Chapter 212 (2/2)
The Ghoshound’s eyes refocused, and he shook his head. “No, it’s just… I’ve been thinking about why something like this hasn’t appeared in this world, and I guess… you are thinking in too much detail. Also, you are too prideful in your approach. These ales have always been here, right? But you need to buy them by the cask, or go to an inn, which may have one or two varieties. That’s because you think customers will come to you if they want something. Which is true, and there are definitely people who won’t like the product, but there is a huge middle crowd of people that would take the product if it was convenient.”
The Ghosthound scratched his chin, and then said before walking away. “There aren’t many people who would go out of their way to buy ale. But if they were attending something else entirely, like a sporting event, and started to get thirsty…. How many of those people could resist a drink?”
Claptrap was slack jawed for several minutes. It certainly was… almost desperate, what the Ghosthound was suggesting. Going out and bringing the product to people…? But based on the results… there certainly had to be some truth to the Ghosthound’s methods.
So they followed the Ghosthound’s advice, and Claptrap was slack jawed by how many spear users changed their mind and bought a second glass of their favorite mead when he told them that it would be rotated out with another when the cask was empty.
It was another 24 hour preliminary, and after a batch of people surrendered early, it seemed like it would take the entire time, so everyone settled back down to wait, quickly getting food and drink, settling into a festival-like atmosphere.
Claptrap began to consider Ghosthound’s second point, about why something like this hadn’t happened before. Claptrap supposed that previously, there was a sort of “if you build it, they will come” mentality, so the merchant’s quarter of Deardun was established, giving the merchants a seat of power and prestige. But Claptrap had to admit that it was only rarely that the powerful Style’s disciples came to that area. It was mostly business between merchants that was conducted there.
On the other hand, the Ghosthound seemed to suggest that merchants instead, “build it where they are already coming”. Yes, and the king of it was convenience. When it was so convenient, and tasty, who could resist.
“Heyo, Claptrap. How goes it?” Old Clete, said, sidling up into the stand, his eyes excited at the line stretching out, waiting to get a drink. Old Clete was the largest brewer in Deardun, and most of the difficulty in establishing the Brewing Association was convincing this stubborn old man that their idea was feasible.
“Quite well, thank you. I believe we’ve sold… 4 entire casks already? And your Autumn Cinnamon Ale is very popular, that cask is almost empty. Do you have another we can use?”
“....w-w-w-w-w-w-w-what!” Old Clete said, his eyes springing open.
Claptrap shrugged. “Go talk to the guys in the back if you want the concrete numbers. I think someone was talking to one of your guys of ordering a cask of one of your other ales too…”
“Five whole casks!” Claptrap had never seen anyone move quite as fast as Old Clete sprinting around to talk to the men in the back working with setting up the casks. While keeping his expression from veering towards smug, Claptrap took the order from the next customer.
Idly, Claptrap wondered what he should invest all of his newfound money into. Maybe he should consult with the Ghosthound.
****
Randidly’s eyes crept open, his chest burning with power.
18 hours had passed, but he almost had it. With Aether thundering in his ears, Randidly continued to move smoothly, bending at the waist, keeping his shoulders and elbows relaxed as he followed the inspiration from the creatures based on Annie’s energy.
The more he followed it, the looser his body became, and the more strange looks he got from his fellow contestants. But he ignored them. And after a while, a notification that he was waiting for popped up in front of him.