Distribution

 After a grand total of five hours, Hugo had already decided that he despised distribution with all his being.

“Hugo! We’re almost out of silk cords and there’s at least a hundred people lining up to buy more!” The shopkeeper yelled with all his might, his voice barely heard over the commotion taking place outside.

“Wha?! Didn’t we bring in a wagon full just a few minutes ago? The next shipment will be in an hour!." He hadn’t even marked that one complete yet damn it!

“Yes, and we’re almost empty. You’ll just have to figure something out! We’ll have a riot on the streets if you don’t” Hugo swore underneath his breadth, charging out of the backdoor of the tailor shop before pointing at a random person.

“You!” Hugo yelled, uncharacteristically frantic due to the chaotic situation at hand.

“Me?” The man pointed at himself with great confusion clearly evident on his face.

“Yes, you! You work for us now! Go to the southern border of the city, tell them Hugo sent you and that we need more silk.”

Both anger and bafflement flashed across the man’s face. He began to open his mouth, no doubt to tell him off.

“Ten silver.”

“Yes sir! I’ll bring in that shipment immediately sir!” The man saluted in an overly militaristic manner before rushing off. Hopefully he didn’t get any bright ideas about running off with the goods on the way back, Hugo would be in a world of hurt if he did.

“M-Ma’m! Please let go of my collar, we have more stock out back.” Hugo came back to the sight of the shopkeeper being pulled over the counter, the customers having become rabid beasts by the prospect of cheap luxury textiles.

Though at this rate, Hugo suspected silk and cashmere wouldn’t be considered ‘luxury’ in a few weeks with the sheer number of sales they’re making.

“Oi book keep, a little help here?!” The man called out to him as the crowd slowly devoured him whole. Gathering his courage and crushing his fears, Hugo charged in to pull him out.

Considering that he was in the least populated section of Thorn, he could only imagine what it was like for Orin who had set up right beside the main gate.

Hopefully the merchant will survive, somebody needed to deliver the news of Hugo’s death to his family.

With an exhausted sigh that felt like it stretched for hours, he collapsed onto his bed face down. The sigh continued in spite of that, now simply muffled by bedsheets.

A cool towel was placed on the back of his head, the work of an angel no doubt.

“Busy day?” Whispered Ellyn, it was long dark by now, their parents fast asleep.

“It was a warzone. I refuse to believe that many people actually live in Thorn, they must’ve been sent by a demon to torture me.” His sister chuckled as she sat on top of him, two thumbs digging into his back and relieving him of the day’s stress.

“Thank you～” His body became pudding beneath her hands.

“You don’t seem particularly thrilled about your commercial success.” His sister noted.

“What is there to be thrilled about? It’s just more work for me.” Relief suddenly turned into pain as Ellyn’s grip became iron tight.

“What do you mean ‘it’s just more work’?! A new guild is taking shape and you’re at the forefront of it, of course you should be thrilled!” She repeatedly drove a finger into the back of his head, forcing his face deeper into the sheets.

“Mister Orin will get a team of book keepers when his business expands, it’s not like I’m irreplaceable by any measures.” He could barely hear his own words with how muffled they were, though Ellyn understood him regardless.

“Obviously! then you’ll be promoted to a higher position. That’s how business expansion works you fool! I can’t tell whether you’re a genius or an idiot at times.” Hugo had had enough, throwing his sister off his back as he leaned up before escaping into his sheets.

“Can’t I just be a tired boy?” His voice trailed off, mind already dozing off to the land of nod.

Ellyn stared at him for a moment with an eyebrow raised before ruffling his hair as she got up. An inaudible sigh escaped her mouth. “You can for tonight.”

She undid the braids in her hair to prepare for bed, snow white hair falling free to reach her upper back. “But you should set your head straight and realize where you’re headed. The world won’t stay still just because you refuse to move.”

“Goodnight.” Hugo slid further into his bed, disappearing from sight. Ellyn couldn’t help but sigh once again.

The following day offered no reprieve, nor did the next week. In fact, demand only intensified as word got around the city. They had nearly doubled the number of people working on transportation after the first day, but even then their supply lines were often overwhelmed and Hugo would be forced to come up with improvised solutions on the fly.

They were certainly patchwork, barging into a tavern to recruit a bunch of drunkards wasn’t exactly his proudest moment, but they allowed the shop to weather the unending waves of demanding customers, so he considered it a win all things considered. It wasn’t anywhere near as graceful as his solution with the production lines, but that was to be expected.

He couldn’t exactly build trains and lay tracks in Thorn.

He didn’t even see Orin over the week, the merchant no doubt bogged down in his own sector. Hugo worked from sunrise to sunfall, so Orin was likely not sleeping at all. He certainly did not envy the man’s position, even if the merchant was the one benefiting the most.

The one saving grace through it all was the fact that Ellyn and mother came everyday with packed lunch, and that father lent him the village wagon whenever he could.

He could practically taste the jealousy of everyone he was working with whenever his sister or mother showed up, though Hugo paid their glares little heed. They’ll just have to eat their overpriced bland street food, that’s what they get for dumping every responsibility on him.

The crowds finally began to taper off near the end of the week, when the novelty of their low prices slowly wore off. They were still packed full by day seven, but at least Hugo wasn’t being forced to scramble together emergency shipments anymore.

Another week, and they were finally able to leave distribution to their hired shopkeepers, Orin’s business and his prices soon becoming a norm for Thorn.

A night of celebration followed.

They rented out an entire tavern with unrestricted food and drink, waiters struggling to keep up with their endless gluttony. There were at least thirty people in the caravan, all over the age of twenty five, meaning heavy drinking and drunken singing.

Hugo could count the number of people he knew by name on one hand, two of them being Bram and Orin who both left soon after the beginning of the feast.

So he sat by his lonesome in a corner, cradling a bowl of chicken in his hands. Quite frankly, he wished he was back home for his parent’s weekly play, though he had been told off by his mother. Supposedly not being present for such a celebration was considered ‘exceptionally rude’.

The situation was quite awkward, especially so with the occasional waitress attempting to get him to drink, no doubt in the hopes of getting a hefty tip from a drunken, recently enriched, customer. So when Orin waved him over from an empty room they had requisitioned, Hugo was more than happy to leave.

“You need to learn to celebrate, sitting in that corner looking like a kicked puppy you were.” Orin’s voice had lost most of his usual charisma, his words coming out slightly slurred.

“What about him?” Hugo gestured towards Bram whom he was fairly certain hadn’t even eaten. Orin scoffed.

“Bram doesn’t have a shred of humor in that pitch black soul of his. Not one funny bone in that man! Not one I say!” It was the old man’s turn to scoff, though he didn’t dignify Orin with words, instead burrowing his nose deeper into his ledger.

Point taken he supposed.

Orin pulled him close before settling down next to Bram, pointing at the ledger containing all of their income and expenses over the last two weeks. They had yet to compile it all, though the staggering numbers under ‘profit’ suggested they had been wildly successful.

“We made it through somehow I suppose.” Hugo whispered to himself.

“That we did, my boy! We ended up selling double our original stockpile. I told you Old Bram here is a miracle worker, making all those clothes appear from thin air!” The old man sighed in exasperation, whispering something along the lines of ‘I always do’.

The words rang true, if Hugo didn’t respect the man before he certainly did now. He could only imagine how much work was needed to coordinate their five locations and keep all of them about as well stocked as the situation would allow. Not to mention the obvious issue of the fact that they had quickly burnt through their original stockpile of products and raw materials.

Hugo had no interest in finding out how Bram had managed to figure that one out. He had no doubt that at least a few of their hired tailors were worked to death, there was simply no other possible way.

A hand a little too rough ruffled his hair, more so pushing his head around wildly. “And you performed excellently Hugo, no major complaints, none at all!”

The massive amounts of gold he had spent keeping the store afloat would suggest otherwise, even if it paled in comparison to their profits. Hugo nodded nevertheless.

“And as a reward, I’m sending you to an academy!”

…What?

“What?” Bram asked in bafflement. Yeah exactly!

“D-Do you mean a trade school for craftsmen?” Hugo asked with a shaky voice.

“No, one of em’ big fancy ones all the aristocrats send their children off to.” Orin said in an overly casual tone.

“What?!” Bram yelled. Yeah exactly!