Chapter 546: Trade in the Southern Continent

Aiwas was a little surprised to see little Rabbih following him out.

He followed Aiwass obediently and silently, looking a little cautious.

Aiwass turned around and said, "Aren't you going to accompany your grandfather?"

"Not yet."

"Why? It's so hard to find him... Isn't that why you came to the Theocracy?"

"Yes."

Little Rabbih had a serious expression on his face. He spoke slowly and rhythmically in his half-fluent Avalonian: "But Grandpa has been rescued. He is safe. I want to thank my benefactor. This is more important."

As he spoke, he glanced at Aiwass and Sherlock with some concern, and emphasized: "Grandpa is not... a particularly cruel person."

The young troll wizard tried to defend his grandfather.

Aiwass didn't say anything, just smiled and didn't comment.

Sherlock sneered, "Then can you tell me why he cursed Zumaidi first? Is it because Zumaidi is a curser?"

"Yes... I'm glad you understand."

The young troll wizard answered without hesitation: "Cursers are all descendants of sinners. Because filthy things are more poisonous."

Sherlock looked up and met his gaze.

He did not see any shame or repentance in the clear eyes of the little Rabbih.

At least that's what the trolls really think.

This made Sherlock's original intention to say something stuck in his throat, and he was a little stuck for a moment.

Aiwass reached out and patted Sherlock's shoulder, pulling him back from his forward lean. "Every place has its own customs and traditions. We may not understand them, but we should at least respect them.

"In the Southern Continent, curse masters have the lowest status. Wizards can cast curses, but curse masters cannot use rituals."

"Wizard" is another translation of "Curse Mage," and is more commonly referred to as such in the South. "Curse Mage" is an Eastern term. This is also why the advanced class of the "Curse Mage" is called "Grand Wizard."

"You are wise and prophetic, venerable Archbishop."

Little Rabbih made some strange gestures with his hands in front of him, then bowed deeply. "Avalon is too developed, so they don't understand. Our tribe is very backward. There are very few smart people, and we are all guided by wizards.

"Cursers are all sinners. They violated taboos, killed people, or ate people. And there were hostile tribes, but we defeated them. Sin will flow in their blood for three generations. Their scent is foul, and wild beasts can smell their sin. They can't be hunters, and no one needs them..."

Little Rabbi tried to explain.

He danced and used very rich body language.

But even so, there were still some words he couldn't say in Avalonian and had to use Elvish instead.

Fortunately, both Aiwass and Sherlock were proficient in Elvish and could understand what he meant.

That said, Lily was still a bit awkward—her current Elvish proficiency was roughly equivalent to that of a freshman who could barely pass the CET-4. She had no problem with everyday reading, but fast-paced conversations or uncommon words might be a bit confusing.

It was obvious that little Rabbih was much more proficient in Elvish than Avalon. As a young troll of only eighteen years old, he even mastered two foreign languages ​​- this level of intelligence was already better than many Avalonians.

But as a respect for Aiwass and the other two, he chose to use Avalonian as much as possible when speaking to Aiwass.

Sherlock also realized the other party's politeness and sincerity.

He sighed, raised his hand and tried to pat the other person's shoulder. And little Rabbih was very considerate and humbly bent down, allowing Sherlock to touch his shoulder without having to stand on tiptoe.

"I know you're a good boy, Rabbih..."

Sherlock patted his shoulder and said slowly, "But you don't have to care too much about our opinions and attitudes towards you. Unless you have something else to say to us; or, unless we have a reason to meet again in the future."

Although he was one centimeter taller than Aiwass... he still looked like a skinny child in front of Rabih, who was nearly three meters tall and whose arm muscles were thicker than Aiwass's thighs.

"gentlemen."

Little Rabbih couldn't remember Shylock's name, so he could only call him "Sir": "I respect the people of Avalon very much because you are the same as the elves. You are better than the Star Antimony people or the Iris people. The worst are those white robes."

"It seems that the Iris Kingdom doesn't allow the trafficking of trolls either?"

Sherlock asked.

He was intrigued by this—this was extremely rare firsthand information, far more accurate than reading a book or a paper. As the heir of a troll tribe, a brilliant troll who had mastered multiple foreign languages ​​at a young age, the information he provided personally was far more accurate than research reports based solely on conjecture and inference.

Upon hearing this, Little Rabbih immediately became serious, even a little excited—he hadn't been this excited when he mentioned those "white-robed people": "The Iris people will come to us to trade with us. But all the trades are unfair! Not fair! Just like the goblins—even worse than goblins!"

"Tell me more."

Sherlock became interested and even took out a notebook from his pocket: "What exactly is unfair?"

"They traded soap, cloth, salt, wine, and herbs with us. They also offered us corn, cocoa, coffee, and some monster tusks, hides, and meat. But I knew the price wasn't right!"

Little Rabbih gave an example: "One barrel of wine can be exchanged for five carts of coffee; one cart of salt can be exchanged for one cart of ivory!"

Sherlock frowned and wrote and drew.

He quickly calculated the price, then looked at Aiwass with surprise, almost in amazement.

"How many?"

Seeing his reaction, Aiwass leaned over and asked in a low voice.

"At least fifty times the profit, that's terrifying," Sherlock whispered in Aiwass's ear. "No wonder... Iris has been squeezed so hard by Star Antimony, yet they've managed to hold on. It turns out they're the richest."

Then Sherlock looked up and asked, "Is the price the same for the goblins?"

"There should be fewer goblins...

After saying this, Rabbih realized that his description was not very accurate, so he added: "The Iris people are even worse."

In other words, the profits of the goblins are lower than those of the Iris people.

"Then why don't you trade with the goblins?"

Sherlock asked this casually.

But as soon as he asked, he knew he had said something stupid - why not trade with the goblins? That was simple, because the goblins had long deceived, plundered and sold trolls, and even squeezed the trolls' power back to the depths of the rainforest. The trolls had a deep hatred for the goblins.

Because the Iris people won't buy troll slaves, they enjoy a high reputation among the trolls. Many trolls rush to do business with them, hoping to expand the Iris people's influence in the southern continent. It would be best to drive out the Star Antimony people, the Parthians, and the goblins.

...I never thought that the Iris people would one day be better at business than the goblins.

Aiwass also felt a little emotional.

After hearing this, Aiwass understood what little Rabbih meant: "You want to... cooperate with the people of Avalon?"

"Avalon people are the best."

Little Rabbi said firmly, "It's almost the same as the elves! They have their own constraints... and the elves are the fairest."

There's nothing wrong with your judgment of the elves... but you think too highly of Avalon, child.

Aiwass said in his heart, and Sherlock's expression was a little strange.

But little Rabbih really asked for help from the real master.

Edwards is now the president of Lloyd's of London, so his word really counts.

Originally, Avalon refused to trade with foreign races due to the influence of the elves and their need to maintain their authority. Now that this ban has been lifted by Isabelle, and the goblins have already come ashore to build railways...trade with the trolls is no longer a problem.

"The Warsong Tribe, huh?"

"The Beast Song Tribe."

Little Rabbih corrected.

"Okay, Beast Song Tribe—where are you located in the Southern Continent?"

Aiwass said with a smile, "Although it may not look like it, I am Avalon's recognized business leader, Minister without Portfolio, Knight of the Inner Circle of the Round Table, Queen Isabel's most trusted confidant, President of Lloyd's, future head of the founding family 'Moriarty', and heir to the Moriarty Group."

"Or the future Prince of Avalon."

Sherlock nodded and added.

He placed his right hand on his chest and said with a hint of pride, arrogance, and gnashing of teeth, "And I am his deputy."

"I am the secretary and also the assistant secretary."

“You can communicate directly with him,” Aiwass emphasized.

"oh!"

The young rabbi's eyes suddenly lit up.

He half-knelt on the ground, stretched out his huge, fleshy hands and shook hands with Sherlock very sincerely: "Thank you very much! Welcome! Looking forward to it! Please come to us, distinguished guest.

"We are one of the largest tribes... Or perhaps the top three, or even the top five. Right in the heart of the city... When your people come, just say my name. Rabbih of the Beast Song Tribe, my guest. Those smaller tribes won't dare to stop you."

Sherlock turned and glared at Aiwass.

——You like to throw these troublesome things to me, right?

Aiwass responded with his eyes: How about giving it to your brother?

——Alright.

Sherlock guessed what Aiwass was going to say.

He whispered to little Rabbih, "I'll write to Avalon when I get back and have the Privy Councilor contact you directly... You should know the Privy Councilor, right?"

"Oh, I know! Chief Hunter, or High Priest!"

The young rabbi nodded repeatedly and listed the two identities second only to the tribal leader: "The high priest is my grandfather! He taught me everything I know!"

(End of this chapter)