Chapter 59
Chapter 59
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Translator: penny
Chapter: 59
Chapter Title: Pet Rock Mania
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Pet rock marketing had begun.
The kickoff involved having slaves who were half decent-looking and good talkers carry around their "pet rocks."
Farm owners or nobles renting slaves showed little interest in what mere slaves possessed.
But the overseers under them were different.
Since they were directly responsible for monitoring slaves and supervising their work,
they checked every single item the slaves had.
Thus, they were the first to encounter this bizarre product called a "pet rock."
"......What is this?"
"Ah. It's my pet rock."
"Pet rock......?"
"It doesn't bite and it's a good boy."
Such scenes unfolded across the Empire.
Some overseers got angry, thinking they were being mocked, while others wisely judged, "This slave's crazy, better not touch him," and some accepted it with, "House Riddle must have that kind of culture."
In any case, they all developed curiosity about the product called "pet rock."
Moreover, it wasn't just those renting slaves who encountered them.
Slaves had infiltrated every corner of the Empire in one way or another,
and most businesses run by House Riddle relied heavily on slave labor.
Thanks to that, there were surprisingly many free folk who got along fairly well with slaves at work. Even if their view of "slaves in general" remained close to "tools," they could develop a certain fondness for "that one slave they saw often."
"That's funny, so when are you selling them?"
As people's curiosity began buzzing noisily across the Empire,
the "pet rock" product was finally officially launched.
Many visited the merchant guild out of curiosity and interest to see the pet rocks for themselves,
and soon they smirked,
or burst into uncontrollable laughter.
"......Kuk."
"Puhaha!"
The guild was handing out pamphlets titled "Adoption Guide for First-Time Pet Rock Owners,"
which were essentially collections of humor.
[Our pet rocks don't bite! But be careful not to let them charge at windows. The window might get hurt.]
[Pet rocks are great at rolling. Until they get tired! Once tired, they stay still until you tell them to go again.]
[They obey commands like wait, play dead, lie down perfectly. But teaching them any other tricks requires immense patience and a long wait.]
[Pet rocks live longer than you. Maybe even longer than your children. Pass your pet rock on to your kids.]
Obvious statements were twisted with all sorts of flair into sentences that made you think a bit and chuckle.
This alone was enough to make people buy one as a joke,
but the wicked possessor and con artist added a simple "consumer participation event" on top.
[Send us your ideas for the 'pet rock's' strengths. We'll draw lots to give away little hats for your pet rock and scarves to survive the winter.]
Leaving humor behind is human instinct.
Especially men, who harbor a strong desire to be seen as "humorous people."
In that sense, "pet rock" was a pretty good topic to riff on.
Countless people bought pet rocks,
and in taverns across the Empire, boasts about the strengths of one's "pet rock" echoed boisterously all day.
Among those cracking such jokes in taverns,
quite a few were just fantasizing without actually owning one,
but it didn't matter whether they actually owned a pet rock or not.
Just the fact that the topic came up created massive promotional buzz.
[Pedigree Certificate]
[Family Tree]
[Rock-Nobility Proof]
To differentiate "pet rocks" from "just rocks," they created a sort of pedigree certificate.
Every rock had a family history.
Its honor and traditions were documented,
and every rock was the head of its own house, representing its lineage.
This too was written with simple humor.
For example, one rock-house's founder was called "Stone Head" for not cracking after banging its head against a boulder a hundred times,
another's founder was mistaken for an egg and sent on bizarre adventures,
and yet another's founder was honored by an eagle with the task of cracking a turtle's shell, but mistook a bald philosopher's head for a turtle, killed him, and felt deep guilt.
These "plausible rock family histories"
added even more color to the humorous "pet rock" product.
That wasn't all.
To spread the trend,
they encouraged people to recommend pet rocks to friends.
[Gift a pet rock to your lonely friend.]
[If you already have a pet rock, get a friend pet rock at a discount.]
[Enter a referrer and......]
A barrage of marketing techniques.
As if determined to try every trick in the book, all sorts of promotions pushed pet rock sales.
And.
When it comes to marketing, you can't skip
"emotional marketing."
[Pet Rock Cemetery]
Small cemeteries appeared across the Empire.
They didn't need much land.
Rocks were small, after all.
A plot the size of a small clearing was enough for hundreds of rocks.
There, along with each rock's name,
its "rock life" story was inscribed.
.
.
.
.
The rock cemeteries bustled with people.
The weary from life, pet rock owners, all sorts visited for emotional solace through humor.
And.
Among them were slaves using outing permits.
"......"
Thanks to borrowing proper clothes that hid his brand,
no one took him for a slave.
Thus, he could peacefully take in the scene without drawing attention.
He overheard people reading epitaphs aloud.
Some burst into laughter at the words,
others teared up, moved by the sentiment.
Probably the criers owned pet rocks.
Or perhaps they'd lost a real pet before.
Among pet rock owners,
some named them after departed pets.
The scene was amusing,
but not incomprehensible.
The slave, too, couldn't forget a lost friend and had done something similar.
"York's grave...... Ah. There it is."
All the names and epitaphs in the rock cemetery were written by slaves.
He had written this one for "York."
"......Brought flowers, but there are already plenty."
The slave placed his flowers before York's epitaph.
Several bouquets from prior visitors were already there.
York's epitaph was especially popular in this cemetery.
Admiration for soldiers isn't all that unusual.
"You're popular, huh. Well, even on the battlefield, you were the most trusted comrade."
The Empire's folk leaving flowers here wouldn't know.
That York was actually a soldier from an enemy nation fighting the Empire.
What an ironic scene.
Not unlikable, though. The slave closed his eyes quietly in prayer.
After a long prayer,
he bowed once and moved on.
"Oh. The soldier rock's gravestone."
"A rock charging at windows. Cute."
A few people, seeing him at York's, read the epitaph,
laughed, and prayed toward the stone.
The slave, glancing back briefly,
let out a soft chuckle.
A fine scene. A wonderful world. A beautiful day.
Feeling a warm leisure soothe his heart, the slave's gaze was suddenly drawn to another gravestone.
Flowers lay there too, left by visitors.
"......Used a folktale motif? Don't know which slave wrote it, but it's witty."
It was a peaceful day.