The sun’s bright rays made their way through a half opened attic window of a small house, which was located on the outskirts if a tiny village- Halatuan, falling on a figure of a boy deep in thought. Jacquez had a dilemma – “How to make time flow faster?” Since the night when his father had agreed to take Jacquez with him to the city and let his son help him in the final part of the farmer trade: the selling of the fruits and vegetables, which they had worked hard the whole season to produce.

Jacquez had long ago noticed a weird thing in the structure of the world - when you are expecting something good to happen, time moves slowly as if it was caught in slow motion. On the contrary, an unpleasant event creeps up faster than you can count to ten. In this case too, Jazquez waited patiently for the Summer Festival to come, so he could finally start his little venture into the city, but it was as if time was stretched out like a rubber band, moving slowly, second by second. Even his everyday activities like harvesting, cleaning the house and helping his father do various little jobs, which would normally bring him joy and fill him with a sense of accomplishment, bought him nothing, but a feeling of apathy and boredom toward them. Thankfully the god of boredom wasn’t all-powerful and not matter how much he tried to hold back time, the eager expectation of the boy were slowly growing as the long hours passed. Finally it came, the last day of harvest, the eve of the Summer Harvest Festival.

It started out as usual, some breakfast with his dad and after that working on his almost finished part of the field. At noon, when the sun was at its highest, the little boy covered in sweat, took a break and as usual walked over to his father’s side, after filling the canteen full with well water. The father-son couple sat next to each other, enjoying the cool sea breeze, as it blew on their faces that were parched from the hot august sun. After looking at Jacquez for a few moments the father spoke first: “Jacquez today is the last of the harvest, ill finish up the fields on my own. Go and get some rest, maybe play with kids your age. You know sometimes I feel as if I’m robbing you of your child hood by making you work on the fields with me.” He looked a little sad as he said those words, which couldn’t have been more wrong.

“Dad, stop it. You know as well as I do, that I wouldn’t do it if I didn’t enjoy it. And think of it as if I started from an earlier age than the other farmer’s sons, so in the future I will be more experienced than them and will bring in more gold, hehehehe.” I laughed by wicked laugh, which I always got when I was talking about money.

“That really means a lot to me son, but now I really want you to get some rest. Don’t think that I’m giving it to you for free, nothing is free in this world, remember that forever. Think of it as an investment, because I’m gonna make you work till you drop in Calomb city!”

I smiled and finding no reason to argue, just nodded in agreement. After half emptying my canteen, I filled it up at the well and slowly walked to the village.

The atmosphere was buzzing, kids running around trying to take a look, while the women were staring out of their windows. The men of the village put on an apathetic façade, but were secretly stealing looks from the main street of the village, that ran right through the middle of the village with houses on either side. The object of curiosity were a group of merchants, or “a caravan” as it was referred to in common tongue were passing through our village. It wasn’t too big, about 35 people, each with their own oxen carrying various goods on wagons. There was everything from pretty necklaces to deadly weapons, from magic stones to detailed maps of different duchies and kingdoms.

But there was something off. All the others stood there watching the procession and nobody asked the question “Why weren’t they stopping to trade?” Those few that actually did could satisfy themselves with the answer that the merchants were rich and the amount of profit that they would make in Halatuan was so measly that it wasn’t worth the time. One of those was our little protagonist. The caravan proceeded along the main rode, finally coming to a halt at the end of the village which was opposite from the one they had come from. They quickly unpacked their bags, put up tents and started a fire. The crown gathered around them watching in silence as they worked until finally the village chief stepped walked through the crown and walked to the merchant, who looked like the most important among them.

“Greetings, we welcome you to the village of Halatuan. What brings you here into our little home?” he said after shaking hands with the merchant.

“We as any other merchant, are in search for the truth behind the world – profit. For it, we are prepared to sail across any sea and cross any dessert, because to us, there is no god, nor a holy being other than the sound of coins jingling in our pockets.” He said loftily, while the others behind him cheered him on.

The village chief continued: “Actually our own farmers are traveling to Calomb city, the day after tomorrow, so I would like to ask for permission if they could join your party. We have heard of bandits terrorizing the nearby roads and I think that you will agree if I say that the more people there are in a party, the bigger the chances of survival. So would you please take them with you?”

The head merchant hesitated, but after recovering his composure he answered shortly: “Then so be it.” The village chief bowed and slowly walked away. Most of the people followed and just a few were left that still stood there eying the foreigners. So even they left and everything returned to normal. Jacquez was the last to leave thinking

‘Something smells fishy here… Probably the breeze that’s blowing from the sea.’

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If he had stayed a little longer he would have probably heard laughing as all the merchants started doing it hysterically.

“They bought it, commander, but your acting was terrible. Thank god you’re a soldier and not an actor, because of you were one then I would really feel bad for the theater in our duchy!” said one of the “merchants” hitting the one, which introduced himself as the head merchant to the villagers. “But why did you accept their proposal of them coming with us? They could find out our real goal.”

“Even if they find out, we only have 3 days to go to reach Calomb city and our objective of delivering the young Duchess to her parent will be complete. Go check up on her, she must be cramped and bored in there. Must have benne pretty boring stuck in 4 walls all those days and tell her that she has to endure it for only 3 more days.” Said the head merchant.

“Yes, sir!” saluted the soldier as he ran to the biggest wagon that stood in the middle of the little encampment. It was huge and it wasn’t really a wonder that a person could travel comfortably in it for days, maybe even weeks. “Dutchess, are you alright?” he asked. A tiny yes came back as soon as he asked. After returning and reporting to his commander, he sat by the fire watching some of his companions making lunch. His mouth started watering, as his stomach let out a loud grumbling sound. He looked around in embarrassment, as the commander shook his head in disapproval and said:

“Soldier Rogerchicken! Being a part of the army requires not only control of the sword, but also your own self, your emotions and of course – hunger!”

“Sorry, commander, but since I have the word chicken in my name, I feel like I have a bond with the chickens that my brother-in arms are roasting on the fire and my reaction wasn’t that of disgust, but of pity, commander!” the soldier smiled his sly smile and he congratulated himself, praising his own cleverness. Unfortunately like it always happens – it backfired.

“Hahaha. Rogerchicken, I didn’t know that you were such a smart aleck. Well if you feel that sorry for the chicken, I guess there isn’t any other way around. Your brothers-in arms would gladly rid you of the unpleasant activity of eating an animal that you share such a strong bond with…” The poor soldier Rogerchicken looked crestfallen as the meaning of the words hit him: “No lunch. :(“

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It was still day, but the thick trunks if the trees in the Calomb forest made it look as if evening was already at hand. Maet, the deputy leader of the bandits sat in front of the fire sharpening his weapon. He looked around and saw all the other bandits doing the same. In 4 days they would attack the young duchess’s escort, which was disguised as a merchant caravan.

How did he know that secret information? Easy. The answer was simple, he wasn’t really Maet, the deputy leader of these bandits. That was just an alias he had used for the past several weeks. His real name was Marquis Chesterville and he didn’t really plan on returning the young Duchess for a ransom. Heck, he didn’t even plan on kidnapping her. All he needed to do was to kill her in the middle of the commotion and make a quick getaway. After completing his mission he would receive a large financial compensation, while his father, as well as his entire bloodline, including himself, would finally be promoted to the status of Count. All those weeks of gathering these bunch of idiots, leading them from the shadows and even putting a righteous leader as the dominant figure was all planned out perfectly. A few more measly days and his plans would bear their fruits, and just as the people had asked of him, it will look natural, as if a bunch of savage bandits had killed her while on a raid. He felt kind of bad for the little girl, but ‘Oh well’ he thought ‘Guess her parent made enemies, really powerful enemies!’

He let out a loud laugh, which made all the heads in the surrounding area turn in his direction for a second. The marquis kept sharpening his sword in front of the fire, slowly muttering word after word:

“You are as good as dead, little duchess, as good as dead!”