Chapter 5

With time to spend before the sunset, I convinced Rita to come with me to the markets. They wouldn’t be much, I knew, not in a town this small, but if I was going to be involved in hunting monsters, I wanted to do something fun first. She didn’t protest the way I expected. Instead, she slipped in behind me, a bodyguard shadowing a client. I had seen this type of thing before when Nobles hired wandering knights or other mercenaries, and it pleased me to see.

If she had experience with this type of thing, then there was a high possibility that she had a previous client list we could draw from. Not that I had committed to working with her. We still had a long trip before we reached Leyloon and I had to make good on my previous promises.

It didn’t take long for us to reach Ophilim’s town square, and thus the markets that had taken it over. There wasn’t much of a crowd, not when I compared it to the shopping districts in Crecia, but groups of people wandered the stalls. Sounds of stall owners hawking their wares filled the air, mixing with the conversation and laughter.

My attention flicked between the stalls, and I found little of immediate interest. It was very local fare. Hand carved bowls and other kitchenware, paintings by a local artist, fresh fruits and vegetables watched over by sharp-eyed farmers, and small stone carved figurines. I stopped at the last one, a small smile curving my lips.

“This one looks familiar,” I said to Rita, glancing at her from the corner of my eye as I gestured to the statuette.

It was a beastkin warrior, though with far less realistic proportions and a much more oversized side. The figurine sat with a group of others, clearly part of a set of some adventurers. Rita glanced at it, but she didn’t appear nearly as amused as I did, her attention quickly returning to the people passing us by.

I shook my head and moved on. Her tail flicked in irritation, and I briefly thought it was my joke that had upset her, until I noticed the old men nearby. There were three of them, clearly retired, as they sat in lawn chairs and glared at my companion. One spat on the ground as we passed, and I caught sight of the way Rita stiffened from the corner of my eye.

“Filthy beast blood,” he snarled at her.

She didn’t speak, and even as I contemplated turning, I knew it wasn’t worth the effort. No one else had a problem, and she was far from the only beastkin in attendance. A glance at them made it clear they were men who had fought in the war of corrupted blood. One was missing a leg, another a few fingers. All showed scars, signs of claw marks.

I knew them well. My grandfather, before his passing, had shown similar markings. It had upset him greatly that my father never refused a beastkin passenger. My father always told him their gold spent the same way. One of the few things I fully agreed with him on. Still, some of the enjoyment of the wall faded away, made worse when I heard a sharp shout cutting through the crowd.

“Get out of here, both of you! No money, no sale!”

Though I couldn’t tell who the unfamiliar voice belonged to, I could pick the direction easily enough. I let my steps carry me in that direction, winding through the miniscule crowd with practiced ease. A part of me wanted to laugh at calling that at all. There were alleyways in Crecia with more people loitering in it than in this entire town. Though that was a common phenomenon in the walled cities. People were often happy to sell a roof over their head for protection.

It helped that the shouts continued, giving me an easy way to orientate myself.

“You heard me,” the gruff voice shouted again. “Get out.”

“We’re a bronze off. Please. What about one? Let my sister have one.”

The fresh voice was weaker though determined, a young boy, no doubt. When the bodies in front of me shifted out of the way, I could see the scene playing out. Two children, their similar blonde hair and facial features making their relation clear, stood before a cart selling meat pies. They stared up at the proprietor, a pot bellied and rather hairy man, whose sleeveless shirt showed off his muscular arms. I had to admit that if I had seen him anywhere else, I would have assumed he worked breaking legs for some gang or other.

“I’m only selling them in pairs. Can’t you read?” He snarled, and I watched the little girl take a step to cower behind her brother.

From the way her patch covered dress clung to her, it was clear why they were trying this. Her brother stood tall as she clung to him. From the way he looked from the stall owner to the sign, it was clear the answer was no. Though his determined expression told me that such a thing would not deter him.

“No sir. But please. We—”

“If you don’t get the coin, then I’m not making the sale. You don’t want me to tell my wife that I shortchanged her, do you?” The owner asked, cutting the young boy off.

His expression annoyed me. He wore a smirk, one worn by plenty of bullies. The type that told anyone watching he believed he was above those people considered lesser. Which, if the way he glanced about the crowd was proof of anything, comprised most of anyone here. My hand twitched as I resisted the urge to curl it into a fist.

In some ways, I agreed with him as much as I was loath to admit that. If one gave out freebies, or cut special deals, it would kill a business. One customer who got special treatment would turn in twenty others who wanted the same. Rumours of your generosity would warp into expectations. Then he, and his more than likely non-existent wife, could end up in dire straits.

However, it was a rare occurrence heralded by deals often too good to be true. Two hungry children being given a discount would hardly induce such feelings in those watching on. Already the crowd was murmuring to themselves, but it was obvious no one planned to step in. Not that it shocked me. What good were bystanders except to watch a tragedy unfold?

“Chad?” Rita whispered from behind me. “Are you ok?”

“Fine,” the word slipped out, as I continued to watch the scene play out.

Her next words were soft, almost too hard to hear over the conversation. “You’re shaking.”

The boy continued to plead his case, his words washing over me as the older man laughed at him. Behind him, his sister looked around, those big brown eyes trying to get the attention of anyone in the crowd. People saw, but no one moved. When the owner reached under the counter, the scent of steel and blood filled my next breath. I strode forward, ready to stop a knife that never appeared.

His passenger had told my father not to stop. Not to give that man a free ride. He didn’t listen. Maybe if he had—

Rita’s hiss brought me back to the world around me, and I stood in front of the boy, my gaze locked onto the owner. His eyes ran over my suit, and in his hand he held a piece of paper. It was blank, and I had only moments to wonder about its purpose before he spoke.

“You here to buy?” He grunted at me.

As I glanced around, trying to gather my thoughts, I found myself acutely aware of the gentle weight of the gun hidden under my coat. Both of the children were staring at me, eyes wide. Though the girl was switching her attention between myself and Rita, or more accurately, Rita’s sword.

“I asked you a question.” The owner folded his arms and sneered at me. “Buy something or get out of line.”

“How much?” My words were slow, and my mind scrambled to get itself back into its usual business focused mindset.

That appeared to throw him, and he frowned. “You can’t read either? It says it right there.”

My glance to the side of the stall showed him he was right. Three bronze for two pies. From the tiny amount of shelf space, I doubted he started the day with more than sixteen. If he sold them all, unlikely as the day goes on, he would make twenty-four bronze in total. Or two silver and four bronze. That would, provided the prices I saw at some of the other stalls were accurate, put him up a full silver over his ingredients.

The slim profit margins made me shake my head. It was hard not to wonder how some of these people managed. That was a paltry sum for a day’s work, at least for me. Even my father’s work often earned him near a gold by the end of the day. While that didn’t make us rich, we could have brought this entire man’s stock and then some.

As I pondered over the cost of his business, I let myself take in the scents of his pies. The blend of meat, pastry, and soft spices mixed with the stink of the markets with each breath. He also offered complimentary condiments, which surprised me. If someone had asked, I would have assumed he would up charge people on those too.

“You misunderstand me, sir,” I said, as I reached into my pocket. “How much for everything here?”

“Four silver,” he said, and Poker Face stopped me from reacting to the brazen lie.

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Instead of calling him out on it, I pulled out a gold piece. “That’s cheap for your entire business, but if that’s what you think it’s worth. I accept your deal.”

“My… my entire business?” He spluttered, not accepting the hand I held out for him to shake. “What do you mean?”

“I asked how much for your cart, not how much for simply your remaining stock. You agreed to four silvers, yes?”

His face turned red, and he leaned over the counter, causing the counters holding the pies to rattle. “Now hang on. That’s not what you said, plus we didn’t shake on it.”

Rita stepped forward, and I didn’t miss the way she covered the children while getting closer to me. Her hand settled on the hilt of her sword, and the flat stare she gave the man had him leaning backwards in a hurry. I didn’t smile at the display, though the open mouth astonishments on the little girl’s face made it a close thing. Miss. Thrumlin had gotten herself a new admirer.

“Well, I suppose we can continue negotiations.” I spoke in a bored tone, the gold coin flipping through my fingers. “Would you take a gold coin for the lot? Cart, pies, condiments, and anything else attached. Aside from yourself, of course.”

His gaze fixed on the coin, and I knew I had him. The naked greed on his face was unmistakable. He was going to ask me for more. There was no way he could help himself. But that was fine. I wouldn’t give it to him.

He countered quickly. “Two gold. This business means a lot to my wife.”

“Not enough for her to be here. One gold, and say, two bronze. Call that a good will bonus for selling to me today while I’m in a hurry. Take it or leave it.” My tone made it clear I held little interest in discussing this further, a fact I encouraged by closing my hand around the coin.

“Deal.”

I handed over the gold and then made a show of patting my pocket down with a frown. As the pantomime continued, his greedy expression turned into one of annoyance. When I still didn’t produce the last two bronze, he snapped at me.

“Well?”

“Sorry, I seem to be a few coins short. If you’ll excuse me?” I asked and then turned to the young boy.

He wasn’t much to look at. Short, scrawny, with a shock of blonde hair not too dissimilar to my own, though a darker shade. His clothes bagged, but by the obvious cheekbones, it wasn’t difficult to see how thin he was. Though I smiled at him, his determined expression didn’t falter. I could see it in his eyes. Here was another adult, ready to take what was his.

“If I may,” I said, holding out a hand. “My name is Chad Burling. You mentioned you were one bronze off for the pies, yes?”

His throat bobbed as he swallowed, and he glanced towards Rita before he took my hand and shook it. The grip was weak, but I didn’t hold it against him.

“Yes.”

“Would you mind if I borrowed them? Call it a loan. Between us, I’m sure you can think of a way for me to pay you back? You see, I only have another gold coin and I would hate to make this gentleman try to give me change.” I let go of his hand and left my hand in the air, palm outstretched.

Behind the boy, his sister whispered something to him, her attention still on Rita. He murmured back, as the owner of the stall grunted impatiently. Then, with obvious reluctance, he handed over the coins. I thanked him and then placed the coins on the counter and gestured to the paper the owner held.

“May I?”

“I suppose?” he looked bewildered, but he pushed it across.

An activation of my instant contract skills had words blooming across the page in short order. His eyes flicked back and forth as he read it, but there wasn’t anything in there that should upset him. It was as we agreed. He would sell me the cart, and all of its contents except his current earnings, for one gold and two bronze.

He produced both quill and ink, and we signed together. That done, he grabbed the money from a lockbox and walked off whistling a tune. It was clear he thought he had gotten the better end of the deal. Idiots often did.

Once he was out of earshot, an unfamiliar voice spoke up. It was piping, and sweet, and it came from the young girl, who still held onto her brother’s shirt. Though she was now watching me.

“You know how you’re going to pay us back already, don’t you?”

“I do.” My hand waved to the cart, and I couldn’t help but smile at the fact she had caught on so quickly. “Tell me, do either of you know how to cook?”

“Not pies,” she said, as the boy shook his head.

“Alright. Do you two have names?”

“Maddison,” the girl said, followed shortly by her brother. “Theo.”

Another piece of paper found its way into my hand as I checked the sky and saw we still had several hours to go before sundown. “Right then Miss. Maddison. Master. Theo. How would you two like to learn how to run a business?”

From the smiles both of them gave me, and their eagerness to sign the papers I put before them, I knew this was going to be the start of something grand.

***

As the two ate, I checked over what my gold coin had bought them. The cart itself was in good condition, with no signs of damage to the wheels or roof. Each of the condiments was fresh, and the counter and lockbox were of reasonable quality. Their biggest issue would be the lack of ability to move the cart. It was designed to be pulled by hand, and neither of them, even together, could manage it. Thankfully, Rita and I could, and thus with them sitting inside, we pulled it closer to the town center.

“Why did you do this?” She asked, voice low as we waited for a spot near the local well to open up.

“Because I didn’t like his tone.”

My answer got me a look, her expression clearly showing she didn’t believe me for a moment. That was no bother to me. I didn’t need her to understand, especially when I barely did. What mattered now was that I had it, and making sure that before the sunset, it could run itself. Though that begged the question of what they could sell.

When the spot I wanted opened up, I dragged the cart there and nodded to the children who hopped out. People glanced in our direction, some murmuring, but none approached to stop us.

“Alright, first rule of business.” I pointed between Maddison and Theo. “Have a product or service people want. If pies are out, what can you cook?”

They looked at each other, but it was Theo who spoke. “We don’t know how to cook.”

“What about a stew?” Rita asked.

We all turned to her, and she waved her hand around us. I followed the movement, and once again spotted the various fruits and vegetables being sold. They weren’t expensive, but I wasn’t sure where she was going with this. When she met my gaze, I nodded, and she continued.

“My father taught me a recipe from back home. We have everything we need here, except for some spices. Though when we were camping, he often substituted those for local fare.”

“And you could teach them how?” I asked, as Maddison stared at Rita with obvious excitement.

It was a good idea. A stew was thick and hearty, meaning they could put less in a bowl than a soup or something similar. The profit margins would be tight for a while, but food was a product that never went out of style. Their position at the well would help too, as it put them in a central location.

“I can.” She nodded. “I can help them buy what they need and then I will show them how to make it.”

“I’ll try to get a license for them then. The previous owner’s one is in the lockbox, but I want to make sure no one tries to bully them out of their spot,” I said, gesturing to the mayor’s office.

With a quick nod all around, we broke away. It didn’t take long to get the paperwork filed on the children’s behalf, and the mayor even promised to stop by. When I returned, Rita had somehow procured a large pot that bordered on being a cauldron. A wonderful smell came from it, as Maddison, wearing a floppy witch’s hat, stood on a small stool and stirred the concoction with a large ladle.

“Where did she get that?” I glanced at Theo, who stood nearby, watching the people who had gathered around to watch.

“Miss. Rita found it after we bought the bowls.” He fidgeted. “Can I ask you a question?”

I smiled down at him, and it appeared to reassure him. “Of course, I am a consultant for the business. It’s what I’m here for.”

“What happens if we fail?”

“Then you go back to whatever you did before.” He looked up at me, and I continued. “You’ve been given an opportunity. Don’t think about failure, think about how to keep it going. For example, branding. Do you have a name?”

“The Witch’s Brew,” he said.

When I glanced at him, he flushed and mumbled. “Maddison came up with it.”

“It’s a good name, evocative. Can Maddison read?”

“Yes sir, a little.”

That was interesting. Usually, the oldest child learned both to help around the house and to help teach the youngest. Unless I had mistaken their ages, something strange had happened here. As though he could read my expression, he glanced away. A topic he didn’t want to discuss. That was fine. He was my employer; I didn’t need to pry.

“Learn. Have Maddison or one of the other children around the village teach you. Do you know your numbers?” I gestured towards the sign that still sat attached to the cart.

“Yes, sir.”

Doubly interesting. We chatted for a while, though he gave little details of his background. Soon Rita declared the stew ready. She waved me over, and I walked with Theo, who stood behind the counter and faced the crowd. Behind us, Rita and Maddison poured some into a bowl.

“Make way, make way!” The mayor’s familiar voice called as he made his way to the front of the small queue.

I gave a small half bow and Poker Face helped hide my smile when Theo copied the motion. “Mayor Kyles, welcome to The Witch’s Brew. Would you care for a bowl?”

“How could I not?” He laughed. “It’s good to see such young people getting into the spirit of enriching our town through commerce. What are you serving?”

“A hearty Erolis dish, but modified to take advantage of Ophilim’s local produce. Four bronze for a bowl.”

“Four bronze? Is that not a touch steep?” He asked, and I could feel Theo’s worried gaze on me as well.

“Not at all.” My words were smooth, and my tone confident. “With the high prices that your quality local produce demand, they have to make a profit somehow. Besides, any money they make, they will reinvest into the town as a proper citizen of Ophilim. Four bronze leaves them with a one bronze profit per bowl after all that. These are practically starvation prices. Look at the boy, and you see it’s true.”

Theo straightened and pulled his clothes tight, as though we had practiced the motion. Maddison moved over, carefully carrying the wooden bowl with a spoon sticking out. She looked at the mayor, her gaunt features on full display.

“Will you try it, sir? Just four bronze coins. Less than a meal at the inn, and heartier to boot.”

Murmurs from behind him made up the Mayor’s mind, though it was clear her display had helped. It was hard to turn down a clearly hungry child who offered food. He reached into a coin purse, and the first set of coins hit the counter. Theo swept them into the lockbox, and I gestured for the next in the rapidly lengthening line to come forward.

As the sun continued its trajectory overhead, I smiled. It was time to make some money.