In the village square, hundreds of people gathered, more than usual.

A peddler had arrived, one who came every few weeks or, if unlucky, once a month.

"Hey, hey! I'm not your everyday peddler! From hammers and saws to hoes and spades! Dried fruits, jewelry, I’ve brought everything you might need!"

Normally, when such a declaration is made in a rural village, people would rush to buy something. But in this village, no one eagerly stepped forward to ask for a saw, a hammer, or anything else.

They weren’t at the level where they had nothing but flour to eat, but their situation was dire—there was no guarantee that they would even have food for the next month or two.

In such a state, no one dared to consider buying anything.

Otho, a native of the village, shared the same hardship.

"Hey, peddler, you see the situation here, right? We're about to starve to death—how can we afford saws and hammers?"@@novelbin@@

"...Wasn't life alright just last year? I came here hoping for some business."

"How can you, a merchant from the Holy Empire, be so out of touch with the news around here? Keep it up, and you’ll starve to death yourself."

The employee from Rothschild Trading, who was pretending to be a peddler from the Holy Empire, seemed oblivious as he responded.

"A merchant can’t know everything. If a person knew all there was to know, they’d be a god, not a human."

You didn't buy this chapter

Buy Now (3 coupons)