Uncle Müller Joins

In the office of the Night Pearl Tavern, Uncle Muller puffed on his pipe, gazing at the two young men before him.

"Do you want me to join your venture? I've been busy lately—dealing with rival gangs and renovating their taverns."

"Uncle Muller, are you doubting my abilities? Don't you want to make a fortune once more? Such a chance to earn fast money doesn't come around every day."

"Do you two even understand what you're doing? You're talking about stockpiling ammunition before the great war—how is that any different from being traitors?"

"Precisely because of that, we need your involvement."

"If Lübeck's navy is defeated by the Danish fleet due to a lack of ammunition, the consequences will be unimaginable. Don't play with fire in matters like these—people will die."

Uncle Muller and Edward locked eyes across the table.

Edward hadn't expected that the seemingly ruthless Uncle Muller was so devoted to Lübeck.

Calmly, Edward asked, "Are Lübeck's ammunition and cannons openly sold? If we don't engage in this, will others do so? Will the Jews do it?"

Uncle Muller, caught off guard by Edward's shift in conversation, replied, "Since we need to deal with pirates, merchant ships are equipped with cannons. Therefore, cannons and ammunition are openly sold in Lübeck."

"We simply got wind of this opportunity earlier than others. If the information leaks, others will also start stockpiling ammunition. Why not let us be the ones to profit from it?"

"But if Lübeck loses the war because of this, those in power will trace it back. If they find out it's you, they'll hold you accountable. Some things are just too risky."

"You're always worried about this and that. In truth, the Hanseatic League, an organization of merchants, will eventually fall apart. Too many merchants like me will place their own interests above those of the guild."

"But you're German, and your brother is even a German noble."

"The future of Germany isn't in the Hanseatic League, but in a rising military power called the Kingdom of Prussia—a war machine born from the Holy Roman Empire."

Uncle Muller, torn between the temptation of immense wealth and his conscience as a German, hesitated.

At that moment, the small, plump Baron spoke up, "Uncle, join us. Ammunition is openly available in the market. We're not breaking the law. Making money only proves our vision. The Mayor of Lübeck is just another Hanseatic merchant. If he wants to eliminate other merchants, he still has to follow the law."

Edward quickly added, "Uncle, join us. Even if the lord kills his own vassals, there must be a valid reason, even if the vassals are considered personal property. And Lübeck, a city without a lord, means the mayor is equal to us, and the next mayor might not even be him."

The small, plump Baron smiled and added, "If something goes wrong, we can always flee to Edward's homeland. After all, Edward's brother is a lord. Lübeck, under the threat of the Kingdom of Denmark, would hardly attack another German lord."

Slowly, Uncle Muller regained his composure.

Yes, everything was legal. If he didn't do this, others would. So why not let them make the money?

However, Uncle Muller was disillusioned.

The Hanseatic League, a merchant-dominated guild, had often exhibited a power more formidable than that of regular nobles.

Over a hundred years ago, in 1201, Count Adolf III of Holstein lost a war against King Valdemar II of Denmark and was captured, leading Lübeck to fall under Danish rule. But just twenty years later, in 1227, Lübeck and Hamburg's coalition defeated the Danes, driving them out and returning Lübeck to self-management under the Holy Roman Empire.

In 1340, Emperor Louis IV of the Holy Roman Empire granted Lübeck the right to mint its own coins, and the gold marks minted in Lübeck became the primary currency for Baltic trade.

In 1361, Lübeck became the capital of the Hanseatic League.

Everything flourished.

This led Uncle Muller and other merchants to believe they had found the truth—the hope for the rise of the German nation.

But now, in 1370, with the Danish Kingdom's resurgence, Uncle Muller feared defeat and once again being ruled by the Danes.

However, if the young generation of merchants, like Edward and the small Baron, placed their own interests above the guild's, then the future of the German nation was bleak.

So, why not make more money?

"Sh*t, I'll join in. Let's do this. After all, we're not breaking any laws. We're just merchants, wanting to make a little money."

After saying these words, Uncle Muller looked utterly drained.

His wealth, his entire livelihood, was tied to Lübeck. If this failed, it would all be lost.

Yet, having witnessed Edward's almost magical operations that earned immense profits in a very short time, Uncle Muller couldn't resist the temptation.

As long as the justification was sound, Sh*t, let's do it.

Edward, too, felt the allure of money's power—it was a kind of magic.

Every time he saw the exorbitant prices in the city center or thought of the ships he longed to own, Edward knew that the world was no different.

It would only scorn you for being poor, never for being bad.

Poverty was the original sin—unable to afford the expensive buildings in the city center, unable to buy a cargo ship.

This was the crime. While other time travelers flourished, he couldn't even afford this or that. He felt embarrassed.

As Marx once said, if capital has a 50% profit, it dares to take risks; for 100% profit, it dares to trample on all human laws; for 300% profit, it dares to commit any crime, even risking the gallows.

Edward felt himself trembling with excitement.

The stakes were high, the risks immense, but the profits were even greater!

Now, the team was assembled, and the work could begin.

"Time is money. This news will spread sooner or later. Uncle, how much working capital do you have?"

"About 150,000 gold coins."

"What about you, little fat one?"

"About 80,000 gold coins."

"That should be enough. I gave most of my coins to my brother for war preparations. This time, I'm using my intellect as the mastermind. I know stockpiling ammunition isn't hard, but the key is how to sell it at a high price. How about I take 20% of the profits?"

"Uh..." The small fat Baron hadn't expected his boss, Edward, to contribute nothing. He had always thought Edward was the most capable—noble, wealthy, and knowledgeable.

Was he a fraud?

"Uncle, tell little fat one about my operations during the beer war."

Uncle Muller recounted how Edward had worked magic during the beer war.

"Everyone's a merchant. With 230,000 gold coins, you can stockpile ammunition and essentially buy up all the stock. Without the right approach, why would other merchants buy at high prices?" Edward made the Baron think.

"If I don't intervene, once others know you've stockpiled 230,000 gold coins' worth of ammunition, they'll buy it at only 50% of the price. Will you sell?"

"You've bought nearly all the ammunition, pushing the price high. Finding buyers will be hard. I can find those buyers and have them take the stock at high prices, charging a 20% profit. Doesn't that sound fair?"

"Think about it. If not, you can just buy the ammunition yourselves. If you make it small, you can involve other big players and still make some money. But such an opportunity—only making a little—is a waste, a crime. How many times do you get such an opportunity in life?"