"Leader, starting tomorrow, please begin slaughtering the sheep." James straightened his posture, his voice steady and confident. After negotiations had reached this point, the deal for the sheep was effectively sealed, a moment of quiet triumph for him.
"Slaughter the sheep? Don't you usually take the whole sheep with you?" Perry froze, her eyes narrowing in confusion as she stared at James. Her tribe's dealings with human merchants typically involved the entire animal—wool, bones, and all—being carted away without a single hair left behind.
The other human traders, she recalled, were meticulous in their transactions, ensuring nothing was wasted. They hauled off whole carcasses to their cities, leaving her tribe with nothing but the payment. This sudden shift in approach puzzled her.
"No, for now, we can't transport whole sheep. We can only take the meat." James shook his head, his tone matter-of-fact. Their ships, limited by size and distance, couldn't make the journey to their destination with live animals. Slaughtering the sheep here and transporting only the meat was the only feasible option.
Perry tilted her head, her sharp mind already dissecting the logistics. "What about the offal and the hides? How do you plan to handle those?" She asked, her voice measured but firm. Details mattered in these deals, especially with human merchants, who were notorious for exploiting loopholes. She wasn't about to let her tribe fall into a trap.
"The offal can stay with your tribe as payment for the slaughtering work. As for the hides, we'd ask you to store them for us. Next year, when we send larger ships to purchase more sheep, we'll take the hides along with the new batch," James explained earnestly, his eyes meeting hers to convey sincerity.
The offal, with its pungent, metallic odor, was a delicacy for the poorer members of the tribe, who rarely tasted meat. For James's group, however, transporting meat alone was already a logistical challenge. Adding the bulky, perishable offal was out of the question. Live sheep were even more problematic—keeping them alive during the journey to Sedona City was a nightmare. The cost of fodder alone would drive up expenses, not to mention the risk of sheep freezing to death in transit. Slaughtering on-site and leaving with only the meat was, by far, the most practical and cost-effective solution.
Perry's eyes flickered with curiosity. "Oh? You'll come back next year to buy more sheep?" Her voice carried a hint of intrigue. The prospect of a human merchant fleet returning with larger ships was promising news for her tribe, which often struggled to find buyers for their surplus livestock.
"Yes," James replied with a nod, his tone unwavering. "Our master has said that if this first deal goes smoothly, we'll continue doing business with your tribe. And next time, we won't be buying just two thousand sheep."
Perry's lips curved into a faint smile. "The first deal will undoubtedly be pleasant," She said quickly, seizing the opportunity. A long-term trade partnership with a reliable human caravan would mean stability for her tribe—no more worrying about unsold sheep piling up. Her people could focus on herding and breeding without the constant fear of surplus losses.
"Of course," James continued, choosing his words carefully. "As for the quantity of next year's purchase, that's something you'd need to discuss directly with our master. I don't have the authority to make those decisions." He was following his master's instructions to the letter, planting the seed for a direct meeting between the Leader and his lord.
Perry's brow furrowed slightly. "You want me to speak directly with Lord Lucas?" Her voice carried a trace of skepticism as she pondered the implications. Why would a human merchant insist on a face-to-face meeting with her, the Leader of a beastkin tribe? What was Lucas's angle?
"Exactly," James confirmed, bowing his head slightly. "Next year, we plan to purchase at least twenty thousand sheep. That's a substantial number, and I'm not authorized to finalize such a deal."
"Twenty thousand sheep?" Perry's jaw dropped, her eyes widening as she stared at James. For a moment, she wondered if her ears had betrayed her. Her tribe, at its peak, raised only fifty to sixty thousand sheep annually. To hear a human merchant casually propose buying a third of their stock was staggering.
"Yes, that's the minimum," James said, his face deadly serious. "The exact number would need to be negotiated with our master."
Martin, a silent observer until now, stared at James in disbelief. His mind raced, picturing the black-haired, black-eyed young man who led this caravan. What kind of audacity—or power—did it take to demand twenty thousand sheep in a single deal?
Perry arched an eyebrow, her eyes glinting with suspicion. "You're not joking, are you?" Her voice dropped to a low, cautious tone. "Let me be blunt: your city lord is just a minor baron. Does he really have the resources to purchase twenty thousand sheep?"
James blinked, caught off guard, then burst into hearty laughter. "Leader, I think you've misunderstood."
"Misunderstood what?" Perry's eyes narrowed further, her curiosity piqued. She leaned forward, eager to hear what this human had to say.
"Your typical baron might not have such means, but our master is no ordinary baron," James declared, rising to his feet with an air of pride. "To be frank, if he wished, he could already hold the title of earl, at the very least." His voice carried a sharp edge, laced with loyalty. "Leader, please don't judge our master by the standards of other barons. That would be an insult to him."
Perry's brow lifted higher, her gaze locked on James, who seemed transformed by his fervor. What kind of man inspired such fierce devotion in his subordinates? She couldn't help but wonder about this mysterious young master.
"How dare you speak to—" A servant girl began, her voice rising in outrage at James's boldness toward her princess.
Perry raised a hand, silencing the girl instantly. "Let's not derail this discussion," She said coolly. She couldn't afford to let her temper—or her servant's—jeopardize the deal for two thousand sheep. In her younger days, she might have had James flogged for his audacity, but now, as leader, she had to prioritize her tribe's welfare over personal pride.
"My apologies for any offense," James said, bowing slightly, tactfully giving her an out.
Perry waved off the apology, her expression neutral. "What currency will you use to pay for the sheep?" She asked, shifting to the most critical point. If they paid in gold coins, she could send her people to human cities to procure much-needed supplies. The method of payment would shape her next steps.
"That depends on your preference, Leader," James replied smoothly. "If you want gold coins, we can settle immediately. If you prefer goods in exchange, we've brought some items with us." His voice held a note of anticipation, as if he'd been waiting for this moment.
Perry's eyes widened slightly. "You brought goods?" She asked, her interest piqued. "Did you bring salt?"
"We did," James said, a faint smile tugging at his lips. His young master had predicted correctly: the beastkin tribe was desperate for salt, and it was the first thing she'd asked about.
"How much? And at what price?" Perry pressed, her tone urgent but controlled. As long as the price wasn't exorbitant, she was prepared to buy every grain they had.
"We brought one hundred pounds of salt, priced at market rate—thirty copper coins per pound," James said calmly.
Perry blinked, momentarily stunned. "Thirty copper coins per pound?" She repeated, her voice tinged with disbelief. The human markets, plagued by salt shortages, had driven prices up to thirty-six copper coins per pound. This was a bargain.
"Correct," James confirmed, adding, "It's a discounted rate, a small gesture of our goodwill toward your tribe."
"Goodwill, is it?" Perry murmured, nodding thoughtfully. One hundred pounds of salt wasn't a massive amount, but it would sustain her tribe for a while.
"We also brought wine and some delicacies," James added, signaling to a veteran soldier with a glance. Two soldiers promptly stepped outside to retrieve the goods.
"Wine? Delicacies?" Perry's hands clenched involuntarily, her heart stirring with longing. It had been ages since she'd tasted wine, let alone proper food beyond the frozen vegetables her tribe subsisted on in lean times.
The soldiers returned swiftly, their boots thudding against the ground. They carried fish meat cans, bottles of Spirit wine, and several packets of salt, laying them out for inspection.
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