Early the next morning, the Trader's rode into town. Since getting there, they hadn't wasted a single moment, and by noon, had sprung dozens of tents and even more stalls. They were ready to haggle not only for the village's wares, but to sell their own as well.

The entire village had come to life following their arrival. They lit enough fires to banish all the snow from the town square, and amicably flitted between stalls. The women and the children gathered in front bards and musicians to hear their craft. The men laughed uproariously with bottles of ale in their hands. Everyone's faces flushed red with some combination of cold, alcohol, and joy.

In a word, it was idyllic. These were simple people living simple lives finding joy in simple things.

It's nice. Rand thought. He couldn't bring himself to join them.

Instead, he watched from the blinds of Brom's house as Eragon walked abreast with Roran, both of them a half step behind Garrow. They had already sold their wares, and were following Garrow around, saying hi to their friends in the village. In a place as small as Carvahall, that was basically everyone.

"How do you tell a farm boy that he needs to leave the farm?" Rand projected his thoughts to his dragon. "Then, once you've convinced him, how do you convince his family? Because honestly, I'm not even certain that it's worth it leaving all this behind on some crazy quest to kill the king. It'll be tempting enough just to chill here with a dragon that no one knows about, and call it life."

"Your usual approach has been honesty."

Rand shook his head. "I only told Eragon enough not to get into trouble, and Brom is different from these people. He knows this world, he knows what's possible, he knows what needs to be done, hell he knows magic. Garrow… Garrow will be harder to convince. Besides, telling him or Roran anything important seems like a recipe for getting them mind raped– or worse. Eragon, we should probably tell things to, but maybe not right now. He's still fifteen if I remember right, and it probably isn't wise to dump world shattering secrets on him."

The dragon rolled his eyes. "Rand… just let Brom handle it. He's been living here for more than a decade, and he's smart enough not to fuck up. The old man can spin his stories whatever way he needs to, and he's clever enough to do it in a way that won't compromise our anonymity."

"Good point. I forgot how useful delegation is!" Rand grinned. Then marching back inside, he found the old storyteller, perched in his usual chair in front of the fireplace, his pipe already in his mouth.

"Can I have some money?" Rand asked.

"What?"

"Money?"

Brom lifted his eyebrow. "What do you need it for?"

"Have you looked outside– obviously I want to buy stuff."

"And you want my money to buy it?"

"Where else am I gonna get it? Are you being deliberately obstinate right now?"

Brom laughed. "Lad, what makes you think I have money?"

"You don't?"

"I had money when I came here, all stolen from Morzan's estate. It was enough to build myself a house, and live in peace. I also have enough saved to flee this place should I need to, but nothing for frivolous expenses."

"How do you eat?"

Brom shrugged. "I tell stories, people pay me in coin."

"Is Brom a beggar?" Rand's dragon suddenly whispered through their link.

"I don't think so. He's a storyteller, that's a job here. I think?" Rand sent back.

"In your memories the hobos would accost you at random points, tell you a tale of their life, and request money. You thought of these people as beggars, did you not? Ask him if he's a beggar, maybe we can help him out?"

"You do realize that we're living in his house, eating his food, and I was just asking him for money… right?"

"Are you saying WE are beggars? I am a dragon! I cannot beg, Rand. Fix this!"

"Buddy, we aren't beggars we're –" Abruptly, the link closed off, leaving Rand standing with his mouth agape.

"Is everything well with the dragons?" Brom asked worriedly.

"Yeah, Whitey was just being a bit of a baby. Anyway, have you thought of what you want to say to Eragon, so we can all get out of here?"

"I have." Brom nodded. "I'll talk to him privately, and do what I can to convince him. He will not be open to the idea, but I am confident that he will see reason. If not, we only need to stay so long as his dragon changes her mind. Which will happen just as soon as she gains enough wisdom. No matter the age, nor the rider they are bonded to, dragons remain proud beings, and as such, she will never be happy here."

"That kind of sucks for Eragon."

"It does, but…" Brom shrugged. "This is the life he decided. You told him what it was that he had stumbled upon, and yet he chose to keep the egg long enough until he became a rider. In the weeks he possessed the egg, he could have returned to the Spine and left it in your care or he could have disobeyed your will, and given it to me."

"Yeah, yeah. I know. Just… Make sure he knows that he won't be leaving forever, yeah? The whole point in leaving now, is to make sure that no one realizes that anything is amiss so that they aren't implicated. I want the Ra'zac to come to this town and leave when they realize that nobody knows anything. If Eragon is gonna come with us and fight the Empire, the least we can do is make sure he has a place to come back to."

"Bah. You think too little of me. This is my home too and I care for these people as well."

"I know… I didn't mean it that way. I've just, I've read about this kinda thing tons but I've never actually done it, you know? The stakes are starting to feel real."

Brom waved him off. "It's fine, and you'll get used to it. Anyway, this is the plan…"

Rand's face twisted into a grimace. He had hoped he wouldn't have to be involved, but as Brom walked him through the steps of his plan, he began to realize that he had been too naive.

Still, it's not too bad.

Once they had their roles, Brom tossed him a small pouch full of coins, barely enough to buy a meal, and sent him out of the house while he tracked down Eragon.

Then at sundown, when the entire town was ready to retreat into their homes, Rand tracked Garrow, Roran, and Eragon in the village's tavern.

"Hi, I'm Rand." He said, walking up to the three of them with a wide smile on his face.

"Garrow." The middle aged man said, stretching his hand out. Rand gripped it firmly, and gave it a good shake. Then, inclining his head, he turned to the other two, "and you must be Eragon and Roran."

Eragon eyed him with nervousness, and Roran with suspicion. Pretending he didn't notice their less than friendly gazes, he invited them all to sit down.

"What do you want?" Garrow grumbled.

"Right to the point then, very well. I'd like to offer Eragon here a job."

Eragon shuffled in his seat, looking too scared and too nervous to even say anything. Roran's suspicious look turned to that of open animosity. Garrow's brow creased in thought. Then, when Roran opened his mouth to interrupt, Garrow silenced him with a raise of his hand.

"Are you with the Trader's?"

"No, nothing like that. I'm actually Brom's nephew."

"Didn't know that man had any family."

"Well, I was too young at the time to know what was going on, but Brom didn't leave amicably. I'm not surprised he wouldn't say anything about where he came from."

"Hmmm." Garrow grunted.

"Right well. The short of it is that our family owns a trading house in Uru'baen. For generations, it's been in the family, passed down through father to eldest son before even Galbatorix ruled. In our family, that was Brom. Except, he had a fight with my grandfather, and left home. Never to be seen again. So naturally, it was passed down to my father, Brom's younger brother. Now, with my father gone, it should have been passed down to me, except, my departed aunt's husband showed up out of nowhere, and is claiming that the entire business and all our land is his! He claims that since my aunt was older than my father, that the trading house was hers all along, and that as her husband, his claim is rightful! The nerve! As if grandfathers dowry meant nothing. Nor all the years my father and I toiled to keep the business running!"

Rand banged the table.

Eragon now looked like he was trying not to smile, while both Garrow and Roran seemed outraged.

Good.

Inheritance was, understandably, a big deal to the people of Alagaesia. So much so, that the author had literally named both the last book and the entire series Inheritance. So this was exactly the outcome he had been looking for.

"And what do you need Eragon for?" Roran asked.

"I'm glad you asked. Brom is old now, and he's happy with his life here. He's agreed to come back to Uru'baen with me and prove my claim, but is unwilling to stay, and I'm unwilling to risk him taking a journey back through half of Alagaesia alone. Nor is Brom willing to trust some errand boy from the capital to lead him back, and frankly neither am I. Except, the times are dangerous and…"

"And you want Eragon to go there and make sure Brom gets back safe." Garrow said.

"Exactly. Brom says he calls you friend, so I feel safe trusting Eragon with this task."

"Why Eragon, and not me?" Roran suddenly asked.

Rand frowned. "Truthfully, I've asked Brom about everyone in this village, and he said that while you've raised Eragon as your own son, his father is unknown and his mother left after giving birth to him. So while you, Roran, have a farm to inherit, Eragon will likely get little. It is good for a man such as him to find his own way in this world, is it not? Who knows, perhaps he can even find an opportunity in Uru'Baen that he would not find here."

"None of us would ever treat Eragon poorly." Roran said, his face set in a deep frown.

Immediately Rand bowed his head in apology. "I meant no offense, I've just seen something like this play out one too many times. Roran, you are young and unwed. But, when you have a wife and three kids, will you say the same? Then what about when Eragon has a wife and kids of his own. His stake on your farm is tenuous already, and the stake of his children will be even smaller. So while I am sure that your intentions are nothing but noble, reality often has different plans. Is it not wise to let Eragon go out into the world and create his own legacy?"

Roran looked like he was about to argue, but suddenly Garrow rested a hand on his chest.

"Eragon, what do you say?" He asked.

His voice barely louder than a squeak, Eragon said, "I want to go."

And so the adventure begins.