Jihûn paid for painting supplies. He also carried the bags. Randal could barely carry his own head, and bags were not flattering accessories for Maurice Lupin. Around the middle of the afternoon, an acquaintance came to Jihûn's rescue.
Theirs was an unlikely friendship.
The Count of Arlu was an eastern lord who presided over a commercial empire. He had many sons. Each son had been placed in an interior city and directed to assemble a portfolio. Frederik was the son responsible for advancing the family in the capital. Frederik knew everywhere there was to eat, and ate there regularly. He also enjoyed shopping, and travelled with people to carry things. After directing those people to deliver what Jihûn was carrying to Madame Wu's, Frederik hugged his favorite prince — and complemented his muscles. He then complimented Jihûn's companions.
"So fragile! Such fine collarbones!"
Small talk swirled to a new barbeque joint. While gnawing on a rib, Jihûn imagined his sister telling him to stop smearing barbeque sauce all over his face and develop connections. Connections were valued in the East and South. Jihûn considered them distasteful. In contrast, the barbeque sauce was very tasty.
But Jieun had a point.
Frederik was an ideal resource to help expand Jihûn's sphere of influence. Evaluating people as resources made the Eighth Prince uncomfortable. It was how the Third Prince did everything. The world was a "use and be used" kind of place, however. The Emperor had used Jihûn in his confrontation with Abi d'Ilga.
Jihûn needed more resources. Trying to manipulate Frederik wouldn't work. The Eighth Prince opted for candor.
"This one's a starving artistic genius," he said, patting Randal on the head. "That one is a starving jewel thief. But not everything is hopeless. Jieun connected me with some finance wizards. I've got a good allowance, and can punch holes through walls. Where should I commit my gold?"
Glowing in the question, Frederik finished off a glass of wine in one go.
"Arbitrage!" he said gregariously.
"Arbitrage?" asked Jihûn.
He looked at Lupin. The jewel thief shrugged. The painter had no clue.
"Put your gold in a bank," said Frederik. "Borrow silver. Tell the wizards to buy a warehouse by the river. Beat the interest with rent. The gap pays you."
"But what do I do?" asked Jihûn.
"Stay out of it."
"What goes in the warehouse?"
"Whatever the tenants put there."
"Where do I find tenants?"
Frederik laughed. It was a deep, rumbling, charismatic sound.
"They'll find you," he said.
"I don't do anything?"
"The more you do," said Frederik, "the more you'll lose."
"Why?"
"Your time is precious!" replied Frederik.
Jihûn worked his way through another buffalo rib. It was delicious. He couldn't say that he understood the mechanics of Frederik's reasoning — but they made a certain sense.
"All right," he said. "A warehouse. Where do I go from there?"
Frederik finished off his own rib. Maurice Lupin and Randal watched the behemoths eat with awe and horror. For themselves, they preferred little cubes of seared fish. The River Feng was home to a broad variety of species, including trout that were practically tuna. Watching the cubes of seared fish disappear into tiny bodies gave Frederik inspiration.
"Boats," he said.
"Boats?" asked Jihûn. "A big one?"
"Middling boats," said Frederik. "Traffic moves by canal in Tianming Town. Water carries weight. Pick up raw iron from river docks and put it near blacksmiths. Pick up silk and put it near tailors."
"Clay to the potters?" asked Jihûn.
"Exactly," agreed Frederik. "Trends come and go. But everyone needs to move something."
Jihûn tried one of the seared fish cubes. It was delicious. Lupin and Randal panicked. The giants would eat all the fish too quickly. Frederik reassured them by ordering more.
"I would never have thought of a warehouse," Jihûn conceded.
"You wanted to buy a restaurant?" suggested Frederik.
"I knew better than that," laughed Jihûn. "I'd eat all the food."
"A building is a box of wood," said Frederik. "To make money as a restaurant, it needs somewhere for people to enter. Somewhere to eat. Somewhere to cook. Somewhere to store food. Ambience requires decorations. Food has to be purchased. Cooks, waiters, busboys, cleaners have to be hired. Promotion costs money. The only thing a warehouse has to do is keep stuff dry."
"And safe from thieves," said Lupin.
"Restaurants have that problem too," said Frederik. "But more traffic. All buildings share a risk of fire. But restaurants come with fire already inside."
"I am convinced," said Jihûn.
Frederik leaned forward. His demeanor became more serious.
"The biggest risk for you," he said, "is attention. You must avoid it."
"Isn't attention good for business?" asked Jihûn.
"Attention attracts customers," agreed Frederik. "But it also attracts rivals."
"Rivals either have a riverfront warehouse or they don't," said Jihûn.
Frederik banged the table in approval.
"Territorial control!" he said. "The Eighth Prince is a natural general. But most rivalries in commerce are for hearts and minds. In warehousing you don't have to worry much about that. But you do have unique problems."
Jihûn snagged a cube of fish.
"How unique?" he asked.
"The life of a prince isn't all it's cracked up to be," said Frederik. "Is it?"
"Looks good to me," said Lupin as another piece of fish vanished.
"Politics?" asked Jihûn.
"Warehouse politics?" asked Lupin skeptically.
"Over a target," said Frederik. "Questions can be raised about what's in a warehouse. Rumors. Innuendo. Snap inspections."
Jihûn nodded slowly.
"Factions…," said Frederik.
Jihûn wagged a finger in the air.
"The Emperor hates factions," he cautioned.
"Of course," agreed Frederik. "Let's say there are individuals with differing opinions. Striking at a prince directly risks a response from Moonlight Chamber. Striking a warehouse is much less risky."
Jihûn let Lupin and Randal eat fish cubes in peace.
It would never have occurred to him to buy a warehouse. Having bought a warehouse, it would never have occurred to him that it was a soft target for schemers. Frederik was an easterner, and had refrained from spelling out exactly what he meant. Once Jihûn owned property, however, he would be subject to oversight by Consort Da and the Eastern Clique.
Furthermore….
"Moonlight Chamber and I have differing opinions," he said.
It was Frederik's turn to lean back.
"I see," he replied. "Your thief can help you with that. If he has the right moves."
"He has the right moves," said Jihûn confidently.