Reincarnation of Nikola Tesla in another world-Chapter 5: Fruitful Schemes

I stepped beyond the fields of Braelor's Rest, taking in the world that seemed so much more vivid than I'd imagined. I made my way through the morning mist. The path ahead was nothing fancy - just a dirt track winding through tall grass covered in morning dew, leading down to what the villagers called "the Bersley town" in the valley below.

As the sun came up, it painted everything in pink and gold. The town started coming to life below me - a jumble of stone and wooden buildings with smoke rising from their chimneys. The air was filled with the smell of woodsmoke and fresh bread.

The place wasn't exactly pretty, but it had a character. The streets were cobbled but uneven, the buildings topped with either thatch or rough tiles. Wooden signs hung everywhere, some looking like they'd been painted by a child and some perfect. People were starting their day - farmers with their animals, market sellers setting up their stalls, and townspeople in simple brown and gray clothes heading out to work.

Walking through, I caught bits and pieces of conversation.

"Aye, and the Merchant's League pushing for more tariffs, squeezing every last coin from honest folk," sighed the customer, his voice weary. "They grow fat while we scrape by."

"At least the Temple keeps the peace, mostly," another voice chimed in, softer, more cautious. "Though even their administration ain't what it used to be, some say.... times are changing, and not for the better."

Most interesting was the politics - seems this place had three main players: the Dukes, the Merchant's League, and the Temple. Classic power struggle - land, money, and religion. Some things never change, even in a world of magic.

Speaking of magic, it was everywhere... but not in the way you'd expect. A woman lighting woods with a her hands, a farmer whispering to his oxen, a shopkeeper fixing a torn bag into a new one. Simple stuff, really. Nothing flashy. But then there were whispers about the nobles - now their magic was something else. Apparently, they had special training, ancient bloodlines, and more mana reserve than common folk could dream of. Try to reach above your division level with forced magic? Well, let's just say the stories weren't pretty. Some people died miserably trying to achieve what nobles did with ease, ruining their bodies with the toll it brought and some people punished by the noble for imitating them, for trying to reach their strata.

My pockets were heavy with fruit I'd gathered - bright red berries and sweet golden plums. As I walked deeper into town, I couldn't help but notice how... inefficient everything was. Slow carts, manual labor everywhere, wasted resources. The problem-solver in me was already making mental notes.

Needing a place to stay, I walked into The Weary Wagon tavern. The sign outside had a sad-looking wagon wheel painted on it. Inside it smelled like roast meat and old beer. The tavern keeper was a big guy with a red face who didn't look too happy to see me.

"What do you want, kid?" he growled, wiping down the counter.

"A room," I said simply.

"And maybe we can help each other. I notice your place could run better."

He laughed like I'd just told him the sky was green. "Run better? Kid, this ain't some fancy noble house. We manage fine. shoo away unless i kick you in your stomach, aye"

"Managing isn't thriving," I pointed out. "I'm good at fixing things. Room and board in exchange for improvements."

"Listen, kid," he waved me off, "you look barely old enough to hold a broom. I don't need charity cases. Now go away unless you want to know why this basement smells like torture"

The rejection stung, bringing back memories I'd rather forget. But I wasn't about to.

I left the tavern and found a spot near the town square. I had an idea, simple one at that. After buying some clay bowls from a potter with my few copper pennies, I set up a stall. Using what I remembered from my mother's kitchen, mimicing her movements I started making it. The smell drew people in - sweet, tangy, and completely new to them.

"Free sample," I announced to the curious onlookers. "One copper penny per bowl after tasting."

Curiosity, the tempting aroma, and the slightly more professional presentation of the pottery bowls overcome initial hesitation.

The first taster, a weary-looking woman with calloused hands, took a tentative spoonful, her eyes widening. "By the Saints... what _is_ this?" she murmured, savoring the taste. "It's... sunshine in a bowl!"

She readily paid a Copper Penny for a full portion, and word spread quickly. People tasted. Their eyes widened. Murmurs of appreciation rippled through the small crowd that gathered.

They had tasted fruit, yes, and honey... but this, this was something different. Something...refined. Something...special.The reaction was better than I'd hoped. People loved it.

Not all reactions were positive, however. A gruff-looking townsman, his brow furrowed, tasted the marmalade with a skeptical sniff. "One Copper Penny for some fruit mush and honey_?" he scoffed, handing back the empty bowl. "Highway robbery, lad! You think we're all fools? Fruits are free for the picking in the wilds!"

"Indeed, fruits are...available. However," I continued, my voice rising slightly to address the growing murmurs of the crowd, "replication is the ultimate validation. If my offering is, as you suggest, merely 'fruit and honey,' then its duplication should prove...elementary."

I gestured to my makeshift setup with a dismissive wave of hand. "I issue a challenge. Anyone present who believes my marmalade to be... overpriced... is invited to create a comparable confection. Utilizing only 'fruit and honey.' If your creation meets or exceeds my standard of...exquisite flavor profile... I shall cease my own... so called 'rip-off' operation forthwith."

A ripple of surprised amusement ran through the crowd. The skeptical townsman sputtered, momentarily speechless. "You... you think you're so clever, eh, boy?"

No one, stepped forward to accept my challenge. Murmurs of agreement were heard through the onlookers. "He's got a point," someone muttered. "It _is_ different."

"Clever boy," chuckled another.

This chapt𝒆r is updated by frёewebηovel.cѳm.

The skeptical townsman, grumbling under his breath "uppity orphans," eventually paid his price and bought a bowl, albeit with a grudging air.

"What's all this noise about?" A loud voice cut through the market chatter. I looked up to see a guard pushing through the crowd, his leather armor gleaming in the sun. He took a deep sniff of the air. "Strange smell. What're you selling here, boy?"

I kept my cool and held out a bowl of my marmalade. "Care for a free sample, Officer?"

He looked at me like I might be hiding poison in the bowl, but took it anyway. One cautious taste and - there it was - that familiar look of surprise I'd been seeing all morning. His stern face softened just a bit.

"Not bad," he admitted, though he tried not to sound too impressed. "But where's your vendor's permit?"

"Permit?" I asked, playing innocent.

His face hardened right back up. "That'll be Silver Crowns. Daily." He held out his gloved hand expectantly, then added with a meaningful pause, "Unless..."

I stared right back at him, my mind racing. This was textbook corruption - obvious, opportunistic, and honestly just plain. Bad for me, bad for everyone. But I could work with this. I have met many of these opportunistic in my previous life.

"Well, Officer," I said, keeping my voice steady, "I seem to be facing a challenge. Silver Crowns are a bit out of reach for my current... profits. But..." I dug into my collection hat and carefully counted out some Copper Pennies and Bronze Bits,

"I'd be happy to show my appreciation for you to keeping our market orderly and... running smoothly."

The guard's eyes darted between my handful of coins and my face. I could practically see him weighing his options. These are simple creature with a poodle in there mind instead of brain, they only think short term. Then a smirk crept across his face, and he pocketed the coins.

"Better get that permit soon, son," he said, suddenly all friendly. "Wouldn't want any... misunderstandings with the court right?." He threw me a wink and strolled away, looking mighty pleased with himself, taking some of my sample with him at that.

I watched him disappear into the crowd, filing away everything I'd learned. The corruption here wasn't total - just opportunistic. Guards looking for easy coins rather than a full shake-down operation. Good to know. Very good to know.

By sunset, I had enough money for a week's stay at the Golden Barrel Inn - definitely a step up from the Weary Wagon. From my room window, I watched the town's lights come on one by one. Marmalade was just the beginning. I wasn't here to survive - I was here to conquer.