Salt People

Translator: Cinder Translations

...

Kevin sat dizzily guarding his stall. It was already noon, yet he hadn't had anything to eat, and his stomach growled incessantly in protest to his brain.

But what could he do? He had been here since sunrise, but only earned a few measly copper coins. Kevin couldn't bring himself to spend them on food.

Sitting on the ground, he hugged his legs with his arms, feeling utterly helpless. In front of him was a piece of old cloth spread out on the ground—Kevin's stall—on which were placed several bags of white stuff.

Salt, that's what Kevin was selling.

The village where Kevin lived had always depended on salt boiling for a living. Previously, merchants would come every month to collect salt and pay them a reward.

But gradually things changed. When the merchants came to collect salt, they started aggressively lowering the prices and showed an attitude of take-it-or-leave-it.

Most of their village depended solely on salt boiling for a living, so they had to accept the merchants' price cuts.

But the prices offered by the merchants became increasingly unbearable, and their visits to collect salt became less frequent.

Someone from Frand Port had heard the news that a group of merchants led by the big salt merchant Gedwin had established a "Salt Field" near Frand Port. They used some method inside that could produce tons of table salt much more efficiently than their village's boiling method.

When the Salt Field just started production, it couldn't meet all the demand, so the merchants still relied on these salt people. But as the Salt Field expanded and production increased, their dependence on salt people decreased.

The salt produced from the Salt Field was not better in quality than the salt boiled in Kevin's village; in fact, it was slightly inferior. But it had an unbeatable advantage—cheapness.

It was really cheap. Kevin knew that a family could afford enough salt to pickle fish for a full year.

Income from boiling salt was dwindling, and soon his family couldn't make ends meet. If this continued, their already meager savings would soon run out.

With no other choice, Kevin and others from his village began smuggling salt into nearby towns to sell. To avoid competition, each chose a different location. Kevin chose to come to Frand Port.

He had arrived in Frand Port yesterday, but after a day of vending, he had only earned a tiny amount of copper coins. Starving by evening, he bought a loaf of dark bread to barely fill his stomach. With little money earned, there was almost nothing left.

He stayed overnight in the stable of an inn and planned to try his luck again the next day.

Kevin had tried to sell his salt at salt shops, but the prices offered there were ridiculously low, and selling to them would definitely mean a big loss for him. Trying to negotiate a better price, he was quickly chased out by the shop assistant.

As he pondered what to do next, he caught sight of a person carrying an iron bucket and a brush walking towards him.

Kevin guessed he was probably from the City Hall and about to paint some "slogans" again. This was a publicity method invented by the young lord who had just ascended to power last year, painting these "slogans" in prominent public areas to inform people of his policies.

Like "Protect the Environment, Everyone's Responsibility" and "Littering Results in Fines," etc. Even their remote village had a few slogans painted, although there were only a handful of literate people in their village.

Seeing the person approaching with the bucket, Kevin silently cursed his bad luck, quickly packed up his things, and moved his stall to another place, giving up the space against the wall.

The City Hall official arrived at the wall, dipped the brush in paint, and started applying it to the wall.

A crowd gathered to watch the spectacle.

Kevin also joined the crowd, tapped a person who was focused on watching the wall, and asked, "Sir, what does it say on the wall?"

The person, deeply engrossed in reading, probably recognized the words on the wall.

He turned around and glanced at Kevin, replying, "Don't you know? It says 'Increase Vigilance, Guard Against Spies!'"

"Guard against spies?" Kevin was a bit puzzled. He knew what spies did, but why suddenly paint such a slogan?

"Yeah, don't you know about the recent situation?"

"What situation?"

The man spoke mysteriously, "War is about to begin! The lords are going to war again!"

"War? Why on earth would there be a war?" Kevin frowned. Since childhood, he had heard elders speak of the horrors of war. When it broke out, lords led armies to plunder each other's territories and imposed war taxes on their subjects, forcibly conscripting commoners into the army.

The closest Kevin had come to war was during the recent pirate invasion. According to the village elders, war was even more terrifying than pirate raids.

"I heard this time they are going to war with Emden."

"Emden? I've heard it's a very powerful territory to our south."

"What's to fear? Haven't you forgotten how Lord Grayman crushed those pirates and the rebels from Byerldine?"

The man speaking to Kevin was extremely excited, evidently very confident in Alden's military prowess. Whenever he mentioned that young lord, he gestured animatedly.

Kevin snorted inwardly. While Frand Port had its walls for protection, their village had no defenses at all.

Turning back to his stall, Kevin muttered under his breath, "War, war... while we salt people are starving, they're only thinking about war..."

Someone nearby overheard his words accidentally, their eyes gleaming...

Kevin continued to guard his stall for a while longer, but finally couldn't hold out any longer. Now he didn't even have the energy to call out to passing pedestrians to sell his goods.

He counted the few copper coins in his hand, painfully deciding to first buy a piece of bread to stave off hunger and then drink a few sips of cold water from the well.

Just as he stood up and took a few steps, someone called out to him.

"Is this your stall?"

Kevin immediately turned around and replied, "Yes, it is. This is my stall. Are you looking to buy some salt?"

He got a good look at the person—average height, average build, with a nondescript face.

"What's the price of salt here?" the person asked.

Kevin hesitated for a moment and then quoted the lowest price he could accept.

The person seemed hesitant. "It's considerably more expensive than what the stores are selling..."

Kevin grew anxious. "Sir, the salt I sell here may be a bit more expensive, but it's of superior quality. It's all manually boiled in our village and carefully ground and sifted. It's not much inferior to the fine salt eaten by the nobles. Take a look at the salt in the stores—large grains and full of sand—it doesn't compare to what I have here."

The person rubbed his chin, seemingly considering Kevin's words. He dipped a finger into the salt and tasted it.

"Hmm, you're right. The taste is indeed much better than what's sold in the shops."

Hearing this, hope sparked in Kevin's eyes.

"So, sir, would you..."

"I'm interested. We do need salt in our shop, and since your salt quality is good, I'll buy from you. Just this one bag."

He pointed to a bag of salt and said to Kevin.

"Alright, I'll pack it up for you right away!"

Kevin quickly tied up the bag and handed it over. The customer promptly paid.

Curious, the customer asked, "I haven't seen you before. Are you new here?"

"Um, I just started selling salt here yesterday..."

"Will you continue selling here in the future?"

"As long as you need it, sir, I'll come to sell salt."

"Good. If it tastes good, I'll keep coming back."

He patted Kevin on the shoulder, lifted the bag of salt, and walked away.

Kevin carefully shook the small bag full of coins, hearing the crisp clinking sound inside, filling his heart with happiness in an instant.

Today, he could finally have a full meal.

(End of the Chapter)