Black Mould - Thirty-One - The Spirit of an Entrepreneur

It took weeks to get everything ready.

I knew that I was still basically a child, I couldn’t help that I had to wait on others for some things, but it still irritated me to no end. Nonetheless, I still got things moving eventually, and the added time meant that I had more mushrooms to use in my plan.

First, I secured some money. I convinced my mom to sell more of my mushrooms, even going so far as to reduce the cost to basically nothing. I was getting the mushrooms for free. Sure, selling them for a pittance meant that I was only earning a pittance per hour worked, but some money coming in was better than none, and technically my overhead for the production part of my farm was basically nothing.

Then, once I’d collected enough to get my stove, I approached the old man and got him to agree to make the little burner I needed.

I explained my plan to Dada, and he helped me build a little table-top to work with. It was just a small wooden surface, with a box inset to one side for the burner and four post-like legs that I could lock into place beneath. The legs had holes on their sides for bolts. It wasn’t easy to set up, but after a bit of practise, I could have the table set up in under three minutes.

I waffled over what to bring to sell at first. I had a few good shrooms that I imagined people would want to buy, but… well, how much did I want to give away?

I’d start with a nonmagical hybrid sort. [Brown horse Head] would have to do.

My first cooking test was nearly a disaster. I misjudged the strength of the flames and burned myself twice: once when lighting the lamp’s wick, then again when touching the plate to see if it was hot.

That last one was a bit embarrassing.

The plate that the old man found wasn’t perfect. It warmed up quick enough, but it didn’t get very hot. I wouldn’t cook meat on it, but for melting butter and warming up some mushrooms? It was perfect.

Dada got me some skewers. In reality they were long rods from his workplace. I wasn’t sure what they were used for, but after filing down the tips to a rough point with a rasp, they’d serve as perfectly usable skewers.

Once I was done with my first set of skewers, I ran out of the farm to give one to Debra. I found her sitting outside on her spot with Stew and Eight-Three-Eleven. I stopped mid-run, but they had all heard me coming. Worse, they smelled me coming too.

“That smells divine,” Stew said. “What is it?”

“Hi Stew,” I said. “Hello, Eight-Three-Eleven.”

“Hey, kid,” Stew said.

“Hello,” Eight-Three-Eleven said with a little wave. I looked her up and down. She was half a hand taller than when I’d last seen her, and her poncho had changed a bit.

“Nice coat thing,” I said. No one had ever used the word poncho around me in the local dialect, and I didn’t know how to translate it. “Is it different?”

She nodded, and from the squint in the corner of her eyes, I assumed she was smiling. “It is. I rose a rank.” She spread her arms out to better show it off.

“Congrats,” I said.

“So, what’s that smell?” Stew asked.

I looked at the two skewers I had. I’d planned one for me and one for Debra, but seeing as I had more guests than expected, I’d have to improvise. “Here, Stew, Debra, try these. I’ll go cook another two real fast.” Everything was still warm, and I hadn’t put anything away yet. It was a simple matter to run back in and flick the burner back on. All it cost me was a bit of oil and a match.

Skewering up a few more mushrooms after dipping them in garlic-filled butter, I cooked them over the plate. The butter dripped off of the skewers and onto the plate with a delicious sizzle.

When I stepped out, I found all three of them eating. Debra had plucked one of the mushrooms off her skewer and gave it to Eight-Three-Eleven to taste.

“This is great,” the acolyte of Galen said.

“Thanks,” I said as I handed her her own skewer. She took it with another eye-smile and tugged her half mask down her chin to better get to the juicy shroom. “I’ve been thinking of starting my own business for a while now. I have everything set up, I just need to figure out how to get everything to the market.”

“What do you need to carry?” Stew asked.

“Not too much, just a table with removable legs, some fuel for my little stove, and a bag full of mushrooms. I’ve been working hard to get some good cultivation going so that I can run this thing for a while.”

“I could give you a hand,” Stew said. Then he grinned. “But only the one.” He wiggled his one hand.

Rolling my eyes, I ignored the awful dad joke. “Well, I wouldn’t mind some help. Even just having someone older than me standing around might help.”

Eight-Three-Eleven nodded along. “I’ll help you on your first day out! Acolytes of Galen have a decent reputation just about anywhere. If I give you a hand, people might trust you a little easier.”

“Oh… thank you,” I said. “I haven’t decided on where I want to set up. I’m thinking one of the big markets not too far from here?”

“That’d be nice,” Stew said. “Not much by means of money there, but plenty of favours to go around. Not sure what you’d get for one of these skewers, but you might end up with a little bounty.”

“That’d be nice,” I said. “Ideally, I’d like to go to a place with richer clients.”

Stew squinted. “Used to be there were food stalls ‘round the Ditz Dungeon. Might still be some.”

“The mana…” Eight-Three-Eleven said.

“Yeah, the mana-sucking thing makes it hard for me. But! I can make magically-infused mushrooms. They restore a bit of mana if you eat them. Not much, just a point or two, but it’s something, right?”

“That’d be popular,” Stew agreed. “Dungeon might weaken them, and you too.”

I shrugged. “I’ll get used to it eventually, right? I remember you mentioning a skill that helps.”

“It’ll take a while to get it naturally,” he said. “But sure.”

I nodded. “First, we try selling around here. If I’m going to sell around the dungeon, then I want it to be while I’m well-prepared for it. There are people with money there, right?”

“Delvers,” Eight-Three-Eleven said. “And some priests and militia will go down too, for training.”

That made sense. A place where guilt-free adversaries respawn, in a relatively controlled environment? I’d send troops to train there if I could.

“That’ll be for later,” I said. “I need something before that. Anyway, what are you doing down in the slums?” I asked.

Eight-Three-Eleven adjusted her mask back up and handed me my skewer. I couldn’t afford to lose too many of those. “I’m going around, making sure everyone’s alright. We had a rough winter, and with spring comes a lot of sickness and such.”

“That… yeah, I guess that makes sense,” I said. I couldn’t imagine people in this area having anything like a flu vaccine. Or cures for stuff like polio or the like.

I shivered. All the more reason to start making more money. Money was a cure for many ills, especially in a world where magic existed and could be accessed with enough coin.

“Glad you’re helping. Remember to wash your hands and all that. I don’t need you spreading something to me,” I said.

She laughed. “I’ll try not to. There’s a reason we wear masks, and it’s not just the fog.”

“To stop airborne pathogens.” I nodded. “Clever. I guess I should do the same while selling things. I’ll make a note to bring some cleaning supplies with me too. I can splurge on a bit of bleach, I think. I’ll be able to disinfect things as I go.”

Eight-Three-Eleven gave me a look. “You’re only getting stranger as you get older, you know?”

“Am I? Well, whatever. I’m not going to pretend to act like someone else just to make things easier on others’ perceptions.” I took back my skewers from Debra and Stew. I’d clean those off later. I only had a couple dozen of those. I needed to find a way to get them back after people used them. “On that note, back to work for me. I need to prepare things even more. Stew… if you really want to come with me, then I’d welcome the help. Be here within an hour of sunrise tomorrow, please.”

“Before or after?” he asked.

“Before, of course,” I said. “Early bird gets the mushroom!”

***