Steel and Sorrow: Rise of the Mercenary king

Chapter 437: Settling for a price(2)

Aron studied Varaku carefully before speaking, his tone still measured and professional.

"Are you fine with determining the price for every five people?" he asked, tilting his head slightly.

Varaku barely hesitated before giving a curt nod. The translator relayed his answer. "He has nothing against it."

Aron smiled faintly. "Good. Then let's start with your offer first." He gestured slightly with his hand. "Name your price."

This wasn't just about the current exchange—it was about gauging exactly how much Varaku valued his people in comparison to the goods. Future transactions would be shaped by this, and Aron needed to see where the chieftain would stand before making his own counteroffers.

Varaku took a breath, thinking for only a moment before speaking firmly.

"For every five people," the translator began, "We ask for three sacks of salt, two steel chain cloth, two hardened steel cloth, and two full sets of axes and swords."

Aron remained expressionless, though inwardly, he was already calculating. The request wasn't entirely unreasonable—most of it, in fact, was manageable. The salt, the chain cloth, even the weapons were all within the realm of fair trade. But the hardened iron cloth—the equivalent of a full breastplate—was a different matter entirely.

That was something far too valuable to be exchanged for mere settlers.

Alpheo's ability to equip 600 footmen with breastplates, in addition to the standard gear of a soldier—helmets lined with iron cloth, chainmail, cleaves, and knee cops—was nothing short of a financial marvel. Any other princedom would have easily collapsed under the economic strain, yet Alpheo had managed it through a carefully crafted trade agreement.

Every half-month, the Achea family, which were the one holding the regency of the empire, delivered ten full sets of breastplates and cleaves as part of their payment for the steady supply of cider, soap, and paper they purchased. It was an arrangement that ensured a constant flow of armor without draining Alpheo's coffers dry.

For Varaku to request two sets of hardened iron cloth in exchange for a handful of settlers? That was something Aron could never agree to.

The sheer cost of producing a breastplate was reason enough to reject Varaku's request outright. But beyond that, Aron would have been a fool to allow the tribesmen to equip themselves with armor on par with the White Army.

Alpheo was no fool. From the moment trade negotiations began, he had set strict boundaries on what could and could not be exchanged. And at the very top of that list were breastplates.

The reason was simple: no one could predict the future. Their current relationship with the tribes was favorable, but there was no guarantee it would remain so. If conflict ever arose, the last thing Alpheo wanted was for these warriors—who already outnumbered them—to be equipped in the same steel that made the White Army so formidable. Superior weapons were the one advantage they held, and Aron would not be the man to tip that balance.

The second forbidden item? Potatoes.

It was a deceptively simple crop, one that grew in almost any soil with little effort. And that was exactly the problem. If the tribes gained access to it, famine would cease to be a concern for them. Their fields would yield enough food to sustain them indefinitely, making them self-sufficient.