Chapter 2: Moros
By SodiumChloride12, derived from Fire Emblem, owned by Nintendo.
May 6th, 993...
Today, we arrived in the village Moros as planned. My business here was to be a routine affair, I was to mediate a labor dispute between the mayor and blacksmith. Supposedly, the mayor had contracted the smith to build him some ceremonial swords for personal decoration, and hadn't properly compensated him for his work. Given the mayor's high status in their society, I was called to provide fair, and unbiased judgement.
But, unfortunately, we ran into some trouble...
"Back! Get back you mongrels!"
Fiora sours through the air grimaces as she narrowly dodges an arrow aimed for her head. Tightening her grip on her horse, she readies her lance to deal with some newfound enemies. A band of bandits, about a half dozen of them, had blocked their path on the road en route to Moros. They're armed to the teeth, an unusual trait among simple highway bandits.
A bandit with armor as thick as a knight steps forward and charges directly at her. Already off-balance from her defensive maneuver, she's in no position to defend herself from the man's lance. She sees the man's grin through his crude helmet, and her skin shudders with dread.
"Oh, no you don't! You knights are nothing against my magic!"
Suddenly, a purple ball of fire streaks through the air, narrowly missing Fiora's head and landing critically on the knight's chest. The man screams in pain, stammering back and giving Fiora an opportunity. Eager to save herself any more close calls, she takes altitude and clammers down on her opponent, crushing his molten armor with her lance. The man's life evaporates as she wipes his body off her weapon against a tree, the vegetation turning red with crimson.
Catching her breath, she expresses a thankful expression towards her chancellor and former tactician. "T-Thank you. You might have saved my life."
Samuel shakes his head and looks out towards the surrounding environment. They're in a plains ecosystem with a river cutting through the middle, of which they were trying to cross via bridge. However, just as they were about to cross through one end, a band of bandits sprung out from underneath the structure, surrounding them. Their planned ambush rubbed Samuel off the wrong way, though there isn't much time to think about now. While he acted to save Fiora, Sain was dealing with the rest of the force on his own.
Samuel says, "Fiora! No time for thanks! We have to go help Sain!"
Fiora nods with understanding, and the two go further towards the other side of the bridge. There, they find the green knight dueling four of the assailants on his own. Fiora and Samuel had dealt with two on the opposing side.
Samuel exclaims, "Sain! Duck your head! I'm going to thread the needle here!"
Samuel quickly starts reciting an incantation, a spark igniting over his head. Realizing what he wanted to do, Sain yanks the reins of his horse, silently ordering him to kneel down. The animal manages the task in just the knick of time. The fireball streaks just over his head like Fiora, except with one vital difference. Due to habit, Sain had his sword extended towards the air, inadvertently creating an obstacle in the projectile's path. The fireball cleaves through it like it were made of butter and creates two separate entities out of one. The two distinct attacks fly directly in two enemies, an archer and axeman, bursting both into a pyre of flames.
Samuel's eyes widen with shock as he observes the two burn into ash. Fiora and Sain also gawk in silence. Covering his mouth, Samuel utters, "Well...that was unexpected."
If the display was baffling for Samuel and his friends, it was utterly terrifying for the enemy. They'd never heard of a mage who could strike foes at once, and the sight of it compels them to drop their weapons. The clang of the iron drives the trio out of their subconscious bubble of curiosity, but by the time they ready themselves again for combat, they realize their enemy had fled. Gone into the wind, like they were never there.
Samuel frowns as he scratches the back of his head. "I'll be damned. They got up and left."
Sain bites his lip and nods his head. The expression on his face suggests to Samuel that he meant something along the lines of: "Cowards, all of them. Couldn't even beat my lonesome."
Fiora lands her pegasus onto the ground and then disembarks. She rushes over towards one of the men's still smoldering bodies. Placing her hand into their pockets, she rummages around for something.
Samuel asks, "Huh? What are you doing?"
She replies, "Judging by the firepower and armor those men possessed, I've surmised that they were not ordinary bandits. I'm searching for anything that might tell us what they are, and if anyone sent them."
That's right! Samuel ponders. Their weapons, their armor. The more I think about it, the more I question if this ambush was explicitly targeted towards us. Who could want us... Samuel's mind shifts. No, I'm the Chancellor. Who could want me dead?
"Tell me, Samuel. Do you recognize this lettering?"
Samuel breaks his train of thought and looks down on a burnt, crumpled piece of parchment in Fiora possession. It appears to be a letter, though the message on it had vanished with the blackening heat. However, there exists a single, cyan insignia on the top that survived his magic. It has the image of a hawk with an arrow in its talon, and a shield at its backdrop. Having memorized all the insignia of Caelin's neighbors and Elibe's major nations, it's unfamiliar to him.
Samuel shakes his head, "No...it doesn't. But, I have to imagine that—oh? Sain, what's with you?"
Sain waves hands over at Samuel, his gloved finger pointing at the insignia. He takes his knife and shows it to his two companions, and jabs the air with it. For Fiora, it only creates nothing but more questions, though for Samuel, it's much more.
He says, "...It would appear that our friend here thinks this is the insignia of a mercenary group in Lycia."
Fiora raises her brow, skeptical of her Chancellor's reasoning. "Forgive me, but you got that out of Sain? How did you do that?"
Samuel chuckles and lifts his finger to his lips. "Oh, I'll never tell. But..." He leans over and wraps his arm around Sain's shoulder, who smiles at the display of brotherly love. He reciprocates by matching the gesture. "I suppose you can say we share a special relationship."
Fiora stops herself from rolling her eyes, as such a thing could be interpreted as rude. Instead, she peers out towards the distance. A small conglomerate of buildings come to view, resembling black dots in the sea of green and gray.
She says, "I think I see the village. We should hurry along. I don't think the Marchioness would appreciate it if we delayed."
Samuel nods his head and releases his grip on Sain. "Very well. You drive a fair point. Let's ride!"
Later...
After some travel on their mounts' backs, they arrive at the front gate of the village, Moros. It's a quaint, ordinary settlement standard among its Lycian peers. It has a short, wooden wall surrounding its perimeter, constructed from the pine forest nearby. There's about fifty dwellings and businesses, and musters a population of about fifty people. The buildings are small, not surpassing more than a single story, and have a simplistic, medieval design. Their thatched roofs bring some unease to Samuel because of their fire-prone nature, but that's a beast he must deal with at another time.
Walking into the town square, the trio find themselves at the other end of a flurry of stares courtesy of the local population. Their mounts, armor, and Samuel's foreign appearance contrasts greatly with the peasantry. In Caelin, the average citizen is only aware of who their monarch is, but not who stations her court. Chatter fills the air…
A little boy asks his mother, "Who...are they, Mommy? Are they important?"
The mother replies, "I believe so. I think that's...Lady Fiora from the castle! An adventurer told me of her beauty and grace while I was at work. His words were founded."
The local mage's apprentice lifts her glasses up to the brim of her nose. "I think the herald said the Chancellor would be paying our village a visit. I never thought the prince-consort would come in his stead."
The town gossip whispers into the ear of her friend. "Pssst. I think the Chancellor and the prince-consort are the same person. The tan fellow over there. The one with the curly head."
The town drunkard chuckles as he pounds on his belly. "Bah! If he can win the heart of a royal, anyone can! Come on, kids! Muster yourself the will to rule the world!"
The drunkard immediately gets a slap at the back of his head. It's from his daughter, a young teenager with eyes of an overworked girl. "Get ahold of yourself, Papa. No one's going to listen to you."
Samuel and Fiora are put-off by their newfound celebrity status, though Sain's soaking it all in. He exchanges several flirtatious glances with the local women before they continue on their merry way. Eventually, after wandering the streets for some time, they find a local guard, who gives them directions to the town hall.
The town hall is a building more built like a small library than a government office. Unlit torches hang on the walls, and open windows provide ventilation. Bookshelves containing important data like demographics, crop yields, and weather cover most of the space. At the entrance they find a secretary scribbling on some paper behind a desk, her glasses reflecting off sunlight that obscures her eyes.
Samuel introduces himself and his companions. Despite the inflection in his voice, the secretary doesn't seem to care. She hardly lifts her head to acknowledge them as she continues to work on her paperwork, content to be within her own little bubble.
"Uhm, excuse me? Miss?"
Still, nothing. At this point, the impulsive thought of busting out his tome and burning the entire building in a vengeful fit of rage streaks across his mind, but he holds his temper steady. The last time Samuel did that towards a bureaucratic type, Lyn had reprimanded him in court. That embarrassing experience still resounded well in his head, though thankfully, it proved to be one of his sole blemishes in an otherwise fruitful career. An early mistake on the job.
Samuel calms his breathing and then does something borderline scandalous. He takes his gloved hand and lifts the secretary's head to meet his eyes. The gesture shocks both the secretary and Samuel's companions.
The secretary says, "Wha—when did you get here? Wait, are you—?"
Samuel says coldly, "I have an appointment with your boss. I am the Chancellor under the employ of Marchioness Caelin. Get him now."
The secretary drops her pen and vanishes into the bookshelves behind her, presumably to fetch the mayor in some bygone room. Meanwhile, Sain raises his brow at his former tactician. A gesture that spoke a thousand words, or in this case, "Did you really have to do that?"
Samuel says, "Probably not, but I'm desperate to be done with this quickly. Don't speak of this to Lyn, please." The word speak conjures a realization within his mind. "Wait, why am I asking a mute man to not tell my wife about this? I should really be telling Fiora this. Hey...Uh..."
Fiora replies flatly, "I expect an extra day of paid time off this month."
"...Okay."
After some time, the secretary comes back with a disgruntled old man in tow. He's short and has a chin resembling a duck's bill. He has on brown shorts paired with a white shirt made from durable fabric. By the look of him, Samuel infers him to be the mayor.
Samuel says, "Ah, Mayor Adler. Finally, we can get to business."
The man raises his brow, partly out of confusion and infuriated. "Mayor Adler? I wouldn't want to be that fool if I were him. I'm the blacksmith he hired to make that damn toy for him!"
".…..What."
The secretary bows solemnly, "Chancellor Castillo, the blacksmith has been waiting here for an hour, every day, for the past two weeks. He comes at precisely three o'clock in the afternoon and leaves at four. The mayor had grown irritable from having to deal with him, so he's started to leave the office every day at that time. My apologies, but the mayor is not here."
Hearing those words makes the smith's face turn cherry red. "WHAT?! YOU MEAN I'VE BEEN SITTING HERE FOR NOTHING?! THAT DAMN MAYOR! SCUM!"
The smith retrieves his hammer from his pouch, and flings it across the room. Sain ducks just as it narrowly misses his head. The object hits the front door with a thud before falling and cracking the floorboard underneath.
The secretary bows again, "Mr. Phrea, your antics will only cause despair for the repairman that will have to fix that. Please, calm yourself."
"BUT I DIDN'T GET MY MONEY. I WANT MY MONEY!"
"...Mayor Adler has already compensated you for your work. The fact you keep coming back for more is incredibly unprofessional."
"UNPROFESSIONAL?! I'LL SHOW YOU UNPROFESSIONAL!"
The smith leans forward and grabs the young woman by her collar. At this point, Samuel's already seen enough. He shoots a glance at Sain, and within moments, the green knight has the aggressor on the ground. He whimpers as Sain restrains him with some rope.
"...I didn't...get my money. I swear it. These damned politicians...get away with everything."
Samuel shakes his head. Meanwhile, Fiora gestures over to the recently accosted woman. "...My apologies for that. We should have stepped in earlier."
"It's no bother. Believe it or not, I've actually dealt with crazier folk. This town might be small, but we have our characters."
Fiora nods her head. "I can...see that. So, what exactly is going on here, madam?"
She replies, "Please, call me Cariah."
"Of course."
Cariah sighs as she re-buttons the top of her shirt. "It was a long story, really. About a month ago, the mayor procured some ceremonial weapons for his home for the occasion of having reached the second year in his appointment. The local smith obliged and provided him with the product. The story should have ended there."
Samuel says, "...But it didn't."
"Indeed. You see, the iron that the smith procured was bought using a special scheme called a future. Now, there's this red-headed merchant traveling around selling material at a set price now, but promises to deliver it later. Unlike a normal deal, this adds a bit of risk to the transaction."
Samuel nods, silently cursing to himself on the audacity of Anna. "Because you could buy at a high price now while thinking it would continue to rise. But if it doesn't, and the price tanks, you lose out on money when you try to sell the material later."
"Exactly. The smith fancies himself a little bit of a trader as well, and he deals material to others tradesmen in the area when they're needy of it. He bought a large quantity thinking he would sell off for a great profit late. But instead, the price fell substantially, leaving him with a loss."
Samuel rubs his chin with thought. Sometime two weeks ago, he'd heard during a court meeting of a depression in iron prices caused by oversupply originating from a mine in Bern. He thought nothing would come of it, but apparently, it did.
Cariah continues, "So, the smith thought he could recoup some of his debt by raising the prices of his services. He did so in the week between him making the blade and delivery. Of course, the mayor was infuriated at the sudden rise in price, as the man had doubled it. So, when it came time to pay him, he provided the original price. Hence, where the dispute is now."
Samuel groans as he scratches the back of his head. "I don't get it...why is this a problem? They negotiated a price, and it was paid. You can't just change it after the fact, that's illegal."
"Except it isn't."
Samuel gasps as those words leave Cariah's lips. Despite his position as Chancellor, he is no lawyer. This is news to him.
"What do you mean?"
"What I mean, is that under Caelic law, partially negotiated by the guilds, it's not legal, nor is it illegal to change the original price in the intermediate period between order and delivery. The words of the law state that the price may be changed if under reasonable cause. What in the world reasonable cause is, is anyone's guess. All I know is that this case cannot be taken to court since Mayor Adler is also the local judge."
Samuel stares at the secretary with disbelief. "Wait, who's bright idea is it to appoint the mayor and the judge to the same person?!"
"...Wouldn't that be your administration, sir?"
Samuel returns a blank stare until a stray memory appears in his mind. It takes him back almost four years into the past, when he was still trying to learn the workings of his position.
Past...
Samuel looked down on his table, the woodworking drenched with an unholy abomination of ink and unfinished appointments. He wiped his tired eyes and observed the blue moon high in the sky. Fidgeting in his seat, he could imagine a thousand other places he'd rather be than here. He recalled a message given to him by his wife before he locked himself in his study.
"Sam, can you handle some appointments while I tend to our children? Laniakea's dealing with an illness, and I think it's important if I am there for her."
Sucking up to his responsibilities, Samuel stared down on a sheet of paper that had the name, Moros, etched prominently on the top. By the look of it, the village has two openings needing to be filled. Reissmann had given him a list of candidates to consider for the jobs, though Samuel was too tired to read anything more than the description of one man.
Samuel ruffled his hair as he thinks about what to do next. Or, rather, he didn't think at all. ...Eh, fuck it. Samuel thought while etching a name on the paper. I'll assign the same dude to two jobs. What's the worst that can happen?
Present...
Samuel slams the palm of his hand onto his face, creating a slapping sound that echoes throughout the building. His palm rubs against some scarring produced by an old bout of smallpox he'd bore through several years ago, but he pays it no mind. He's too busy hating himself to do that. "You've got...to be kidding me." He mutters under his breath.
Cariah asks, "Hm? Did you say something, Chancellor?"
Realizing what he'd just let escape out of his lips, Samuel pretends to not have said anything. "Um...nope! Anyway, I suppose I should do my job and mediate this whole thing." He looks over his shoulder to look for Fiora and Sain. "We should go talk with the mayor. Sain, if you can release him for me."
Fiora asks, "...Excuse me, sir. But this man just caused property damage at this government office. Is it really wise to let him free?"
Samuel bites his lip, still trying to hide the guilt he caused by partially causing this situation in the first place. He doesn't want this man to lose his freedom because of his negligence, though he's too prideful to admit that. He also, in part, wishes to not fall into trouble himself. "Yes...we need this man to tell us where the mayor lives. Can you do that for us, Mr. Blacksmith?"
"...The name's Leslie."
Samuel blinks in disbelief. He looks back towards Fiora, who only shrugs her shoulders. He then returns his attention to Leslie. "Oh...nice to meet you, Leslie. Can you show us where the mayor lives?"
The blacksmith nods his head, and he stands up, free from Sain's rope restraints. He rubs his wrists and addresses the secretary. "Your name's Cariah, huh? You look just like your mother. My apologies for losing my temper."
Cariah smiles, revealing some mild familiarity that can only exist from a lifetime living near one another. The expression is warm despite the violence the man had shown her moments before. "It's all right, Leslie. You never spoke to me due to our differing positions in society, but my mother spoke fondly of you. He referred to you as the fiery smith down the block in my younger years."
"Aye. The woman always had the best nicknames to give people." Leslie motions for the others to follow him. "Come with me. We'll be giving this politician a visit. Hopefully, we can wrap this whole thing up before the trade fair begins this afternoon."
Back in Castle Caelin...
Lyn yawns as she wipes some exhaustion from her dry eyes. Looking down on the man paying her respects, she struggles to stay awake. This was a part of her day that Lyn loathed to attend to, the part where she had to sit on her throne and listen to baseless pandering from diplomats, traders, and prospective courtiers.
"I represent the honorable, hard working merchants of the Unified Merchant Guild (The merchant guild dominant in the southwestern portion of Lycia). Your canton had done much to ease the burden of business and make its roads safe to travel. To show our appreciation, and to ensure your continued cooperation, we present to you the gifts of two thousand gold liras (Lycian money) and this expertly crafted gilded egg from one of our trusted partners in Tania. We hope that you appreciate these gifts just as much as we appreciate you."
The man motions behind him, and the large doors swing open to reveal a cart filled to the brim with coins. The noise of the metal entrance's gears causes Lyn to snap out of her dreamy trance, focusing on the goodies before her. She doesn't care much for the egg, but the gold? Caelin would do well with an injection of cash into her treasury.
Her first instinct is to leap out in joy, much as when Eliwood first told her he would aid in her quest to reunite with her grandfather many years ago. But her training as a ruler quickly stays that impulse. You must appear strong and cold as a leader when dealing with special interests. If they feel you are in their debt, they will use that debt as leverage to lobby for concessions. Keep your poise, always.
Lyn clears her throat, a respectable response for the situation. She shoots a glance towards Reismann, who recognizes his part in the matter. He says, "Marchioness Caelin appreciates your donation, and we will graciously accept. Please know that we view your organization with respect and...gratitude. We value any contribution towards our canton's wealth, as any addition will be used to aid in the welfare of her citizenry. You have our thanks."
Reissmann bows, and the man reciprocates. Then, the man leaves with the men who brought the gifts. Watching them go summons a bit of excitement within her. This is the last duty she had to fulfill today. After this, she can pick up her children from the tutor Mary's school. Then, they can have lunch, and share some quality time together.
Satisfied with the day's series of events, she takes a deep breath and exhales. For a moment, she wonders if her spouse had already dealt with the matter he had left her for. She prays that he has. Hopefully, he'll get back sooner rather than later.
Back in Moros...
Samuel and his companions sit on the curb of a nearby tavern, demoralized by recent events. Sain silently observes the clouds overhead, Fiora stares at a nearby blade of grass, and Leslie observes the bricks lining the building's walls. Meanwhile, Samuel's left muttering to himself, his thoughts wrought from their encounter with the mayor.
"...This has taken too much time."
The mayor spoke to them at his home, though he made it very clear to leave Leslie out on his porch. While there, he reasserted his refusal to pay any more money than what was previously agreed to. Then, he left it at that, with Samuel hardly able to contribute much in the matter.
Leslie wallows to himself. "I'm ruined...what am I to do? My children are reliant on me as I am the breadwinner, but my debtors will come for me soon! What a detestable situation this is!"
Samuel looks at the man, who'd earlier been very aggressive, reduce himself to a more desperate version. The guilt in his soul is nearly unbearable, a situation made much worse by his mention of family. Samuel recalls a similar decision he'd made several years ago, where he'd nearly gambled away everything he and Lyn had built for a wager he was a hair away from losing. Incidentally, Leslie had found himself at the other end of the risk-reward phenomena.
Fiora walks over to her superior, making her presence known to him by clearing her throat. Looking up, she notices the somberness in his eyes. "Samuel...excuse me for intruding...but our role here is resolved. There is nothing we can do. We should return to the castle and have him deal with own affairs."
Samuel says nothing, refusing to even look at the pegasus knight. He searches through his brain for a way, any way that could lead to a positive result for this man he'd had some part in screwing over. To him, there are only three ways he could resolve the issue. First, he could do nothing, and let this man fall to ruin. Second, he could revoke the judicial appointment from the mayor right there, but doing so would likely anger him. Several days from now, he could see him before Lyn complaining of how he was wrongfully removed from his position over a personal dispute. This would create some embarrassment for his wife, especially if his negligent behavior is investigated. Finally, the third option would be to somehow find the money so Leslie could pay his debts. Taking it from the treasury is both unethical and highly illegal, so getting it from there is out of the question.
Leslie walks over to a nearby wall and picks up a loose brick that had fallen from it. Upset about recent events, he lifts it above his hand. "This is all so unfair! Why did I have to make such a sorry mistake of gambling my livelihood away?!" Then, he chucks the brick against the ground, the object bouncing off the dirt with little damage. "Damnit!"
Samuel looks up towards the brick, his mind's gear churning. He glances over towards Fiora, who raises her brow. Then he smiles as he faces Leslie. "Say, Leslie. Do you still have the iron nearby?"
Leslie nods, his head cooling from the inquiry. "Of course! Why? Do you need some iron?"
"No...but how fast do you think you could mold the metal into a certain shape? Something like..."
Samuel stands up and whispers something into Leslie's ear. The shape makes the man stare at him with disbelief. "I think I can create the product in ample time. But, are...you mad?"
"I'm not...but I've got something in mind."
"Why the hell would that do me any good?"
Samuel chuckles, his laughter containing plenty of confidence. "I don't know...but I think it's worth a shot."
Fiora asks, "My Chancellor, what are you planning?"
"...Something. We're going to dabble on fashions for a bit...and you and Sain are going to help us. You can do that for me...right?"
Sain nods his head enthusiastically, while Fiora is skeptical. She bites her lip. "I...don't think I have much of a choice. Regardless...I think you're up to no good."
"...Mayhaps..."
Later...
Samuel plants his foot on the top floorboard of their selling stand. He takes in a deep breath and puts on an old Bernese accent he'd heard in auction long ago. His voice vibrates with a mixture of confidence, energy, and action.
"Look here, everyone! We've got for the good people of Moros, not one, not two, but sixty-four finely made, premium, iron bricks for your enjoyment only! Come and get them while they're still in stock, folks!"
They're in the midst of the village's trade fair, an event where traders and consumers from the local area all come together to do business. The normally open square is chock full of people and package animals, all excited for the next big thing to come within sight. They have their eyes eager to purchase cheap ornaments, gems, and the like...but none linger around the sole stand selling bricks.
Realizing he's fooling no one, Samuel lurches over and lets himself fall onto the ground. Leslie follows his lead. Neither are too particularly intelligent at this hour.
Leslie says, "Darn. To think I intended to sell my raw iron here to my fellow smiths. What a fool I am. A fool..."
Despite the two men's demoralized states, Fiora's not too privy to giving up so soon. She scans the area towards the jewelry, and notices a local gathering of young women talking among themselves. A scheme formulates in her head, and she disappears into the crowd...
Sain picks up Samuel, handing him a handkerchief to wipe off some dirt from his face. "Thank you, Sain. You're such a pal."
Sain nods his head. If he could talk, he would've said: "I'm here for you, my guy."
Samuel shakes his head. "You know, in my mind, I thought we could just sell these bricks as a fashion statement. But...I realize we have neither the brand nor the reputation to pull such a thing off. I've made a mistake here...I must admit."
Leslie lifts his head from the dirt. His mustache appears brown and faded. "It's no problem, young man. I just appreciate that you tried to help me out. The last Chancellor would have just left me here. We don't win them all."
"...Unfortunately. I don't like losing, though. I wish there was someway we could—"
!
"Excuse me, but are you selling bricks?"
The trio of men shift their attention to the front of their stand, and to their surprise, they notice a familiar face standing before them. It's Cariah, who had just left work to come to the fair. She still had her secretary's outfit on, with the notable difference of having a different pair of shoes.
Leslie says, "Erm...yes we are. Now, don't laugh. I was desperate...and I—"
He pauses when Cariah picks up one of the iron objects from his table. She inspects the rectangular object, noting the fine engravings at its side, and the hardness of the metal. Then, her eyes gleam over the prominent lettering at its front. It read: Superior.
She says, "Superior...huh? I have to admit, this does look rather cool. I think it would look nice by my windowsill." She retrieves her wallet from her purse. "How much?"
Leslie stares at Cariah, and then back at Samuel in disbelief. Then, upon realizing this interaction is indeed, real, he musters the strength to put together a sentence. "Uh...(blimey, Leslie, what was the agreed price again?)...thirty Lira ! One third the price of an iron sword, but will last you much longer!"
Despite Leslie's price, Cariah hands him fifty gold instead. Confused, he asks, "You...gave me fifty Lira."
Cariah takes her brick and puts it in her purse. Because of its volume, it doesn't weigh very much. "You'll need it, Leslie. Take care of yourself. We here in the village look out for one another. Think about that next time one of us falls into similarly desperate times."
She turns and leaves, the cowlick atop her head waving like the tail of a dog. Leslie looks down on the gold handed to him. Utterly touched, he rests his hand over his heart. "Blimey. She's every bit as good as her mother. This was to be expected...but..."
!
"Excuse me? Are you still selling?"
Leslie looks up...and to his shock, a long line has appeared seemingly out of nowhere. They're all people from town, some of his fellow smiths from the area, and absolute strangers who'd come to marvel at the mysterious bricks that had recently become the talk of the fair. The mage, his apprentice, the town drunkard, and many more are waiting to speak to Leslie to procure his wares. Overcome with emotion, Leslie nearly faints right there.
The first customer, the owner of a nearby tavern, exclaims, "Hey! Leslie! I'm getting old here!"
Leslie steadies himself and then bows with respect towards the crowd. "Forgive me, I need to do something. Allow me a brief moment of repose."
He turns towards Samuel, Sain, and Fiora. Tears stream from his eyes, his soul overwhelmed with glee and appreciation. "You three...I am in your debt. I don't know what to say. The sales here won't be enough to settle all my debts, but I'll be able to make the first payment. You've saved me..."
Fiora replies, "We do as our Chancellor says, under the blessing of our Marchioness Caelin. We live to serve, your thanks is unnecessary."
Samuel lightly chuckles. Fiora is as uptight as always, but he can see she's grateful to have seen this affair have a happy ending. Sain, too. "You can repay the favor by not making crazy risks like that again. Don't let your greed rule your will. I can see by the people's willingness to help you that you are a good person. You deserve happiness...but only if you stop yourself from being your own worst enemy."
Leslie nods his head with understanding. Then, before attending to his stand, he envelops all three in a hug. It's friendly and fatherly in nature...a sensation neither of three had felt in a very long time. They came to the consensus that although this took an unnecessary amount of effort and time; it was very much worth it.
They bid farewell to their newfound friend and Moros. Satisfied with a job well done, they rode off towards Castle Caelin. Before long, the sun hung low over the horizon. Night is coming, and they're only just beginning their journey back home.
Midnight...
Samuel opens the door to his bedchamber, his head wet from the quick shower he'd taken. His tired eyes peered through the darkness of the area, and upon removing his boots, he began feeling his way towards his resting place. During the endeavor, he knocks over toys, jams his knee into a drawer, and nearly trips as his shin gets stuck on the underside of his bed frame. But he makes it in one piece, and fortunately avoids waking Lani, Carvel, or Carmel.
He sits on the bed, eager to rest his wary bones. He removes his two large knee braces before laying his head onto his pillow. There, he finds green, gem-like eyes staring back at him, the little moonlight coming in through the window stroking them with an aura of pearly blue. Their beauty takes him aback, silent in blissful admiration.
Lyn whispers, "Hello, my love. I'm pleased to see you back in one piece."
Samuel smiles before planting a kiss firmly on his spouse's forehead. She blushes at the gesture, a rosy pink on a canvas of light blue and peach.
Samuel replies, "I promised I would return in time for you to wake by my side. What can I say? Milady, here I am."
"Hehe...that last thing you said there. I love it when you say it. It tickles my ears...and gives me nostalgia from that journey we took several years ago."
Samuel nods. "Indeed. But, I must say, I expected you to be asleep when I got here. Yet, you are awake. I never took you for a heavy sleeper, Lyn."
Lyn is a very heavy sleeper. It was a trait she'd inherited from her father, the late chief Hussar. During their time together, Lyn slept through people sneaking through her room, minor explosions, and raccoons rummaging through her garbage. For her to be awake here is unusual, given Samuel's efforts in masking his approach.
"...Truth is, I've been awake this whole time. I've grown so accustomed to your presence that I can no longer sleep without it." She reaches over and wraps her arm around him. "Now...I can finally get some good rest."
Samuel responds by wrapping his arm around her. "Very well. Here's to a fruitful tomorrow, Lyn. I love you. Goodnight."
Lyn rests the crown of her head underneath Samuel's chin. "I love you too. Night."
Then the two close their eyes. Tomorrow would be a very busy day for them, as every day is. Eventually, slumber overtakes them. Both sleep well. Restless nights are a rarity nowadays.
