Dahlia's words hung in the air, leaving the sneezing noble visibly flustered. His cheeks flushed a deep shade of crimson as he awkwardly lowered his snot-smeared sleeve, his eyes darting to the tray of items on the table. The crowd around him tittered, some stifling their laughter behind gloved hands, while others exchanged amused glances. The noble, eager to divert attention from his embarrassment, reached out hesitantly and picked up one of the pale yellow sheets, pinching it between his fingers as if testing its worth. To his surprise, the texture was remarkably soft, almost velvety, despite its thinness. "This… this is for wiping snot?" He asked, his voice tinged with both curiosity and disbelief.
"Precisely," Dahlia replied, her tone smooth and confident, as if she were unveiling a treasure of immeasurable value. She drew upon the detailed instructions provided by Lord Lucas, blending them with her own flair for presentation. "What you hold in your hand is called paper, a product crafted through a meticulous process involving twelve distinct steps and an entire month of labor. This particular type, which we call tissue paper, is just one of its many uses. It's perfect for wiping snot, cleaning your mouth after a meal, or even—dare I say—using it in the privy… yes, even for wiping after you've done your business."
The noble's eyes widened in astonishment, his mouth falling open slightly. "For… for shitting, you say?" The very idea seemed revolutionary, almost absurd. The thought of using something as soft and disposable as this paper was nothing short of mind-boggling.
"Indeed," Dahlia said, her voice steady and reassuring, though she couldn't help but notice the bemused expressions on the faces of those around her. She realized, with a pang of amusement, that very few of the nobles present likely had private toilets in their homes—a luxury reserved for only the wealthiest and most progressive households. "This tissue paper is a single-use item. Once you've used it, you simply discard it—no need to clean or reuse it."
As if to test her claims, the sneezing noble's nose began to run again, a glistening trail of snot dribbling down to his lips. Without hesitation, he grabbed a tissue from the tray, pressed it to his face, and blew his nose with a loud, wet honk. The tissue absorbed the mess effortlessly, leaving his face clean, though now the paper was a soggy, snot-laden mess. With a grimace, he flung it to the floor, then reached for another tissue to wipe his hands, tossing that one aside as well. When he looked up, his face was noticeably cleaner, and a grin of delight spread across his features. "Well, damn me, this is convenient!" He exclaimed, his earlier embarrassment forgotten. "My nose always runs like a damned river when the cold wind blows—got a good blast of it stepping out of my carriage earlier. This paper is a bloody miracle!"
The crowd, initially skeptical, now buzzed with excitement. The noble's enthusiastic endorsement sparked a wave of interest, and soon others were reaching for the tissues, eager to experience this novel invention for themselves.
"I need some of these!" A young noblewoman declared, her voice shrill with excitement. "They're perfect for keeping my face pristine during those dreadful winter balls."
"No household should be without them," Another noble added, his tone authoritative. "My father always complains that bamboo strips are too cold and cumbersome. These tissues will be a godsend for him."
The room erupted into a frenzy of voices, each noble vying to outdo the others in their enthusiasm. But beneath the surface, Dahlia knew the true stakes of their competition. For the nobility, items like fine linens and tissue paper were not merely conveniences—they were symbols of status, markers of wealth and influence. To return home without securing a share of these goods would be tantamount to admitting defeat, a public declaration that their family lacked the power or resources to compete with their peers. In the cutthroat world of noble society, such a failure could be social suicide.
"Ladies and gentlemen, please!" Dahlia called out, her voice rising above the clamor as she raised her hands to restore order. "There's no need to worry— we have plenty of tissue paper in stock, enough for everyone here to purchase their share." She paused, allowing her words to sink in, then reached for another tray, lifting a stack of slightly thicker, pale yellow sheets. "But tissue paper is only the beginning. Allow me to introduce another type of paper, one that is stiffer and more durable, designed to replace the cumbersome and costly parchment scrolls you use for writing."
With a flourish, Dahlia picked up a quill pen that had been prepared on the tray, dipped it into an inkpot, and began to write on the paper. Her movements were graceful and deliberate, the quill gliding across the surface to produce a line of elegant, flowing script. When she finished, she held up the paper for all to see, the ink glistening wetly under the light of the chandeliers. "I invite you all to try it for yourselves," She said, her voice brimming with pride. "Paper is a truly revolutionary invention, a creation of a visionary noble whose genius knows no bounds. It is, without exaggeration, an item that will change the course of history."
The nobles surged forward, their earlier skepticism replaced by awe. One by one, they took turns testing the paper, marveling at how effortlessly the quill moved across its surface, leaving behind crisp, clean lines of ink. Compared to the heavy, expensive parchment scrolls they were accustomed to, this paper was a revelation—lighter, cheaper, and far more practical.
"This… this is unbelievable! It truly can replace parchment?" A merchant exclaimed, his eyes wide with wonder as he scribbled a few words on a sheet.
"Let me try—oh, it's so smooth! Writing has never been this easy," Another noble said, his voice tinged with excitement.
"We must have this writing paper—enough to fill an entire carriage!" A steward declared, his tone urgent as he spoke on behalf of his master.
"Miss Dahlia, how much of this paper do you have in stock? My family will take it all!" A young noblewoman shouted, her voice cutting through the din.
The room descended into chaos once more, the nobles and merchants arguing fiercely over who would secure the largest share of this miraculous paper. Dahlia watched the scene unfold, her heart pounding with satisfaction. She knew that the appeal of the paper went beyond its practical uses—many in the room saw it as a business opportunity, a chance to corner the market on a product that could generate immense profits. Paper, after all, was not just a tool; it was a symbol of progress, a commodity that could elevate a family's status and wealth to new heights.
"Ladies and gentlemen, please!" Dahlia called out again, her voice firm as she raised her hands to quell the uproar. "There's no need to argue. The allocation of paper purchases can be discussed after the sale concludes. For now, let us focus on the wonders still to come."
A ripple of laughter spread through the crowd, the tension easing as the nobles regained their composure. "Hahaha, very well, Miss Dahlia. We apologize for our lack of decorum," A middle-aged noble said, his tone jovial. "But you must understand—your treasures are simply too enticing!"
"Indeed, Miss Dahlia, what other marvels do you have in store for us?" Another noble asked, his eyes gleaming with anticipation. "We're positively dying of curiosity!"
Dahlia smiled, pleased to see that the initial skepticism and mockery had vanished, replaced by genuine enthusiasm. The linens and paper had done their job, captivating the crowd and setting the stage for the rest of her presentation. She knew the true significance of these items—either one, if marketed correctly, could sustain a great noble house, generating annual revenues in the tens of thousands of gold coins. The nobles and merchants in the room were no fools; they were shrewd, calculating individuals, and many were already scheming, plotting ways to gain an advantage. Dahlia noticed several figures slipping out of the crowd, hurrying to report back to their patrons with news of these extraordinary goods. Even Scott, one of the disgraced nobles, pushed his way through the throng and disappeared, no doubt rushing to inform the Fourth Prince of the potential riches on display.
Dahlia had anticipated this reaction, which was precisely why she had enlisted Catherine's help. Catherine's presence was a powerful deterrent, a reminder to the crowd that any attempts to strong-arm or manipulate Dahlia would be met with the full weight of ducal authority. With Catherine at her side, Dahlia felt confident that she could navigate the treacherous waters of noble politics and merchant greed.
With a wave of her hand, Dahlia signaled to the assistants to clear the paper from the table, making way for the next set of items. The assistants moved swiftly, bringing forth trays laden with cans of preserved fish and bottles of Youhe Grand, a potent wine that promised to be the highlight of the sale. Dahlia's primary goal was to sell her goods, not to worry about those who might try to steal the secrets of their production. After all, she thought with a wry smile, she didn't actually possess those secrets—Lord Lucas was the true mastermind behind these innovations, and his methods were safely guarded far from the capital.
"Ladies and gentlemen," Dahlia began, her voice rising to command the room's attention as she swept her gaze over the crowd. "I'm sure many of you have sampled a wide variety of wines and liquor in your time. Some of you may even have had the privilege of tasting the royal wine served at the palace." She paused, allowing her words to sink in, then continued with a flourish. "But today, I present to you a wine that surpasses even the royal wine in quality—a drink so exquisite that my own father, a man of discerning taste, declared it superior. I invite you all to taste it for yourselves and judge its merits."
The crowd erupted into murmurs of disbelief, their voices laced with skepticism. "Is she serious? Better than the royal wine?" A nobleman scoffed, his tone dripping with disdain. "That's a bold claim—too bold, if you ask me."
"Impossible," Another merchant muttered, shaking his head. "The royal wine is the finest in the kingdom, bar none. How could anything surpass it?"
Dahlia ignored the doubters, her expression serene as she signaled to the assistants to begin pouring the wine. She knew that words alone would not convince this crowd—only the taste of the Youhe Grand could silence their skepticism and prove her claims. Let the facts speak for themselves, she thought, a glint of amusement in her eyes as she watched the assistants work.
"Pop, pop, pop…" The assistants deftly uncorked three bottles of Youhe Grand, the sound echoing through the room like a series of small explosions. Instantly, a rich, heady aroma filled the air, a complex bouquet of fermented grains, spices, and a hint of sweetness that wafted through the crowd. The scent was so potent, so intoxicating, that the noisy chatter of the nobles and merchants fell silent, their mouths agape as they inhaled deeply, their senses overwhelmed by the fragrance.
"Pfft!" A sudden, sharp sound, like the hiss of escaping gas, broke the spell, followed by a chorus of coughs and splutters. "Cough, cough, cough…" Several nobles doubled over, their faces contorted in discomfort as they glared around the room, searching for the culprit. "Who the hell farted?" One noble growled, his voice low and menacing, while others fanned the air with their hands, their expressions a mix of disgust and outrage.
The sneezing noble, ever the unwitting center of attention, stood frozen, a tissue pressed tightly to his nose. His buttocks quivered slightly, betraying the source of the offending noise, and his face twisted into a mask of indignant denial. He had tried to hold it in, truly, but the rich aroma of the wine had loosened his resolve, and the fart had slipped out despite his best efforts. Dahlia and Catherine exchanged a glance, their expressions a mixture of amusement and horror, before taking a discreet step back from the crowd, their faces carefully neutral as they observed the unfolding chaos.
Undeterred by the interruption, several nobles had already begun sampling the wine, their attention fixed on the small ceramic cups the assistants had handed out. "Tsk, tsk, tsk…" The sound of appreciative smacking lips filled the air as the nobles savored the drink, their eyes closed in blissful contemplation as they rolled the wine over their tongues, savoring its complex flavors.
"Hmm? One cup isn't enough to truly appreciate its depth," One noble declared, his voice thoughtful as he reached for a second serving. "I must have another to be sure."
"Indeed, a single cup is far too little," Another agreed, following suit. "A proper judgment requires at least a few more sips."
The other nobles, initially stunned by the boldness of their peers, suddenly snapped out of their daze, realizing that the wine was disappearing fast. "Hey, wait a minute!" One shouted, lunging forward to grab a cup of his own. "Don't hog it all, you greedy bastards!"
"By the gods, this is incredible!" Another noble exclaimed, his voice slurring slightly as he downed his first cup in a single gulp. "Hic… it's so strong, so fiery… thump!" He swayed on his feet, then collapsed to the floor in a drunken heap, a blissful smile on his face.
"Damn you, you've already had two cups!" A merchant growled, shoving his way to the front of the crowd to secure his own share. "Leave some for the rest of us!"
"This… this truly is better than the royal wine," A noblewoman said, her voice filled with awe as she sipped delicately from her cup. "It's absolutely extraordinary—unlike anything I've ever tasted."
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