When Life Gives you Lemons, Kill the Lemon Tree

"They can go walk off a cliff. The whole lot of 'em! And it wouldn't be soon enough," a tired man reiterates, leaning over his tankard. "Generations. My family has been patching and mending clothes for generations. What am I to do now? How am I to feed my family?"
"Marcus," says a stout woman in a soft tone. She's sharing a drink and leans towards. "What family exactly do you need to feed again? You've only got a cat, and I'm not sure he even likes you. He seems to be feeding himself pretty well." She gives him a smile and clinks his tankard with her own.
"Oh, fuck off," Marcus sways back and points a finger at her. "That's not the point. The point is that all of the sudden these wand twirling hacks just swoop in and decide they're going to fix all our problems with a flick of the wrist." He waves his finger around in an exaggerated motion and points it at a crack in the table. "Oh you've got a little crack in the table there? Poof!" He swirls around to point at a scuff on her shoe. "Can't be having that now can we? Poof! Is that a hang nail? P-."
"...Ok you've made your point, but what about..." she butts in.
"And it's perfect too!" Marcus steamrolls. "No seams; no thread. It's a good as new, like it had never been torn before. How the hell are we supposed to compete with that? They do it in the blink of an eye too. Leather, wool, hell chain mail. It doesn't matter. Poof!"
Realizing she's going to just have to let him wear himself out she just leans back in her chair and takes a long sip of her ale. It's not the best ale she's had, which is being generous, and it makes her ponder whether the wizards would ever consider putting their arcane talents into developing a superior beverage so she wouldn't have to drink this compromise. She closes her eyes and half listens to Marcus' tirade.
"... and it's not just me. That's today. Tomorrow it's the farmers, and the blacksmiths. Pretty soon it'll be the tavern keepers and the merchants. You watch. And do you know what happens when people run out of options?" Marcus turns and leans in, his voice getting quieter. "Do you know what people do then, eh?
"What is it they do, Marcus?" she surrenders and bring her rolled eyes down from the ceiling to meet his.
"Crime."

Type

Financial / Trade