Tak smiled. He looked out the window of his sitting room and stared down upon the city below. The sun had just set and the painted sky had fully given way to inky black peppered with diamonds. But still below there was motion.
He wondered how many families were soon to gather around a table and sup together. How many of them would add just a little more seasoning to their food? And how much of that seasoning would come from his peppers?
Absently his hand sought out the small basket filled with the finest his gardens had to offer. His fingers delicately selected a pepper. He stopped a moment to appreciate the rich color and curious shape before popping it into his mouth.
That there was no sound of surprise told him he was alone. Very few people could watch him crunch into one of the spicy peppers without some form of audible reaction, even after he had done so for years. They had a hard time imagining that the pepper that was dried, roasted, and powdered before allowing it to be used by the pinch to season a families worth of soup, was something he could eat in two or three quick bites.
By why shouldn’t he enjoy the spice? Hadn’t it given he all this? The thirty years since he had first found the little plant had been quite kind to him. And he owed it all to the little pepper. Watery eyes and nose were a small price to pay.
He was a man content. He now had a family and a fortune. Both were dear to him. Almost as much as the plant that provides it.
Tomorrow he would visit the gardens. There were developments he needed to see. A new higher yield strain was starting to fruit. He would need to sample it to see if the quality held. So far, none had, but Tak little cared.
He had all he needed.
He took another pepper. And smiled.
Deadly Troubadour 