Cordyceps Three
Mary-Anne nodded along as I spoke. "Got it," she said.
I finished cooking a few skewers, then handed her one. "Eat up," I said.
She did so, and judging by the happy noises she made, the few levels I'd earned in [Cooking] were being put to good use. That reminded me that I'd have to get Mary-Anne to learn the skill too, if she had a slot for it free. It was an easy enough skill to get, and it would help a lot.
"So, we just make these, and then bring the money back?" Mary-Anne asked.
"That's the gist of it," I said, and I laid things out for her to try cooking a few herself. "It's not too complicated now that it's all set up, but there's a lot of work in the background to make it... well, work. Getting the materials, the mushrooms, the oils and butters and garlic, getting permission to sell at different locations. Honestly though, I'm making it sound more complex than it is. It just takes time to set everything up, and a small initial investment for some of the equipment. Past that, it's almost self-perpetuating. But it doesn't earn you that much."
"Okay," she said.
Mary-Anne didn't strike me as the brightest candle in the night, but she was a nice enough girl, and she got along well with Bet.
After a week or two with just a few small issues (she once dropped a tub of butter on a client's pants and she was prone to burning things at first) she got the hang of the job and things went smoothly.
Then, one day as I was selling mushroom soup—we were trying new things—at one of the markets, Bet and I were approached by two girls. "Hey," One of them said. She was older, maybe fourteen or fifteen, with a nose that had been broken at least once and clothes that were clean, but worn in a few places. Something told me that she was trouble. "Who do you work for?" she asked. I glanced at Bet, but she seemed to leave it up to me. "We work with a few people," I said evasively. "Why?"
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"I wanna sell shit like this too," she said.
"We're not looking for more people to sell stuff," I lied a little. While I wasn't looking for more sellers, I wouldn't mind a few more hands. It might mean having two stalls running concurrently, and my farm was now out-producing our sales by a handy margin. I could run three stalls at the moment.
My extra supplies of mushrooms were being donated to the union every week, just to do something with them instead of tossing them in the trash.
"Well, maybe your boss wouldn't mind a replacement for one of you two," the girl said. She closed her hands into fists with an audible pop, and her friend, who was closer to Bet's age, though a bit scrawnier, wiped at her nose then pulled out a screwdriver from her belt.
Then I laughed in their faces. "Girl, I respect the hustle, but you're wasting your time. You wouldn't swing a fist in this market if you were smart, and even if you did, I'd make you regret it," I said.
She glared at me, and I instantly felt my heart skipping a beat and my breath hitch. My hands shook for a moment, and I felt as if I was staring down an oncoming train, only... no, this was just a girl. Almost as soon as the effect settled in, I brushed it off.
"Huh," I said as I licked my lips. "That's a neat trick. What is it, [Intimidation]?"
The girl seemed to have been put on the backfoot for the moment. "Yeah, maybe," she said. "What, you're not afraid?"
"No," I said. "Who do you work for?"
She shifted. "No one," she said. "Is just me and ma sis, and we're needing that job you have there. And if I need to kick your teeth in to get it, I will."
"How about we don't kick anyone's teeth in and I get you a better sort of job?" I asked carefully.
I could tell she didn't trust me quite yet, and in this case my skills were probably working against me. I couldn't play the role of someone as tough as her, not when I had skills that made me look very much the opposite.
"What sorta job?" she asked.
I grinned. "How about I tell you where to meet me after, and I'll show you what I'm looking for?"
"You think you can get away so easy?" she asked.
"Yes," I said. "You beat us up and the best you'll get is kicked out of the market with a boot to your ass. You listen to me, and you might get a job out of it. And here, have a couple of skewers, on the house."
She did listen, in the end, and I wasn't sure if it was my persuasive abilities, my lack of fear, or the food that convinced her.
Her name was Willow, and her scrappy little sister was Daisy. She'd been working at a place of ill-repute for a while, until she got sick and her nose got broken and then she went around begging for coin wherever she could and sleeping on the streets with Daisy in tow.
She needed the job bad, and once I delivered on my promise of work, Willow's loyalty was won over instantly.
She was awful at selling, couldn't cook to save her life, and had an attention span measured in seconds, but she was quick and vicious and knew how to make a grown man cry.
I got her to take lessons with Dregs while the rest of us took [Cooking] lessons from Aunt Nicole, and while she always came back a bit bloodied and bruised, it was with one of her signature missing-teeth grins.
Early on in my first year, I decided to bite the bullet and picked up a new skill called [Management].
Management {Uncommon}
The ability to keep track of personnel and employees, of having supplies on hand when needed, and of running a business.
Category: Managerial skills, social skills
I wasn't planning on keeping this one forever, but for the moment, it was a nice boon to have. My little enterprise waxed and waned. I kept my core group, but hired out more girls who'd often leave after a few weeks or months to greener pastures and more profitable work. In the meantime, I made a neat little reputation for myself as a fair minded young businessperson with an eye for talent and making a fair coin.
That would serve me well in the future, I figured.
***