CHAPTER 1
A radiant sun beat down on the small, rustic town square. A few merchants and traders from outlying farms and granaries were seen haggling about their wares. An old curmudgeon named Ruphus was at the square selling some of his tomatoes he grew on his once great farm. Ever since his wife died he's kept to himself and let his farm go to waste as he waits for the years to go by alone and heartbroken.
I walked out of the cloths and linens section of the market and made my way over to the old man. He shot me a glance that I received as, "Oh boy not him again." Granted, every time I would try to purchase anything from him it would just end up in the both of us arguing on a price but never settling on one. The only reason I returned to by his tomatoes today was that my mother, who is turning 62 today, was having a small family party and her favorite dish was tomato soup.
"Let's just keep this simple Ruphus, I need around a dozen fresh ones picked today. The highest I'm going is 22 silverbecks." I said. Silverbecks was our currency ever since the "generous" neighboring nation of Lathasia "liberated" our empire. The truth is we were never being oppressed but Lathasia's treasury
was greatly in need of a stimulus package. So naturally being a stronger and more equipped nation than us, they "liberated" us from our king's rules and in the process took one third of our wealth.
"I won't take less than 25." Replied Ruphus in a manner which conveyed almost a hostile response.
"Can't you just spare 3, it's for a special occasion, it's mom's birthday. I don't have a doubt in my mind she'll make another stew for you if you can spare 3." My mother was a very compassionate and generous soul and always tried to make sure everyone had enough to eat in the community. As a child, she always taught me to respect my elders, especially Ruphus since his wife was dying at the time. Mother would always go over to their house and bring stew that could last them a week.
I could see him contemplating if it's still worth. But in the end I knew he would give in considering my mom took such good care of him.
"Fine, but not for you, for your mum. Tell her I said happy birthday." He finally responded.
"Will do."
He handed me the tomatoes and I put them in my leather satchel that was given to me by my father when I turned 13.
I navigated my way out of the town square's market that was now at its peak of foot traffic. Mid day is usually when the most people are bartering.
I walked down the cobblestone road that led out of town. Our town, Leviticus, was a small and humble community but it was what I called home and I loved it. Everyone knew everyone. It was like a big extended family.
The streets and shops were quaint and cozy. The town itself was situated adjacent to a large river that ran into the Mobe Ocean. About 400 or 500 people resigned in town and another hundred lived outside of town in shacks in the forest or on farms.
As I left town the pathway grew smaller and transformed into dirt rather than cobblestone. After a nice rain in the summer I would walk down this road barefoot and feel the sloshing of mud between my toes.
A cool breeze blew in from the west and cooled the surrounding area. The trees rustled back and forth almost in a harmonic pattern. I heard a loud noise to my left deep in the forest. It was almost a shriek of panic.
I tightened my grip on the satchel and took off into the dense forest.