly vanished from many people's minds. After all, they also needed cotton coats, especially such cheap ones. Even if they didn't need one, buying one and reselling it would yield a profit.
This drove the woman to utter despair. She was physically weak; how could she ever squeeze past these young, healthy men...?
And there were many others just like her.
“Young Master...” Lange could hardly bear to watch any longer.
But Kakafiel's voice drifted over from the side: “Don't forget our agreement.”
“Lange... step back.” It wasn't that Folke desperately wanted to keep the wager, but he saw something beyond the bet itself.
If he made an arbitrary decision to let the woman cut in, order would be completely lost. Moreover, it would inevitably draw the anger and resentment of one or several people who ended up empty-handed. That wouldn't be helping her at all—it would be ruining her!
And there were many others like her. Who was to say if the people being pushed back didn't need the coats just as desperately? Besides, if he helped one, would he help the others? If not, wouldn't that be unfair discrimination? Who deserved help, and who didn't?
This barrage of unforeseen questions instantly threw Folke's mind into disarray. He suddenly realized that doing good deeds wasn't quite so simple... blind charity might not produce the right outcome; in fact, it seemed to produce a negative one.
“Kindness without capability often leads to undesirable consequences, my friend,” Kakafiel said from the side.
“Lange, sell them... in order of the line!” Folke squeezed these words out from between his teeth. He had lost this wager beyond any shadow of a doubt. From the very beginning, he had already lost.
“You tricked me...” Folke stared at Kakafiel, his eyes burning with fury.
With only eighty coats, it was virtually impossible to distribute them successfully no matter how he sold them.
The real trap lay in the quantity—it was not scarcity that angered people, but inequality.
Those who didn't actually need the charity had snatched it up, crowding out the truly desperate. Consequently, those who left empty-handed would naturally harbor resentment.
And would those who benefited feel grateful to Folke? Probably not. In the end, the resentment brewing among them hadn't dissolved just because Folke paid the bill. If anything, it had worsened.
Attempting to change everything when one's strength was insufficient would only court disaster, no matter how pure the intentions were.
“I have money! Please, sell your cotton coat to me!” The crying woman held up her coin pouch, pleading with a man who had successfully purchased a coat.
Fortunately, public security here was decent, so no robbery took place. However, the man being begged looked extremely hesitant. It was like being roasted on the embers of morality.
After all, Folke and his companion were nobles, so no one dared target them. Meanwhile, the weeping woman looked so pitiful... and she had even been one of the first to arrive.
This scene deeply stung Folke, causing him to instinctively clench his fists.
“Is this what you wanted, young noble master Folke?” Kakafiel's voice chimed in right on cue.
“Where are your other coats?! I'll buy! All of them!” Folke had never been so furious. He didn't even know what he was angry about—whether it was the loss of the wager or the shattering of his long-held values. Perhaps both.
Lange, too, was suppressing his rage—it was the feeling of being played like a fool. He could sense the meaning behind the gazes of the commoners. It was all the fault of this slick-tongued swindler!
“No, no, no, you misunderstand. I wouldn't dare hand the rest of the coats over to you. A loss is something you only need to experience once to learn your lesson. If you fail too many times... you might never get back up again.” Kakafiel patted Folke's shoulder, then continued, “Next, just watch from the sidelines, alright?”
“Young Master!” Lange was already itching to draw his sword. In his eyes, this fellow was simply mockingly gloating over his young master's defeat.
“Lange...” Folke inhaled deeply, then slowly exhaled. “Let us wait a little longer...”
This was the first time Folke had ever felt the urge to kill. If the man before him couldn't provide a satisfactory answer, Folke feared he wouldn't be able to hold back his murderous intent.
“Let's settle the bill first.” Kakafiel extended his hand toward Folke, seemingly unafraid of adding fuel to the fire.
“You had better—! Make me satisfied!”
Rate on N.U.
