Glade 15, 122
Franky stood with crossed arms in the middle of the extremely empty warehouse he'd purchased from an extremely eager man named Grindelvindel. A ridiculous human man with an even more ridiculous moustache. But the man was happy to unload the property at a price Franky was willing to pay. Franky suspected the man was getting ready to leave Zaichaer, like many where were nervous of the building tensions in Karnor following Prince Talon's Dark Wedding and disappearance.
Conflict gave birth to opportunities.
Franky had had a busy morning. He'd spent the time walking around the entirety of the Knob and the Grungeworks, poking his head into various little shops, inspecting the goods therein. If he was happy with what he saw, he invited the store owner to the meeting he was about to hold. He'd paid a handful of local goblins to bring in a table here, the chairs to match, and had his cooks at the Gobbler whip up some finger foods, nothing fancy, good old fashioned home style foods from the matching cultures of those who had accepted his invitation.
The door opened up, and a goblin woman entered, smiling. Franky was there to greet her, "Welcome Vanilda, come, grab a drink and some food. The fried spring grubs are particularly nice."
She nodded, "Thank you, Franky. It smells just like home here."
She was a short thing, still dressed in her working leathers, and she brisked over to the table and began sampling the wares. Over the course of the next thirty minutes, a total of twelve people showed up, none human. Some were varying types of goblins, a few elves, one Moratallen, and one Awoken. About half the people Franky had extended an invitation toward. He was happy with that turn out. Once everyone had food and drink and was mingling, Franky, in his long sleeved, white button up, with the sleeves rolled up his forearms, moved to the head of the table.
"Thank you all for coming. I truly appreciate it, and please, eat and drink to your fill. I do not intend to waste your time here, but that does not mean you cannot enjoy yourselves."
He grabbed a goblet, holding it up and out before him, "May those above and he below smile upon the fortunes we strive for." The words were honest as Franky paid tribute to the Goblin King with the toast. All of the Goblins joined him, as did a few of the others, even if only out of politeness or curiosity. "Now, let us get down to business."
Franky sat down at his seat, at the front of the table, and everyone else took theirs as well. He took a long drink from his goblet before setting it down. He allowed his gaze to find the eyes of each person here, "I'm sure you've all quickly discovered that you have much in common with one another." A teasing grin stretched across his scarred face, "You are some of the finest leather workers in the Knob and Grungeworks, and clearly the most curious about pursuing more opportunity."
Franky leaned back, "Now, I'm sure you've all heard word of what happened in Kalzasi, even heard the rumors spreading throughout Zaichaer. I will be extremely clear now. War is coming. It must come after what has happened. I know not when, not how, but I can guarantee to you that it will come. I know this after many decades of war in the name of the Imperium against multiple nations, as well as against the lands the Imperium holds now. Kalzasi will strike next, and following that, war will explode across this land."
Franky changed his tone now, away from the serious and dour to one of curiosity. "Gornel, tell me, what is the biggest difficulty in acquiring your materials this season?"
The dark elf grunted, "The hunters tell me its mating season for pretty much every damn thing. Most ain't wantin' to hunt them, worried about ruining the populations."
Gwendy piped in, "It's true! You gotsta wait til Searing and Ash."
Franky nodded, "War will not make this easier on your hunters, or your supplies. Armies will be hunting regularly for food, scaring off herds in unpredictable ways. The skins and hides you all rely upon will become scarcer."
There were nervous looks around at each other, and Keko spoke up, in her deep, elvish voice, "And I suppose you're here to sell us a magical solution? Find us a bunch of hides through outside traders, save us by selling them at a markup, lining your own pockets while we lose more in the process?"
Franky smiled broadly, baring his sharp teeth. "I intend to do the exact opposite."
Keko went silent but looked skeptical, "What I'm proposing is this. We collaborate. All of you, working together in a fashion, to make yourselves invaluable, and help to secure victory for Zaichaer."
Gornel snorted, "As if I would ever work with Keko. Her designs are a travesty upon our people."
Keko slapped the table and moved to stand up, an arm raised to begin pointing her finger.
Franky bellowed, "Sit. Down."
All eyes were on him, "If you wish to wage war on one another, by tongue, coin, or sword, do so elsewhere. I have no use for that here." His glare deepened, "Here's a few things I know. Battles are won by heroes, wars are won by logistics. Logistics requires the reliable securing of supplies and their transportation. And in war, the smart come out richer, and the slow fade away. Look around you. You are merely half of those I invited. That means you've already doubled the profits I will secure for you, and that was simply by showing up."
Franky stood up now, using just a hint of his Hobgoblin ability to flex his muscles against the seams of his shirt. Just enough to fill it and show prominence, but not enough to break or show its use. He started to walk the table, "And those who profit from war are an expected variable. Governments and armies know this will happen. They expect it. Their bean counters budget for it, so long as you do it in the name of victory and you establish the paperwork required. After all, they always get their taxes."
He made his way to the other end, "So I will make it easy for Zaichaer to rely upon us. What I propose is this. Half of all the supplies each of you secures through your own means will be utilized to craft waterproofed boots, gloves, belts, and scabbards. You will sell them to me, at a 20% markup of your usual price. I will provide the transportation and warehousing of these goods."
Keko, confused now, "Why would you buy them at such a markup?"
A sly grin, "Because I will hold onto them, stockpile them, keep them readied and waiting, until Zaichaer needs them. And when that time comes, I will sell them at another 20% markup, a cost they will be expecting."
Gornel snorted, "So why do we need you? You just told us what to do. We can cut out the middle man, charge a 40% markup and that be the end of it."
Franky raised an eyebrow, "And do you think your little shop can produce a thousand pair of boots to sell to the army? Zaichaer won't be buying them four at a time. That would waste their time and money. And they won't pay the markup with the added convenience of having to shop around and transportation. No. By establishing a stockpile, by providing the convenience and infrastructure, they would pay double the price."
Franky slipped back to a thin grin, his hands out before them, "But we won't be the petty merchants out there gouging during wartime. By only charging these rates, with this convenience, Zaichaer will bestow a gratitude beyond their coin. For they will know that each of your businesses are providing towards this effort," a dark look toward the door, "While those who failed to show up will be the greedy, nonpatriotics. You'll see your businesses grow in customers from within and without the Knob. You'll watch the suppliers of your competitors shy away from them and come to you, and you will see the horizon after the war finishes. It happens this way in every war."
Franky sat back down, spreading his arms, and smiling, "The only difference is we'll be ahead of it all, ahead of everyone."
Vanilda raised her green hand, "Why aren't there any humans in this group?"
Franky smirked, "Because I didn't invite them."
"Why not? Surely we'd be safer with some human backing."
Franky nodded, "Before the war, this would hold true. But war is the great equalizer. Death comes to all, regardless of race or class. Now that Zaichaer has an external enemy to fight, it no longer needs to fight against its own people. You'll see our kinds being accepted, however begrudgingly, into places we would not be tolerated in previously. Zaichaer above all, that's the government here."
A glint in his eyes, a cocking of the head to the side, "I have plans to elevate the Knob and the Grungeworks. We do not need to fight amongst each other for a chance at being accepted on West End, no. We will make them wish they could be here, and when they come back, asking and begging, we will do what they refused to do. And with that, the power will shift, and our kind will matter in the eyes of all of Zaichaer, more so than the ponces and bootlickers that do nothing but peacock westwardly."
Franky leaned back in his chair, grabbing his goblet as he went, finishing it in one gulp, "Now shall we make some money?"
Warehouse - Storage (Elaborate) 1000 = -1000gp
