"You must already know about the cochineal dye mentioned here without me needing to explain it, right?"
Wolf, who had been staring intently at the map, lifted his head at my words.
"...Yes? Ah, yes. Of course. Anyone who doesn't know about it wouldn't be qualified to do business."
Cochineal was a red dye extracted from scale insects that parasitized on cacti in the deserts of Central and South America.
One might think it was just some dye, but cochineal had been Spain's star export product, responsible for their trade surplus for 200 years.
No exaggeration—it was the second most valuable export after silver, so Spain was obsessively fixated on its monopoly.
Even into the 17th century, Spain insisted that cochineal came from plant seeds.
They wanted to hide the fact that it was made from insects.
The official revelation that it came from insects happened at the end of the 17th century into the 18th, so it was still very recent information now.
"It's known that cochineal accounts for roughly 10% to 20% of Spain's New World exports. It's that important a commodity, so smuggling it could yield substantial profits."
"That's true. The idea of using Trieste's port is a good one too. It's a free port, and Spain has virtually no influence in the Adriatic. Plus, the timing is perfect."
"Because Venice's influence has waned. They can only act as simple middlemen, so we won't have to give them much cut."
"Er... You really... know your stuff."
I smirked as I met his eyes, which seemed to say, Why on earth does this make sense coming from you?
"Now do you feel like having a serious talk?"
"Ah, yes. But smuggling... for someone who might become part of the Imperial family one day..."
"That's exactly why I'm proposing a long-term partnership. It's not ideal for me to step forward myself. And I'll only do it once or twice for profit, then pull out. It's purely to secure initial capital."
"I see. Initial capital... But why did you choose me?"
"The Oppenheimers, who already hold the position of Court Jew, wouldn't find my offer enticing enough. Relationships last longer when both sides have much to gain, don't they?"
They had vast assets and businesses inherited from their late father, but failed to inherit his status.
And here I was, a prospective son-in-law who could represent the Imperial family despite my position.
Anyone could see it was a win-win setup.
"Impressive. Most of the information I had on Your Highness seems to have been inaccurate. What a shame... I paid a pretty penny for it."
"You can only truly know a person after meeting and talking with them face-to-face. So, can I take that as you accepting my proposal?"
"I'm grateful for the offer of a constructive relationship going forward. But to actually carry out this smuggling operation, there are a few more things we need to consider."
Of course. If he jumped in without checking even this much, I'd have been disappointed instead.
It wasn't just him sizing me up as a potential business partner.
I was also gauging Wolf Wertheimer's capacity.
Would he just be a money bag I prop up with token respect, or a partner to seize Europe's wealth with?
It all depended on how he responded here and now.
"So, what do we need to consider?"
"First, smuggling cochineal to Trieste is feasible enough. I do have some connections in the southern New World."
"On our end, using the family's connections, disguising it as 'legitimate' goods isn't hard. Though routing through neutral ports like Ragusa or Dubrovnik for laundering might be worth considering over direct shipping to Trieste."
"Exactly. Going through those waypoints means customs clearance in Trieste won't be an issue. But all these steps ultimately boil down to..."
"Money."
Wolf nodded gravely.
"Cochineal has such high margins that even with all that, we'll still make a decent profit. But I'm not sure if it'll leave enough gain to justify the risks."
His ability to assess situations on the spot and calculate profits wasn't bad at all.
This guy could handle a few jobs, at least.
"You're right. That's why we'll need some additional techniques. That's also why I said it's only for initial capital—it's not a method we can use repeatedly."
"Pardon? What technique do you mean...?"
"Use your capital, Mr. Wertheimer, to sweep up as much cochineal as possible in a short time. Then sell it back when the price rises."
"Even if we try to buy in bulk, they'll control it strictly, and merchants won't sell."
"No, they will sell. If the short-term price crashes and rational judgment fails."
To the uncomprehending Wertheimer, I leaked the key information for this plan.
"Do you know this? Red dye can also be made from lac insects in India. I've asked my family to procure samples, so securing them won't be hard. It's a familiar dye that's been used there since ancient times."
"...I've heard of it. There's also safflower from Persia."
"Yes, but circulation has been limited, so it couldn't compete with cochineal. That's why most people don't even know it exists."
In reality, safflower and lac were circulating in small quantities even in the early 18th century, but the amounts were too limited to form a proper market.
They started flooding in earnestly from the mid-18th century, after the British Empire won the Battle of Plassey and took control of Bengal.
"If no one even knows it exists... Ah, you're going to use it to disrupt the price."
"Precisely. Securing samples is easy, so use your connections and skills to distribute them across Western Europe. Then spread rumors that this substitute dye will come in massive quantities via the British East India Company, and the reaction will take care of itself."
In fact, around the mid-18th century, rumors about Indian dyes genuinely caused a short-term crash in cochineal prices.
All I'm doing is pulling that timeline forward by about 20 years.
"I understand the strategy you're planning. But if we mess this up, the cochineal price might not recover, reducing our profits."
"No problem. After we've bought enough volume, we just clarify the reality. Indian dyes are inferior to cochineal—the color fades quickly, and they can't maintain a vivid crimson for long. Above all, the British East India Company isn't in a position to import them in bulk yet."
Cochineal demand only plummeted after synthetic dyes in the mid-19th century, so safflower and lac won't have a long-term impact.
But in this era, where verifying facts is hard, it can create plenty of short-term chaos.
Europe, after all, has a proud tradition of sabotaging neighbors' thriving businesses.
The British Empire importing substitute dyes from India to undermine Spain's key industry?
Even if it doesn't fully add up, it's believable enough to wonder why it hasn't happened already.
Wolf's eyes sparkled as he scribbled calculations with his quill.
His eyes brimmed with greed—the look of a true merchant.
"This could work. Yeah, this will work. Even if prices stabilize faster than expected, we'll recover more than we invest."
"Not guaranteed. We could hit bad weather and lose ships."
"Ah! Right. I got a bit excited there. By the way, Your Highness... You really are Prince Franz, aren't you...?"
He shook his head, as if even he found his own words absurd.
"Forgive me. I was so shocked I spoke out of turn... Who could have known Your Highness had such mercantile genius?"
"Better they don't. If word got out that a noble excels at making money, they'd envy you inwardly while scorning you outwardly."
"Haha... True enough. Your Highness clearly isn't like that, but I do find it grating how those who can't survive a second without money pretend to be above it."
He said it casually, but his voice carried deep resentment.
Yeah. As a successful Jew, he must have felt the harshness of reality to his bones.
Even suppressing it, his pent-up frustration threatened to overflow.
In summary, both ability and desperation exceed the baseline.
This warrants a passing grade.
"Any more questions?"
"We can iron out the cochineal smuggling details as we execute. But Your Highness, you said this is just for initial capital, so you must have a blueprint to grow it further?"
"I do, but at this stage, it'd be hard to grasp. It's a bit different from finance or commerce."
"I see. I'm not asking for specifics, but for the direction you're heading. Even if I grow the capital on your behalf, eventually you'll have to step in, right?"
"In a few years, yes."
No matter how much wealth Wolf amassed, he'd eventually hit the innate limit of being a Jew.
A suspiciously rich Jew?
Perfect prey for drooling nobles to probe.
In the end, to convert that money to power, the name Franz of Lorraine was essential, not optional.
"But as Your Highness mentioned earlier... forgive my impertinence. If you've been amassing vast wealth since childhood, they'll say it's unbecoming for Imperial family material. You're a candidate for Archduchess Theresia's hand, after all."
"Exactly. They'll gossip about how someone entering the Imperial family acts so low-class."
As Wolf said, in noble society, chasing money too aggressively was seen as vulgar.
That's why we're having a Jew run the auto-farm.
In my past life, I made plenty of money too, but most was through politics or administration, so no finger-pointing.
But overt large-scale commerce? A future emperor would get flak for it.
"Then why... Are you deliberately trying to avoid the betrothal to Theresia?"
"No, quite the opposite."
This time, he genuinely couldn't comprehend, falling silent.
Naturally. A merchant to his core, he couldn't grasp the nobles' contradictory psychology.
"First off, I won't hoard the money I make. I'll spend it generously. Not the time to get specific yet, but many nobles will benefit."
"Opening your coffers to win favor, eh."
He nodded, but doubt lingered whether that would suffice.
"If it were one-off, maybe. But if funds from me dramatically improve their estates' conditions, that'll change things."
"I... see."
"And those voicing complaints have ulterior motives. Take Bohemian or Hungarian nobles—they'd worry about me, with French blood, wielding real power in the Imperial family."
In the past, I had a French mother and couldn't speak German, cementing my foreigner image.
Such a man entering the family could raise fears of eroding tradition and Imperial identity.
Layer on the Salic Law restricting female rule, and chaos was inevitable.
"But think of it this way: A duke who pours money to develop their lands, then says he'll serve the Empire's nobles so leaves governance entirely to his wife—who'd oppose that?"
An emperor who lavishes money but stays out of actual rule.
The ideal son-in-law model for Holy Roman nobles.
"Good heavens... You're starting business with that in mind? How... And you're only 17..."
"Even as a duke-to-be, should I dive into business without such ambition?"
"Hah, but... To realize that vision, you'd need more than 'a lot' of money..."
"Exactly."
I drew a line across the entire Holy Roman Empire on the table map with my quill.
"I'll make enough to buy all of this. When that time comes, Mr. Wertheimer, you might get what you want most. Of course, if you lack confidence, you're free to bow out—no hard feelings."
Can you handle it?
To that unspoken question, Wolf closed his eyes briefly, took a deep breath, then clenched his fist and stood.
Bowing at a perfect right angle, he shouted with utter sincerity.
"I'll devote everything to follow Your Highness! No—allow me to follow!"
Born a Jew, an insurmountable wall of reality.
He wanted to see what lay beyond.
To him, instead of words, I slowly extended my hand.
The first greeting and welcome to the man who would manage my funds henceforth.
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