Chapter 38: Making Something from Nothing

“Here?” Bed’s eyes widened in disbelief. “This is at least twenty kilometers from Tivton! It’s the middle of nowhere; what are you doing staying here? Let me tell you, don't be fooled by those goblins and kobolds acting timid now. Once you leave the caravan, they are more vicious than any of them. I know you, Gavin, are very capable, but no matter how capable you are, there are only three of you. You can't hold out against their numbers; those little green skins swarm in by the dozens or even hundreds.”

“I know everything you’re saying, Uncle Bed, but I have my own plan. Uncle Bed, do you remember that kobold tribe we traded ore with earlier?” Gavin countered.

“The one called Black Well?” Bed was a smart man; he caught on instantly. “You aren't planning on targeting that kobold tribe and their mine, are you?”

“Yes!” Gavin nodded. “I inspected their iron ore carefully; the quality is good. The soil in their cave is very fresh, which means it’s a new excavation. If the quality is this good at such a shallow depth, there is likely a massive ore vein buried below. Most importantly, their numbers are small and they aren't living well. With the three of us using a combination of strength and diplomacy, taking them over shouldn't be a problem.”

Bed did not respond immediately. His small eyes blinked rapidly, his brain likely working at high speed to calculate the success rate—and more importantly, the potential profit.

An iron mine. An iron mine only twenty kilometers from Tivton. An iron mine managed by humans and excavated by kobolds. Just how much profit could that generate?

By the time he finished calculating, Bed nearly suffered a mental breakdown; the only thought that surfaced was that the potential was staggering.

“What do you need me to do?” Bed changed his tone directly.

“I want that last wagon of grain of yours, and then I want you to help me acquire more grain, mining tools, and weapons—at least one wagon of each. I will pay for them with iron ore later,” Gavin stated his objective.

“No problem,” Bed said without hesitation. “I’ll give you this wagon of grain for free as my personal investment. But in exchange, all your iron ore must be handed over to me for sale in the future.”

As expected of a profiteer, he made a massive demand right off the bat, trying to take a bite out of a mine Gavin didn't even own yet—and the juiciest part at that.

“Impossible,” Gavin shook his head without hesitation. “I will pay for the grain. Under the same price, I can only guarantee you right of first refusal.”

Gavin would never allow someone to hold his throat, especially not in exchange for just one wagon of grain.

“Deal.” Bed had asked for the moon and settled for the stars; having the right of first refusal was enough.

Besides, all of this was mere talk. The most important thing was seeing if this young man could actually establish a foothold here.

Thinking back on the boy's performance along the way, Bed felt that this problem might not be so large after all; the mental maturity the boy displayed was far greater than his appearance suggested.

On that alone, he was worth the investment.

After much back-and-forth, Bed’s wagon of grain was ultimately given to Gavin as an investment. He sought nothing else but for Gavin to truly take over that kobold tribe and establish a base here.

At first, Bed thought he was the only one eating alone, but he hadn't realized this was an open secret.

Gavin had privately consulted with every merchant leader in the caravan.

Many with long-term vision favored Gavin's plan and had, to varying degrees, placed a bet on him.

Consequently, when Gavin left the caravan, he left with three wagons filled with goods. Bed had reason to suspect that if it weren't for the fact that there were only three of them to drive the wagons, the amount of goods would have been even greater.

He wondered how many people he had actually promised this right of first refusal to. If everyone had it, what use would the right be?

A profiteer!

A black-hearted profiteer!

Even the usually good-tempered Bed couldn't help but curse behind Gavin's back. An iron mine that wasn't even in his hands yet had already been sold for a fortune. Compared to this little hairless fox, their hearts were bright red with greed.

In the future, he would have to be much more careful when dealing with this fellow, or he wouldn't even know how he was being cheated.

The young priestess driving the wagon in the middle was almost ready to prostrate herself in admiration of Gavin.

She had worked herself to death—healing, brewing potions, repairing wagons—toiling the whole way just to barely exchange her labor for one wagon and half a load of goods.

In contrast, Mr. Gavin had just wandered along, and after merely moving his lips, those usually stingy uncles and aunts had opened their purses one by one, generously pooling together two whole wagons of goods for him, acting as if Gavin wouldn't be giving them face if he refused.

And Gavin had acted as if he were reluctantly accepting their overwhelming generosity.

What was that called again?

Anna's little brain whirred for a long time, but she couldn't find the right adjective.

The three of them, with their three wagons, had traveled less than two kilometers before turning a corner and reaching their destination. It was a modest mountain hollow: a small, isolated hill with cliffs on three sides, a range of mountains with gentle slopes on the fourth, and a small river winding through the middle.

Gavin and his companions halted their wagons not far from a dark, cave entrance about one and a half men high.

Gavin shouted, “Leader of Black Well, come out and talk! I am a friend who did business with you before. I have a big deal to discuss with you!”

The only answer to Gavin was the whistling mountain wind.

It seemed as if not a single living soul existed within that dark cave.

Not just Gavin, but even Anna could feel countless eyes staring at their every move from the darkness.

“Vic, River, Fireball!” Gavin didn't waste words, issuing orders to the goblin warlock beside him.

*Boom!*

The fireball erupted, exploding in the center of the river. Water splashed dozens of meters high, and the intense flames burned across the river for a while before dying down. Countless small fish and shrimp floated to the surface, bellies up and half-cooked.

“My left hand offers friendship and grain; my right hand offers swords and magic. Which will you choose?” Gavin shouted again. “You had best abandon any thought of a stalemate with me. Do you see the wagons behind me? They are filled with life necessities. We have plenty of time and energy. If you don't want to starve to death in that cave...”

“We choose the left hand, woof!”

Before Gavin could finish, a shrill voice drifted from deep within the cave, followed by a dark red humanoid walking out.

This humanoid was slightly taller than a goblin, but only by a small margin. It had a head resembling a lizard and a long, slender tail. Its skin was covered in small, thumb-sized scales. Because its leg joints were reversed and it used its long tail for balance, its center of gravity was slightly forward, giving it a somewhat leaning posture.

This was a kobold, a creature of cannon fodder on par with goblins.

“Everyone, come out, woof! It is our honor to have the Great One come to lead us... everyone, come out, woof...” The kobold barked angrily at those behind him as he walked out.

At his repeated urging, soon thirty or forty kobolds emerged one after another.

Led by this kobold, they knelt before Gavin with a thud. “Goth is willing to lead the entire Black Well tribe to pledge loyalty to the Great One. Please, Great One, do not harm us. We are willing to do anything, woof.”

Gavin, Anna, and Vic looked at each other, seemingly not expecting things to go so smoothly.

Especially Gavin, who had been holding back a belly full of dirty tricks—such as starvation tactics, smoke tactics, and so on.

He had prepared to fight a war of attrition with this nest of kobolds, wearing down their morale before subjugating them.

Who would have thought that after Vic threw a single fireball, they would all surrender?

Gavin couldn't help but wonder if that fireball had been a waste.

If they had held out just a little longer, they would have surrendered voluntarily?

Looking at the appearance of the kneeling kobolds, Gavin could more or less guess why they had surrendered so readily.

This nest of kobolds seemed to have a decent number, but they were mostly old and young; there were only about a dozen in their prime. Each one was dressed in rags and looked malnourished and sickly.

Their lives were incredibly difficult; they simply didn't have the capital to engage in a conflict.