Akkiwa Rancher was something out of a story. She was the damsel in distress, the object of poems, the center of a hero’s world somewhere. Perhaps she was the hero. For that exact reason, she rarely showed herself in town. Her beauty caused eyes to wander, regardless of gender or age. Black wavy hair fell down her back in cartoonishly perfect curls. She had the brightest green eyes I’d ever seen in either life, and lightly tanned skin that shimmered in the sunlight.

  Rumors in town claimed that a goddess had visited her father in his youth. The heavens had blessed him and gifted him with a child whose beauty was beyond compare! Birds adorned her hair, music followed in her footsteps, and she was “actually a long-lost princess from Rechin Amut. Heir to the throne over there, ‘don’t’cha know?’”

  That was horseshit.

  …Probably.

  The truth, as I knew it, was that Negirot Rancher had shown up one day with a five-year-old, buck-toothed bundle of shyness about fourteen years ago. He built a ranchhouse as far from town as he could get with his own hands, on land that no one had claimed.

  He paid his taxes. He liked his privacy. He never talked about his past, and he never spoke of the girl’s mother, regardless of all the rumor-mongering small-town folk would get up to.

  The only difference was that one day the baby teeth had fallen out, and the girl grew up. That Akkiwa grew up into such a vision of beauty actively annoyed both father and daughter. If there was any truth about the goddess or the girl being a princess, they certainly didn’t advertise it.

  Looking at the girl now, though, I could believe it. In confidence, she’d shared with me that her Charisma stat was twenty-fucking-nine. She was typically shy to a fault, which only added to her picturesque form. None of that shyness showed now, as she stomped over to me.

  I couldn’t help the swell of guilt that rose, lodging an apple in my throat.

  “You,” she said sharply.

  “A-Akkiwa… h-hi,” I stammered.

  To my surprise, she threw her arms around my shoulders in a tight hug. I froze, a deer caught in the headlights, while my hands mechanically circled the girl.

  She was angry, but also hugging me? I–?

  Coherent thought was suddenly slapped out of me as the girl pulled out of the hug and smashed her palm across my cheek hard enough to bring tears to my eyes.

  “Firstly, I am so glad you’re okay. But why in the hell are men traipsing about my woods, Elmerina!?” she shouted.

  Even filled to the brim with anger, her voice sounded like a song. It was completely unfair.

  Cheek stinging and eyes watering, I turned back to her. “I… I’m sorry. I had to use my pepper paste. B-but then I had to explain why I had made it in the first place! I didn’t… I didn’t mean to cause all this!”

  “Pepper paste?”

  Reid, surprisingly, stepped between Akkiwa and me, glaring at the girl.

  “Hey, cut her some slack! She was making the stuff for you! It’s not her fault she was attacked by a fucking Troll!” he hissed, looking genuinely angry.

  Akkiwa, shocked by the sudden interruption, lost all of her righteous fury instantly.

  “Sh-she… for me?” she asked, before turning back towards me. “Explain, please? All I was told was that you had been attacked and that you’d told the whole town about the Dolundant boys.”

  “Uhm. Well… everyone knows your Dad’s health isn’t the best, and you’re all alone out there. I know you didn’t want to make a big deal out of them, so I… I figured I’d try to make you something to protect yourself! I had to use it myself, though. When Mom asked why I was making something like that, I panicked and told her you… You didn’t feel safe.”

  Akkiwa frowned. “Oh. I see.”

  She suddenly looked as guilty as I felt.

  I glanced at her need bubble and was a bit surprised to discover that its requirements weren’t as strenuous as I might’ve expected. Predictably, she needed the item to protect others from goblins, but what my talent would do with seven twisted fir-tree branches and ten pearls, I had no idea.

  Pearls weren’t a fashion item here. They weren’t exactly common, but the lake did have mussels. Finding ten of the things would not exactly be easy, but it was doable. I resolved to enlist the twins’ aid in return for Eysee’s shoes as soon as I got the supplies I needed for those.

  Heavens, this was becoming a headache. Borrow from Peter to pay Paul.

  Akkiwa’s need bubble was surprisingly similar to Mom’s new one. Random, specific types of wood and a gem-like item. Oh, a pearl! That might be like the gem at the top of a wizard’s staff, and I’d already made Mom a spellbook. Still… if Mom needed a spellbook, why would Akkiwa need a staff first? She didn’t know any magic, as far as I knew.

  I decided to put the question off till later.

  “That’s actually what I’m doing now. I’m making more of the stuff. Some soldiers wanted to buy it. For the rift, you know.”

  “I’d imagine they would if it managed to help kill a War Troll. Did you know those things can be nine feet tall?” she asked, slipping back into our more usual easy camaraderie.

  “More like eleven!” Reid piped in.

  I nodded emphatically. “Mom wants me to make barrels of the stuff. Sorry… I never gave any to you.”

  She turned back to look at the wagon and scrunched her nose. “Heavens, I can see why. Does it have to smell so disgusting?”

  “That’s kind of the point,” I said, wiggling my hands. “It’s technically a weapon.”

  “Weaponized odor? Is it just supposed to make me smell so badly that no one wants to be near me?” she asked with a laugh.

  “Okay. Ouch. But fair. No… it… ugh. You’re supposed to be able to spray it in someone’s eyes. It makes them sting, like when you cut onions, but much more potent.”

  “You weaponized onions?” she asked, disbelievingly.

  “Err, peppers technically. That was just an example. There’s supposed to be an air-tight pouch that makes it so you can carry it around without the smell, but I couldn’t figure out how to make one. So… yes? This is pepper paste. The unfinished version of pepper spray. Patent pending. Uh. Literally.”

  The tale has been taken without authorization; if you see it on Amazon, report the incident.

  Akkiwa’s eyes widened a bit as she looked at the stinky pots and then back at me, shaking her head.

  “Only you, Mera. And I’m thankful you made it, if it truly saved your life,” she replied.

  I beamed. “Thanks, Akki. The only problem is that now Mom wants me to buy every pepper from here to Mitoras, and then barrels to put the stuff in. I was excited that one of my inventions is finally going to be worth something, but that was before I realized how damned awful all of it is going to smell.”

  “And poor Stoutgruff is going to have to endure this for months, isn’t he?” Akkiwa murmured, approaching the quiet ox and patting his nose gently.

  The ox moaned into the pats adoringly.

  “And no sympathy for me? The beast of burden that hauled all these pots and barrels onto the cart?” Reid asked, with mock offense.

  “Oh! I’m… I’m sorry, Reid. Did you want me to pat your nose, too?”

  I snorted, and Reid blushed.

  Akkiwa, picture of innocence that she was, seemed to be honestly offering to pat Reid’s nose, and she never once broke character. I was ninety percent certain she made those sorts of jokes on purpose, but I’d never been able to prove it.

  “Yeap. Walked right into that one,” Reid murmured sheepishly.

  “So,” I drawled, still feeling the sting in my cheek from when she slapped me. “Can you forgive me? I didn’t mean to share that, especially not with the whole town, but Mom dragged it out of me.”

  Akkiwa scowled, but finally sighed. “Fine. Papa is going to be a bear for weeks.”

  “Isn’t he always? I swear I’ve never seen your Dad smile,” I replied. “He barely even listens to my stories.”

  “He listens,” Akkiwa said defensively. “He loves your stories! He’s just… quiet.”

  I would believe that when I saw any proof. Still, he did occasionally show up at the bar. I didn’t think I’d ever seen him throw a tip my way, but that wasn’t really why I told my stories anyway.

  Akkiwa fell into step beside us after that, while we walked Stoutgruff the final few paces toward the bar. I stepped inside, followed by Akkiwa and Reid, and was happy to find the place mostly full.

  Perfect.

  A giddy excitement built in my chest, like it always did just before a big performance. This was my moment. My spotlight. It was always a big deal when someone hit their eighteenth nameday and revealed their talent to the town. Small celebrations were had, and I was sure everyone was on pins and needles after I’d fallen asleep last night before I could reveal it.

  I intended to make full use of that now.

  “Good afternoon, Ladies and Gentlemen!” I exclaimed. “Gather round, gather round! I, Elmerina Farmer, your newly talented storyteller extraordinaire, have an announcement!”

  Reid groaned while Akkiwa laughed. The patrons of the bar perked up, most of them pretty familiar with my antics by this point.

  “Mera! What’s your talent!?” someone shouted.

  “Is it Elite like Haddy’s? I’ve got six copper on this!” Wait, was that the mayor?

  “Either start a story or pipe down, you pipsqueak!”

  Well… couldn’t win them all over.

  I beamed, basking in the excitement as I paused, letting it build. I loved the crowd, the attention, the suspense. I almost felt a little bad that I wouldn’t be telling them a story today, but I intended to use every bit of the mystique of my new talent to get them to sell me as many peppers and as much oil as I could.

  Lupkep Pub beamed at me, probably more in tune with my antics than my own parents were, and fully ready to take advantage.

  “Half price drinks till Mera leaves! Get your families in here!” he called out.

  “It’s harvest, Pub! That’s not fair!” called out one disgruntled voice over the sounds of cheering from everyone else.

  “I have come with a bargain! My talent, you see, is special! Unique! One-of-a-kind, you might say!”

  “All talents are one of a kind,” Reid deadpanned. “Laying it on a little thick, don’t you think?”

  “Shut up! You’re ruining my moment!”

  The crowd ate it up. I shot a quick smirk toward Reid. He was always willing to play the straight man.

  “I cannot part with the details of such an amazing elite talent so easily!” I teased.

  “Dammit!” someone shouted.

  “Oh shit, I called it! Pay up, Tabin!”

  “Never doubted you, Mera!”

  I beamed.

  “I love watching her do this,” Akkiwa whispered to Reid, just loud enough for me to hear.

  “But I’m not here to talk about my talent. Well. Not just that! What I’m here to do… is to buy! Your! Peppers!”

  The whole room seemed to pause for a beat before bursting into a mildly confused chatter. They knew about the pepper paste. I was sure of that, and it wouldn’t be long before some enterprising fuck started to make the stuff on their own. However, buying peppers wasn’t nearly as interesting as what I’d made this speech out to be.

  I’d lost their attention a tad, but that was calculated. Getting it back was simple because I had something interesting. Something that would draw all eyes like moths to a flame.

  It took a few moments for everyone to notice it, and their eyes to widen. Confused murmurs dwindled to shocked surprise as one by one they noticed the glint.

  Held aloft in my hand was a single gold coin.

  If there was anywhere I felt safe brandishing such wealth, it was here, where I knew everyone and they all knew me. What I was doing was essentially holding up a suitcase with about fifteen grand in cash in a crowded bar.

  “Do I have your attention? You all heard what my paste did yesterday. You all heard Tom’s stories about how it had a fully grown troll rolling on the ground like a babe in swaddling! How would you like to have such a potent self-defence weapon for yourselves? Eh?”

  The shock was still present, and I noticed even Akkiwa was eyeing the gold in mild wonder.

  “My family is gambling, my friends. All of our savings on this. To sell to the war effort, to protect our homes, and to hopefully make ourselves a pretty profit! To that end, we intend to buy every pepper you have! Jalapeno, ghost, cayenne, I’ll even take the simple bell peppers!”

  The shock at seeing such wealth in the hands of… well my irresponsible ass, was fading, replaced by genuine thought. And no one would ever balk at the idea of making coin. Pemolar’s Hill was filled with pragmatic folk, and none of them would be sad to see another’s fortune rise.

  I had them thinking. Now I just needed them to be inspired.

  “Fair prices for all peppers, oil, and barrels to contain it. Clay to encase it, and sheep bladders for those who want one of their own! I need your onions, your pepper, your mustard seeds, your vinegar! To help protect our sons and daughters on the Rift front and line your pockets with a bit of extra copper for the hard winter ahead! For a final bit of assurance, this is backed by my mom, and you all know her!”

  I’d almost accidentally shouted about the soot and the ashes that would be a final ingredient in the process, but I realized that was the sort of thing I could just grab from outside people’s houses. Why buy something most people would give away for free?

  That got them standing up in their chairs. I didn’t know if all of this had been worth it. I had pretty much just told them all of the ingredients necessary to make the stuff, but with the patent and the knowledge that there probably weren’t many people with the time or inclination to subject themselves to the awful smells I’d be living in for the next few days, I felt somewhat safe. And it seemed everybody had finally realized that they’d be making solid money for this, which was always a plus.

  “How much for two hundred jalapenos?”

  “Do you buy preserved–!?”

  “Pickled!”

  “I’ve got mustard seeds by the bushel!”

  “This really could help my Benathan, at the Rift?”

  The questions started coming in from all sides, and I continued smiling as people began running off for their products, their families, or both.

  There was no Facebook marketplace, let alone a supermarket or a Walmart. This was the next best thing, and I loved it.

  “At the end, I’ll share the details of my talent with anyone who sells! A little added bonus!” I exclaimed.

  A round of cheers went through the bar, and suddenly everyone was moving. With just a few words to a willing and eager crowd, I’d suddenly created an entire market day.

  Artstation Page so be careful about this link!

  MB