I Died and Became a Noble's Heir

Chapter 443: Private Dealings

"Current sales totals: three hundred twelve thousand mana potions. One hundred forty-seven thousand bottles of shampoo. One hundred thirty-two thousand bottles of conditioner. Twenty-eight thousand vials of Embersalt. Fifteen thousand tinderbox-and-matches sets, plus another thirty-two thousand individual match boxes."

Genevieve’s expression remained composed, but internally she was calculating numbers that would have made even Aldric pause.

He was a man accustomed to dealing with kingdom-level finances, but this would have caused him to pause in appreciation.

"Revenue?" she asked calmly.

Annabelle consulted her ledger. "Six hundred twenty-four thousand gold from mana potions alone. Two hundred seventy-nine thousand from hair care products. Twenty-eight thousand from Embersalt. Twelve thousand from fire-starting supplies. Total revenue currently stands at nine hundred forty-three thousand gold pieces."

The number was almost incomprehensible. Nearly a million gold in a single morning. Most noble houses didn’t generate that kind of revenue in a decade.

"And we’ve depleted around seventy-five percent of our mana potion inventory," Genevieve observed. "Thats only the first day of creations Jack had produced. He does have an extra stock at the factory if we need it. Return back to your post."

"Yes, Mother," Annabelle returned to the inventory room with renewed energy.

Across the store, Celeste had moved on to her next demonstration subject.

A young noble lady who’d been waiting impatiely for her turn.

The transformation was, if anything, even more dramatic than the first. Hair that had been damaged by years of harsh dyes and improper care was restored to gleaming perfection in minutes.

The noble lady burst into tears upon seeing her reflection, which only added to the product’s mystique. Emotional reactions always made people want to buy more than they needed.

"Your Grace," a voice interrupted Genevieve’s observations. She turned to find Duke Tharsis of Draconia had returned, this time accompanied by what appeared to be his financial advisor.

He was a slender gentleman, possessing the discerning gaze of an individual accustomed to working with numbers.

"Lady Genevieve," the duke said with a respectful bow. "I’ve consulted with my advisors, and we’re prepared to make a formal offer for exclusive distribution rights in the Draconian territories."

Genevieve gestured toward a private consultation room they’d prepared specifically for such negotiations. "Please, Your Grace. Let us discuss terms in a more appropriate setting."

S materialized near the door as they entered, his presence a silent reminder that this room was under absolute protection. Finn positioned himself outside, his single eye scanning the crowd for potential threats.

Once seated, Duke Tharsis wasted no time with pleasantries. "My family proposes to purchase exclusive rights to distribute all Kaiser Holdings products within Draconian borders. We’ll handle all logistics, marketing, and sales through our existing commercial networks. In exchange, we’re offering a partnership arrangement where profits are split sixty-forty, with the larger share going to Kaiser Holdings."

It was, objectively, a generous offer. Most exclusivity arrangements favored the distributor more heavily, since they bore the risks and costs of market penetration.

But Genevieve had been negotiating with nobles since before this duke was born.

"Your offer is appreciated, Your Grace," she said with a polite smile that didn’t reach her eyes. "However, Kaiser Holdings has different standards for regional exclusivity. Our terms are as follows: ninety percent of all profits from Draconian sales come to the Kaiser family. Ten percent remains with your house for covering operational expenses and providing local market expertise."

The duke’s advisor made a choking sound that he tried to cover with a cough.

"Lady Genevieve, with respect, those terms are... extremely favorable to your house. Ninety-ten splits are virtually unheard of in commercial partnerships."

"True," Genevieve agreed calmly. "Which is why exclusivity with Kaiser Holdings is so valuable. Our products are revolutionary, as you’ve witnessed. The demand is unprecedented. Any house granted exclusive distribution rights will become fabulously wealthy even with only ten percent of profits."

She leaned forward slightly, her voice taking on an edge that made even the duke sit back unconsciously.

"However, I should make one additional term absolutely clear. If we discover that your house has failed to remit the full ninety percent of profits. Or we find evidence of creative accounting, hidden sales, or any other form of financial deception, there will be consequences."

"What kind of consequences?" the duke asked with a raspy voice.

"My husband, Duke Alaric Kaiser, will pay your family a personal visit," Genevieve said with a smile that could have frozen blood. "As will my son, Jack, upon his return from a dungeon. I assure you, Your Grace, neither visit would be pleasant. My husband has a certain reputation for dealing with those who attempt to cheat his family. And my son has proven even more creative in his responses to betrayal."

The implied threat hung in the air like a drawn blade.

The duke’s advisor looked like he wanted to object, but Duke Tharsis himself held up a hand. He’d clearly heard the stories about Alaric Kaiser’s methods for dealing with commercial rivals who crossed certain lines.

And if the rumors about the young Kaiser heir were even half true...

"The terms are acceptable," the duke said after a long pause. "Ninety-ten split, with full financial transparency and regular audits. We’ll have contracts drawn up by this evening."

"Excellent," Genevieve’s smile warmed fractionally. "Seraphina will provide you with the contact information for our legal representatives. They’ll handle the contractual details."

As the duke and his advisor departed, already looking slightly shell-shocked by the terms they’d just agreed to, Genevieve allowed herself a moment of satisfaction.

It was borderline extortionate. But the duke had agreed because he understood the mathematical reality.

Even ten percent of Kaiser Holdings’ Draconian revenue would make his house wealthy beyond imagination.

A soft knock at the consultation room door announced another visitor. This time it was a representative from Cordelia. A merchant prince whose family controlled significant portions of that kingdom’s luxury goods market.

"Lady Genevieve," the merchant prince began, his Cordelian accent made his words almost melodic. "I’ve been authorized by the Council of Merchant Princes to negotiate for exclusive distribution rights."

Genevieve settled back into her chair with the patient expression of someone who knew she’d be repeating this conversation many times before the day ended.

"The terms are ninety-ten," she said without looking at him. "Ninety percent of all profits to Kaiser Holdings, ten percent to your family for operational management. Full financial transparency with regular audits. And consequences for any detected deception that I assure you, you do not want to experience."

The merchant prince’s eyes widened slightly, but to his credit, he didn’t immediately object. Instead, he pulled out a small ledger and began calculating numbers with the speed of someone who’d spent a lifetime in commerce.

"If your products maintain even half the demand we’ve witnessed today," he said slowly, "ten percent would still generate more revenue than our current primary business ventures combined."

"Precisely," Genevieve confirmed.

"Then we accept your terms," the merchant prince said, closing his ledger with an air of finality. "Cordelia will be honored to serve as your exclusive distributor."

More negotiations followed throughout the afternoon.

Representatives from Sanctorium, from independent city-states, from merchant consortiums and noble houses across the known world. Each one heard the same terms.

Each one calculated the same mathematics. And each one eventually agreed.

It became a refrain that echoed through the consultation room like a merchant’s prayer.