On a summer morning in Tingen City, along the streets of the West Borough, mobile vendors selling vegetables, fruits, and cooked food loudly called out, greeting the hurried passersby.
Among them, some would stop to carefully compare and purchase, while others would wave impatiently and hurry away.
In front of a four-story building's entrance, Nimrod, dressed in formal attire with a top hat and a monocle over his left eye, stopped alongside George, who was similarly dressed in formal wear.
Smelling the air filled with alternating stenches and fragrances, Nimrod raised an eyebrow and looked at George beside him.
"This is the company you're acquiring today? The sanitary conditions in this area are far too poor."
Hearing his gentleman companion's inquiry, George pushed open the door with his hand and replied with a smile:
"The sanitary conditions here aren't their problem. If the Kingdom would put some effort into treating pollution and the sewage system, these problems wouldn't exist."
Following George into the lobby, Nimrod laughed upon hearing this.
"If they really had that intention, the air pollution in Backlund wouldn't be so severe either. Well then, tell me about this company's situation."
"Mm."
George nodded and recalled:
"This is a medium-scale company that primarily operates import-export trade. Among similar companies in Tingen City, it can rank in the top ten.
"The main reason I chose them is that their business scope is very broad - they've had dealings with Feysac, the Rorsted Archipelago, Feynapotter, and even Southern Continent colonies.
"Most importantly, acquiring this company is cheap. They initially quoted 30,000 pounds, but through my negotiations, the price dropped to 26,000 pounds."
"That cheap?" Hearing George's quoted price, Nimrod was somewhat surprised. He had thought it would cost much more.
In his impression, didn't acquiring a company require a lot of money?
"Cheap..."
Hearing his boss's words, George, who was walking ahead, stumbled slightly in his steps. He opened his mouth but didn't know how to respond.
On the third floor, led by the busty receptionist, Nimrod and George opened the conference room door. Upon entering, they immediately saw a balding middle-aged man standing by the window, smoking a cigar.
Through George's introduction, Nimrod learned this was the owner of this import-export company, the holder of all shares.
After the usual handshakes and pleasantries when the two parties met, the middle-aged man wasted no time. He pulled out a standard contract from his coat and handed it to George:
"This is the contract I had my lawyer draft. See if there are any problems. If not, we can sign it. Uh, is this gentleman your lawyer?"
The middle-aged man looked at the young, handsome Nimrod beside George and asked curiously.
"No, actually he's my boss."
"Oh, pleased to meet you, pleased to meet you."
Hearing that he was the boss, the middle-aged man immediately extinguished his cigar and smiled as he shook hands with Nimrod again.
"Please, let's sit down and talk. Sherry, bring out my treasured Earl Grey tea to share with these two gentlemen."
After both parties were seated and the busty receptionist left the room with her tray, Nimrod tasted the Earl Grey tea and looked at the middle-aged man across from him:
"Mr. Cord, why do you want to sell the company you built yourself? As far as I know, Cord Trading Company isn't currently facing any operational crisis, is it? Could you tell me your reasons?"
Hearing the buyer's inquiry, the trading company owner Cord smiled and said:
"Oh, this isn't any secret that can't be told. I'm selling the company I painstakingly built for one simple reason - I need money, a considerable sum of money."
Relighting his cigar, Cord took a deep breath, exhaled a cloud of smoke, and continued:
"You might not be able to tell, but I'm already 58 years old this year. Unlike most other Ruen families, I only have one child.
"Without false modesty, he's a wonderful young man. Four years ago, he joined the Royal Army and went to the Southern Continent.
"Last month he telegraphed me saying that due to his achievements in colonial war conflicts, he was promoted to Major and now co-manages a Southern Continent port city with a Colonel.
"In the telegram, he said he hoped I would leave Tingen and come to the Southern Continent to retire in his jurisdiction. I agreed - after all, I've reached retirement age. So I'm selling my properties and residence in Tingen to prepare for development in the Southern Continent.
"With this money, I can buy an estate there, plus a plantation, and spend a very pleasant retirement."
"That truly sounds like an enviable life."
Putting down his pen after signing the contract, George stood up, smiled, and shook hands with Cord, praising his decision.
"Mr. Cord, by tomorrow at the latest, you'll receive a remittance from the Ruen Royal Bank."
"Oh, that's wonderful! Storm above, you truly are a trustworthy and generous gentleman."
Hearing he would receive 26,000 Ruen gold pounds tomorrow, Cord could no longer suppress the smile on his face.
His reason for wanting to quickly sell his trading company was naturally his son's invitation, but there was another important reason - a piece of news attached to his son's telegram:
"The Kingdom intends to launch a fairly large-scale war in East Balam this year."
As an import-export merchant, he was very clear that once war began, the Kingdom would certainly impose controls on import-export trade. This meant he wouldn't be able to obtain sufficient profits to maintain his capital chain, and his company would risk bankruptcy!
This was also the main reason his son wanted him to come to the Southern Continent. Most colonial war conflicts would concentrate in the Pas River Valley and wouldn't greatly affect port cities around the coastline.
But he would never tell this Mr. George about this matter.
Just as Nimrod was boredly watching George and Cord discuss specific company affairs, a somewhat heavy knocking sound suddenly rang out, interrupting the conversation in the room.
Cord, smoking his cigar, glanced at George and smiled apologetically:
"Please come in."
With a creak, the not-so-heavy conference room door pushed inward, and a figure walked in.
It was a nearly thirty-year-old man with black hair and brown eyes, wearing a linen shirt and black jacket, with very short hair. He wasn't particularly handsome - rather, his features seemed somewhat aged, giving a first impression of being rigid and heavy.
Upon seeing this young man, Cord immediately stood up, walked to his side, and introduced him to George and Nimrod with a smile:
"Benson, our trading company's most excellent employee. He's a very diligent and capable fellow with a sharp mind. If not for that telegram, I was planning to make him my third manager in the future.
"Come, Benson, these two are your future bosses - Mr. George and Mr. Nimrod."