The Crack In Heaven [A LitRPG Progression Fantasy] Chapter 37: Chapter 37: For Once

Read chapter 37 of The Crack In Heaven [A LitRPG Progression Fantasy] by Adamus_Auguste on NovelPedia.

Chapter 37: For Once "Four copper crowns for the best tallow candles of the street!" In the middle of the first beggar street, Kael shouted through his cupped hands. The nearby bakery filled the dusty air with a scent of wood chips that competed with the smell of roasted meat drifting from a stand two dozen steps ahead. Beggars around both shops glared at him, lips pursed in gossip about his price. "As expensive as water. Have you lost it, boy?" A middle-aged man approached from the bakery. A clean tunic, a bag bloated with goods slung over his shoulder. Kael smelled money. "Everyone's hiking their prices. Will they charge us to breathe next?" Kael turned toward the woman who had just spoken. Too young to be the man's wife. Maybe his daughter? He snatched two more candles from Els' basket. Cheap tallow stuck between his fingers as he grinned. "The gang war terrifies everyone. Not me. Four coppers a candle, but only six for three! Get yours before someone else does!" "Wait, wait!" The woman called out before he could finish turning. "They're cheaper than Boris' if we buy three?" At Kael's nod, she glanced at her father, who returned it. "We'll take them." He fished copper crowns from the pouch at his belt. He counted six on his palm, slid two back in, and handed them to Kael. "Pleasure doing business with you!" Kael let the coins click in Els' basket, then gave the candles to the woman. She turned the candles one by one, her eyes darting across their surfaces until she noticed the Gs and Rs engraved at the center. She rubbed the letters with her thumb. "Mhh. Letters. Fun. What they mean?" "Oh, that?" Kael's eyes slipped toward the third beggar street. "My assistant enjoys them. Don't you think they make our candles unique?" He winked. "He can stamp the first letter of your name if you become a regular." She clutched the candle to her chest, nodding. "I'm Mathilda, but I don't know how to write it." "Don't worry. We know." "We'll buy more next week, then." The man waved with one hand, the other nudging his daughter's back. "Wow. I feel he'd make the candles for me." Their voices carried for a couple of steps before they faded into the crowd. Kael ruffled his dark hair. How many buyers had asked about the letters in the last week? Enough for him to come up with that explanation. Well, less than ten... Not that he couldn't attract more; he never tried. Even now, Boris' men glared at him from the man's shop, as if they kept track of how much he sold. And he knew that if he ever threatened Boris' benefits, they'd break his legs on the spot. With a wry smile, he glanced at the six shining coins inside the basket—no more candles. He covered it with a ragged cloth riddled with holes and burned at the edges. It was enough for bread and water at Lana's bakery, and to resupply coal and tallow. Els kept the profit safe. Around fifteen copper crowns with these six added. He puffed out his chest. This was the richest he had ever been. He had the right to be proud about it, right? Swinging the basket with a soft chuckle, he strolled toward the third street. Five steps. The sixth never landed. Instead, a scream, pitched high from agony, froze his foot mid-motion. "RUN!" Those closest to the scene elbowed each other in their rush. Men and women were flung to the ground, stomped until their dark footprints etched tunics, shirts, and dresses, and they gurgled blood on the pavement. Stands tumbled, glowing coal clattering to the ground. The chaos spread to Kael. Before knowing why, without even caring about it, he bolted for an alley faster than anyone around him. But not further. He slid his fingers in the cracks of the wall, hoisting himself to the old thatch roof. The stench of mold beneath his stomach didn't reach him. He glared at the entrance of the first street. The man whose scream had warned them lay on his back, guts poking out of his open stomach. His hand inched for the sword beside him, his eyes begging, his fingers twitching. Another