CHAPTER 136: CHAPTER 136: WHY SELL?

Audrey’s eyes lingered on him, then she tilted her head slightly, her tone curious but also playful. "Then tell me, Your Majesty—how much should pig iron even sell for in the market? You say we’ll turn it into coin, but..." She let a small laugh escape her lips. "...how does one sell something the markets have never even heard of?"

Arthur met her eyes directly, his expression calm but unyielding. "I will come up with a plan," he said firmly, "and I will set the price that benefits the kingdom most."

Audrey exhaled softly through her nose, amused but not surprised. That was Arthur—never revealing more than he wished, always carrying plans within plans. She leaned forward slightly, refusing to let the conversation die. "Your Majesty," she said gently, "may I ask something more about selling this... excess pig iron?"

Arthur gave a single nod. "Of course. What is your question?"

Her fingers brushed the edge of the desk, as if tracing invisible lines upon it. "Why not hire more blacksmiths?" she asked. "Expand the workshops, forge more weapons and tools. Finished steel is easier to sell, isn’t it? More profitable, too. If you sell pig iron as it is, you’d have to explain how to refine it—how to draw out the carbon, how to temper it into steel. Even I..." She paused, her voice softening. "...even I struggled to fully grasp it at first, and I’ve had the chance to learn directly from you. For a common smith, with no knowledge of chemistry, no grasp of what carbon even is..." She shook her head lightly. "It will sound like alchemy, or worse—nonsense."

Her eyes lifted back to his, steady but tinged with quiet warmth. "Wouldn’t it be simpler, to sell them the finished product, instead of forcing the world to understand a material they’ve never known?"

Arthur leaned back slightly, his fingers tapping once against the desk. There was a trace of admiration in his gaze, though his voice remained measured. Audrey had a point—a valid one.

Arthur’s lips curved faintly, the kind of smile that was more thoughtful than amused. "Well, you’re not wrong," he admitted. "Selling finished products—tools, weapons, armor—would indeed bring greater profit in the short term. But I am not a merchant, Audrey. I am a king. My duty isn’t to chase profit, but to strengthen the kingdom itself."

His eyes glimmered with quiet confidence. "And in the long run, selling pig iron as a raw material will be far more suitable than flooding the markets with finished steel."

Audrey tilted her head, her brows knitting ever so slightly. She didn’t doubt his words, but she couldn’t see the path he was drawing.

Arthur noticed, of course. It wasn’t a surprise. Audrey had a keen mind for invention, construction, and machinery—she thrived in blueprints and furnaces—but when it came to economics, trade policy, and long-term market manipulation, she was still only scratching the surface. Not lacking in wit—never that—but compared to him, who carried the knowledge of the twenty-first century into this world, she could not yet see the larger web.

Arthur leaned forward slightly, his gaze steady on her. "Before I give you the answer," he said, his voice calm but edged with challenge, "why don’t you tell me what you think will happen to this kingdom if I sell pig iron? Assume the blacksmiths and metalworkers learn how to handle the high carbon content. What then?"

Audrey blinked, caught off guard by the question. She hadn’t expected him to turn it back on her. Her fingers brushed lightly against the edge of the desk as she gathered her thoughts, her lips parting in hesitation before she finally spoke.

"I suppose..." she began slowly, "...if others could refine it, then they too would make more steel. Not the brittle kind, but proper steel—better quality. Their armies would grow stronger. Their smiths and workshops would thrive, gaining wealth. And if they bought the raw material from us first, then they would remain dependent on us for their supply."

Her voice trailed off. She looked up at him, eyes searching for affirmation, like a student awaiting her teacher’s verdict.

Arthur’s smile deepened faintly, though his gaze stayed sharp, like steel under fire.

"Not bad," he murmured. "You’re beginning to see it. But there is more to it—much more."

He leaned back slightly, his voice calm, deliberate, yet carrying a weight that filled the chamber.

"Hiring more smiths and metalworkers here in Keldoria would certainly bring profit, but it is a narrow approach. Yes, I could build more workshops and press more men into service, but even then, our numbers are finite. At best, we would increase production by a fraction. But if I release pig iron into the market..." His eyes narrowed, gleaming faintly. "...I am no longer limited to the number of smiths I can hire. I would be harnessing the labor and ingenuity of every smith across the Keldoria."

Audrey’s breath caught slightly, her lips parting, but Arthur pressed on.

"By selling pig iron, we create demand. Smiths and metalworkers everywhere will struggle, experiment, adapt. They’ll seek better ways to refine, to forge, to compete. A surge will follow—iron-related industries flourishing, workshops expanding, apprentices being trained, techniques being invented. All because of the supply I control."

His fingers tapped the desk softly, punctuating his words.

"Think of it this way: if I monopolize production within Eldoria, the growth of technology is tied only to my own imagination. And yes, I know much—more than this world can fathom—but even I cannot think of everything. True innovation often comes from necessity, from those desperate to solve problems they face every day. If smiths and enchanters across the land are given new material to work with, they will create things I have not yet imagined. New tools. New weapons. New methods. Some purely practical, others enhanced with magic."

Arthur’s gaze darkened, a glint of cold calculation in his eyes.

"And all of it... will begin with pig iron. With what we sell. Their advancements, their wealth, their strength—it will all trace back to Keldoria. And so long as the furnaces remain ours, they will never escape that dependence. Our furnaces will become the heart of their growth, and our kingdom’s progress will always run ahead of theirs. The technological advancement of Keldoria will outpace every rival, every kingdom, until the gap becomes an unbridgeable chasm."

Audrey’s breath caught, her chest tightening in a way she could not explain. She stared at him, her heart fluttering for reasons that went beyond the sharp logic of his words. He spoke not merely as a king, but as someone who saw further than anyone else—further than she could even imagine. Where others saw ingots of brittle iron, Arthur saw destiny.

But what Arthur spoke aloud was only the surface of his reasoning. He left much unsaid, for Audrey’s sake.

He did not explain how, in political terms, pig iron would give him invisible chains around foreign nobles’ necks. Whoever relied on Keldoria’s supply would be bound by his will, whether they admitted it or not. He could grant favor or cut them off, strengthen their armies or leave them scrambling with shortages—all without ever raising a sword. Trade itself would become a weapon sharper than steel.

Nor did he delve into the deeper mechanics of the market. To speak of "supply and demand curves" or controlled scarcity would overcomplicate matters for her, and Arthur knew Audrey was still learning the intricacies of economics. She excelled in invention, in construction, but this realm of calculated markets and invisible forces was one he carried from another world.

In his mind, he was already charting the next steps: how to set the price of pig iron low enough to lure buyers, yet high enough to bleed them slowly; how to release just enough supply to keep demand insatiable without collapsing the market; how to weave a system of dependency so thoroughly that even if rival kingdoms built furnaces of their own, they would never be able to sever themselves entirely from Keldoria’s hold.