The most important rule when hoarding goods is simple: buy cheap and sell high.

    It’s an obvious principle that even a first-grader would understand, but actually putting it into practice is incredibly difficult.

    It’s like saying, “If you study hard, you can get into Seoul National University.”

    ‘Both making money through hoarding and getting into Seoul National are hard.’

    Hoarding for profit often goes wrong with just a slight misstep in timing, forcing you to sell stockpiled goods at half price—or worse, a third of the cost.

    But just as you can’t catch a tiger without entering its den, to make money, you must be diligent about the fundamentals.

    Even if it means deceiving others, you have to buy cheap.

    As I reviewed my plan to deceive them one final time, the village chief entered the hut where I was waiting.

    “Greetings, merchant sir.”

    “Thank you for the warm welcome, Chief.”

    The chief was technically a freeman in name, but a city-dwelling merchant like me held higher status than the representative of serfs standing before me.

    Even while disguised as a mere merchant, I outranked the village chief.

    But, honestly, social status doesn’t put food on the table, does it?

    There was no need to flaunt my rank in a remote place like this, where no one was watching.

    Feigning politeness to put the other party at ease and gain an advantage in negotiations was far more beneficial.

    The chief relaxed a little, likely appreciating my courteous attitude.

    “You can speak freely, sir.”

    “Well, you are my esteemed guest, Chief, and a freeman at that. I should show respect to an elder.”

    Until a customer acts out, treat them like royalty.

    But once they cause trouble, they’re no longer a customer but a nuisance, and it’s only right to educate them with a good beating.

    This mindset is essential for doing business.

    Even now that I’ve achieved some success, I must never forget this principle.

    “So, what brings you here today?”

    “I’m here to purchase the food supplies remaining in your village.”

    “If you’re willing to pay a fair price, we’d be happy to sell. What specifically are you looking to buy, and in what quantities?”

    “Flour, barley flour, sausages, salted meat, cheese—anything that can be preserved for a long time. Oh, and livestock as well. I’d like to buy as much as possible.”@@@@

    Even in a world where transportation has advanced to the point of trucks and airlifts, the principle remains: procure supplies locally whenever possible, except for weapons.

    Even if it’s slightly more expensive than buying domestically.

    ‘Transportation costs and time are no joke.’

    In a world without trucks or planes, it’s even more pronounced.

    For instance, a pig that costs 10 silver coins in a rural village 50 kilometers away might cost 17 silver coins in a nearby city—a 70% markup.

    Sure, some of that is price gouging, but the poor state of transportation also makes transport costs high.

    Feigning desperation, I intensified my gaze, grabbed the chief’s hand, and pleaded earnestly.

    “What about 1.3 times? I’ll pay 30% more. Isn’t that enough?”

    A smile bloomed on the chief’s face.

    If he had any idea what was going on, he might have demanded at least 50% above market price.

    But even artisans and merchants, who receive news faster than serfs, wouldn’t know the war was imminent unless they were high-ranking officials.

    How could a mere village chief guess that a war was about to break out?

    “With that, I can sell you 20% more than what I originally offered. Any more, and no matter how much you pay, it would be impossible. Otherwise, we might truly starve during the winter.”

    It was easy to see what he was planning: use the money to buy more food or livestock from nearby villages, ensuring a comfortable winter and perhaps some savings.

    But that hope wouldn’t come true.

    I had already sent people to sweep up all the surplus food in every village within this county.

    ‘Even if we can’t buy it all, there won’t be much surplus left in this county.’

    Still, for these people, selling to me was far better than having their food requisitioned.

    That’s not just rationalization—it’s the truth.

    When requisitioning starts, the Grand Duchy’s military will strip every village of surplus food and pay them less than 5% of its value, all while spouting nonsense about noble duty.

    If they’re going to go hungry anyway, they’re better off saving money for next year.

    “Thank you. I’ll calculate the payment right away. I brought gold and silver coins, so I can pay you on the spot.”

    “Thank you so much. But may I ask something?”

    “Of course, go ahead.”

    The chief cautiously asked,

    “Why are you buying food at such a high price? Did something happen?”

    Even if serfs aren’t educated, it’s not as if they’re born stupid.

    They may not know much, but they’d surely recognize the signs of impending disaster passed down through generations.

    ‘Stockpiling food is always a precursor to war.’

    Trying to concoct some other reason would only make me seem more suspicious.

    “Have you ever seen a merchant reveal all their trade secrets? That would only hurt me.”

    With that, I concluded the deal in this village.

    Determined to spend my family’s entire fortune if necessary, I began purchasing all the food I could from the serfs in this county and made my way back.

    Meanwhile, the logistics command of the Grand Duchy of Milania, which had been quietly stockpiling supplies, was thrown into chaos and panic over the unexpected situation.

    “Who the hell is the bastard who cleaned out even the food reserves of the serfs in Pergamo?!”