Poznyu Siege Operation (3)
A few days later, a massive tent sprang up in the slums. Hundreds, no, thousands of sacks of grain were neatly stacked beneath it.
At first, people only peeked from nearby stalls, but soon they formed a long line.
A latecomer among the slum dwellers asked someone already in line.
"What the hell is this line for?"
"Beats me. But with all that grain piled up, it looks like some kinda distribution center."
"Distribution? Who's handing out food rations in Poznyu? Especially in times like these…"
"How should I know? Everyone else is lining up, so I figured what the hell—might as well."
Hesitating, he joined the queue anyway, just in case. After two hours, he finally reached the clerk.
"How much?"
"Uh… what exactly is this line for?"
"You joined without knowing? We're selling barley and millet. One sack for one silver coin."
"Gasp! That's not even half price! Two sacks… no, make it one…"
Fumbling through his pockets in a panic, the slum dweller asked with an embarrassed look.
"Any chance I could buy just half a sack?"
"No money? We can front you up to one sack. See that guy over there? Head to him for work. Do what they say for a month, and the debt's wiped clean."
"Sorry, but as you can see, I'm not exactly fit for…"
He was lame. The clerk just shrugged.
"Give it a shot anyway. Guy with one arm just got hired a minute ago."
"R-Really? Th-Thank you!"
Moments later, upon hearing he'd get work, tears of gratitude welled up. It was just a one-month temp gig, but it meant the world to him.
For a slum dweller with no fixed home, always one step from bolting, and handicapped to boot—no one had ever advanced him pay and put him to work before.
The clerk smiled warmly, as if he understood completely.
"I'm from the slums myself. Got lucky—some merciful soul hooked me up with a real job. Don't thank me. This is the Red Wolf Mercenary Corps operation. Thank them."
"Sob…"
Soon after, he hoisted a sack of grain with effort and stood.
"You good to carry that?"
"Don't worry about me. Back in my prime, I bashed a few monsters. Got hurt and retired, sure. Heh heh heh!"
A man who'd scraped by on cheap booze bought with begged coins flashed a genuine smile for the first time in ages.
The clerk's heart warmed too.
Calix, who had hired the slum dwellers, set up similar stalls all over the city. Places nobles and merchants usually shunned as filthy were now buzzing.
But there was no choice. These stalls were the only spots selling grain at pre-hoarding prices.
More stalls popped up. Within days, everyone in Poznyu was buying from Calix's shops.
Yet Madam Hari's expression was complicated as she watched.
"Impressive policy—giving jobs to the slums instead of handouts, paying in grain. Other nobles could learn from you, young master. Of course, in normal times, citizens wouldn't accept slum folk."
"Your mouth praises me, but your face isn't smiling."
"You asking 'cause you don't know? Why sell to regular folk for one silver? I heard you asked Yurin to procure grain. But that costs two silvers. You're losing one per sack."
"Haha! Worried about me?"
"…I'm talking sustainability. If you'd just doled it out to the desperate, it wouldn't cost this much. What's your angle?"
"You'll see."
Madam Hari looked frustrated to death. Calix just wore a faint smile and said nothing.
Meanwhile, every merchant contracted with Calix gathered in secret. Nazap hosted.
Horadin, notorious for his sly bootlicking, poured drinks with exaggerated flair.
"Boss! Have a drink!"
"Haha! Don't mind if I do."
"But is this okay? What if the kid pulls some trick and pays up? No loss for us, sure, but we miss the chance to gouge on wheat prices."
Nazap scanned the room. Plenty wore Horadin's greedy grin. He chuckled.
"Do you know why I proposed that contract?"
"Well…"
He trailed off awkwardly. Bluntly, it was to fleece a sucker.
"Heh, you think I did it just to squeeze a few coins?"
Confusion rippled across faces at Nazap's question.
"Poznyu stands on two pillars: merchants and mercenaries. We supply them food and gear; they give us monster byproducts."
"Problem is, they collude on commissions, charging through the nose. I've hated it forever. Dumb mercs should just hunt monsters as we say. But they take full commission and sell byproducts high. We earn one gold; their guild rakes ten."
Nazap scratched the itch every merchant felt. The room erupted.
"Exactly!"
"We hired them, but they take all the byproducts? Unfair!"
"Time to show 'em who's boss!"
Nazap raised a hand for silence.
"I get it. I'm a merchant too."
"With two of the three powers fallen, Red Wolf Mercenary Corps is the last giant. Perfect chance. Bury them in debt, turn 'em into our watchdogs."
"Brilliant! Never dreamed you'd see that far. Horadin, in awe!"
Someone piped up.
"But only if they lose."
"What? Don't jinx it!"
"Can't be too optimistic. He wouldn't sign if he was an idiot."
"Hey! He's a green kid. Rich fool who can't tell dirt from gold!"
As Horadin and the dissenter nearly came to blows, Nazap intervened.
"Enough."
Horadin bowed as if his fire was all an act.
"Sorry."
Nazap eyed the other calmly.
"He didn't sign blindly."
Under Nazap's sharp gaze, the man sweated and stammered.
"I-I didn't mean…!"
"Why set four weeks, then?"
"No way…?"
"Yep. I know when the besiegers outside pull back."
"For real?"
"Siege lifts in four weeks max. Straight from the 3rd Legion's supply officer I greased."
"Whoa!"
Some gasped; others nodded knowingly.
Veterans of Poznyu knew the score. Calix's intel was no secret.
"Grain dwindles daily—someone's stomach claims it. Before 3rd Legion withdraws, he must repay. By then, city's stocks half-gone."
"Bankrupt! Haha!"
Merchants brimmed with hope.
Not petty gains—this could upend Poznyu's power balance. And they held the winning hand.
Days passed since Calix opened stalls. Folks had enough for weeks, yet lines didn't shrink.
After sunset and daily tallies, Madam Hari sought Calix, grave-faced.
"Something's off."
"What?"
"One sack feeds a family a month. Sales so far? Everyone's hoarded double. But daily volume's steady."
Calix stared blankly. Frustrated, her voice rose.
"We borrowed 100,000 sacks total. Poznyu's 50,000 households—two months' worth. What does constant sales mean?"
"We'll run out?"
"Yes! And when stock hits zero, white rice sellers jack prices. They know we'll buy at any cost."
"Madam Hari, you've forgotten hard times. Or maybe palace life blinded you."
"Meaning?"
"Most in Poznyu lack spare cash. Triple a month's pay, tops. Many less."
"So now they can't afford more?"
Calix nodded.
"Right. Desperate ones burned savings. Raise to two silvers."
"Won't that scream shortage? Better spread rumors central army leaves in a month."
"Who'd buy it? Even believers hedge on 'what if.'"
"…True. Sigh…"
Madam Hari sighed deeply.
"Just stabilized, now prices up? Panic incoming."
"They've got two months' stock. No big shakes for a month. Can't afford to flee anyway."
"Then why raise?"
"Bait. To hook greed…"
She eyed him puzzled, but Calix said no more.