Wine Deal and Feeld’s Fairy Tale

"Your father was a courageous noble, the Divine Champion of the Blood-Rose for House Roths, who left legendary tales across the empire." Simon offered pleasantries despite their utter lack of acquaintance, knowing the old Count's first champion had perished long ago in the elven wars. Raising his voice, he declared, "I deeply admire his valor and hope to meet him someday."

Simon, a pallid, rotund man speckled with freckles and warts, lay nestled between two unclothed maidservants. After speaking, he pursed his lips to suck a cherry from one maid's hand, chewed leisurely, then spat the pit—along with spittle—onto her alabaster skin with a "ptui." The maid showed no displeasure, merely giggling incessantly.

*Decadent indeed,* Feeld thought, though unsurprised. Many nobles lived thus. Coddled since childhood, their thresholds for pleasure soared so high that only extreme stimuli could spark joy. Feeld cared little, so long as Simon didn't cross him.

At Simon's gesture, Feeld took a seat and reciprocated the flattery: "You're the most adept noble I've seen at managing his domain. The prosperity of Maple City is unparalleled."

"Ha! I appreciate your candor."

The two exchanged hollow courtesies, upholding noble decorum.

"Truly, Feeld, you've inherited your house's courage and wit. Few who brave the Cursed Lands emerge unscathed." Simon heaved himself upright, waving the maids away—a signal that pleasantries had ended. "Let's discuss business in the parlor. Since these common beauties don't tempt you, so be it. Perhaps elves or mermaids would suit your taste? Heh, sadly I've none on hand. The last batch was... purchased as delicacies by other nobles."

Feeld suppressed a wave of nausea, his expression impassive. "You even trade in mermaids?"

"Naturally! Next time, I'll take you to an exclusive underground banquet. Guaranteed to satisfy any... proclivity." Simon winked, grinning mischievously.

"Ha! Something to anticipate. Worthy of the Baron of Maple," Feeld laughed heartily. Though uninterested in such revelries, as a seller, flattery served his purpose. Adopting a tone of relief, he added, "Emerging from Nightfall Dominion owed much to my soldiers and the Goddess's grace. I'm astonished I survived—fortune favors me for now."

Simon applauded. "I relish dealing with the fortunate."

In the opulent parlor, Feeld's inspected cargo awaited. Through the doorway, sherry casks were visible.

"What are these?"

"Hammond, show Baron Simon the specimen."

Feeld delayed his sales pitch, instead having guards present a skull—that of a mutated rat from the grand winery. Its cranium alone rivaled a youth's torso, sporting horns and jagged fangs like a demon's leer.

"My first encounter with a transcendent horror in Nightfall—a corrupted giant rat-demon. Purple hellfire wreathed its fur; its claws shredded plate armor; a single shriek summoned vengeful spirits. My vanguard lost seven knights to its demonic flames in moments! Damnation—those were Roths' finest, reduced to cinders."

*"Hiss—"*

Simon sucked air through his teeth, stroking his chin. "Maple Fortress hasn't faced rat-demons. They seem... perilous."

Nobles prized prestige over truth.

Feeld lifted the skull, feigning lingering terror as he spun his fairy tale: "This monstrosity rampaged through our ranks seven times. None could withstand its claws. Imagine the despair? I prayed for divine intervention."

Simon nodded. "Like craving honey with none left in the pantry."

"At death's door, the Goddess answered. A thunderbolt smote the beast. Only then could my knights strike it down."

"Praise the Goddess!" Simon gaped, tracing the Goddess of Love's sigil over his heart. "The Northern Province is hell incarnate. Church and Crown's expeditions failed. Your survival borders on miracle."

"True. Yet for the empire's peace... and rare treasures, I'd risk it." Feeld shrugged, loosening his collar. "Especially treasures like the decade-lost vintage: Black Pearl Wine. Even this gluttonous rat-demon recognized its worth—guarded it fiercely."

"Heavens! Black Pearl? The royal banquet reserve from ten years past?" Simon's eyes glittered. "Show me! I can't wait."

Nobles were helpless before rarities. Though Feeld acquired the wine easily, embellishing its perilous origins inflated both price and prestige.

As the cask opened, rich fragrance flooded the room. Simon sipped eagerly, his face melting into rapture. "This flavor... My father hoarded one bottle. Only last birthday did he grant me a sip! Velvety smooth. He'll writhe with envy!"

Feeld smiled. "Naturally. Noble beauties belong with noble lords; noble wines deserve noble palates."

Even modern shoppers prefer products with "stories": *Folks! Boss wanted 900 million, but I slashed it to 9 coins! Grab it now!*

"I've found a kindred spirit. I'll take this precious wine." Simon summoned a servant, whispering briefly. "A moment, Baron Feeld. My advisor and I must confer—this is no trifling sum."

"By all means."

After brief consultation, Simon offered 500 gold coins per cask.

Precisely Feeld's starting capital for the Nightfall expedition.

*A standard sherry cask holds ~500 liters. 1 liter ≈ 2.1134 pints. One serving = 1 pint. Noble wine sells at ~25 copper coins per serving. Thus, ordinary wine: ~26 gold, 41 silver per cask.*