The soap factory.
It had been three days since the first full production run. The once-confused workers now moved steadily between kettles and molds, hands skilled, feet sure. The smell of scented oils hung in the air—lavender, mint, lemon peel—blended with a light tang of lye and smoke.
Kael stood outside the factory's main gate, watching the final cart of finished soap crates roll out toward the shop.
Business was rolling forward.
He turned to Renn, who stood beside him holding a wax-sealed ledger.
"We're producing sixty blocks a day now," Renn reported, tone precise. "About forty are cured and wrapped by morning. We'll hit higher numbers next week when the new molds arrive."
Kael nodded with satisfaction. "Keep an eye on quality. Don't rush. A good product speaks louder than any street barker."
Renn chuckled. "Understood, boss."
Kael handed him a folded note. "Here's the supplier list. If I'm not around, you handle them. Same goes for payments. Track everything."
