At the same time the news reach the steward, the lords of the Northern Domain also received the news.
"What's going on? Where did those lords from the Eastern Domain get all this grain from?"
"And this price… grain prices have been suppressed by several levels at once. Do they really have that much grain in their hands?"
After receiving this message, the faces of these northern lords all turned ashen.
They still had large stores of grain on hand, grain that had been purchased earlier at a high price. Their original plan was to wait until winter, when food prices would inevitably rise again, and then make a huge profit.
But now, grain prices had actually been crushed down so low. If they were to sell their grain now, they would not even be able to recover their original cost!
"Is the price truly this low, or is the Eastern Alliance merely bluffing?" Viscount Hobart paced back and forth across the room.
His heart leaned toward believing it was just the Eastern Alliance bluffing, but after having experienced the earlier potion incident, there was a faint unease in his tone, as if even he could not be certain.
Knock, knock, knock—
At this moment, his study door was knocked upon.
"My Lord Viscount, Baron Cass has come to seek an audience," the attendant reported respectfully.
"Hm? Baron Cass?" Viscount Hobart frowned.
Within the Ironbood Alliance, there were many smaller factions, and this Baron Cass happened to belong to the same faction as Hobart himself.
After thinking for a moment, Hobart felt sure that Baron Cass must have come because of this grain matter. "Let him wait in the reception hall. I'll be there shortly."
Cass, who had been restless and uneasy, let out a slow breath of relief when he heard Viscount Hobart was willing to meet with him.
Soon, within the reception hall, Cass finally met the man he had come for this time—a core member of the Ironbood Alliance, Viscount Hobart.
"Go ahead, what business do you have visiting me?" Hobart's expression was calm, doing his best to hide the turmoil in his heart.
"Viscount Hobart, I have come today because of the matter of grain prices."
"You may not know this, but my son Fessen is a clerk and a knight in Fruitvale Village, and from him, I have obtained some confidential news."
At the mention of "Fruitvale Village," Hobart immediately straightened up, his brows furrowing tightly. "Does Fruitvale Village truly have that much grain?"
"This, I cannot say for certain. But what I have here—" Cass did not continue speaking. Instead, he opened his satchel and suddenly produced an ear of wheat.
"This… this is newly grown wheat?" Hobart's pupils shrank violently!
"That's right, my Lord Viscount. This is indeed newly grown wheat. The information I received is that… the wheat sown in Fruitvale Village has already matured!"
Instantly, the entire room fell into silence. Hobart held the ear of wheat in his hands, his whole body frozen, dumbstruck.
After a long time, he suddenly shook his head violently. "Impossible! The wheat in Fruitvale Village was only sown just over a month ago—how could it possibly have matured already?!"
"Viscount Hobart, you should know I have no need to deceive you."
"If you simply go to Fruitvale Village and see with your own eyes, you will know whether I have lied to you or not."
Hearing this, Hobart once again fell into silence. After a long while, he suddenly asked, "Why are you telling me this news?"
Meeting the Viscount's gaze, Cass felt his heart skip half a beat. Taking in a deep breath, he slowly replied, "Because I have already pledged myself to the Eastern Alliance."
"And the reason I came is to persuade you to join the Eastern Alliance as well. If you are willing, the Eastern Alliance is prepared to purchase all the grain you have been storing up!"
Thus, Viscount Hobart was only the beginning. Other lords, hearing the wind of this matter, began to stir restlessly. Soon they realized the issue was no longer about the price of grain itself, but rather the pressing question of to whom they should sell their grain.
…
After inquiring through many channels, Steward Sean finally had no choice but to accept a truth that he found almost impossible to believe.
There really was an abundance of grain flooding the market, prices being driven down again and again. The latest price he had just received was already less than one-fifth of what it had once been!
"I must report this news to President Nelson at once!" Sean quickly rose to his feet.
But as he stood up, his legs gave a sudden tremble, and he collapsed heavily onto the floor. "No… no, I must report this news to President Nelson at once!"
He repeated this line again, but by now, panic had completely consumed his heart. His entire body trembled uncontrollably, his breathing turned ragged, and cold sweat streamed down his forehead.
As the steward of the granary, he knew better than anyone what this news meant. If grain prices continued to be suppressed, the Gilded Fang Merchant Guild would suffer catastrophic losses. And in its current state, the Merchant Guild could no longer withstand such a blow!
"No… I truly must report this to the President immediately!" He drew in a deep breath and forced his body to move.
Along the way, he did not even know how he had arrived at the headquarters of the Gilded Fang Merchant Guild. But when he reached it, he suddenly realized the entire Guild had already been surrounded by the Ironbood Knights.
"Steward Sean, the President summons you to his study." A knight approached and said, without letting him wait long.
"O… oh, alright." Sean gave the knight an odd look, surprised.
Very soon, he entered the study. Almost instinctively, his gaze swept toward the window, for that was where the President most loved to stand.
But this time, no figure stood there. Only a streak of scarlet blood on the window frame stood out, shockingly conspicuous.
His eyes moved across the study, and there he saw the President, seated at his desk, hands clutching his temples, lost in thought.
"President… something terrible has happened…" Sean opened his mouth and spoke softly.
"It's about the grain prices, isn't it? I already know." Nelson's voice was filled with deep fatigue.
Closing his eyes tightly, Nelson felt utterly exhausted, yet he had no choice but to force himself to think about how to deal with this crisis.
In fact, he had known about the collapse of grain prices earlier. At first, he had clung to a shred of hope, but the words of the Ironbood Knights had struck him heavily.
The wheat of Fruitvale Village had indeed ripened. That golden sea of wheat had been witnessed firsthand by countless merchants, and the news had already spread throughout the territories with their caravans.
To mature wheat in only two months' time—if not seen with one's own eyes, who would ever believe such a thing to be true?
Under such circumstances, not only Fruitvale Village and the Eastern Alliance were selling off their grain, and even their supposed allies were beginning to dump their stores!
Though prices were already abysmally low, selling now could at least reduce some losses. If they delayed further, who could say whether they would be able to sell at all?
The market had plunged into sheer panic. Everyone was frantically selling grain, and as wave after wave of sales hit, the price plummeted lower and lower, soon approaching a complete collapse.
"President, we must think of some countermeasure quickly," Sean said with hesitation.
"Countermeasure? What countermeasure?"
"Those buying grain now are all people we once offended. You tell me, who would buy our grain?"
Nelson's voice suddenly rose. His hands clawed through his hair, dragging down to his face and leaving deep scratches streaked with blood.
He had already received word: just as they had once blockaded Fruitvale Village, now Fruitvale Village was cutting off all dealings with the Guild and its allies.
Fruitvale Village possessed too many things other merchants and lords could not refuse—potions, berries, unique products, and now even grain.
Given a choice between them and the Gilded Fang Merchant Guild, the merchants and lords abandoned the Guild without hesitation. Nelson could feel it: Ironbood Fortress had already grown desolate and lifeless.
The very meaning of a Merchant Guild was trade. Without trade, a Guild's existence meant nothing.
"It's over. The Gilded Fang Merchant Guild is finished. Completely finished." His voice was thick with despair.
Never had he imagined that the Gilded Fang Merchant Guild would fall to such ruin in his hands. In this battle over grain, the Merchant Guild had been utterly and thoroughly defeated!
Even the magical beast trade, the very foundation of the Guild's existence, was being destroyed. From their recent financial reports, Nelson could already see the collapse.
The Merchant Guild still owed massive sums for the grain it had bought—coins it had yet to repay.
Beyond that, they owed the apothecaries, the magical beast hunters, the beast tamers, and even the lords who shared profits from beast sales.
The Guild's finances had been entirely cut off. Aside from piles of grain and berries that would rot before long, they had nothing left!
He could already imagine it: this disaster would not only destroy the Gilded Fang Merchant Guild but also drag down all the lords of the Ironbood Alliance, plunging their finances into complete ruin.
Perhaps those very lords were already on their way here. Faintly, Nelson seemed to hear their furious roars echoing in the distance. Against that, the Merchant Guild had no defense left.
"Fruitvale Village… Earl Aven of the southeastern border!" He spat the name through clenched teeth, his fists creaking with strain.
That insignificant little figure whom they had never even considered a threat… step by step, he had crushed the Merchant Guild, destroying even the power they had spent years building!
"President…" Sean opened his mouth, his eyes drifting involuntarily to the scarlet bloodstain by the window.
"Don't call me President anymore. From this moment on, there is no longer any Gilded Fang Merchant Guild in this world."
At Nelson's words, all the stewards in the room lifted their heads sharply, their eyes wide with disbelief.
Their President… was he truly declaring the dissolution of the Guild?
"There's no need to try persuading me. The Gilded Fang Merchant Guild has already lost its meaning of existence."
Nelson shut his eyes in agony. This was the only path he could think of.
What he had to do now was completely sever the Guild from Ironbood Fortress. The Fortress would still stand, but the Gilded Fang Merchant Guild would vanish forever.
His body trembling all over, he staggered toward the window and looked out toward the castle rising at the center of the fortress.
Forgive me, Lord Hormay. I have disappointed you. Let me bear everything alone…
He murmured the words, slowly closed his eyes, and then, with a single leap, vanished from the window amid countless horrified cries.
Half a day later, the news of the President of the Gilded Fang Merchant Guild's suicide spread across Aspiration City.
Everyone who heard it fell silent. They all knew why he had chosen death.
It was clear—the struggle between Fruitvale Village and the Gilded Fang Merchant Guild had ended in Fruitvale Village's complete victory. The conclusion left all who witnessed it sighing with emotion.
Of course, the Guild's disappearance was only the beginning, not the end. Though the President was dead and the Guild officially dissolved, the matter was far from over.
The Northern Domains had already been plunged into chaos. The Ironbood Alliance, once tightly bound together by the Gilded Fang Merchant Guild, was now splintering apart.
Unable to support their territories financially, countless commoners abandoned the North and poured into the Eastern Domain, ultimately gathering in Fruitvale Village at the far southeastern border.
With the Guild gone, the magical beast trade—once the most lucrative business in all of Aspiration City—collapsed completely.
…
As the victor of this conflict, Fruitvale Village fully established its reputation. With trade expanding, the Pokémon Breeding House gradually replaced the Gilded Fang Merchant Guild.
In time, it was believed that magical beast hunters would vanish from Aspiration City altogether, and the magical beasts of the forests would no longer suffer their constant predation.
Instead, a wave of Pokémon breeding swept across the territory. Apprentice trainers gradually became the most popular profession among commoners.
In just half a month, countless civilians had moved into Fruitvale Village, making the southeastern border more prosperous than ever. Everywhere, the figures of Pokémon and trainers could be seen.
End of Chapter