boyutpedia Chapter 84 Cooperation with Dicoscher
Chapter 84 Cooperation with Dicoscher
Chapter 85 Cooperation with Dicoscher
The steam in the bathhouse was as thick as ever. Harbin stood at the door to greet them, leading the two through the corridor and pushing open the study door. When Dikoscher saw Mangi tied up, the intelligence chief's eyes lit up instantly.
"My goodness, Ron, Geralt, you two are such a pleasant surprise!" Ruven circled around Mange.
"I was worried you guys might split his head open, then I wouldn't be able to pry my treasure out of his mouth."
"Things are settled, what about the intelligence?" Geralt cut straight to the point without any pleasantries.
"Of course, I promised you. That son of a bitch Hawthorne has defected to Redania and is hiding in Cowburg. My men can't find his exact location, and my intelligence network there isn't what it used to be."
He paused, then continued, "But I know someone who can help you with this, and it just so happens that you and Ron both know this person."
Ron raised an eyebrow. "We know each other, and we can be of help, Roche?"
Dixter nodded. "Yes, Vernon Roche, your old friend."
He turned to Geralt and said, "Since I left Redania, the intelligence network there has been cut off, but Roche has his own contact points and informants near Cowburg, and they have been cooperating with Redania."
Geralt paused for a moment, then nodded.
Ron stood to the side, arms crossed. "Mange is now in your hands. Don't just think about your treasure; remember to ask about Dandelion."
"No problem, no problem!" Dikoscher clasped his hands together in front of his chest, a smile plastered on his face. "When it comes to fighting, my men are definitely not as good as yours, and tonight's events have fully proven that. But when it comes to gathering intelligence and interrogating people, that's another matter entirely."
Stepping out of the bathhouse, the two stopped at the alleyway entrance. Ron turned to Geralt. "So, you're planning to go to Cowburg to find Hawthorne next?"
Gerald nodded. "No matter where Hawthorne is hiding in Cowburg, I'll dig him out. And here in Novigrad..."
Ron interrupted him, "Don't worry about things here. I still have some finishing work to do, so I can't go with you. If you need any help, just ask Roche. Don't hesitate to ask; he still owes me a favor."
"Okay, I'm just a little worried," Geralt's voice was lower than usual. "You know Hawthorne's methods; he likes to torture people, especially women."
"Are you worried that Ciri might get captured by Hawthorne?"
Geralt glanced at Ron but did not answer.
"I know what Ciri is capable of. Someone like Hawthorne might have a few mercenaries under his command, but he can't catch her."
Geralt's lips twitched slightly. "I hope so."
With a low shout, the sound of hooves rang out, and Geralt's figure quickly disappeared at the end of the street, galloping towards Bullburg.
Ron stood there and saw him off until the sound of hooves completely disappeared. Then Ron turned and walked towards the Kingfisher Tavern.
The next morning, before the tavern had even opened for business, Erwin came downstairs carrying two steaming cups of herbal tea, placing one of them in front of Ron.
"The heart of Katakhan has been sent back to the manor and will be delivered to Ms. Kayla today," Erwin said, pulling out a chair and opening his notepad.
"In addition, regarding the batch of lead and tin ingots you mentioned, I have already placed an expedited order, and they should arrive at the manor by the day after tomorrow at the latest."
Ron picked up his teacup, took a sip, and then put it on the table. He took out a roll of parchment from his pocket, spread it out on the table, and drew a set of intricate structures on the paper. The dimensions and structure were clearly marked, and there were brief annotations next to it, with concise and to the point.
"This is a technique called movable type printing. Lead and tin are used to make the type molds, and copper plates are stamped to make the dies. You need to arrange for a few blacksmiths to carve out the punches first."
Erwin unfolded the blueprints, his eyes widening instantly. He looked up at Ron. "Ron, is this also Calradia technology? This thing... how do you plan to use it?"
"The newspaper I mentioned to you before," Ron said with a playful smile, "I still need to discuss this with Dixter. I'd like to get him involved; I suspect he'd be very interested."
Erwin adjusted his glasses and nodded thoughtfully. "Indeed, for an information broker, nothing excites him more than controlling public opinion. This aspect has always been controlled by the Church, but your business plan is enough to break that privilege."
The bathhouse of Sigir Luwen in the Gildorf district.
Harbing led Ron through the changing area to the study. When Dixter saw Ron enter, he put down the wine glass he was holding.
"Ron, I have to thank you. Mange has explained everything clearly. Your bard friend is imprisoned on Temple Island and is still alive for now, but we don't know how long he will live."
Ron didn't immediately pick up on Dandelion's topic. Instead, he took out a small bottle from his pocket, with a handwritten label on it.
"When Erwin came to take away the gift you gave me last time, I mentioned the blackberry mead plan to you, didn't I?"
"Ah, right," Dixter leaned forward slightly, "I still have the sample. It's really good, much better than those on the market."
"Mead is not sold in ordinary taverns. It is positioned as a luxury item, and its customers are nobles and wealthy citizens. Selling it in ordinary taverns would only lower its status. Your bathhouse is a gathering place for these kinds of people. Start by supplying it here and build a reputation."
Dixter grinned. "Leave that to me, but I have to remind you, the high-end market is all about prestige. You'll need beautiful bottles, exquisite labels, and a substantial wine review so that customers feel drinking this wine is a status symbol. I can arrange the wine review."
"You're in charge of expanding the channels for the nobility," Ron said, taking out a document and spreading it on the table.
"You own 40% of the shares in Carradine Winery, so you don't need to worry about production or raw materials. The estate's winery has been expanded, and the Elf Winemaker is in charge of production."
Production volume isn't the problem; the problem is how to get bottles of blackberry mead onto the tables of every nobleman in Novigrad. What do you think?
Dixcher narrowed his eyes, picked up the equity agreement, scanned it carefully, and nodded.
"Forty percent, all you have to do is talk, I'll take the job." He pulled a quill pen from the table, dipped it in ink, and wrote his name on it.
Ron put the agreement away. "The mead deal is done. There's another business deal."
"Oh?" Dixter leaned back in his chair, his fingers crossed over his chest. "Why don't you tell me about it?"
"newspaper"
Dixter looked at Ron with a puzzled expression. "A newspaper? A miniature bulletin board? Who are you going to sell this to?"
"Of course, it's the literate people, nobles, wealthy merchants, and scholars. This small group controls 80% of the city's wealth and power of discourse. They read to those around them, and their opinions influence the direction of the entire circle."
"You hold the secrets of Novigrad in your hands, but you only sell the intelligence to a select few as bargaining chips."
Ron leaned back in his chair and looked at Dixter: "Once intelligence becomes outdated, its value diminishes. But printing it out and selling it to those fools eager to show off their inside information can actually extract a second layer of profit. The information in newspapers is filtered and packaged, so it won't expose the real secrets."
A glint flashed in Dixter's eyes, and he tapped his fingers lightly on his knee. "Please continue. How do you solve the technical problems? Even if we have the content, the cost of hand-copying hundreds of newspapers is simply not worthwhile."
"No need. I have the technology to solve this. I can only reveal it to you after you officially join. My manor's paper mill can produce paper stably with controllable costs. As for content, I can organize professors, scholars, and poets to write articles. You only need to provide some information that no longer needs to be kept secret as material for the newspaper's news and business sections."
Dixter paused for a moment, then asked, "What kind of content do the newspapers cover?"
"Analysis of military dynamics and political changes in various countries can be used to decorate appearances and enhance style. The business sector should have the latest prices, shipping schedules, auction information and investment content in Novigrad. This is a necessity, and businessmen will be willing to pay for it."
With increased circulation, we can accept GG placements, serialize poetry collections or scandalous news about certain important figures in the supplement, and attract attention.
Ron tapped the edge of the table. "The distribution method is not retail, but subscription. Those who receive the newspaper belong to a specific circle, which is itself a screening of identity."
"The true purpose of newspapers is to influence the masses," Ron said slowly.
"We don't need to directly criticize the Eternal Flame or Radovid. For example, publishing a report satirizing the private lives of temple pastors can subtly damage the church's image. Our fundamental goal is to seize the right to speak. The church's influence on the public is their core, and we can gradually undermine this foundation."
Dixcher remained silent for a long time. "You know what? I originally thought you were just a smarter warlord, maybe better than the Baron, but essentially the same kind of person. But now I'm a little unsure what kind of changes you'll bring to the North."
"Change is always a good thing, isn't it?" Ron chuckled and patted him on the shoulder. "As long as we're making money, who cares about any changes?"
Dixcher picked up the proposal again, signed his name, and Ron raised his glass, tilting it slightly in Dixcher's direction.
"I wish us a pleasant cooperation."
"Of course, of course," Dixcher said, clasping his hands together in front of his chest and putting on a smile, though the caution in his eyes hadn't completely disappeared.