Chapter 368: Not Profitable
Carlos met Matthew while the latter was studying the different uses of the six-armed golem.
Agile Elio was testing the reactions and attack speed of the six-armed golem.
Though the golem's movement speed was average, its six arms of varying lengths worked together to create a waterfall-like continuous offensive.
Even Matthew couldn't help but marvel at it.
With appropriately sized weapons, the six-armed golem could indeed become a veritable battlefield meat grinder.
Although the six-armed golem's durability was only average, its impressive model design made Matthew eager to see its upgraded version.
The 200,000 gold coin design fee was well worth it!
"As expected of 343, there's still a lot of potential to be unearthed (or squeezed out)..."
Without a change in his expression, Matthew eyed 343, then turned to face Carlos—handsome, exuding a noble aura, calm and collected.
Carlos wore a bright silver suit of metal armor. The surface gleamed brilliantly, covered with intricate magical patterns.
With just a glance, Matthew noticed enchantments like "Fortification," "Deflection," "Magic Resistance," and "Strength Boost."
Just this set of high-quality knight armor was worth over 100,000 gold coins.
This was a wealthy man!
With his purse feeling quite light lately due to all the spending, Matthew immediately broke into a bright smile, making a welcoming gesture as he said:
"We meet again, Captain Carlos. Welcome to Bay Territory."
"I heard from Hall that you and your people are quite interested in Bay Territory's military equipment. You really have an eye for quality!"
"Looking across the entire Eastern Province, it's only in Bay Territory that our military equipment is affordable, produced in bulk, and of a decent standard."
"What are you interested in? Let me know."
Seeing Matthew so enthusiastic, Carlos found it a bit strange, much like the rest of this odd Bay Territory.
He couldn't help but let his eyes wander toward the six-armed golem, which was causing quite a commotion.
Just seeing its performance was enough to evoke a sense of awe.
What Carlos regretted, though, was that the Eighth Legion had no immediate use for such heavy combat units.
Facing Matthew's smile, Carlos pushed aside his scattered thoughts, and in a soft voice said:
"We need a large supply of crossbows and bolts, preferably enchanted ones."
"If possible, we'd also like to order a batch of those poisons we've seen before—they worked very well against the orcs."
"Additionally, we need a batch of basic healing potions or Vitality Potions produced here in Bay Territory."
"And if Bay Territory is capable, we'd like to purchase a batch of enchanted armor and equipment as well..."
As Carlos spoke, Butler Ralph quickly began taking notes.
The smile on Matthew's face grew even brighter. He nodded in agreement as he gestured for Carlos to follow him towards the warehouse district, saying:
"Enchanted crossbows are rather scarce, but we have plenty of enchanted bolts."
"To show our respect for the Eighth Legion, we'll only charge fifty silver coins per enchanted bolt."
"This price is just half of the market rate, and we guarantee the quality—for every fake, we'll compensate you tenfold..."
Hearing Matthew's pitch, Carlos maintained his polite aristocratic smile, but his adjutant looked a bit skeptical.
Though Bay Territory had developed rapidly with many peculiarities, could they really produce enchanted weaponry in bulk?
Spellcaster talent was inherently rare!
Crafting magical items required talent, vast amounts of gold, and extensive knowledge!
In the Netheril Empire, fifty percent of lords were spellcasters of varying capabilities.
Of them, eighty percent were unable to produce magical items for various reasons.
The adjutant didn't think Matthew was outright lying; he simply assumed Bay Territory's capability came from the support of the Ser family!
After all, the Ser family was one of the most famous producers of potions and magical items in the Netheril Empire.
As a member of the Ser family and a former prodigy, it was only natural for Matthew to receive some support.
Soon, they arrived at the warehouse.
Matthew had Carlos randomly select a crate, then confidently handed over some enchanted bolts and said:
"Triangular arrowheads, specifically designed for armor penetration."
"We're not aiming for maximum lethality against orcs; we just want them to feel the paralysis poison."
Holding the sturdy, sharp bolt, Carlos examined its intimidating triangular head.
The finely sharpened edges, small barbs, and vicious blood grooves suggested that these arrows were far from being as "non-lethal" as Matthew claimed.
Carlos confirmed the "Sharpness," "Fortification," and "Penetration" enchantments on the bolts and nodded approvingly:
"If all the bolts are like this, I can authorize procurement from Bay Territory."
"Fifty silver coins per bolt is too low—we in the Eighth Legion are not that kind of army. Just give us a 20% discount and make it eighty silver coins per bolt."
"If your stockpile is sufficient, I'd like to take a million bolts at once!"
A million bolts!
That meant 500,000 gold coins!
As for the price Carlos mentioned, Matthew knew to take it with a grain of salt.
Everyone had their way of navigating social niceties.
Matthew nodded knowingly, gesturing to Butler Ralph to make a note, and moved toward another storage area, picking up a bottle of emerald-green liquid:
"This isn't poison; it's a paralysis potion we specially developed in Bay Territory for dealing with orcs."
"Once it enters the bloodstream, an ordinary orc will drop instantly. Even elite or high-ranking orcs will sleep peacefully."
"Every orc that's used it says it's great!"
Everyone couldn't help but twitch at Matthew's words, watching as he unscrewed the bottle of paralysis potion.
He poured it into a prepared bucket of water.
After a simple stir, he used Mage Hand to dip both a dagger and a bolt into the mixture.
After about ten seconds, he pulled them out.
Beelzebub dragged over two captured orcs—both of whom were muscular and strong.
Even in Beelzebub's grip, they thrashed about.
With a *thud*, Matthew stabbed one orc's arm with the bolt.
The elite orc, equivalent to a mid-tier professional, resisted for about twenty breaths before stiffening and collapsing.
The dagger made a cut on the other orc's leg.
That orc also "slept" peacefully, like a dead pig.
Carlos's eyes lit up, and after exchanging a glance with his adjutant, he nodded excitedly:
"Yes, that's exactly it. How much per bottle?"
Matthew rubbed his hands together, showing a row of white teeth, and said with some embarrassment:
"One hundred gold coins!"
"Per bottle!"
"We're just running a small business here—not really making a profit..."
Carlos's smile froze, and suddenly he felt as if he were just like the orc lying on the ground.
Was he being slaughtered?
Was this what Matthew called "not making a profit"?