The Soaring Price of Grain: Eight Fingers' Restlessness

Month of Falling Fire, September 11.

Evening.

The center of the Royal City remained prosperous, but that had little to do with most of the people living on its outskirts.

Beyond the clean, level main roads, the low, aging houses, narrow streets, and stone-paved roads that had long since become cracked and dusty were the true face of this place.

After the sun set at dusk.

The flow of people through the Outer City streets rapidly dwindled. So-called entertainment was a luxury for most commoners.

Women hurried home carrying baskets of grain and vegetables, each with at least a trace of worry on her face.

It was the sorrow brought by struggling to survive.

The price of grain had risen!

Not by the usual small margin, but skyrocketed. For families already barely making ends meet, it was nothing short of a disaster.

Near the Core Area stood a brothel made up of several low buildings, brightly lit from within.

The bright Everlasting Light on the roof and the candles burning along the surrounding walls filled the air with a relaxed, decadent atmosphere.

In the innermost room.

Laughter and pained moans intertwined, while the rich scents of wine, roasted meat, and something strange mixed together in the air.

It took more than half an hour before the revelry finally ended.

A battered figure carefully left the room, and only then did the atmosphere inside gradually calm down.

Three figures sat around a food-laden table in the center of the room. One of them was a fat man, bare from the waist up, ravenously devouring the lamb on the table with knife and fork.

This fat man!

He was Stavan Heweis, an inspector of the Royal Capital.

As a public official responsible for maintaining order in the Royal Capital, he was not