Black crossed his legs and leaned back in the s.p.a.cious chair, confident of his proposition. He had ordered the other members of the council to be on their best behavior for today, to which they readily agreed. Their entire underground business was run off many things, but they were in dire need of entering the weapons market.
Caesar"s abrupt appearance was not at all expected, but it was in their best interest to grab him while they still could. It was due to this particular fact that the contract was well-written and revised, not too bad for Caesar, and not too inadequate for themselves. It was a deal fit for equals, which Black was comfortable with.
The contents were relatively modest. Simply put, Requiem would manage the workforce, and Caesar would handle the funds, future, marketing, and transactions. Black would utilize his influence to help Caesar, but in return, the underground business would profit from the merchandise successfully sold.
Such a deal could be considered somewhat normal back on earth. Most new and upcoming companies were often sold off to goliaths, or simply crippled by the more Machiavellian corporations. It was common for people like Caesar to ride on the coat-tails of well-established organizations until he was capable of walking on his own two feet.
Fifteen percent of all profits would enter Requiems pocket, but they would supply the workers. It wasn"t too bad of a deal, and Caesar didn"t have to think too much about it. However, there were a few loopholes within the contract that caused him to squint his eyes. Although Requiem agreed to supply workers, there were no buildings, wage, loyalty, or anything else prepared for that matter. He was quite reluctant to accept employees that were loyal to another, and not himself.
"I agree to a few of your terms, but I have several issues regarding employment," Caesar spoke after a moment of silence, raising his eyes, "Acquiring workers is not too hard, I"m much more worried about their wage and loyalty. You want fifteen percent of all profits, yet it would appear you don"t want to pay the workers, nor have anything else to do with the business."
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After his words pa.s.sed, surprise flashed within Black"s eyes. If he was being completely honest with himself, he only wanted to use his work-force, not pay them. This would rake in much more benefits for Requiem, and not Caesar. It was a selfish clause within the contract but also hidden from amateurish eyes. Under no circ.u.mstances did Black believe that Caesar was well-versed in business. He was so young, after all.
Before Black could form a reb.u.t.tal, Caesar continued. "I gain nothing from working with you if this is your limit. I was much more interested in your connections and transportation, not your ability to a.s.semble loyal hounds to corrupt my workshops."
The room descended into silence; the ice only being broken with an awkward cough emanating from Black. "Very well, I understand your sentiments… let me revise a few things in the contract so that we can meet again at a later date?" he asked with a tilt of his head, trying his d.a.m.nedest to keep composure. To be embarra.s.sed by a mere child, it was already commendable that Black didn"t even have a change in expression.
In response, Caesar waved his hand with a smile. "That will not be necessary. No one likes wasting time, yes?" Caesar asked wistfully whilst taking a piece of parchment out of his breast pocket, "I have come prepared, just as any other successful businessman would. The conditions in my contract are quite similar to yours, but they are much fairer, for both parties."
Black reached out and grabbed the neatly folded paper, flattening it out on the table and deeply scrutinizing it. He even used a pair of his reading gla.s.ses to read the eloquent contents, making sure that he didn"t miss a single detail. Surprisingly, Caesar wasn"t lying—the similarities were strikingly familiar. The main difference was the fact that Requiem would be in charge of delivering the said weapons, utilizing their carriages and protecting the hauls.
In fact, Caesar was quite willing to pay for the workers" wage as long as transportation and residential were taken care of. In his personal opinion, loyalty was not a requirement to work under him. The only emotion they needed to feel toward him was fear; everything else was irrelevant.
Black was a bit stuped, unsure on how to proceed. The deal itself wasn"t too bad, but the thought of protecting the commodities felt a bit redundant. Thinking to here, he scanned the room, only to see the other council members looking at him with disdain. Black was the mere manager of this particular meeting. His authority was not higher than the others. This short exchange with Caesar caused him to lose some face, more so if he declined.
It took a few minutes of continuous teeth grinding for Black to nod his head in acceptance, albeit, begrudgingly. He grabbed a nearby quill pen and signed his own name at the bottom of the contract, for the representation of Requiem.
While Black signed his name, the door behind them opened up. Two cloaked guards entered, and the sound of footsteps rang out from the hallway. The entire council frowned, waiting for the rude figure to show himself. Even Black temporarily forgot about his mistakes and paid close attention to the door.
Soon, the figure showed himself. He was an old and intimidating man, a golden cane resting at the side. He adorned silver drapes that fell to the floor, conspicuous earrings, and slicked back white hair. He carried a rather affable smile on his face as he waved toward Caesar, a strange glint appeared in his eyes.
"It"s nice to meet you again, young man. I had my suspicions, but to think you were the famed trebuchet originator. Our alliance with each other poses to be greater and greater the more I know about you." the old man said with m.u.f.fled laughter, causing Caesar to squint his eyes.
Caesar nodded.
"Indeed, the world is truly small… Ibrahim"