Chapter 10: Chapter 9: The Psychology of Halitosis

The sun had not yet risen over the capital, but the Propaganda Corps was already moving.

The “Corps” consisted of twenty street kids Arthur had bribed with hot meals and shiny copper coins. They carried stacks of paper produced by the factory’s printing press.

Unlike the handwritten, messy notices usually nailed to tavern doors, these flyers were crisp, legible, and contained a terrifying woodblock image.

The text was bold: THE SILENT KILLER OF ROMANCE. Are you a victim of “Dragon Breath”? 9 out of 10 Nobles suffer from oral decay. Don’t let your smile be your downfall. Visit the Pendelton Emporium. Today.

…

By 9:00 AM, a crowd had formed outside the glass facade.

They weren’t just curious about the building anymore. They were self-conscious. Men were breathing into their cupped hands and sniffing nervously. Women were checking their reflections in the glass.

Arthur had invented a problem they didn’t know they had, and now they were desperate for the solution.

Inside, Arthur gave the final briefing.

“Master Vane,” Arthur said, adjusting his own small tie. “Do not haggle. The price is fixed. 5 Silver for the Kit. 10 Gold for the Game. If they try to bargain, simply point to the sign that says ’Fixed Price’ and smile silently.”

“No haggling?” Vane looked like he was having a panic attack. “But… that’s part of the dance! They insult the goods, I insult their mother, we meet in the middle!”

“That takes time,” Arthur said. “Time is money. Transaction speed is our metric today.”

Arthur nodded to the Duke. “Father, open the doors.”

The Demonstration

The doors swung open. The Duke, looking magnificent in polished armor, smiled. “Welcome! Prepare to be cleansed!”

The crowd surged forward, but the layout of the shop naturally funneled them into a line.

A burly merchant named Gunter reached the counter first. He slammed a flyer down. “Is it true? Can you fix… the smell? My wife says kissing me is like kissing a goat.”

Arthur stood on a stool behind the counter. “We can fix it. But first, a demonstration.”

He held up the Pendelton Toothbrush.

“This is not a twig,” Arthur announced to the room. “These are sanitized boar bristles, angled for maximum plaque removal.”

He dipped it in the Minty Paste.

“Open,” Arthur commanded.

Gunter opened his mouth. The crowd leaned in, watching through the glass walls.

Arthur brushed. The foam appeared. The smell of peppermint exploded into the air, masking the scent of the unwashed bodies in the room.

“Rinse,” Arthur handed him a cup of water.

Gunter spit. He ran his tongue over his teeth. He gasped.

“Slippery!” Gunter shouted. “By the Gods, they are slippery!”

He turned to the crowd and breathed heavily. “Smell me! I smell like a winter forest!”

A woman in the front row swooned. “It’s… divine.”

“I’ll take it!” Gunter yelled. “I’ll take three!”

The Cross-Sell

As Gunter paid (5 Silver, no haggling, which confused him but was very fast), his eyes drifted to the other display.

A beautiful box with a painting of a rich man in a top hat. LANDLORD: The Game of Property and Ruin.

“What is that?” Gunter asked.

“Entertainment,” Arthur said smoothly. “You have clean teeth. Now you need a sharp mind. This game teaches you how to bankrupt your rivals.”

Gunter’s merchant instincts flared. “Bankrupt… my rivals?”

“It simulates the ruthless acquisition of real estate,” Arthur explained. “Highly educational for a man of business.”

Gunter didn’t even blink. “Add it to the pile.”

[System Notification: The “Upsell” Technique Successful.] [Revenue Generated: 10 Gold, 5 Silver in 30 seconds.]

The Frenzy

The dam broke.

“Me! My breath is terrible!” “I want the bankruptcy game!” “Do you have the toilet seats?”

Sarah’s hands were a blur as she exchanged goods for coins. Master Vane was running back and forth from the stockroom, sweating profusely but grinning like a maniac.

“They aren’t arguing the price!” Vane shouted to Arthur over the noise. “They just pay! It’s madness! It’s beautiful!”

Arthur sat on his high stool, watching the chaos with a calm, analytical gaze.

Customer flow is bottlenecking at the register, he observed. We need a second Point of Sale terminal.

Outside, the line stretched down the block. Other shopkeepers were stepping out of their dark stores, watching in horror as their customers flocked to the “Crystal Box.”

One rival merchant, a seller of chewing sticks (literally just sticks), snapped his twig in half. “Sorcery,” he muttered. “Minty sorcery.”

Arthur caught his eye through the glass and offered a small, polite nod.

Adapt or die, Arthur thought. The market waits for no one.

End of Chapter 9

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