NOVEL NEXT Chapter 389: Sales Pitch
Morning came early in the mid layers of Carthage, the light orbs already glowing at full strength to simulate the start of day.
The roads were still cool, with the stone buildings around them casting the same shadows across the narrow streets.
Merchants had begun preparing their stalls, and the usual clatter of carts and crates echoed through the winding paths. Somewhere in the distance, a bell rang thrice, marking the first quarter of the day.
Inside their newly acquired home, Thorn was already hard at work, hammering down planks to reinforce a partition on the upper floor.
He grumbled to himself about the uneven beams, sweat already glistening on his forehead.
Lilith, wrapped in a light tunic, stood on her toes as she painted the stone walls of the lower floor, trying to make it look bright to at least leave a positive impression on their potential clients.
It was early in the morning, but that didn't matter to them. They had a lot of work to do.
And that involved keeping this place looking like it was just for business, with the lovely family that owned the business living there. A clean, simple, and totally not suspicious image.
Ren watched them for a moment, arms crossed, before stepping away from the door.
"I'll be heading out," he said.
Lilith looked back at him. "To where?"
"The merchant road, remember?" He replied. "Time to start building the network. The faster we get clients, the faster we can grow."
Thorn wiped sweat from his brow and grunted. "Don't let them sucker you into lowballing us."
Ren smiled faintly. "I won't. Keep this place in one piece while I'm gone."
With a light wave, he stepped out into the morning bustle.
The merchant district of the upper layer was packed with well-established shops, guarded warehouses, and small trading posts.
It wasn't the most glamorous level of Carthage commerce, but it held the city's backbone of essential supplies. Grain, textiles, wood, metal, and medicine.
The air was filled with the aroma of spice crates being unpacked, the sharp tang of iron being forged, and the constant raised voices of haggling and of deals being struck.
Ren made his way through the winding paths until he reached a stone building with a wide, arched entrance.
The sign above the doorway read, 'Dorian & Sons - Freight Services.' Inside, wooden crates were stacked to the ceiling, and men moved quickly, loading goods onto carts pulled by long-legged pack beasts.
A merchant stood behind a ledger, his thick fingers turning pages. He was middle aged, dressed in practical gray robes with a steel clasp bearing the sigil of Trade.
Ren approached the desk with confidence.
"Morning," Ren greeted.
The man gave him a glance before returning to his book. "State your business."
"I'm here to offer you a faster alternative to transporting your goods," Ren said. "We've recently established a delivery company with access to spatial displacement. We can move crates across layers in seconds."
The merchant snorted. "You selling fairy tales now?"
"No. I'm offering you a faster, more secure method of transport. My team and I can teleport from one point to another. With our setup, we could move your stock to other districts without risk of bandits, traffic, or time loss."
The merchant finally looked up. "And what's your name, kid?"
"Ren."
The man laughed, shaking his head. "Yeah, I've heard of you. You're that new badge holder from the outer layers. The one who stirred up a fight near the district office."
Ren's smile faded slightly. "We were defending ourselves."
"That's not what the streets are saying. You lot drew attention. People here don't like attention."
The man shut his ledger.
"We already have haulers. Solid contracts. Real beasts. Real hands. We don't need upstarts with fancy tricks who might vanish the moment the Watchers come sniffing."
"We're not going anywhere," Ren said.
"Maybe you aren't. But what do you think will happen if I move all my business to you, kid? If every merchant on this street did?"
"We'll be putting hundreds out of a job. Hundreds of people with nothing today. They'll form a gang, then begin to steal from us, since from their point of view, we took away their jobs."
Ren stared at the man, blinking.
"What if you disappear one day? What if the city confiscates your entire operation?" The man asked. "Who will cover my losses?"
Ren tried to keep his tone even. "We have contingencies for each case."
"Good for you." The merchant waved a hand dismissively. "But I don't gamble. I work with people I trust. I don't know you, and I don't trust you."
Ren held the man's gaze for a long moment before nodding.
"Thank you for your time," he said curtly, turning on his heel.
He stepped back into the busy street, jaw tight. The noise and energy of the merchant road seemed louder now, harsher. It was like being an outsider in a city he'd already risked so much to enter.
By midday, he'd spoken to four more merchants. Each meeting had ended in rejection.
Some were polite. Others barely gave him a chance to speak. One even told him outright that new blood never lasted long in Carthage, especially if they tried to disrupt the natural order.
He sat on a crate near the road, watching as a line of haulers rolled past, their carts groaning under the weight of goods.
He didn't blame them for their hesitation. Carthage seemed to be a city that was steeped in old systems. New methods were met with suspicion. And his reputation, after everything at the district office, wasn't exactly pristine.
Still, the plan was solid. The execution just needed... a foothold. One success. One merchant willing to try something different.
He stood, brushing dust from his cloak. One failure didn't mean the end. It only meant it was time to pivot.
Tomorrow, he would try again, but with a different strategy. Maybe smaller vendors first. Maybe offer a demonstration. Maybe talk to innkeepers and herbalists who didn't rely on huge networks.
Start at the edge, then work inward. He needed to play this like a game of stones, seeding his presence until they couldn't ignore him.
He glanced back at the road with a smile on his face before turning back toward home.
And as he walked, the soldiers began to circle.