Reborn As Noble

More than three weeks into the holy war, the main trade route from Armand was closed, plunging the marketplaces across the kingdom into chaos.

At a Local Sugar Merchant’s Stall

”WHAT!? Why is White Gold three times the usual price!?”

The merchant snorted, crossing his arms. ”Hell, if you don’t want it, go buy honey instead.”

The customer gritted his teeth. ”But honey is even more expensive!”

The merchant shrugged, unimpressed. ”Then deal with it! You’re lucky we even have stock! Do you know how hard it is to get this now?” He leaned forward, his voice turning sharper. ”I had to cross through the Beastkin Kingdom just to secure a few sacks! Do you have any idea how much that cost me? Taxes, permits! If you want sugar, buy it! If not, scram!”

The customer gulped, realizing there was no room for negotiation.

At the Grain Market

Another heated argument broke out in a different part of the city.

”What is this wheat!? This isn’t the usual Armand quality!”

The vendor grumbled, throwing his hands up. ”Of course it’s not! Armand isn’t selling right now! You expect me to magically grow their wheat for you!?”

The customer clicked his tongue in frustration. ”Damn war.”

At the Fresh Market—The Seafood Crisis

”Still no frozen fish!?”

The stall owner sighed, rubbing his temples. ”How many times do I have to say this? Armand is the only region with magic freezers! Without their frozen shipments, we have nothing!”

The customer scowled. ”Can’t you import fresh seafood from other coastal regions?”

The stall owner let out a dry laugh. ”Hah! Do you think fresh fish can last more than a day without ice!?”

”Why not use ice magic?”

A sudden silence fell around them. The merchant stared at him as if he were the dumbest man alive. Then, he slammed his palm onto the stall. ”Are you stupid!? Ice magic is for combat! It destroys food, not freezes it properly, you idiot!”

The customer took a step back, embarrassed. ”…Oh.”

With Armand’s main trade routes closed, the entire kingdom was feeling the consequences. Basic necessities like sugar, wheat, and frozen seafood became rare commodities.

Alternative goods skyrocketed in price. Merchants struggled to find replacements, often resorting to expensive or low-quality imports. Cities further from Armand suffered the most, as they relied entirely on its supply chain. And yet—

This was only the beginning.

A group of commoners gathered near a busy market, their voices filled with anger and frustration.

”Damn! This war in Armand is really messing with us!”

An older merchant adjusted his empty cart and grumbled, ”Yeah… If only they let their people trade like before. Why the hell do these nobles want to start a war with a peaceful region? We’re all part of the same kingdom! What’s the point!?”

A younger worker, carrying an empty sack that once held grain, clenched his fists. ”Those shitheads are making life harder for everyone. With prices going up, more people are going to starve.”

A woman, holding her hungry child, sighed bitterly. ”The nobles don’t care. They sit in their mansions, eating well, while we fight for scraps.”

Nearby, a carriage driver cursed under his breath, struggling to repair a broken wheel. ”And it’s not just food! With Armand’s roads and trade routes closed, we can’t even move goods properly!”

Another merchant, standing beside his nearly empty stall, nodded in agreement. ”Exactly! Armand’s roads were the safest, the smoothest! Now we have to take longer, dangerous routes. Bandits are attacking more, and guess what? Hiring mercenaries for protection costs even more money!”

A farmer, holding a bruised apple, spoke up. ”And without regular trade, markets will crash. Food rots before it can be sold, merchants lose profits, and soon… people won’t even have work.”

Silence fell over the crowd. They all knew the truth. The longer this war dragged on, the worse things would get.

A young man, barely in his twenties, crossed his arms in confusion. ”But… I heard the Klimbert region has all the stock. Why don’t our merchants just go there and buy directly from them?”

An older merchant, his face weary from years of trade, snorted. ”Didn’t you hear? Klimbert’s merchants and their nobles refuse to sell.”

A nearby woman, carrying a small basket of overpriced bread, sighed bitterly. ”Even though they have stockpiles of White Gold , they won’t release any of it to the market.”

The carriage driver, who had just finished repairing his wheel, grumbled, ”Not just sugar. Wheat, dried meat, salt—they have everything. But try buying from them?” He spat on the ground. ”They won’t even let you near the trade posts.”

A younger merchant, hopeful yet naive, raised a suggestion. ”Can’t someone go and negotiate with the merchants there?”

The older merchant shook his head. ”Hah! You think Klimbert’s merchants have a say in this? The nobles control everything. If anyone tries to buy, they’ll just raise the price to something impossible or outright refuse.”

A woman, who once traded with Klimbert before the war, tightened her grip on her shawl. ”They’re hoarding it.”

”What?”

”They’re waiting for desperation to kick in. When food becomes even more scarce, when people have no choice, they’ll sell it at ten times the price.”

The realization sank in. Klimbert wasn’t just withholding supplies; he was waiting for suffering—so he could profit from it. And as the war dragged on, the people knew—things would only get worse.

A frustrated merchant slammed his hand against a wooden stall, his voice rising. ”The Merchant Union is supposed to stand together! Why the hell aren’t Klimbert’s merchants cooperating!?”

The surrounding merchants and traders murmured in agreement, their faces filled with frustration.

A veteran trader, wearing a worn-out cloak, shook his head with a deep sigh. ”I don’t know… but one thing’s clear—Klimbert’s merchants don’t make the decisions. Their lord controls every market, every trade route, every piece of stock in his region.”

A young merchant, barely able to keep his business afloat, gritted his teeth. ”Then why don’t they do something about it?! If they’re part of the Merchant Union, they should be working with us!”

The older trader let out a bitter chuckle. ”Because in Klimbert’s land, his people come first. Above all else.”

Another merchant scoffed. ”Bullshit! That’s not how trade works! We survive by working together, not by hoarding like rats!”

The veteran trader shook his head. ”That’s just it… Klimbert doesn’t need to work together. He’s stockpiled enough to outlast this war. While the rest of us struggle, he waits.”

A heavy silence fell over the crowd.

The crowd of merchants and commoners turned toward the veteran merchant, their faces filled with both hope and desperation.

”Can’t you do something about this!?”

The old trader sighed, rubbing his temples. ”I don’t know… but we can write an official complaint to the Merchant Guild Master.”

A few merchants murmured in agreement, but one scoffed. ”Hah! And what will that do? By the time they read it, half of us will be ruined!”

The veteran raised his hand, calming them down. ”Listen. There is one option left.”

The crowd leaned in, eager for a solution. ”I think I can still make it to the Beastkin Kingdom. I heard they’re still trading with Armand.”

Hope flickered in their eyes. ”Then why don’t we all go!?”

But the veteran shook his head. ”It’s not that simple.” He pointed at the map posted on the market board, tracing his finger along the route to the nearest border town of the Beastkin Kingdom. ”The road from here to the Beastkin Kingdom isn’t safe. It never was. We’d need to hire adventurers to guard our merchandise.”

A younger merchant crossed his arms. ”So? We hire them.”

The veteran’s expression darkened. ”Not just adventurers. The road is filled with monsters and bandits. Do you know how much it would cost to hire enough protection for a fully loaded caravan?”

Silence fell over the crowd.

He sighed and continued. ”Even if we reach the Beastkin Kingdom safely, the travel expenses will make our costs skyrocket. That means whatever we bring back—sugar, wheat, meat—it’ll be even more expensive than it already is.”

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A butcher, standing at the edge of the crowd, gritted his teeth. ”We can depend on local farmers and hunters for food, right?”

The veteran nodded. ”For meat and wheat, yes. But it won’t be enough.”

A younger woman, holding her child, clenched her fists. ”Then what happens to us?”

No one had an answer.

And that was the scariest part.

( End of Chapter )