I Have An SSS-Rank Service System: Hire Me For Anything!-Chapter 15: An Easy Haggling
Today was going to be hectic. Not because Dory was going to the market, and not because he was going on another date.
Today, Dory was going to finalize a great deal.
"Have a seat, sir." Dory gestured towards a small wooden stool in the shop.
The armor forger from Valerius was a young man in his thirties with short yellow hair and a stoic expression. He wore a simple red overgarment and carried a small brown bag.
He smiled back at Dory and sat on the stool.
Horg entered the shop at that moment, more like he was pushed inside the shop by Liam.
Horg stumbled forward, nearly tripping over his own boots, while Liam ducked back into the shadows of the doorway, trying to look as invisible as possible. The master smith wiped his grimy hands on his apron, his face pale beneath the soot.
"Master Horg, I presume?" the yellow-haired man said, standing briefly to offer a stiff, polite nod. "I am Elian. I’ve been commissioned by the Valerius High Command to oversee the logistical outfitting for the work. Your name, or rather, your work, came across me at the market of Agusta the other day."
Horg cleared his throat, sounding like he was swallowing gravel. "Commissioned? Logistical outfittings? Sir, we’re just a village forge. We only make iron ingots. These words are too big for me."
"Ah, well then," Elian said, his voice dropping into a professional, flat tone. He reached into his brown bag and pulled out a single iron ingot, the forty-first one Dory had meticulously refined. He set it on the workbench with a heavy drop. "I bought this from your assistant at the market the other day. I’ve taken my time to test its quality. It’s purer than anything coming out of the capital’s state mines right now as far as I am concerned."
He looked Horg in the eye, then shifted his gaze to Dory. "Valerius needs armor. Scale, plate, and mail. To get the quality we require for the frontline vanguard, I need a thousand ingots of this exact grade. And I need them within thirty days. As you can see, they also gave me a contract within two months before the war starts."
Horg’s knees buckled slightly. "A thousand? Master Elian, that’s... that’s more than this forge produces in a year. We don’t have the charcoal, we don’t have the ore, and we certainly don’t have the hands."
"That is why I am here to discuss a contract, not a request," Elian said, leaning back on the stool. "I am prepared to offer eight coppers per ingot. Standard priced rate plus a premium for the quality."
Dory, who had been standing silently by the cooling hearth, finally spoke up. His voice was calm, cutting through Horg’s mounting panic.
"Eight coppers is a fair price for standard iron," Dory said, stepping into the light. "But you just said it yourself, this isn’t standard. This is vanguard grade. If a soldier’s life depends on the quality of the plate, then the plate shouldn’t be priced like a horseshoe."
Elian’s stoic expression shifted. A small, sharp glint of interest appeared in his eyes. "And what does the ’Assistant’ think a soldier’s life is worth?"
"Fifteen coppers," Dory said.
Horg made a faint wheezing sound. Liam, by the door, accidentally kicked a bucket, the metallic sound echoing through the tense room.
Elian barked a short, dry laugh. "Fifteen? Boy, I could hire a master smith from the city of Agusta for twelve. You’re asking for nearly double the market rate for a forge that currently has, what? One furnace and two sets of bellows?"
"You could hire a city smith for twelve," Dory countered, his voice steady. "But you’d be paying for his reputation, not his iron. Our iron is already tested. You have the proof in your bag. If you go to Agusta, you’ll spend two weeks just setting up the supply line and another two weeks realizing their ore is tainted. We have the quality right here, right now."
Dory leaned over the workbench, tapping the ingot. "Fifteen coppers per bar. Five hundred coppers upfront today to secure the charcoal burners and hire the village labor to expand our capacity. In return, we guarantee the thousand bars by the deadline. If we miss it by a day, or if the purity drops by even a percent, you keep the iron and we forfeit the pay."
Elian stared at Dory for a long, silent minute. The only sound in the forge was the crackle of the dying embers in the hearth.
"You’re a shark in a tadpole pond, aren’t you?" Elian whispered. He reached into his bag and pulled out a heavy purse, the unmistakable clink of copper coins ringing out. "I’ll give you twelve. Not a copper more. But I want the first hundred bars in ten days. If they pass inspection, I’ll pay the remaining ten-copper-per-bar balance upon completion of the full thousand."
Dory didn’t blink. "Thirteen. And we get the upfront silver now to hire at least twenty men from the village. We need to run the forge twenty-four hours a day to hit your ten-day mark."
Elian gritted his teeth, then sighed, tossing the heavy purse onto the table. "Thirteen. You have a deal. But understand this, if you fail me, then you’re indirectly failing the military. There won’t be a forge left to work in when they’re done with us."
"We won’t fail," Dory said, picking up the purse. He turned to Horg, who was still looking at the coppers like they were a live snake. "Master Horg, we’re going to need a lot more coal."
The man bowed and left.
’Well that was... easy.’
Horg was speechless. Liam appeared from the door that led to the open space and stared at Dory with a strange expression.
"You... You..." he tried to speak, but the words wouldn’t come out.
Dory rolled his eyes. "Both of you should stop acting this way. Just because it’s more than the amount you make regularly doesn’t mean it’s magic. It is just your business growing."
He then turned to Horg, who was still speechless.
"How about we start working now?"
