Meeting the Goldsmith (2)
Ahem!
With a small, clearing cough to announce his presence, Rockefeller tapped on the door of the shop before entering.
As Rockefeller stepped inside, Carter Goldsmith, who had been sitting in a chair, raised his head to see who the visitor was.
'What? Just a kid.'
"What brings you here?"
Carter was curious about what a boy, who appeared to be around 15 years old, would want.
The boy's appearance was quite shabby, not suggesting that he had much money.
'He doesn't seem to be from a noble family either, hard to tell.'
"Why have you come here?"
Not even considering him a potential customer, Carter spoke casually, to which Rockefeller responded with a polite greeting.
"Nice to meet you. I apologize for the intrusion, but I have some business to attend to."
"Business? You're not here on an errand?"
"No, it's not an errand. It's my own business."
Although his clothes were worn, they were not something a serf or slave would wear.
Believing him to be a commoner like himself, Carter decided to listen more rather than dismissing Rockefeller right away.
"Alright, what brings you here?"
"I'm not sure how to say this... I have a business proposal to discuss, is it okay to talk about it?"
"A business proposal?"
Carter, upon hearing this, naturally furrowed his brows.
What could this young fellow possibly know to be proposing a business deal to him?
'He's not joking around with me, is he? What kind of business proposal can a kid have?'
"What kind of proposal? You're not here to play a prank, are you?"
At this moment, Rockefeller's expression was utterly serious.
"It's no prank. Although I'm young, I am the rightful head of a family."
"What? You're the head of a family?"
Carter showed a slight surprise at the mention of head of a family.
That young one is already the head of a family.
"Your parents?"
"My father recently passed away as well."
"What happened?"
"Both of them had chronic illnesses..."
"Is that so?"
Carter, stroking his chin beard, thought hard about any recent death of a commoner.
'I heard someone had died, but who was it? The name was...'
After pondering for a while, Carter was finally able to recognize Rockefeller's identity.
There was only one recent death of a commoner that fit the description.
"Yes, you are that tax collector's son. You must be the eldest son since you mentioned being the head of the family."
Carter barely remembered that he was the son of a tax collector.
"Yes, I am Rockefeller Rothsmedici."
"That's right. Your family name was Rothsmedici. Now I remember."
Rockefeller bowed more politely than before, showing his respect to him.
"Yes, poor thing. But why have you come to me? What kind of deal are you proposing? As a goldsmith, I have nothing to do with you."
Although a goldsmith belonged to the commoner class, all his clients were either nobles or wealthy commoners.
But this bold young visitor seemed unlikely to fit into the category of clients he usually dealt with.
He looked too shabby and destitute for that.
Just as Carter was about to be overtaken by strong skepticism, Rockefeller began to explain the reason for his visit.
"The thing is... due to the poor circumstances of my family, I’ve been looking everywhere for any kind of small job to somehow make a living."
Carter did not respond, instead, he crossed his arms and quietly listened to the story.
“But coincidentally, I happened to meet someone who had once been in debt to my grandfather.”
“In debt to your grandfather?”
Although he was a goldsmith, he was also involved in usury, lending money to others.
Thus, he had a rough idea of the people within the domain.
The Rothsmedici family was no exception to this.
Something seemed to come to Carter’s mind as he soon started to nod his head.
“Right, the father of that tax collector was originally a doctor, I heard. He was known as the ‘Red Doctor’ because of his red gown. And you say someone owes a debt to this grandfather? Who might that be?”
“It’s a bit difficult for me to talk about that person. I didn’t see him properly, but one of the reasons I came here is to make a deal on his behalf.”
“What? You came to make a deal in place of that person?”
“Yes.”
Carter couldn’t help but furrow his brows naturally.
‘Could it be…….’
Noticing that Carter seemed to have caught on to something, Rockefeller cautiously began to speak.
"He said he would give me a part of the profits generated there if I just help him with the gold transactions."
"Turns out it was a smuggling deal after all."
All tax-free transactions within the territory were illegal.
But to those obsessed with money, smuggling was an exhilarating venture.
The greater profits from avoiding taxes were too tempting.
"Did he say he would give you a commission for helping with the transaction?"
"Yes, I knew it wasn't a good thing, but I was in a tough situation... I had been starving for days."
If a grown adult had approached Carter with such a story, he might have been suspicious first.
It was unclear whether the person was leading the smuggling or if it was someone else.
However, Rockefeller was so young that Carter never suspected him to be the mastermind.
'After all, from his perspective, it was a perfect opportunity. What about the grace of his grandfather? He just attached it to him because it was convenient, and this kid must have agreed to do anything out of desperation.'
"Poor thing. To be involved in such things at a young age. This is smuggling. It's not a legitimate trade, and if caught, the lord will be furious."
Upon hearing those words, Rockefeller could feel a sense of relief.
‘Good. I've completely fooled them.’
His act was flawless.
He had faithfully played the part of a poor young head of the family.
‘It's unlikely he'll think I'm the one leading this. I am quite young, after all.’
Being young can sometimes be an excellent weapon to catch others off-guard.
