PATRIARCH FOWL
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Casual Heroing, Chapter 204
🕑 Added 2023-10-23 17:06:52 +0000 UTCTROUBLE AHEAD! 🔥🔥🔥
Next chapter comes out October 24th!
1/4 chapters this week!
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Chapter 204 – Bakery
I find myself lounging atop an enormous bag of flour. It's so massive that, in many ways, it mirrors the comfort and size of a premium bean bag. Its grains have a particular softness, making it just the right balance between pliable and firm. In a weird, whimsical way, it's become my preferred spot when I'm in the mood to practice magic. The gentle give and push of the flour against my back seems to provide just the right ambiance.
It’s like a massive set of...
Sadly, I can feel my Mana tank almost empty from the previous exercises. Well, considering it’s been two months already, and I’m, like, only at Cantrip 156, my timeline is getting tighter than I’d like.
Now, one of the many reasons I like to chill on this big bag of flour is that cheap, bright white things are not easy to come by. Why am I so interested in white things, you ask?
Well...
Without further ado, I dig my hand into the bag, retrieving a generous handful of the powdery flour. Raising it slightly, I point my index finger at the grains, channeling into it a surge of Mana—more than I'm comfortable using for such an exercise. Adhering to the principles of one of the Cantrips I’ve been learning, I focus intently.
The flour begins to respond. At first, it's subtle—a faint shimmer that's easy to dismiss. But as seconds pass, the glimmer intensifies, becoming vaguely fluorescent under the immense amount of Mana I had to put through it. Soon, I have to stop it because my reservoir is getting depleted.
But it worked.
Ultraviolet.
...
“Joey!” Flaminia barks as she tosses a spoon at me. “You rottenbastard!”
“Yo!” I say, catching the spoon mid-air. “Again?”
“Again!” She growls.
“Flam, I told you, I can’t conjure better [Farmers] out of nowhere.”
“You said you had a plan!” The pink-haired [Chef] stomps toward me, jamming her finger into my chest. “What are we going to do now?”
I sigh, scratching my head.
“Where’s Flavia?” I ask.
“Crunching the numbers in her office.”
“Alright, alright,” I say, raising my hands, “I need to talk to her.”
“And stop wasting time in the storage room! We are going under!”
“I know, I know,” I mutter, moving to the restructured, gigantic floors.
We leased some spaces for a new kitchen and moved everything there, finally re-adapting both the old Happy Bakery and Three Roses into storefronts-cum-restaurants. I walk up the stairs that lead from the kitchen lab to the offices. I like the glass door concept, but when I told Flavia that I wanted to make the office walls out of glass, she almost whacked me. Even the calmest out of the Saturnia sisters has been on edge since our margins have shrunk considerably.
Even with all Marcella’s investment money, we had to take out loans for what we needed.
I open the door to Flavia’s office, and there’s her and the other blonde Saturnia sister, Camilla.
“Joey,” Flavia sighs, “we were looking for you.”
“I was exhausting my Mana again.”
You should be practicing your ideas to expand your Mana reserves instead of wasting time on your business.
No, that’s not my conscience. That’s Magister Mulligan. The old man has gotten all riled up since I started unlocking the other Cantrips and explaining how they related to physics. Apparently, that’s something he didn’t know. The funniest thing is that even though he’s an [Archmage], his proficiency at Light Magic and physics is not as good as mine.
I feel a little current going through my body, but I ignore it and focus on the problem at hand.
The weight of my decisions hangs heavily on me as I take in the stark reality. I'm facing the looming catastrophe of driving two previously thriving businesses straight into the ground. I glance around the minimalistic office space. We didn’t have money to decorate yet.
Sadly, I risk bankrupting what were two extremely successful businesses.
“What’s new?” I ask, attempting to keep my tone neutral, though the unease betrays me slightly.
Camilla’s mischievous glint that's usually present is nowhere to be seen today. She slowly reaches out, handing over a meticulously detailed sheet cluttered with columns and figures. "Look at these numbers," she prompts, a hint of frustration evident.
My eyes scan the paper, the room's ambient lighting reflecting off it. "Why the hell has the cost of flour skyrocketed? Didn’t we secure a deal earlier—oh." A closer look at the quantities and the rising numbers on this spreadsheet-like document causes me to bite my lower lip, a surge of regret bubbling up.
"They've got us cornered," Camilla says with a hint of bitterness. "Your ambitious scaling strategies have essentially cornered our suppliers. They're well-aware of our obligation to uphold these contracts. And those wily farmers who switched to Durum wheat, essential for your prized Altamura bread? They've jacked up their prices. Clodia's reserved fields? They're barely making a dent, covering a measly 20% of our production needs."
Attempting to find a silver lining, Camilla hesitates before adding, "On the brighter side, the sales from our storefronts have been robust."
"But," she continues, her voice laden with distress, "the staffing decisions have been far from ideal. We're overstaffed with underqualified individuals."
"They're undergoing training," I retort defensively, my gaze still glued to the damning numbers. "I genuinely didn't anticipate these [Farmers] to exploit us like this. Our profit margins are..."
"An absolute disaster," Camilla interjects, completing my thought. "Our contractual obligations have overwhelmed us. While your innovative mixers cut the number of people we need for bread kneading, the prices we are bound to pay are killing us. And with these exorbitant flour prices, we might end up incurring losses with every loaf we sell."
"There's a possibility to cut back on research funds," I suggest, hoping for a solution. "This magical grain project is currently draining our coffers without any tangible returns."
Flavia, usually the voice of reason, cuts in, her expression grave. "Joey, that's already been considered and incorporated into these projections. To be frank, that military contract was a grave miscalculation."
I can't help but cringe, recalling Marcella's enthusiastic report on the military's interest in replicating Clodia's arrangement with the City Watch. Offering them heavily discounted baked goods for a year and banking on a lucrative renewal the following year now seems like a naive dream.
It’s almost like that old crone wanted us to lose money, I grit my teeth.
"Considering our current rotten trajectory," Flavia says solemnly, drawing back my attention, "next year seems like a distant dream."
“We’re not making it to the next year, huh?” I ask.
“We are not,” Flavia spells out the words slowly. “Unless you have something else in mind.”
I take a seat in front of them, on the other side of the desk. Taking a deep breath, I lean forward, propping my elbows on the table. "Break it down for me one more time. In terms of our revenue, what portion is secured through contracts? I'm talking about the Watch, the military, and our commitments to those other establishments – inns, restaurants, and such."
She takes a moment, shuffling through a heap of papers before pulling out a neatly arranged document. "From the analysis here," she begins with a sigh, "around 70% of our revenue stream is attributed to your signature bread. Of that portion, an overwhelming 80% is tied up with the Watch and Military contracts. And here's the rotten fruits we need to swallow – we're bound by these contracts for a minimum of eight more months. No wiggle room."
I pinch the bridge of my nose, processing the bleak figures. "Which implies," I reason, "that a mere 14% of our total revenue is derived from independent businesses? I assume they make their purchases daily? And we have them on dynamic pricing, adjusted to market fluctuations?"
Camilla, who'd been silently observing till now, interjects, "Yes, Joey. Their prices are flexible. But, given our current predicament, even a significant price hike for them won't substantially offset our losses."
Her statement hangs in the room, a grim reminder of our dire circumstances. I nod slowly, my thoughts racing. "Has Marcella commented on the possibility of her sizable investment potentially tanking? She’s been a silent observer in our discussions, but surely, she's got some thoughts?"
Flavia exhales heavily, rubbing her temples. "She's indeed concerned. While she's expressed a willingness to infuse more capital, it's not without its caveats. The interest rates she's proposing would be astronomical. If we were to accept, it would further erode our already razor-thin margins. It's a double-edged sword."
“Fuck,” I say.
“Yes, Joey. Fuck,” Camilla looks me straight in the eye.
...
“Hey, Stanimal,” I look at the gigantic Elf supervising the dozen or so homeless people we’ve hired. “Can I have a word? I need your advice.”
The old man nods gingerly, and I gesture toward a corner of the bakery—I don’t feel like having other employees know that we are in deep shit.
As we walk over, I feel the massive dog shuffling behind us. I told him that having Grigio here is not exactly sanitary, but he somehow guaranteed me that the monster would not shed hair in the food.
“So,” I sigh, “I know your role is on the floor, but I’m having a farming-related problem, and I know you have—”
“Joey!” I get suddenly interrupted by Quintus running toward us.
“Quintus,” I frown, “I’m busy. We’re having problems with—”
“Joey, there’s a mob outside! [Soldiers] andcivilians! They are threatening to burn the place to the ground!”
“What!?”
Comments
Eidetic Eidolon
This is a silly contrived problem. Use regular flour. You don't ONLY have to make altamura bread.
Adam
So wait, is Joey trying to use magic to make a gamma knife?
