Pioneer Lord: Starting From Daily Intelligence

Their demands during these Knights’ visit were all over the place; there was basically always something they wanted to buy, and even some Territory souvenirs got completely swept clean.

This is the real meaning of massive customer flow: it can help the Territory clear out huge amounts of inventory.

Su Li immediately asked, "Have we been selling our Potions externally?"

"We’ve sold relatively few in that regard. Mainly, the Potion industry in our Territory is still rather small; right now we only have a bit over 2,600 vials. Even though the Knights’ demand is urgent, we only sold a bit more than 500, with total revenue around 1,100 Golden Crown."

If these were ordinary Potions, the profit would never be that high. An ordinary Potion only goes for 50 Silver Coin, which at most would be 250 Golden Crown.

Fortunately, the Territory has a very large elite stock. Su Li remembered that among the Potions in the Vault Area, nearly 100 were High-tier Potions like Tears of Mercy and Blood of the Earth.

Obviously, it was only because the Knights were offering high prices that the Territory sold a mere handful of High-tier Potions.

Su Li sighed. "The scale of our Territory’s herbal production is clearly higher than our Potion output. We really need to go all out and develop the pharmaceutical industry."

In fact, the Territory’s pharmaceutical sector had already made great strides before this. Back when Dietrich first arrived in the Territory and established Saint Renji Hospital, the hospital’s monthly Potion output had already reached 40 vials/month.

After substantial development, the pharmaceutical industry of the entire Territory has now more than tripled in scale, and can already reach 130 vials/month.

But this is still slightly insufficient compared to the expansion of the army. Basically the entire year’s production is just enough to meet the consumption of one major war by the troops.

Vandar said calmly, "Lord, I believe our current ecosystem is still fairly healthy. No matter what, the output of herbs has to exceed the demand of the pharmaceutical sector, because we still need to take care of some lower-class commoners and Ranger Knights. With their income, no matter how frugal they are, they can’t scrape together enough money to buy expensive Potions. So we need enough herbs to sell cheaply to these bottom-tier people. If our pharmaceutical industry suddenly explodes in scale and the ingredients can’t keep up, then the lower classes are destined to be left to live or die on their own."

"In pursuit of profit, people in the pharmaceutical trade will monopolize all the herbs, not allowing any to flow to the populace. After that, what those commoners—tormented by disease and driven into a corner—will do next becomes very hard to predict."

That really was a problem, because in this world there exists an Evil God called Nagash. This Plague Father was born from the will of despair and the concept of destruction; his specialty isn’t in treacherous Witchcraft or brute Power, but in viruses invisible to the naked eye. Every plague in the world was created from Nagash’s careful blending. Yet in his followers’ mouths, Nagash is a god with the kindly demeanor of a grandfather. Khorne culls the weak through cruel rites, Treachery treats everyone as chess pieces; only Nagash accepts all believers, regardless of age, ugliness, or morality. He tolerantly embraces all mortals, like a gentle father leading his beloved children.

His Church’s catchphrase is: "Come and feel the Merciful Father’s love!" This "Merciful Father" is about the same as the Steel Mercy Father—hardly what you’d call truly loving.

Disease is a common occurrence in life within the Empire. Many people suffer from one or several illnesses in their lifetime, and almost every household has at least one direct relative who died in some terrible plague. (Rat People: Hey, you can’t pin the whole thing on us.) Those who surrender to grief and despair will, under the tyranny of disease and being spared by chance, come to worship Nagash. Driven mad, they begin to believe that it was Nagash who bestowed some kind of salvation, and that only plague is the true way to understand the world. Few realize that their misguided faith only feeds Nagash’s Power, perpetuating an endless cycle of despair and disease.

From those tormented by suffering, nihilists, and people driven insane by sickness or despair, there will inevitably arise a group of Nagash believers. The Master of Disease drives them to roam the Old World, spreading plagues everywhere. Although most followers eventually die from the many diseases they themselves carry, a few grow stronger from their torment, turning into disgusting, twisted things.

The followers are overjoyed by this Transformation. They believe that by accepting the diseases that ravage their bodies they have earned Nagash’s approval, and that mutation itself is a blessing. From this they conclude that Nagash is a "merciful" deity. Considering how many people in the Empire are infected, picking them out is extremely difficult, as they are all very low-key and blend into the local populace while continuing to travel. These believers chant in secret in the filthiest, most foul places—locations so repulsive that even the most stubborn Witch Hunter will pause before stepping inside. Once a Nagash Sect is exposed, the entire town will be burned to bare earth; Purification by flame is usually the only way to stop the spread of the diseases they carry.

The Father of Decay, Nagash, is not stingy with his blessings to his flock. His Chosen Ones have bodies covered in pus-filled sores, their skin sloughing off at the slightest touch. Their bodies are bloated from all kinds of unimaginable viruses. To keep their shattered flesh from falling apart, they constantly wear heavy Armor to prevent their organs from spilling out, making them look even larger than ordinary Divine Chosen. Although these people are tortured beyond recognition by the viruses, they lost their sense of pain long ago. Some of Nagash’s viruses possess properties that remove sensation and extend life; these special strains allow the Chosen Ones to endure their agonizing torment in order to act on behalf of their kindly "grandfather."

No enemy is more terrifying than Nagash’s Chosen Ones. Their skin may split open like cotton brushed aside, but hidden beneath that fragile exterior are lethal viruses. Compared to the Chosen Ones themselves, it’s the viral eruption when these walking bioweapons die that is truly fearsome.

With such a terrifying Evil God’s threat hanging overhead, even the most brutal nobles will leave some room for the lower classes to survive. Otherwise, who knows what horrors these desperate, deranged bottom-dwellers might end up invoking.

Vandar continued, "But during this Radiant Competition Festival grand event, it’s not like our medical industry hasn’t developed at all. As you know, a large number of Medical Knights have come to our Territory."