Mishasa looks up at Henwell with a sharp glance. “You’re not bad looking, but I’m really stressed right now. I don’t have the mood to entertain you! If you’re here to pick up won, I suggest you try the gambling tables nearby. Plenty of won there like your type.”
Henwell smiles gently. “I think you misunderstood. I’m not short of won. I just wanted to share a drink with you.”
Mishasa sneers. “Cheap lines! Every man who cos here says the sa thing.”
Henwell doesn’t argue further. Soon, two fresh glasses arrive.
He pushes one toward Mishasa and downs his own glass in one go.
“I can tell you’re in trouble,” Henwell says. “Why don’t you talk to ? Maybe I can help.”
Mishasa scoffs. “Ha… And what’s the price for your help? ? Or my fleet? I don’t care who you represent! I’m telling you, the White Scarf Fleet belongs to my family. I may not have managed it well, but when I took over from my father, I made it clear. Unless I’m dead, I will never sell it. I’d rather dissolve the White Scarf Fleet myself than let you tarnish its na.”
Henwell shrugs. “I think you’ve misunderstood . I wish you the best getting through this.”
With that, he stands up without hesitation and leaves the tavern.
Watching Henwell’s tall figure fade away, Mishasa feels a flicker of doubt.
Could this man really not be a negotiator sent by her rivals?
But she has no ti to dwell on that, her own fleet’s troubles demand her full attention.
Due to a mistake—or perhaps sabotage—her latest shipnt runs into trouble.
To protect her family’s century-old reputation, she compensates the cargo owners for their losses.
Now, she’s out of cash, and her crew is waiting for their wages.
Yet, the Shipowners’ Guild refuses to grant ergency funds, and no one outside is willing to lend her money.
Her family’s fleet has so reserves, and since she took over, she’s implented bold reforms that have improved efficiency significantly.
Not only has the fleet grown stronger, but she’s also purchased three new cargo ships and put down deposits on two more.
In her eyes, the White Scarf Fleet—centered around two 200-ton ships and supplented by nine vessels over 50 tons—will soon form two full fleets.
With nonstop orders coming in both ways, she believes they’ll quickly overco this financial crunch.
But she never expected soone would set her up like this.
Now, one cargo ship has capsized, another is severely damaged, and all the goods are completely destroyed.
After compensating the cargo owners, she still has to pay severance to the crew mbers who died.
White Scarf Fleet originally had ten ships; borrowing a few thousand gold coins—or even tens of thousands—would have been easy.
But now, it’s clear soone is targeting her, blocking any chance of getting a loan.
She had to mortgage her estate at a low price just to cover the severance for the deceased sailors.
Yet, there are still hundreds of crew waiting for their wages.
It’s been three months, and they haven’t received a single coin.
Mishasa can’t get any money at all now, while rival fleets seize the opportunity to undercut her and prepare to buy her fleet at a bargain.
Not everyone can run a fleet, especially since the Federation has been issuing fewer and fewer fleet operation licenses over the past century.
Each license requires strict scrutiny and connections to obtain.
Everyone knows the value of a veteran fleet like White Scarf.
Buying it ans not only getting the operating license but also a complete fleet and experienced crew.
If Mishasa is willing to sell, she could fetch at least 100,000 gold coins.
But that would an losing her stable source of inco entirely.
Everyone knows a starving cal is still bigger than a horse, but no one considers that a starving cal’s daily expenses are also higher than a horse’s.
One hundred thousand gold coins sounds like a lot.
But selling the fleet ans dividing the proceeds among her family mbers.
Because of her mismanagent, Mishasa would lose a large share.
In the end, she’d have at most 50,000 gold coins in hand.
And she’d still have to pay severance and back wages to the crew.
That would eat up tens of thousands more, leaving her lucky to keep a few thousand.
anwhile, her younger siblings are studying at the Knight Academy and Magic Academy.
Their annual tuition and expenses for the three of them add up to at least 3,000 gold coins.
She can’t sustain this for more than three years.
Yet the highest offer for White Scarf Fleet remains capped at 100,000 gold coins.
The other party says they only want the operating license, they have no intention of buying the ships.
A hundred thousand gold coins for a license isn’t far off from the current market price.
The two large ships under construction, plus eight cargo vessels, are worth about two hundred thousand gold coins.
But since they don’t want the ships, maintaining a fleet still costs a fortune.
There are hefty taxes, plus an annual fee of ten thousand gold coins paid to the Federation’s Shipping Departnt.
On top of that, docking fees and maintenance costs add up to a significant expense.
Shipping trade is profitable, but the overhead is huge.
After deducting labor, materials, taxes, and upkeep, White Scarf’s annual profit is around forty thousand gold coins.
Of course, Mishasa doesn’t get to keep all forty thousand, half must be reinvested to expand the fleet.
From the remaining twenty thousand, she has to distribute dividends among family mbers.
In the end, Mishasa takes ho about ten thousand gold coins.
Between maintaining the large estate and paying for her siblings’ schooling, she barely saves a penny each year.
She started learning fleet managent from her father at sixteen and took over the fleet at nineteen after his passing.
It took her two years to fully take control and weed out those with ill intentions.
Three more years were spent fixing lingering issues.
After another three years, she finally put the fleet on the right track.
Two years ago, she began expanding, doubling profits.
From nineteen to twenty-nine, it’s been a decade of hard work.
Just as the fleet was about to reach new heights, one misstep cost her everything.
Thinking this, the now twenty-nine-year-old Mishasa downs the golden liquor in front of her.
A bit tipsy, she wanders the streets, unsure where to go.
Returning to the fleet’s office, she dreads facing the hopeful eyes waiting for her.
But hiding out in a tavern only avoids the problem—it solves nothing.
As she frets, several figures erge from an alley, blocking her path.
Before she can retreat, more hooded n surround her from behind.
Mishasa knows they’ve lost patience.
She’s no fragile noblewoman.
Lifting her robe, she draws a curved dagger, ready to face her final fate...
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