As soon as the sun rose the next day, Yuer had one of the residence’s servants send his apologizes to the clan head and his Dasiri for not being able to join them for breakfast. He used the excuse of being too eager to visit the bookstore as a front for his unwillingness to meet Naer Ayaseen. The last thing he wanted to see early morning was the face of the man who had no qualms about ‘selling’ his own child. Time was precious and he had no desire to waste it on the unworthy.

Hence, Yuer loaded the little Valquari child and Hasha into his clan’s side carriage along with Sakina and took off before either masters of the residence woke up.

As soon as the coach driver reached the Merchant District, cacophony abounded outside the carriage. This particular district of the capital was the locality that never slept. During the daytime, it was day market and during nighttime, the night market took over. An endless cycle of trade and profit continued seamlessly from one day to the next since the very founding of Thurul, the capital of Sema.

The Merchant District was divided into many sub-streets. Each street catered to a certain clientele with specific goods. There was the Silk Street, the Food Street, the Shefrin Street, the Jewelry Street and so on and so forth. Merchants from all corners of the Empire and even those from foreign lands traded for a living in here. The merchants of this district had their own organization which represented them in the Reznali court, the Mash’kanta Coalition.

Today Yuer wanted to drop by the Silk Street first. This particular street was coined after the nationally-produced fabric of Sema, Semani silk. However, the name had evolved to encompass all produced clothing and tailoring craftsmanship. Thus in this street, anything that could be worn, no matter the fabric or the season, one would find it here.

Yuer decided to split his party into two pairs. He told Sakina to take Hasha and help her find what she needed. He also reminded the two girls to stock on winter clothes. Sakina threw Yuer a meaningful glance at that but didn’t press any further. The male youth designated the Merchant District’s central plaza as their rendezvous point. He stood for a while, watching his faithful servant and his personal guard as they disappeared into the crowd.

He then took the little boy’s hand into his own and sat off toward his decided destination. Yuer didn’t fail to notice the figure in the shadows, tailing him from behind alleyways. He smiled, somewhat amused at how predicable the Ayaseen Dasiri had become now that he truly knew her.

Soon enough, Yuer reached his desired shop. It was the very shop that made his harem Selection set in his past lifetime and also in this one. They were famous for their expansive collection of fabric, their meticulous designs and superb craftsmanship. They also did custom orders which made them quite popular among the Dasrari.

The clerk at the reception desk noticed him right away. The young man rushed to greet him. He briefly glanced at Yuer’s sash before performing a waist-deep bow to the youth. He started in an amicable, gentle voice, “Welcome to Zaradate’s Shawl, esteemed client.”

Yuer nodded in acknowledgment, “Thank you. I’m looking for a collar for my newly acquired servant.”

The young clerk looked down at the little Valquari boy before candidly stating, “Esteemed client, I hate to be rude but our shop specializes in tailor craftsmanship and not Shefrin ornaments. The Shefrin Street has specific shops that carter to what your esteemed self needs.”

Yuer lightly snorted. It seemed to him that the shop owner was as haughty and prideful as she had always been. No other shop in the entire Merchant District would dare to turn away a Dasrari young master. Had he been the typical, self-important Dasrari, he would have thrown quite the tantrum at the clerk’s words. Yuer, however, didn’t respond in the manner which the teller might have expected. Instead, he took his time smoothing his hand over the Valquari child’s nearly bald head. The little boy must have loved the gentle caresses because his black eyes became half-lidded in pleasure just like a baby kitten. A rare, warm smile danced on the older youth’s lips at the sweet and endearing sight.

“I want the collar to be padded with silk and the Shefrin shops are not allowed to own silk. I’m also going to order several sets of clothing for myself. Would you still want me to go somewhere else?” retorted Yuer in an unruffled, measured voice.

The young clerk rushed to rectify his previous words, “Of course not, esteemed client. You are more than welcome here. The quality of our craft cannot be found anywhere else so we will take on your request for the collar as an additional service. Please follow me.”

Yuer offered the clerk a sarcastic upturn of his lips and silently followed after him. He surveyed the displayed complete sets within the shop’s first floor and picked a piece here and there for himself. The clerk then took him to the second floor where children’s clothing was stocked. He picked several casual sets for the little boy, along with five winter cloaks and many undergarments. At last, Yuer was guided toward the leather workshop on the third floor. He had the craftsman take the child’s neck measurement and then took a seat in one of the offered chairs. The youth patiently waited as the artisan worked through the leather. The monotonous sound of the leather grinding wheel nearly lulled Yuer to sleep.

A candle-hour later, the simple collar was finished. The clerk offered the finished product for Yuer to inspect. The youth smoothed his fingers over the polished black leather. He afforded his engraved initials a brief glance before examining the cushioned deep purple silk. In the end, he beckoned the little boy and gently fixed the collar around his bony, skinny neck. After clasping the collar shut, Yuer softly asked, “How is it? Does it hurt anywhere?”

The Valquari child touched the collar, somewhat fascinated by it and shook his head.

Yuer smiled, “If it chafes your skin or causes you any discomfort, tell me right away, alright?”

The little boy looked up. His black eyes, somewhat gleaming. He then nodded, slipping his small hand back into Yuer’s.

The older youth bent over, bringing his mouth next to the child’s ear, “You will only have to wear this when we are around other people. When we are in private, you can take it off.”

The little boy responded by tightening his grip around Yuer’s hands. The latter patted him on the shoulder and straightened his back. He turned to the clerk and said, “I want to place a custom request. How long would it take for it to be delivered?”

The clerk, seeing an opportunity to amass more profit for the shop rushed to inform, “It depends on esteemed client’s request. What kind of clothing does your esteemed self wish to order?”

Yuer stared into a space for a moment before replying, “Mourning set. It needs to be simple, long and black. I don’t want any added thread or embroidery. The fabric must be the plainest of silk. The collar must be especially tight and as high as the neck would go. The back of the robes must be left exposed below the nape.”

Paper was an expensive commodity so the clerk took out one of the several wood tablets hanging on his belt and rushed to jot down Yuer’s requirements. He then guided the youth to a dressing room on the second floor where an apprentice took his measurements. Once everything was settled, Yuer paid the shop and left.

The clerk was about to go back to his reception counter when he noticed the frown on the apprentice’s face. He asked, “What’s wrong with you?”

The apprentice lifted her head and answered, “I swear I have heard of this design before. I just can’t remember exactly where.”

The clerk sighed, “What does it matter if you know of it or not? Just take the measurement back to the workshop.”

He then walked off. The apprentice dragged her feet to the second floor when it suddenly dawned on her where she had seen this design before.

Back in ancient times before the rise of the Semani Empire, its current northernmost province, Kersa, was an independent state of its own. They had their own gods and chieftains. They also had an ancient mourning ritual where the deceased’s closest kin would wear black and dance barefoot upon snow. They would dance for three days and nights until their feet blistered and bled. Once the blood mixed with the snow, it was then believed that the departed soul will never forget its way back home in its next life. This ritual was long dead even in today’s Kersa. So, from where did a Thurulian Dasrari youth stumble upon such an old and forgotten thing?

The apprentice pursued her lips. She only knew about such an obscure thing only because their eccentric owner routinely educated newcomers on the history of the Empire’s clothing. Deciding it had nothing to do with her; the apprentice shook her head and simply went back to her work.

Yuer continued his journey through the Merchant District. He picked up a twin pair of obsidian swords eaten by rust and time. Much to the bewilderment of the blacksmith, he paid for them exactly as they are, refusing to have them repaired or sharpened.

He then dropped by the Artisan Street and brought a broken, out of tune Mevadi zither. In fear of losing his reputation, the artisan begged Yuer to let him replace the frayed and missing strings but Yuer declined. The old man refused to take any coin but Yuer threw him three coppers for the damaged instrument and wordlessly left. Even the little Valquari boy was confused as to why the older youth was buying unwanted things that were beyond repair. Yuer sensed the child’s bafflement and only answered his unspoken inquiry with a small, serene smile.

Afterwards, Yuer and the child walked to the Merchant District’s central plaza where they reunited with Sakina and Hasha. Yuer also found his clan’s side carriage waiting for him there, parked among the many other carriages. Sakina jumped to greet him. He looked at her and said, “Sakina, take Hasha and the child and wait for me in the carriage. I will go to the bookstore on my own.”

The servant girl nodded and gently cajoled the child into following her to the carriage. The little boy spared Yuer a final glance before walking away. Hasha however, didn’t leave. She remained behind, folding her hands across her chest as she spoke in Mesrin, “I’m your personal guard now. Shouldn’t I follow you wherever you go or something like that?”

Yuer chuckled, “No, there will no need. This one thing I want to do alone. I need you to keep an eye on Sakina and the child. Keep them safe for me. Robbery in daylight is commonplace around the Merchant District.”

Hasha retorted, “And how about you then? What if someone tries to rob you?”

The older youth smirked, his eyes flashing green for an instance. Hasha’s amber eyes suddenly grew as wide as teacup saucers. She whispered in an unsteady voice, “Wait…Aren’t you a Light Listener, how could you be an Earth Listener too? This just doesn’t make any sen---”

Whatever words Hasha was going to say next died in her throat. Utter disbelief was visibly painted across her Mesrin features. “You can’t be…I mean, that’s just impossible…there is no way you are…Are you?”

Light laughter tumbled out of Yuer’s lips as he walked away.

The Mesrin girl stood frozen to her spot, even long after Yuer left. Sakina eventually came to urge her to join her and the child in the carriage. Hasha heedlessly followed after her. One single thought kept insistently resonating through her mind. He is an Alikana-marked; the boy is the Alikana-marked of Sema. Why is it that no one bothered to tell me?

She suddenly recalled something. Back at the Shefrin market, when she was being beaten by that mercenary brute, didn’t Yuer avenge her? She had always wondered how a slender young Dasrari thing would make a seasoned fighter who towered over him by heads suddenly lose balance and stumble. Back then, she was too tired and hungry to pay attention but now, the answer hit her right on the face.

Earth Echo! He used Earth Echo and he also used Light Echo when he healed me. Bahita, preserve me! He is truly the Alikana-marked of the Empire. What were the chances she, who was but a mere Untrialed warrior of a branch Mesra tribe, would meet and be employed by the Alikana-marked of this age?

She had thought Sakina’s fawning over the youth was but the fawning of a favored servant over her master. Now, it looks she was the one who missed the entire point. The Mesrin cursed to herself, Damnation! Now, I have to go about calling the boy Exalted this and that. What a pain.