Mannat returned to the inn and found no one sitting at the bar or in the dining area. The owner was neither behind the bar nor at the reception desk. In his stead, a little girl sat behind the latter.

She had puffed rosy cheeks and small black pigtails hanging from her temples. She had a similar black slate in front of her on the reception desk and a box of colorful chalk beside it. She was so focused on drawing flowers on the slate that she didn’t notice him standing on the other side of the desk. Mannat watched her draw the lilies and found her use of the tool very interesting.

“That’s a nice flower,”

“Wha--” The girl bounced up on the chair and raised her head in panic. She saw Mannat and her fear subsided instantly and grew flustered. “You scared me!”

“I’m sorry,” Mannat smiled.

The girl crossed her arms in front of her chest and squeaked, “Don’t do it again or I’ll tell on you to mommy.”

Mannat nodded. “I won’t.”

Suddenly, the little girl's eyes shone mesmerizingly.

“Do you also draw?” She asked pointing at the slate he carried.

“I just bought it.” Mannat paused then added, “For writing.”

“Writing?” The girl tilted her head to the side in confusion. “Why would you use a toy for writing?”

Mannat couldn’t answer her. Thankfully, her father returned from his chores and saved him.

“That’s enough of you.” The owner picked up the little girl from the stool and gently put her down on the wooden floor. “You go help your mother with something.”

“But I want to play with big brother.”

“You don’t want your toy back?” The owner said holding her the slate with the flower she had drawn on it. The girl froze for a moment and stared between her drawing board and Mannat, before she apologized to Mannat, took the board, and slipped away in the direction the owner had come from. Both of them watched her disappear into the back before acknowledging each other.

“I guess you found what you wanted.” The inn owner said getting behind the reception desk and picking out Mannat’s room key.

“Yes, thank you.”

“How was your experience with the merchant?”

“I have learned a lot,”

The owner smiled. “That’s a nice way of putting it. Well, there you go.” The owner gave him the key.

Mannat thanked him again for his help and directly went upstairs to his room. He could hear his father’s snores from the stairs. He unlocked the door and went inside. He didn’t wake his father, pulled a chair to the window, and sat down looking out into the town. The town was larger and brighter than he expected, and rowdier. There no one called him witch-boy or freak, but it didn’t make him any happier. People, he had learned, didn’t need a reason to target others. They would do whatever they wanted to do. It would be better for him if he could stop caring about them and start listening to himself.

Finally, he pulled his newly bought slate to his lap, picked a long chalk stick from the box, and started working on his penmanship. He didn’t just write letters as everyone assumed but worked on his sentences. He wrote passages he had read in the books, erased them with the cleaning cloth, and worked on writing the same sentence differently. He wrote broad letters that consumed a lot of space. He hoped to make them concise. Every book author he had read had styles that showed their characters and experience. Mannat didn’t want to copy others either. He also wanted to show his knowledge and experience with his style.

Time passed quickly as he worked on his writing. It was sometime around the afternoon when his father woke up. Raesh couldn’t help frown when he saw Mannat holding the slate.

‘Where did you get it?’ was his first question. ‘Why didn’t you wake me up?' was his second question. Before long, however, he was grinning and laughing with his son. Raesh slapped his thigh upon learning how his son made the bloodsucking merchant sold the gadget to Mannat at lower than the asking price.

Mannat didn’t tell him about the paper. He was having a tough time believing the truth and didn’t want to needlessly worry his father. It was about time, he stopped using paper to light fires to cook carrots. He was literally burning money for education. Even nobles weren’t so extravagant.

Soon, Raesh went to take a bath, while Mannat continued his practice. He was preparing to note down his thoughts behind the unwarranted hostility he had faced in the shop when there was a knock on the door.

Mannat wasn’t focused and the knock drew his attention. He got up and opened the door. At first, he didn’t see anyone outside, then felt something pulling his pants. He looked down and saw a rosy-cheeked little girl looking up at him with twinkling eyes.

“Sir, are you the master blacksmith Raesh?”

Mannat shook his head and the girl looked down in disappointment.

“You are looking for my father.” The little girl's head shot straight up hearing him. Her eyes glowed brightly as two bulging lamps and her face smiled.

“Great,” She clapped her hands. “There’s someone waiting at the reception for your father.”

“Can you tell me who it is, little girl?” Mannat said and her smile dissolved into a frown.

“It’s the count’s men and I’m not a little girl.” She finished saying and ran down the stairs. She stopped at the bottom, looked back, and stuck her tongue at him, before hopping away and out of his sight.

Mannat wondered if he had said anything wrong.

It’s probably a girl thing. He thought and followed her step to the dining area. There were soldiers standing around a table, all wearing the coal-black uniform representing the count. One stood at the door and raised a hand to stop him from going inside the hall.

“That’s him,” Mannat heard and saw the gate guard from morning nervously pointing a finger at him. He looked out of place among the other soldiers. It wasn’t a difference of uniform colors and status, but temperament. The soldiers looked ready to deal with anything.

The man sitting at the table calmly stood up and looked at him.

Mannat couldn’t decide what to do? Should he go inside or stay back.

“Let him in,” The man said. His voice was calm and confident, authoritative but not loud -- regal describes it perfectly. The man had his long black hair drawn back. They rested on his shoulders without much movement. He wore a light green coat with detailed work done on the buttons. As if his suit wasn’t eye-catching enough, his brown, obviously leather, high boots made tough clicking sounds when he walked.

The soldiers in comparison all wore dark grey coats with small black stone-shaped buttons and red accents on the shoulder and collars. Obviously, their uniform needed a little color, but it realistically represented their region of coal, stones, and timbre. A Brown belt and a grey rim hat completed the look.

“You must be little master Mannat.” The Pompous man said gracefully, which came as a surprise to everyone present. “I am Moore, and will be your guide for today.” That was the count's direct subordinate; his right-hand man! Mannat was surprised at how young he looked. He was definitely not over thirty. His face had no wrinkles! Even his mother’s skin wasn’t so smooth.

‘’Are you ready to meet the count?” Moore said, letting the boy decide. Mannat shook his head without thinking. “We need some time. Can you give us half an hour?”

“Absolutely,” Moore agreed. “I’ll be here if you need my assistance. Please take your time.”

There weren’t any greetings or goodbyes. If Mannat was surprised by his guest's politeness, then so was the other person with his coldness. When had he ever met a peasant boy who could look nobles in the eye and demand them to wait for him? He would definitely be angry if the boy was being stubborn for the sake of showing a stance. Mannat was obviously being himself. Moore had wanted to see what kind of a man could interest the count, and he was not disappointed. Now, he wanted to see what his father looked like. A smile formed on his face and the soldiers behind him stepped back in fright.

A short while later, Raesh and Mannat came down. Mannat wore the clothes that he had bought from Soman a day ago. His coat wasn’t bright and colorful like Moore’s, but of a dark brown shade. His father, on the other hand, wore a black coat over a beige shirt; the coat had definitely seen better days. Not only was it tight around his arms, but he couldn’t close the buttons and sit down either. Mannat did his hair backward, unlike his father who had trimmed them down to his scalp -- but he did roll his mustache and curl them up. Mannat thought it looked like boar tusks. Raesh called him a burning matchstick. They couldn’t come to terms and decided to hold truce for the time being.

Moore saw them and smiled upon seeing Raesh. The dull colors he wore ensured him that at least the boy’s father knew his place. That meant, the boy was either a natural actor or a talent that could be cultivated.

“Then let’s go,” Moore ordered and left the inn through the front door without confirming with the father-son duo. The little girl waved Mannat goodbye, and he waved back. He also thanked the owner again for his help, and the two of them followed Moore out of the inn.

There were two sturdy-looking carriages waiting for them out front. The one at the front had large spoke weeks and metallic plate springs to counter road bumps. The windows were tinted and the inside couldn’t be seen through.

Behind the open doors was a comfortable brown interior, with Moore sitting on the side facing the driver, along with a steel-eyed soldier. The carriage was definitely a class apart from the other, as were the horses tied to it upfront. They had strong legs and high heads. Bhadur might have his charms, but Mannat didn’t think their horse stood a chance against them. Yet, he would have preferred their cool-headed slow horse over those royally pampered hot heads every time, if he was given the choice. Unfortunately, they clearly had no choice but to sit with Moore in the royal carriage.

Raesh worried for his cart, but the gate guard promised to bring it over without a single scratch. What more could he say? He could see four stern eyes staring at them from the carriage. Moore hadn’t said anything, but those eyes spoke louder than his voice. Do you want to delay even longer? They seemed to be saying.

Raesh helplessly climbed into the carriage and Mannat followed right beside him. The soldier closed the carriage door behind them, and the vehicle got into motion a second later without any such indication by the horses pulling it. And the carriages rolled down the narrow street spewing a cloud of dust into the onlooker's eyes, making sure the people would bow their heads while they passed them by.