All My Summons Become Divine Girls

Chapter 232: The Town Spends

Morning reached the registry square before the frost left the wagon ruts, bringing miners, roof crews, cooks, and three merchants who had never bothered opening stalls in the Sixth before.

Marrick stood beneath the registry awning with a box at his feet, sorting small brass chits into stacks while two guards watched his hands and kept clear of the box.

Each chit carried a stamped pickaxe on one side and the regional seal on the other. It held one copper of value at the registry or any stall accepting the posted rate. Hajin read the board Marrick had nailed beside the awning, checking the exchange rate and the approved stalls. Its final line barred anyone from demanding a chit for less than its marked value.

"The wagons brought coin, but not enough small coin to pay everyone without losing half a morning," Marrick said, holding up one brass square, "so these let the crews buy bread before the next southern exchange returns."

"They are money," Hajin said while looking over the crowded square, "so call them that, and make sure nobody has to beg to use one."

Marrick nodded, pointed at the line of merchants waiting beside their covered carts and said, "They receive gold from the registry at sundown for every chit they bring back, while the board gives them the same rate we do."

The first miner stepped forward with his wages folded inside a strip of cloth, stopping before a bread cart where the owner had placed three loaves beneath a clean cover.

He did not reach for the bread until the merchant accepted two chits without inspecting his hands, then he tucked the loaf against his chest and walked away slowly.

Beside Hajin, Juna held Ash while two sisters argued with a cook over prices, rotten vegetables, and splitting one meal between their stalls.

"They are louder," she said, watching a woman demand a better bundle of onions from the bread seller, "yesterday they only watched the wagons."

"Louder means they think tomorrow exists," he said as he took Ash when the boy reached for Juna’s ear, "which is useful."

Ash bit Hajin’s thumb with all four teeth, then stared at the line of brass chits with the focused interest he usually saved for monster cores.

"No," he said, holding the child farther from the box, "because you already tried eating the treasury."

Marrick slid the lid over the chits before Ash could blink away, making the toddler glare at him as though he had committed a personal offense. Lana arrived from the eastern lane with her complaint slate tucked beneath one arm, moving around the line rather than joining it as she checked the names written beside each stall.

She stopped at the board, read it twice, then looked toward the square entrance where two debt clerks had once stood before Hajin dragged them from their desks.

"The hill families are not coming," she said, pressing chalk against her slate, "because they heard there are stalls, but still think someone will take their chits and write down what they owe."

Marrick’s hands stopped above the box before he said, "Those debts were destroyed when the old clerks were removed, and I posted that notice three days ago."

"They cannot read your notice," she said while looking at the neat columns on his board, "and they do not trust the square because the old men used it to collect people."

The words made the nearest merchants look down at their goods, while a miner holding his bread shifted aside to make room for nobody.

Hajin looked past the stalls toward the narrow road climbing into the poorer houses, seeing shuttered windows where people could watch the square without stepping into it.

"How many families?" he asked.

"Eleven on the hill, four by the quarry path, plus the widow near the old toll shed," Lana said while checking the marks on her slate, "and some have children, while two cannot walk down that far."

Marrick opened his mouth, probably preparing a ledger answer, but Hajin had already turned toward the waiting merchants.

"Move three stalls uphill before noon," he said, pointing toward the road, "then send bread, vegetables, and cloth with the same board written in words people can understand."

Frowning at the muddy climb, the bread seller said, "My Lord, I paid a space fee for this square, but the hill road has no cover if it rains."

"You receive the same exchange rate," Hajin said, meeting his eyes, "and the registry pays for the canvas, so decide whether you came here to sell bread or rent clean stones."

The merchant looked at the packed square, then at the unopened shutters above the hill road before calling for his son to load the cart.

Juna’s tail brushed Hajin’s wrist once as she watched the first stall turn uphill and said, "You could have ordered the hill families down here."

"They have been ordered around enough," he said as he shifted Ash before the child could reach for Juna’s tail again, "so if they want to spend their wages without crossing that square, we make a place for it."

Hoofbeats came up the road outside the registry before anyone could answer, never breaking into a trot as workers moved aside. Seliza’s carriage stopped beside the square with no escort banner raised, leaving only two red-coated riders and Taren climbing down from the rear step.

The market quieted as Matriarch Seliza emerged in dark red layers, looking over the brass chits, the posted rate, and the merchant carts with the same interest she gave gold veins.

"You have made a small currency," she said as she stepped beneath the awning, "which is ambitious for a region still buying nails by the crate."

"It is a way to pay people while the coin stays in the vault," Hajin said, keeping one hand around Ash’s middle, "the chits are backed by the gold you already carried south."

Seliza picked one from Marrick’s box, turning it beneath the sun before passing it to Taren without looking at him.

"My caravans can mint them properly," she said, "better metal, better marks, and a seal that merchants beyond this valley will recognize."

Marrick’s eyes moved toward Hajin before he could stop them, while the bread seller slowed his cart on the hill road to hear the answer.

"Your caravans can carry metal here," he said, "the registry mints the chits, and no Serpent seal goes on a Sixth wage."

Seliza smiled without warmth and asked, "Do you think a stamp changes who owns the gold?"

"No," Hajin said while looking toward the miner eating beside the bread cart, "but it changes who that man thinks he works for."

For a moment Seliza said nothing, though Taren’s eyes left the chit in his palm and settled on Hajin instead.

"A sentimental answer," she said as she returned the brass square to Marrick, "and those usually become expensive."

"Then write the price into the next trade offer," he said, "this one is not for sale."

Seliza’s smile sharpened before she turned toward the carriage, giving the square one last look as the market began moving again behind her.

Taren followed her back to the road, but not before he watched the hill cart disappear past the registry and gave Marrick a small nod that could have meant anything.

Lana added the hill route to her slate, then looked up at Hajin with chalk dust on her fingers and said, "There are six more complaints from people who did come down."

"Put them on the board after lunch," he said as he adjusted Ash against his shoulder, "and if the square is going to speak, it can start while everyone is listening."