~ Kigeir ~
It had started getting dark by the time Kigeir lit the candles.
He set two of them on the wooden counter of his shop and watched the small flames settle. Usually he would have considered that a waste. Candles cost money, and these days he did not spend coin lightly. But today was different. Everyone in the village had heard the news by now. The baron had finally started paying people in coin. If there was ever a time to make his shop look open and welcoming, it was tonight.
His shop stood in what used to be an alley, though it barely felt like one anymore. More than half the houses there had been torn down after last autumn’s raid, either because they had burned or because they had been left half-damaged and unsafe. The ground floor of his own house held the shop front and the rest of the family’s living space, while the upper floor was where they slept. It was enough for now, but only just.
He would have preferred a place right on the edge of the old market square. That would have brought in more customers, especially now. But he couldn't just pick up his house and place it there. Still, he had seen workers marking out a large open space near the new longhouse blocks, and people were already saying it would become a proper new market square. If that happened, perhaps he could move the shop there later on and keep this old house for living only. With how much his family had grown, the extra living space would be more than welcome.
Inside, his wife was busy cooking the evening meal. His oldest son, Leif, should be back from his labor work soon. The boy was 18 already and had spent the past few months working as a laborer to add to the household income. At first Kigeir had hoped this would be the moment to pull him back from that work and have him start helping in the shop full-time. But after listening to the rumors more carefully and hearing the talk among the guards and other workers, he had changed his mind.
The baron was going to keep giving food and shelter in the longhouse blocks, and in return he would deduct some amount from wages. Which meant most villagers would still not be buying grain for themselves for some time yet. So Kigeir had spoken to Leif, and they had both agreed it made more sense for him to keep laboring for now until grain sales picked up again.
Still, this whole turn of events had made something else clear to Kigeir.
It was time to diversify.
Even so, he would remain a grain merchant first. That was still his primary trade, and before long it would become profitable again. Once people started moving out of the longhouse blocks into separate housing—it had to happen at some point—they would need to buy their own grain. That much seemed obvious. The village was growing too fast for things to stay the same. At a quick glance, it felt like the population had doubled since autumn, and it would keep climbing. Sir Duvas had already forbidden people from throwing up makeshift shacks wherever they pleased like it happened in the past, saying the land would be needed for planned housing instead. So sooner or later, proper homes would be built, and when they were, grain would sell again.
That meant his old business still had a future. But he could not sit still and wait for it.
And to be honest, carrying grain was getting harder every year. Even half-filled sacks were not easy to lift with his damaged knee, and his age was not helping. It was good that Leif was old enough now to do the heavy lifting once business returned. Until then, Kigeir needed more goods on his shelves—preferably something lightweight.
He was still thinking about that when he saw Dalaar walking slowly toward the shop.
Kigeir’s mouth tightened a little.
Dalaar was the only other grain merchant in the village, and trouble followed him the way mud followed boots after a rain. The young man had spent the hard winter months doing labor work with a couple of his friends because grain sales had nearly died since the silver haired baron arrived in Tiranat. But the moment the rumors spread that coin payments were beginning, Dalaar had left the labor gangs and reopened his shop earlier today.
Soon he was standing outside Kigeir’s counter.
“What’s up, old man?” Dalaar said, then smirked. “Looks like you still won’t be able to sell any grain. Still praising your baron even now?”
Kigeir shrugged. “The grain sales will start soon. It won’t be long.”
Dalaar scoffed. “You still live in daydreams... Forget grain, we can’t even sell mining tools the way we used to! Last year we bought them from visiting merchants and sold them to the manor—easy money. Now the baron has everything made in-house. He’s put the blacksmith and the carpenters on his own payroll. Doesn’t make sense to me." He frowned. "The man really is a cheapskate...”
“Shut up,” Kigeir said at once. “Have you been living in a ditch? Have you not seen all the things he’s done for us?”
Dalaar laughed, though he still looked annoyed. “I’ve helped make some of those things by myself. Doesn’t help me, does it? I want to go back to being a merchant and making money!”
“Then this is good news, isn’t it?” Kigeir said. “The baron is still giving food and shelter, yes, but now he is also paying wages. That wage is not for basic food and housing anymore. It’s for whatever people want beyond that.”
Dalaar opened his mouth, but Kigeir kept going.
“The minimum anyone earns is eight coppers a day, and the rumors say the deduction will be four coppers. That still leaves four coppers to spend. Don’t you see how much coin is about to start moving through this village?”
Dalaar folded his arms. "Oh, enlighten me!"
Kigeir leaned forward on the counter. “I visited the third longhouse block yesterday to meet a friend. It houses around 250 people. The first two blocks together are around the same. That’s nearly 500 people right there. Even if only 300 of them go out to work and earn coins, that still means... uh... 1200 coppers, or 12 gold a day they have freedom to spend. That’s above 350 gold a month moving through their hands!”
He pointed roughly toward the general direction of where the baron lived. “And that’s before counting those living in the manor. There must easily be more than fifty guards by now I'd say—maybe even a hundred—plus servants, maids, and the others. And they are more than the laborers. That’s another few hundred gold coins changing hands every month. So starting tomorrow, more than 500 gold will be circulating in the village every month. I don’t know how much people spent every month until last year, but it certainly wasn’t that much." He grinned. "This is a new beginning for us and for Tiranat. We are going to do business here from now. A lot of it.”
Dalaar shook his head. “Most of our money still came from grain sales, and you know it. The rest came from selling mining tools, and that option is dead as a doornail now. Anyway, that total amount might sound large, but any single person only has a little to spare. After the food shortage earlier, most of them will save what they can...”
“You still don’t see it,” Kigeir said. “We need to start speaking with visiting merchants and placing orders for other things. Better clothes. Needles. Thread. Soap. Salt. Oil. Maybe lamp wicks, maybe combs, maybe wooden bowls and spoons that look better than the rough ones most people use now. People are going to start buying all kinds of stuff now, so we need to take this chance and finally start making money!”
He reached out and patted Dalaar’s shoulder. “So put an end to your worrying and stop blaming the baron every time you open your mouth.”
Dalaar snorted and pulled back. “I’m not wrong though, am I? We still can't sell any grain, which made us the most coin... At least I had the sense to keep some other things to sell too, unlike you. Good for you that you've learned your lesson. But yes, I still say the baron is the reason we aren’t making enough. He's the reason people don't need to buy grain even now.”
Kigeir gave an annoyed shake of his head. “Fine. Think whatever you want. But in my opinion, Lord Kivamus coming here as baron is the best thing to happen to Tiranat in a long, long time.”
Dalaar scoffed and walked away toward the main square, where one of his friends was speaking with a vegetable vendor.
Kigeir sighed and looked past him toward the market square where the alley opened on the right. Even from here there was a constant din of voices. Usually the square stayed mostly quiet, with people drifting through slowly and talking more than buying. The last few days had brought more stalls, more produce and far more bartering than usual, but tonight felt different.
Tonight it sounded like a real market. Good!
After closing the shop today, he planned to go to the alehouse. That was where the visiting merchants stayed on the upper floor. If he wanted to strike good deals and bring in new goods for his shop, that was where it would happen. It would also mean a mug or two of ale while he talked business, but that was not the main point. Not at all...
He was wondering where the younger children had gotten to when he spotted them at last.
His daughter Elsie was chasing Maisy, his adopted daughter, both of them being ten years old and both shrieking with laughter at who knew what. Their brothers, both eight, were trying to join in and mostly getting in each other’s way instead. Kigeir smiled despite himself as the two of them tore past the front of the shop.
His family had become larger now. Including the two adopted children, there were five kids in all to raise and feed. That only made him more certain that he had to seize this chance. If coins were finally moving through Tiranat again, then he needed to make sure some of it stopped in his hands.
His wife stepped out then and immediately spotted the children.
“Come inside, you all,” she called. “Dinner is ready.”
The children whooped and rushed for the house at once.
“No running inside the house!” she shouted after them.
They ignored her, of course.
Kigeir smiled at her. “Let them be. They’re children. They need to run around.”
His wife frowned. “And what if they fall? They could hurt themselves on the floor.”
He gave a small grin. “Then we'll ask the baron for some losuvil paste. The manor always seems to have some now whenever anyone is hurt. I suppose the hunters keep bringing leaves back from the forest.”
She still looked doubtful. “I don’t understand that... I thought losuvil only stayed fresh for a couple of hours in this weather. Summer has only just started, but it’s still warm enough.”
***