No one in this world dislikes chicken.
Even the devout followers of Deus and heretics, who would kill each other on sight, can't seem to get enough of chicken.
“Mateo, want to grab some chicken?”
The blacksmith Mateo shook his head at the suggestion—not because he didn’t like chicken.
‘Who hates chicken? It’s just too expensive to eat regularly.’
“I’m about to get married, so why would I waste money on chicken? I need to save every penny.”
“You’re so disgustingly responsible. You don’t even have a childhood sweetheart like me, and here I am, a guy no woman would ever chase after. It’s pathetic.”
“Well, both of us will open our workshops and go independent next year. Once you open your shop, women will be lining up by the cartload to get close to you.”
Men in the Toscano Empire’s middle class often had the same advice for boys who didn’t like studying:
“Get into university, and women will line up for you.”
Back in the day, when feeding oneself and one’s family was more important than love, graduating from a prestigious university really did mean women would flock to you.
Even an ugly man who became a professional or joined a major company after graduating from a top university could reasonably marry an A+ woman if not an S-tier beauty.
In the Toscano Empire, as long as you overlooked someone’s social rank or wealth, succeeding at either a prestigious education or independence as a craftsman made marrying an A-tier beauty from a noble territory a trivial task.
“I’ll start saving once I borrow money from the Rothschild guild to open my workshop. But that’s beside the point—are you really not coming to eat chicken today? I found an amazing place.”
Mateo hesitated.
The guy in front of him might be a slacker in everything except work, but when it came to food, he was stricter than a judge or soldier. Every place he recommended turned out to be exceptional.
The ones he rated as “amazing” were so good that even administrators and officers would sneak in to dine.
‘The last time we went, some baron even had a meal packed to take home.’
“Isn’t chicken still expensive?”
His friend Luca smirked.
“You’re so cheap, saving up for your childhood sweetheart’s dowry that you don’t even know chicken prices these days. Even if we both eat a whole chicken, it’ll only cost three bronze dinars.”
“Wasn’t it four dinars per chicken before?”
Food prices tend to spike during famines and plummet during bountiful harvests, but there hadn’t been any exceptional circumstances last year or this year—just average harvests.
So why had chicken prices dropped?
“They say the Rothschild guild started some poultry farm or something. Chickens that used to go for a dinar each are now being sold at three for two dinars. So, are you coming or not?”
Two dinars per person was still a considerable expense for a craftsman like Mateo.
But spending a dinar and a half for chicken?
‘That’s manageable.’
“Let’s go.”
Luca led Mateo straight to an inn called The Sparrow’s Rest.
The place was known for its delicious food, and it often drew a crowd, but Mateo was surprised by what he saw.
“Why are there so many people here?”
It wasn’t Sunday, a day of rest when everyone attended mass, but a Wednesday, when things should be quieter.
The inn was packed to the brim, leaving no room to step.
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“Three orders of piccata, chicken soup, and three loaves of bread!”
“Ten plates of cacciatora and ten liters of beer!”
The diners were ordering as if they were possessed by ghosts of starvation, piling up orders of expensive dishes.
Sure, it was chicken, but chicken was still meat—a luxury not often eaten. Yet the sheer volume of orders made it clear just how much the price had dropped.
“They’re all ordering chicken dishes.”
“Well, it’s cheap. Anyway, I saved us a seat, so let’s go.”
Luca guided Mateo to a relatively spacious corner table, where someone was already seated.
“Luca, I already ordered the food. I’ll cover the drinks, but I’m not paying for the food.”
“Isn’t that a bit much, Peter? You make more money than anyone here.”
“If you’re upset, you can cover the drinks, too. Be grateful I’m even buying you a beer.”
At Peter’s words, Luca immediately switched his tone, clasping his hands together as if in prayer.
“Ah, generous Peter, can you not bestow a little mercy on your poor friends? We are but humble apprentices, not yet independent craftsmen, and penniless.”
“Your sincerity is lacking.”
“Come on, Peter, don’t forget our bond! We’ve fished together, schemed together—you can’t abandon us now.”
The cheerful atmosphere was almost unbearable for the taciturn Mateo.
Still, he couldn’t let his friend Luca lose face in front of another friend.
‘Judging by his connections, maybe this guy has a real noble friend in his circle?’
After a while, both of them turned to Mateo.
“So, you’re Mateo, Luca’s blacksmith friend? I’m Peter Rosé, heir to the Rosé trading guild. Though to be honest, our guild isn’t particularly large.”
“Mateo. I’m still preparing for independence, even though I’ve officially become a craftsman.”
At the mention of “preparing for independence,” Peter clicked his tongue.
“Preparing for independence, huh? If we invest some capital in you, could you make the wire mesh needed for poultry farms?”
“Wire mesh made of iron?”
“Yes. We’ve already asked Luca here to make some for us. In exchange, we’re offering loans at low interest. Our guild believes poultry farms will only continue to expand.”
No one in the Toscano Empire dislikes chicken.
So naturally, poultry farms that can raise chickens cheaply will multiply.
That’s a universally accepted belief among merchants in the empire—a truth as self-evident as water flowing downhill.
Peter himself wanted to jump into the poultry business immediately but...
‘Our guild’s capital just isn’t enough right now.’
“Instead, we’re focusing on manufacturing and selling equipment and supplies needed for poultry farms.”
“Even someone like me, who doesn’t know much about the world, can see that if chicken prices drop a little, the demand for chicken-related goods will skyrocket.”
Mateo might not be worldly or outgoing, but he wasn’t stupid.
‘If you can make a fortune just by raising chickens, who wouldn’t do it?’
“No one dislikes chicken, and no one gets tired of it. Even if the craze dies down, chickens will still sell.”
Sure, eating chicken every day might get tiresome, but only the wealthy can afford to eat it daily.
For most people, the more they can eat chicken, the better—it’s not something they’d ever turn away from.
“If you agree to make the wire mesh and other equipment we need, we’ll fund 20% of your workshop costs as a grant and loan the remaining 80% at 15% interest.”
In the Toscano Empire, typical loan interest rates ranged from 40% to 50% annually, with some unscrupulous lenders charging 300% to 500%.
Fifteen percent was essentially a charitable offer.
“Are you really offering such favorable terms?”
Peter chuckled and led Mateo outside.
Outside the inn, the street was bustling with people who had come for chicken soup or other chicken dishes.
“There’s been a noticeable increase in people eating chicken dishes. Look, even that cart over there is loaded with chickens.”
Carts carrying dozens of chickens were a common sight now.
The demand for chicken had risen to such heights that it seemed as if everyone had gone mad for it.
“This boom benefits us, too. So, will you sign the contract?”
“Yes, I will. But the notarization...”
“We’ll have it done through the craftsman guild.”
Without proper notarization from the guild, no one would dare break a contract.
Anyone who did would face the wrath of the high court, which would strip the violator of every last penny.
As silence fell while they waited for their food, someone returning from a distant trading trip spoke bitterly.
“Such terrible times. I don’t know why, but there’s an epidemic spreading in Topio City. I almost went bankrupt because of it.”
The three didn’t pay much attention to the remark.
News of outbreaks in other regions was so common it hardly registered anymore.
But Fabio, who was always gathering rumors, took the news far more seriously.
“Those idiots... I knew this would happen.”