A new sickness is stirring, and I am not sure what it is, but working at the Ashtan Wine Shoppe has given me new insight into the inner workings of the lives of the common folk. Of course, this has affected them the most. I hear it in their voices. Some talk in raspy shorts or are coughing every few minutes. Others display their voices as drawn out, cold, and sorrowful, as if knowing their loved ones are basking in horrendous pain back home but can do nothing about it. It is an interesting concept the disease brings; medicines are too expensive for the poor to buy out-right, so they muse in tea or wine shoppes to temporarily distract their minds from the inevitable.
The Boss is rather zealous for new business and is always trying to earn a quick bronze whenever he may get the opportunity. He frequently bets the hopeless drunks in mind games, knowing he has the upper hand; his modest schooling benefits his chances as well. Rather recently, executions have been occurring at the town square in front of all to see. Something about the souls of the people being handed to the mercy of the gods, perhaps to ward off the disease. That is just what I have heard from the customers, though, as the Boss does not allow me to leave work for such events. Yet, every so often he will go himself, returning back with a grand smirk on his face and a covered jar in his hands.
Curious about the execution events, I decide to investigate the matter by asking Old Chen at the bar: “Old Chen, tell me about these executions. Why are they so popular? Do people really like the bloodshed?”
Chen starts laughing, “Of course! The people are two things these days: bored and sick! The executions are only half the profit for the town: the entertainment. The rumors say that the blood of the dead can be used to soak bread and when ingested will bring a guaranteed cure to any sick man.”
“How is this possible?” I exclaim, completely baffled. Is there really a way to bring peace to these poor souls?
“The blood is a guaranteed cure! Cured my daughter last week,” says Chen sipping his warm wine. He then ignores me when the Boss suddenly appears behind me.
“Come with me, young one. I must show you the secrets you discuss,” says the Boss. I turn around to face him and he is already walking to the back room. I follow and close the door behind us. The main table shows a blue cloth covering objects beneath it. The Boss looks at me and smiles, “Look, young one, our newest profit!” He then grabs the cloth and pulls it off the table revealing about a dozen jars of blood.
“Boss, where did you get this?” I question him. Why would the Boss have all this?
“You know nothing until now, young one,” he laughs, “The cure of souls is ours to dispatch. The profits will be immense. Now help me prepare the new menu into our wines, the red will mix well, and the sickly will know their cure… for a high price of course.” He opens one jar and takes a sip of the pure blood. “I am not even sick, but this cure gives me energy like never before,” he says smiling with red-stained teeth. I am too baffled to react at first, but fearing the Boss, I prepare the blood to be mixed with wine.
Over the next weeks, word spreads that the Ashtan Wine Shoppe has a guaranteed cure for the sickness. New customers come both rich and poor, but of course, it is the poor that still suffer. The Boss has the blood wines marked at a higher price than what most can afford. However, he allows a different payment for those who cannot pay with coin. I do not know all the details, but after closing time they go to the back room alone with the Boss. Inside there are screams and laughter. The customer comes out after a few minutes with a bloody rag pressed hard against somewhere on their body, and when they leave, the Boss motions me inside. There, a new jar of blood sits and I prepare it like all the others.
“I thought only the blood of the dead will heal the sick…” I questioned once during one of the first preparations.
I got a smack on my head for that comment. “You know nothing, young one,” yelled the Boss. “The customers do not know the difference…” I still remember his chuckles from that night… they poured out of him as blood leaves a wound, slow, but constant.