Chapter 680: The Joint Chamber of Commerce
“Is that a new fruit wine?” Margaret asked, leaning forward.
“If it were just fruit wine, it wouldn’t sell like the perfumes.” Nibelung shook his head, already skeptical.
“That may not follow,” Gammon said, studying the bottle nearest him with frank interest. “The container alone is worth several gold royals. I’ve never seen glass this clear — or this large.”
“It’s a new product of the Alchemist Workshop?” Marleen added. “I’ve seen nothing like it.”
Roland swallowed a smile. He hadn’t anticipated the glass bottles being the attraction. The production cost of colorless glass was low — once you had the formula, it was cheap to replicate — and he’d never intended to sell the vessels separately. All of Neverwinter’s glass output went to the chemistry laboratory, the perfume plant, and the beverage works. But apparently, to eyes that had never seen it, transparent glass was its own kind of wonder.
“The container is incidental,” he said. “What matters is what’s inside.” He adopted a slightly theatrical air. “These are called Chaos Drinks — chaotic and unpredictable, just as the name suggests. Every one is a distinct experience. I’d wager you’ve never tasted anything quite like them.”
He had selected the three bottles himself from Evelyn’s beverage stores with deliberate care: not only for quality, but for effect. The first two were exceptional on their own merits. The third had been iced — chilled to a startling cold — and the fourth had been treated with dry ice, producing a slow plume of vapor and a carbonation that no one in this room had encountered before.
All five merchants sipped. All five merchants went very still.
“How was this brewed?” Atiyer licked his lips slowly, working through the flavor. “Those fruit wines have something I can’t name — something that makes everything else taste plain by comparison.”
“This green one is still releasing air…” Marleen tilted the glass and watched it. “God in heaven, is it breathing?”
“Apple — but even honey isn’t this sweet!”
The table descended into a pleasant chaos of exclamation and repeated sipping. The bottles were empty before anyone thought to pace themselves.
“Lap…” Gammon set his glass down and took a moment to reacquire his composure. “Your Majesty. These Chaos Drinks are extraordinary.”
“Do you think they’d have a market?”
“Absolutely.” He answered without any of the performative hesitation a merchant normally brings to product assessment. “The three will vary in popularity by individual taste, but all of them are exceptional. I would predict that the finest fruit wines from the Kingdom of Dawn lose their audience within a season of these reaching the market.”
“That’s quite direct praise.” Roland couldn’t help his smile. Most buyers, when they wanted to purchase something, began with the flaws.
“I don’t dare to deceive Your Majesty,” Gammon said, “and I don’t particularly want to lie to my own tongue either.” He paused. “But there is one thing I don’t quite understand.”
“Tell me.”
Gammon lifted the iced bottle — a thin film of frost had formed on its outer surface, and it was already beginning to sweat in the warm room. “Why give it such a vague name? This one alone—” He turned it. “Call it ‘Deepsea Icing.’ I guarantee it appears on every summer banquet in every city that can afford it.”
“And the green drink,” Marleen added. “The one with the sensation of — what is it, something hatching on the tongue — that could be called ‘Roe Manna.’ I won’t forget the feeling.”
Margaret laughed. “I agree. ‘Chaos’ is novel, but it doesn’t capture what makes each one distinct. Separate names would sell better.”
Roland affected a regretful expression. “Unfortunately, these drinks are irreplaceable novelties. In fact, what you’ve just finished are the last bottles in stock.”
“You mean — they won’t be produced again?”
“I can’t reveal the production method for Chaos Drinks. The result always changes; the only constant is that each variant is excellent. Hence ‘Chaos.’ And the quantity diminishes with every mouthful taken.”
A collective silence fell, followed by what Roland could only describe as a unified intake of breath.
Limited supply. Unique composition. Exceptional quality. Those three things together, in a product that could reach every noble table across the four kingdoms — the merchants understood the implication immediately and without needing it explained.
“Your Majesty,” Gammon said, recovering first, “please allow Crescent Moon Bay to serve as your distribution agent. Our fleet operates along the entire coastline of the four kingdoms. No one can move goods faster or farther.”
“Crescent Moon Bay’s primary trade has always been in the Kingdom of Dawn.” Nibelung cut in, not quite accusatory. “When exactly did you extend routes to Everwinter?”
“Merchant ships to the Kingdom of Wolfheart and the Kingdom of Everwinter are mostly out of Sunset Island,” Atiyer added flatly. “You’re misleading His Majesty.”
Roland spread his hands before the argument could sharpen. “In that case, let’s establish a Joint Chamber of Commerce.”
The room quieted.
“Joint…Chamber of Commerce?” Gammon repeated.
“All participants negotiate the territories they’re responsible for, and the city of Neverwinter handles delivery exclusively — which prevents the kind of price-cutting competition that benefits no one.” Roland set out the framework clearly: regional agency rights, proportional revenue division by contract, assignment of territories according to each chamber’s existing strengths and established trade routes. “You each know your own waters. There’s no reason to fight over the same harbors. Divide by strength, not by ambition, and none of you will be undercutting your own profits.”
The merchants grasped the principle quickly. Questions came in rapid succession: How to account for the cost differential between, say, shipping to Everwinter versus selling locally in the Fjords? How to handle initial territory assignments when two chambers operated in overlapping regions?
“The cost of transportation is one variable,” Roland said. “Manpower, pricing, product output, all of it factors in. Agents carrying higher costs will receive a proportional credit, since supply is limited. The specifics will need several sessions to work out to everyone’s satisfaction — but the structure is sound.”
On the surface it seemed to shrink the total returns. But without destructive competition among the three chambers, their actual profits — amplified by three established networks working in their respective lanes rather than against each other — would far exceed what any one of them could manage alone.
And the bigger picture: most of Neverwinter’s production had been absorbed by the Convenience Market because there were no external sales channels. The Fjords merchants were the channel he’d been waiting for — people who had built their fortunes moving goods and who could push Neverwinter’s products into every corner of the mainland faster and more cheaply than he could build his own network.
“I’m willing,” Margaret said, first. She had worked with Roland long enough to recognize a genuine offer.
The others followed, each watching the others for hesitation, finding none.
Roland smiled. “Cooperating is always more powerful than standing alone. As long as everyone works together, this is a win for everyone in the room.”