Veyra bristled at his tone, and was about to say something, but Sol placed a calming hand on her arm. He didn’t mind the arrogance. As long as they paid well.
"A pleasure," Sol said smoothly, with a smile.
He didn’t serve him in a gourd. He reached under the table and pulled out one of their own clay bowls. He ladled the richest, fattiest broth from the center of the pot, ensuring he scooped up a large chunk of the tender meat and plenty of the ’Root of Resilience.’
He handed it to him with a smile.
The guard took it. But instead of drinking it there like everyone else, he lifted the bowl to his nose. He sniffed it once, his expression impassive. Then, he nodded slightly, as if confirming a suspicion.
He didn’t drink. He produced a large, clean leaf, covered the bowl carefully to seal in the heat, and turned around.
"Keep the change," the guard grunted, gesturing to the expensive cut on the table.
He walked away with the same arrogant gait, carrying the soup with careful precision, heading not toward the hunter’s enclave, but toward the Chieftain’s Longhouse that overlooked the village.
As soon as he was out of earshot, the murmur started. It spread like wildfire through the queue.
"Did you see that?" He is Rovan, chief’s guard and he didn’t drink it." "Is he... is he taking it to the Chief?"
The realization rippled through the crowd. If the Chief’s guard was buying it and not drinking it, it meant only one thing: The Chief wanted to taste it.
Liora tugged on Sol’s sleeve, her eyes wide and sparkling, practically vibrating with excitement.
"Sol!" she whispered loudly. "Is he taking it to the Chief? Is Chief Tharun going to eat our food?"
Sol shrugged, wiping his hands on a rag, though a satisfied, shark-like smirk played on his lips. "Who knows? Maybe the Chief had heard too. Even gods need flavor."
"Wow..." Liora breathed, clasping her hands. "Even the Chief wants the soup!"
Her voice carried. The people heard it.
The Chief eats this.
It was the ultimate endorsement. It was a royal seal of approval.
The frenzy for buying doubled instantly. People who were hesitating surged forward, throwing whatever they had on the table... good meat, tools, valuable herbs... just to taste the same thing the leader was eating. The fear of the "poison" berries vanished entirely. If it was good enough for Tharun, it was good enough for them.
Sol looked at the chaos, at the mountain of meat piling up behind Veyra, at his family working like a well-oiled machine.
The sun dipped below the horizon, painting the sky in bruises of purple and orange. The square was finally quieting down, the frenetic energy of the soup rush fading into the satiated calm of twilight.
Sol scraped the bottom of the cauldron with the wooden ladle. It was bone dry. Not a drop of the golden elixir remained.
"We are empty," he announced, his voice raspy from hours of talking and charming.
The people who hadn’t gotten yet, murmured unsatisfied and went away.
Veyra slumped against the stone table, wiping grease and sweat from her forehead. She looked exhausted, her hair sticking up in wild spikes, but her eyes were glued to the baskets behind her. They were overflowing. There were enough ribs, livers, hearts, and good cuts of meat to feed their family for a month.
"I can’t believe it," she muttered, shaking her head as she stared at the pile of red gold. "We traded water and trash... for a fortune."
"Alchemy," Sol winked, leaning against the empty pot. "Now, we just need to get this home."
Lyra stepped forward, checking the lashings on the baskets. She looked tired but radiant, her usual gentleness replaced by the practical efficiency of a matriarch securing her family’s survival.
"Arelia, Liora," Lyra commanded softly. "Grab the handles. Be careful not to let the blood drip."
Arelia moved with her usual grace, hoisting one side of the heaviest basket. "It is heavy," she noted, her soft brown eyes meeting Sol’s with a look of deep, quiet gratitude. "But it is a good weight. The weight of safety."
Liora yawned, rubbing her eyes with a fist, but she grabbed her side dutifully. "I’m going to eat the biggest heart," she mumbled sleepily. "I earned it."
He looked at the girls, seeing the fatigue in their posture.
"You guys take it ahead," Sol said, gesturing to the path. "Get the meat salted and stored before the insects find it. I will be right after you as soon as I clean the cauldron and handle the remaining stuff."
Liora hesitated, looking at him. "You sure? It’s getting dark."
"I’ll be fine," Sol smiled, waving them off. "I’m just wiping down the stone. Go."
Don’t take too long," Lyra added, looking back over her shoulder. "The night is not for wandering alone."
They nodded, hoisting the heavy baskets between them. Liora gave him a tired wave, and they took the stuff away, their silhouettes disappearing into the maze of huts, leaving him behind in the darkening square.
Sol let out a long breath, rolling his shoulders to work out the kinks. He handled everything up quickly, he packed the ladle, cauldron and the bowls, as for gourd bowls, they were discarded away, feeling a profound sense of accomplishment. He had done it. He had broken the cycle of poverty in a single day.
He smiled, satisfied, and hefted the empty cauldron onto his shoulder.
"Easy money (even though there is no such thing as money here), " he whispered happily.
He began to walk, humming a strange tune from his old world, his step light despite the heavy pot. He turned into the alleyway that served as a shortcut to the outskirts.
He was just halfway down the alley when the air seemed to change. The sounds of the village seemed to cut off(or maybe it was just his imagination), replaced by a heavy, suffocating silence.
He stopped humming and looked up.
Suddenly, a few large shadows stepped out from behind a stack of drying wood, blocking his path completely.