Chapter Ten

Another day, another headache. After my conversation with the chief yesterday night, I was left alone for the most part. Percy came to check up on me a few times but it was increasingly difficult for him to get away from the others. Someone must have let his noble origins slip because he quickly became the star of the night. The chief put up a good fight for the position though, I heard plenty of cheer for his continued reign. The alcohol and my spectacular performance bought him all the goodwill he could need, though the purchase certainly cost him a pretty penny.

I wasn’t sure what amount they eventually settled on but judging from the shade of white that the mayor’s face continued to be for the entire evening, and James’s satisfied grin, it couldn’t have been pretty. Beautiful enough for me though, since I heard the merchant gloating about my being his guest from halfway across the camp. He loved the microphone in particular.

Now though, I find myself groaning with every ray of sunshine that hits my face. Though we won’t stay much longer in the village, we still have time for a good breakfast. The sight of Percy being run ragged packing the carriages warms my heart as I eat my jerky, though he’s far from the only one working. Meanwhile, I find other ways to spend my time, which leads me to the same street I was assaulted in yesterday. As luck would have it, the same kids of yesterday are once again making the roads unsafe, bless the little gremlins.

They’ve changed the game that they’re planning since the last time I was here, my football advice caught on, judging by the passionate yelling and shouting at whoever holds the ball. They don’t quite have the teams going but it doesn’t stop them from fighting for dominance. Here’s to hoping the leather ball holds up. Their enthusiasm helps me wake up and I soon find myself indulging in their guilty pleasure, shouting advice from the sidelines like a good coach. My yells mostly make them distracted and thus easier to steal the ball from, but it’s funny for me so I ignore their glares. They get so distracted by reclaiming the ball that I doubt they even remember their annoyance.

As I spend my morning yelling at kids, their real guardians come over to take a look. The same mother that I spoke with yesterday wanders over to me as I’m standing to the side, hurling treacherous words at her child.

“Quite a show you made last night,” she tells me, and I turn to her.

“I’ll admit that I enjoyed the exercise, I don’t get to cast magic like that too often.”

“Exercise, is it? It looked like hard work to me.” A grin spreads over my features.

“How can it be work if I’m enjoying it so much,” I say to her, then I grimace, the headache making itself known, “Though I strained myself a bit too much if I’m being honest,” I admit.

“That won’t do, you have to take care of yourself.”

“Not to worry ma’am, I’m taking medicine for it,” I confide in her, showcasing the jerky in my hand. She gives me an unamused look.

“That’s barely food, and certainly not medicine. I asked you before, but I won’t let you refuse me again. Come and eat with us, we have plenty of food and my husband also wants to meet you. He’s been harping about it all morning when I let our conversation from yesterday slip.” Her resolute eyes have no room for refusal but I try anyway.

“Well, actually the caravan-” I begin, but she cuts me off.

“Won’t leave until shortly before noon, I made sure to check during the party,” she triumphantly states. I let out a defeated sigh.

“You got me, I’ll gladly enjoy your food ma’am. Though I’m afraid I can’t give another show like yesterday. There’s a severe limit to how much magic I can use, you see.” She waves off my concern, unbothered by it.

“Timothy wants to ask you about your football, and my husband is more invested in making sure you don’t do something like this again as a matter of fact.” The color drains from my face a little, she’s making it sound like I’m in trouble.

“No need to make that face,” she smiles, “he’s the local guard captain, he wants to discuss prevention methods. That spectacle of yours gave him quite the fright. I told him he’s overreacting, and that any mage capable of something like that has no need to attack us, but he just can’t let go.”

Theatrically I sigh, big movements exuberating the act, as I cleverly use it to mask my very real relief.

“Well unless you have some hidden agenda of your own, I’d be more than happy to eat lunch with you and your family,” I say with a polite smile. She has a dainty little laugh that she performs.

“I just like to cook, that’s all,” she innocently promises, though the wink she adds doesn’t set me at ease. Still, I let myself get guided to her home. Timothy is peppering me with questions along the way; most of which I have no answers to. Athleticism was never a real interest of mine, kicking balls around was enjoyable enough though, and I had some lessons in it as a kid. None of that ever went anywhere though, half of what my coach told me is buried under a thick layer of memories. The other half is just erased, I didn’t care much for the verbal abuse that accompanied it.

It’s a good thing her house is close because even the short walk has me quickly running out of nonsense to spew. Something about practicing in the sand to promote muscle growth. The kid is over the moon at what he thinks is some secret expert advice. The reality is much more somber, I just tell him what the coach told me, mixed with some stuff I nicked right out of an animated series.

As the wife guides me inside, her husband greets me at the dining table. I was already clued into the fact that he took a day off, all for this lunch; talk about putting pressure on me. The guard captain rises from his seat and walks over to welcome me.

“Hello! Sam, is it?” he asks with his rough voice, then continues without waiting for my response.

“I’m just bursting with questions for you,” he says, revealing the true nature of my invitation, “but that can wait, for now, Miranda prepared a most wonderful lunch. Normally we’d do something like this over dinner of course, but since you’ll be leaving soon, this will have to do. I can guarantee my wife’s cooking skills, however! You’ll miss it I tell you.” His voice is deep and scratchy, and I find his enthusiasm infectious, though just as tiring.

“I’m glad to be here sir, I’d been regretting rejecting her offer the first time.” Miranda snorts at my words. She’s probably thinking back on how I very much attempted to refuse once again today. Her husband gives me a grin though, unaware of his wife’s reaction.

“Good to hear, well, while Miranda works her magic, do you mind answering some questions?” he innocently tries. I just nod, and he grins again.

“Great, then, first of all, are you an… average mage? Last night’s show was just quite something to watch.” I shake my head and move to explain, but the guard captain doesn’t let me.

“That’s fantastic to hear!” he spouts out, then blushes when he realizes how inappropriate that comment could be, depending on how it’s interpreted.

“Ah, I mean of course that it is fantastic and remarkable how someone as young as you is such a powerful mage. Were you a student of the Academy?” he tries in an attempt to save himself.

“I wasn’t no, I’m traveling to the capital right now to apply, however,” I reveal. His eyes bulge at the implication that I did all that without formal training. Now, as funny as it is to watch him squirm, I think it’s about time I correct his thinking.

“You really don’t have to worry about your village being attacked by a rogue mage, sir, I don’t mean to brag but my situation is rather… unique.” Unfortunately, my words don’t take root.

“How unique can you really be in a world this big,” he mutters, then quickly adds on, “no offense meant.”

“None was taken, but if you’re interested in defending from a rogue wizard? Bar having mages yourself, your best bet is to not be valuable enough to attack. Not that villages are often a good target, no offense,” I shoot back. My blunt words make the message sink in somewhat though, and I can see him ponder my words. I follow up in the silence that follows.

“If it’s wild animals you’re worried about, well I think those bows and those arrows you placed at the gate are a fantastic method. Not that many creatures enjoy getting shot at; if there’s even any.” Some flattery is good, and these are my honest thoughts. I’ve had a healthy respect for the art of archery after visiting the university’s club once. The members were particularly fond of using enchanted bows and arrows while supporting their efforts with spells too. The seniors were targeting and hitting bullseye from almost a kilometer away. Absolute madness, I had literal nightmares about it that night.

The guard captain cheers up at my words, feeling very happy with his efforts being noticed and appreciated.

“That was a good idea, wasn’t it? It’s something the Royal Guard does too, I saw it when I was visiting the capital, I worked hard to implement a similar system here after that.”

“You’ve been to the capital? Would you mind telling me more about that? It’ll be the first time I visit it, you see, so I’m a little nervous,” I inquire curiously. Just as he begins his no doubt thrilling story, Miranda comes back in with lunch. A variety of sandwiches get placed on the table, then she reveals the highlight of the meal, a boiled egg for each of us. I even spot some salt on it.

Though I’m not sure how expensive this is, I get the impression they don’t eat like this every day. Reaching into my backpack, I pull out some dried bear meat. It doesn’t quite fit the theme, but it feels wrong to not contribute.

“I know it doesn’t look like much,” I say about the meat, “but this is some high-quality bear meat. It is very healthy.” Timothy’s eyes light up as he sees the meat, and his father looks on, intrigued. Miranda isn’t quite as enthusiastic, she gives me a disappointed look.

“Here I thought I was saving you from having to eat that the whole time,” she tells me. With a cocky grin, I offer her a piece.

“Try it yourself before judging me too harshly,” I say, and she hesitantly takes my offering, then puts it in her mouth. Her eyes widen at the rich taste. Though it’s dried and not nearly as good as when it was freshly cooked, it remains the meat of a mana-rich animal. That makes it high quality by default. Not to mention that it was prepared by a good butcher.

Timothy grabs a piece for himself while his mother is still distracted, and even his dad joins the fun. They both have similar reactions to Miranda. Who, now that she’s free from her trance, is pouting at me.

“I wanted to impress you with my skill, how could you pull out a hidden weapon like that,” she says. I just laugh and grab one of her sandwiches. I was never culinary inclined, but I don’t think her food loses to mine. It’s a treat and I treat it as such. The family joins the lunch and we settle into a comfortable rhythm of questions and answers. The husband tells me of his trip, the kid pesters me about more games, and the wife routinely asks if I’ve really eaten enough. She’s motherly, no doubt about that.

Time passes too quickly, and I suddenly remember I’m supposed to leave soon. When I hurriedly leave my seat the kid bars my way out.

“Can’t you stay?” Timothy boldly asks, but I have to disappoint him.

“I’m afraid not, they won’t stay for little old me, and I don’t want to walk all the way,” I tell the kid, then give him a high five.

“Don’t let those other kids beat you, you hear?” I say and he responds enthusiastically.

Miranda gives me a hug and her husband follows up with a firm handshake. With the goodbyes out of the way, I leave for the caravan. The sun is already quite high in the sky to my eyes, but I’m too used to using clocks to measure the time that I don’t know if I’m late or not. Not that I know when I’m expected to be there, to begin with. The road leads me towards the gates and it’s there that I find Percy waiting for me.

“Where have you been! We’re leaving soon, I was about to go and find you myself,” he tells me and I apologize as we both head for the carriages.

“Was I that late?” I ask him, but luckily he denies it.

“Not very, we’re still getting the drakes ready to move, that always takes longer than expected,” he reveals. I sigh in relief. We make our way to our assigned carriage.

“So?” my friend asks curiously, “Where were you hiding?”

“I got invited for lunch, it was more fun than I expected and I lost track of time,” I admit. Percy’s curiosity is not sated with just that, however.

“You got invited? Who do you even know in this village?”

“The guard captain, ever since lunch at least. I was teaching some kids how to kick a ball when one of their mothers struck up a conversation yesterday. Then again today, it turns out her husband is the leader of the guards. My little show from last night had him worried about mage attacks apparently,” I explain. He shakes his head at me.

“Can’t believe you’re better at networking than I am, and that’s with James’s training working in my favor.”

“I thought you didn’t want to be a merchant? Didn’t you do this for the experience?” He sighs at my questions.

“It’s complicated. I wouldn’t exactly mind being a trader, but my father kind of expects me to take over the city. Not that I’m against that, but my sisters have a good claim to it as well, and there’s only one seat you know?” he reveals. I wonder about that though.

“Does there have to be?” I ask, his face turns confused.

“Does what have to be?”

“Only one seat I mean, can’t you just split the work? Every sibling takes some duties and you hold a meeting every so often to discuss everything.” Percy looks at me with his mouth hanging open slightly.

“You have the weirdest ideas I swear. Unfortunately, we can’t. There would still need to be one city lord. The official title can’t be shared.” Again I question him as to why that’s the case.

“That’s how the king decided it is, he appoints the role in a ceremony. Though my father gets to decide who his successor is in practice.”

“Would you want to though? Share the seat?” I inquire. He takes a moment to think about my words.

“I… would? I think so at least. Though they’re overprotective of me, I think we could work together well.”

“So ask him.”

“I just told you, my father can’t decide this,” he tells me, a little exasperated.

“No, not your dad; ask the king.” I enlighten him. His whole face goes blank. It takes a moment for his mind to reboot.

“Ask the king!?” he yells, and I admonish him for the noise.

“Sorry, but seriously. You can’t just ask the king these things! It’s not easy talking to him, to begin with,” he clarifies, his voice sounding sad.

“Just because it’s not easy doesn’t mean it can’t be done right? What options do you have for it?” He thinks for a while. Then the carriage starts moving and our conversation is interrupted.

“Ah, they finished then,” Percy states. I’m about to ask about the kingly meeting options again when something catches his attention.

“Someone didn’t close this crate properly,” he complains and gets to work fixing the mess. I decide to let the matter rest. Looking outside to pass the time, I am serenaded by Percy’s noises of irritation at the work of his colleagues. It wasn’t just that crate as it turns out, and I’m guessing someone is getting a mandatory course in knot tying at our next stop, judging by my friend’s ranting.

“This is shoddy work is all I’m trying to say,” he tells me, though I only listen halfheartedly.

“One good bump could knock the lid off and we could lose merchandise that way.” His irritations just grow as he inspects the other boxes. Noticing flaws with every step of his routine. The blueblood has high standards and he’s not afraid to enforce them. No one is safe from his criticism. He keeps his hands busy with fixing the contents of the crates and personally tying all the knots again. By the time he’s finished the sun is slowly setting over the horizon.

Suddenly he stops what he’s doing and turns to me.

“You can meet the king at graduation,” he says out of the blue, “The highest scoring student is awarded a private meeting with him.” I guess he was thinking about my words more than I thought.

“Then I guess you’d best study hard noble boy,” I tell him