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Chapter 4: chapter four

Notes:

SLAMS HEAD AGAINST MY LAPTOP. IT'S FINALLY DONE. SIX AND A HALF THOUSAND WORDS. I DON'T EVEN HAVE ANYTHING INTELLIGENT OR FUNNY TO SAY ABOUT THE CHAPTER I'M JUST TIRED. TAKE IT.

Chapter Text

Laius didn’t sleep well that night. She stirred into semi-wakefulness after hours of fitfully drifting in and out of consciousness and when she opened her eyes she winced as they were stung by harsh morning light, having never even sensed the sun rising. She had tried not to toss and turn so as not to disturb Kiril and then have to spend a not-insignificant amount of time trying to get him back to sleep, but she never slept well in unfamiliar beds; especially not cheap, uncomfortable beds in unfamiliar places.

She had been awoken by the quiet sounds of Falin and Marcille shuffling around the room, whispering to each other as they got ready for the day. Laius groggily turned her head to peer back at them, seeing Marcille standing and tying up his hair in a very complicated-looking braided updo, and Falin sat near him on the large trunk at the foot of Laius’ bed, his figure partially silhouetted by the pale sunlight cascading through the windows. Marcille snickered at something Falin said that Laius couldn’t catch with his back turned to her. Laius realized then that she had not yet seen the elf do so much as smile once before now. She had quietly assumed he was just the type who didn’t smile much, but that clearly wasn’t the case. Winding that red ribbon into his hair with practiced ease, he smiled quite brightly as he listened to Falin—the kind of smile that softened his eyes and rounded his cheeks, making him look much more like the young man he was than the strait-laced academic he presented himself as.

Securing the final braid, Marcille turned his head toward Falin and opened his mouth to say something—until his gaze caught Laius’ just behind him and that small, affectionate smile immediately dropped and his shoulders jumped in mild surprise. 

“Oh! Um, good morning,” he said, sounding bashful, “I hope we didn’t wake you.”

Falin turned his head back to look at Laius, still laying on her side beneath the sheets, and he smiled at her. “Oh, sorry, sis. Did you sleep alright?”

Laius sat up slowly with sluggish effort and croaked out, “Alright enough,” even as her muscles were sore and a headache pulsed behind her eyes. She rubbed the sleep out of her eyes, blinking around the room and finding herself dimly surprised that it had not all been just a vivid dream. She pondered when the novelty would wear off, how many nights it would take for her to get used to the lumpy mattress and hearing her brother’s voice first thing as she woke up each morning again. 

Falin gave her an empathetic look, “No, they’re not the comfiest beds in the world, I know,” then he laughed softly, “You should have heard how Marcille complained for months after we first arrived.”

Marcille pouted and let out a small hmph . “I still think they’re giving me back problems. My posture isn’t improving, that's for sure.”

Falin turned back to him, “I think that’s mostly because you spend too much time hunched over your tomes. I think you should take more breaks.”

Marcille plucked a hooded blue mantle cape off the corner of a shelf and wrapped it around his shoulders, adjusting it as he huffed, “So you say, but I didn’t graduate with honours by slacking off—and I do not hunch .”

Falin sighed and looked back at Laius once more, shaking his head, as if to say can you believe him —but smiling so fondly that Laius couldn’t help but smile back. It was very sweet to see Falin so close with somebody, the easy familiarity between the two of them lending credence to all the paragraphs Falin had written praising Marcille and recounting the small joys of their daily lives together.

Falin sighed contentedly, “Well, now that you’re up, I should tell you that Marcille and I are headed into town to interview with an adventuring party. You and Kiril are welcome to come if you want to look around the village while we do that. The morning market isn’t too far.”

“Oh,” Laius paused, half-asleep brain still catching up, “Sure, if you guys are okay waiting for us while I get him up and washed.”

“It’s no trouble, we’re not expected for a little while yet,” Marcille called. He had settled at a narrow desk stacked with parchment and texts closer to the other end of the small room—what she assumed to be his side of their shared space, next to his bed behind that tall bookshelf.

As if on cue, the blankets beside Laius suddenly rustled and Kiril’s mousy-haired head poked out from beneath them as he stirred. He mumbled something incoherently with his face pushed into the itchy sheets. Honestly, it was a miracle he hadn’t woken up sooner. Laius wondered if perhaps the journey had been more wearying for him than she’d first thought, as she rustled the top of his hair. “Rise and shine, Ki,” she coaxed, “we’ve got another big day ahead of us.”

Kiril responded by smushing his face further into the pillow and making more incoherent noises. Falin chuckled, “Heavy sleeper, is he?”

Laius hummed, pulling the sheets back and watching the small boy finally blink his eyes open to look up at her confusedly, “Not really, I think the long trip just tired him out,” She wiped a bit of sleep from the corner of Kiri’s eye with her thumb, “Huh, buddy?”

“Hungry…” he mumbled in reply.

Falin stood and came around to the side of the bed, standing behind Laius as she pulled Kiril upright. “Me too,” he said over her shoulder, “Get up and dressed and you can come with us to get breakfast. Sound good?” Kiril looked away, shy, but nodded.

Marcille was already slipping on his shoes at the doorway. He gestured to Falin, “We’ll step out so you two can change, and you can meet us downstairs to eat when you’re all ready.”

Falin nodded in return, “Right, yes. Take your time, we’ll see you in a moment.” He patted Laius’ shoulder and gave Kiril a tiny wave goodbye. He didn’t wave back, still shy around the uncle he barely knew, but Falin beamed down at him nevertheless. The two men left, leaving Laius and Kiril alone in the room.

It was all very routine from there; Laius undressing Kiril of his dirty clothes, pouring water into the wash basin from the tall clay pitcher next to it and cleaning up Kiril with a small cloth as he whined about the cold. Once Laius was content that she had wiped all of yesterday’s grime away, she pulled a fresh set of clothes for him and herself from the small rucksack that contained all the necessities she could carry when she left—which, admittedly, was not much. She only had a few extra clothes, a bar of soap, a bit of money, and, of course, Kiril’s favourite stuffed dragon and her Dungeon Gourmet Guide. Those last two things had barely fit in the bag when she’d been hastily packing, but she knew that they would both appreciate a little comfort on the journey. She also, perhaps, may have been feeling a little optimistic when she packed her beloved book—that maybe she would be able to find a way to put its knowledge to good use in a place so close to a dungeon.

As Laius went through the familiar motions of getting the both of them dressed, her mind wandered. She still had no idea of what she actually wanted to do here—what she could do. She’d lived her whole life on one set path that she hadn’t really ever bothered to question until it was too late. She had no real idea what her options actually were. Laius hoped that the answers to her questions would be easy to find once she was able to acquaint herself with her new surroundings, but that doubt still lingered at the back of her mind like an itch she couldn’t reach.

She let out a loud sigh as she tied the laces at the front of her dress, having to undo and redo them three times before she managed to make the laces straight in her hurry to get downstairs. She tied the front of her hair back as she often did to keep it out of her face and wondered how Marcille had the energy for anything else. Getting dressed was the most tedious part of the day, more of a chore than anything. Especially so when she had to be concerned about making a good first impression.

Once they were ready, Laius gathered Kiril and left. The rest of the inn was strangely quiet as she walked through the hall and down the stairs, and when she got to the downstairs tavern it was completely empty, all the chairs flipped up onto the table and mostly dark save for the few front windows letting in some light. Marcille and Falin were waiting by the door, Falin leaning casually against the wall as Marcile stood straight with his hands folded primly behind his back, though rocking back and forth on his heels just slightly in anticipation to get going.

Laius waved to them from the bottom of the steps and put Kiril down to give him a chance to stretch his legs before she would likely have to carry him around for most of the day again, though not bothering with the sling this time around. Falin waved back and laughed at Kiril immediately wandering into the middle of the dim room and then plopping down on his butt and looking back at Laius like he was waiting there for her.

Laius smiled and followed him over, “Over to the door, bud, come on.” She reached down and grabbed his hands, “Up!” she encouraged as she pulled him to his feet, keeping hold of one hand to guide him the rest of the way over to Falin and Marcille. The former kneeled as they approached, smiling wide at the young boy.

“Still hungry? Ready to eat?”

Kiril tucked his chin down and uttered a timid “Uh-huh.” 

Marcille kneeled down as well, which made Laius notice the tall, wooden staff leaned up against the wall behind him. It was made of what looked like dark wood branches twisted around each other, spiralling up into a wide loop at the top like a keyhole. Tiny verdant leaves sprouted here and there on it as if the wood were still alive. Had he left the room with that and she hadn’t even noticed? It was nearly as tall as he was. Marcille tilted his head, smiling kindly at Kiril, “I’ll make sure we eat somewhere good, don’t you worry.” He looked up at Laius, “Our treat.”

Laius blinked, then exclaimed, “No, no! I can’t ask you to do that.”

Marcile waved her off as he and Falin stood, “It’s nothing, really.”

“But I–”

“Laius,” Falin reached out to touch Laius’ arm comfortingly, “We already said we’re more than happy to look after you two.”

Laius tensed her shoulders in preparation to continue protesting, when Kiril tugged at the wrinkled hem of her skirt. “Mama, hungry,” he complained, shuffling restlessly and staring at the door.

Laius sighed and scooped him up into her arms, ruffling his hair playfully, “Okay, bud, let’s go.”

As it turned out, the market really wasn’t far from the inn at all. Laius heard and smelled it before she saw it; flowers and herbs, children’s playful screams, fresh-baked bread, the clinking of glass bottles and windchimes; the familiar sensations of late spring, after the rainy season when the world is at its brightest and folks have not yet grown weary of the long, hot days of summer. Turning the corner to actually reveal the market street felt like entering a whole new world; stands and kiosks lining each edge and crowds of people perusing the wares and chatting happily amongst themselves. Laius hadn’t realized she’d stopped walking in mesmerization until Falin called, “Don’t get lost!” from a distance ahead, him and Marcille nearly disappearing into the crowd already.

They had apparently arrived at the busiest time, or maybe Merini village was always this busy no matter the time or place. Laius did her best to navigate the torrent of people while holding a small child who kept twisting around to stare at anything novel that caught his eye. Falin kept looking back to make sure they were keeping up, at one point having to catch Marcille’s cloak to make him slow down—for which he meekly apologized and fell behind Falin to let him set their pace.

They stopped at a stall manned by a young, wide-eyed half-foot boy. Or, at least, Laius assumed he was young—she was not familiar enough with half-foots to be able to discern their ages easily. He was stood on a stool behind the counter and yet still barely at shoulder-height with it, and he regarded Falin and Marcille with excitement when they approached. Behind him, a more visibly older half-foot woman with greying auburn hair and deep smile lines sat on another stool in front of a metal pan overtop the still-smouldering coals of a makeshift grill. She had thin sheets of paper spread flat over her lap, on top of her grease-stained and crumb-covered apron, wrapping up something that smelled savoury and delicious. Laius watched her deftly twist the loose ends at the top of her little paper bundle and tie them off with a thin strand of twine into a neat bow as the boy behind the counter began to speak.

“Hey, Falin! Marcille! Momma’s just finishing up the first batch now, so you came at the perfect time.”

“Ooh,” Falin sighed excitedly, tilting his head and calling to the woman—the boy’s mother—behind him, “Good morning Mrs. Neals! They smell especially delicious today.” Marcille hummed in enthusiastic agreement.

Mrs. Neals didn’t look up as she gently tilted something golden and crispy from the pan onto the next sheet of paper in her lap, “Compliments won’t get you served any faster, kiddo. If I don’t take my time, these things don’t stay in one piece.”

“Of course. I’m just eager for my sister and my nephew here to try some as well,” Falin extended his hand out behind Laius’ shoulder to urge her closer to the stall. With her free arm not supporting Kiril on her hip, she waved in what she hoped was a friendly enough manner.

Mrs. Neals looked up from her task and her eyebrows flew up her high forehead when she spotted Laius, “Oh, dear, I’m sorry, I hardly noticed you!”

Laius smiled awkwardly, “It’s fine, really. Don’t let me distract you from what you’re doing.” It was meant as a nicety, but her stomach decided then to punctuate her sentence with an insistent growl. Luckily, the street was noisy enough that it went unnoticed. 

Mrs. Neals shook her head, “No, no, it’s fine. A new face is always exciting. Or, I suppose, new fac es ,” she gestured to Kiril, who tucked said face into Laius’ collar at the attention. “What’re your names?”

“Oh! Um,” Laius looked to her brother nervously, widening her eyes at him. Falin squinted uncomprehendingly at her before realizing what she was imploring.

He cleared his throat, “This is my older sister, Laius, and this is her son—and my nephew—Kiril. They’re staying with Marcille and I for a while, so prepare to be getting double the business from us,” he grinned playfully.

Mrs. Neals smiled warmly at Laius, “Well isn’t that nice! I’m Lillabow Neals, and this here–” she reached over to pat her son’s shoulder, whose wide, cheerful  grin was missing a front tooth, “–is my son Jayflick. It’s lovely to meet you.” Jayflick nodded in enthusiastic agreement, and Mrs. Neals glanced down and began to resume her process of wrapping their breakfasts. 

After a beat, Laius assumed the introductions were over, and opened her mouth to ask what Mrs. Neals and her son were selling that smelled and looked so good, when all of a sudden the older woman asked, “Did you come to the island with your husband? He’s an adventurer, I presume? That’s why most young people come to the island.”

Laius’ throat went dry, mouth still hanging open, “I…” she glanced at Falin and Marcille. Neither of them looked inclined to answer for her this time—which she supposed was kind of them, but not particularly helpful in the moment. “No, I’m… not married.”

Mrs. Neals eyebrows raised again, but thankfully she did not pause this time, tying off a third bundle of food. “Oh,” she simply said, and the short syllable sounded very loaded to Laius’ ears, somehow. She swiftly wrapped up the fourth and final bundle, hopping off the stool that nearly came to her shoulders and setting her paper and twine aside. She finally placed the food on the counter and smiled up at Falin and Marcille.

“Two gold, please!” Jayflick blurted, as if only just remembering his job at the counter.

They paid, and as Laius reached for one of the bundles—the paper wrapping beginning to spot with grease leaking through—a small, very warm hand came down on top of hers, not holding her still but firm enough to make her pause. Mrs. Neals looked up at her, smiling in a way that showed off her dimpled cheeks and the crows feet at the corners of her eyes, kind and comforting.

“Come by any time, sweetheart. We’re here most days. Bring your boy by, too.”

Laius cleared her throat, not knowing if it was okay to pull back her hand so she could get her breakfast or not, “Um, yes, thank you. I will.”

Seemingly satisfied with that, Mrs. Neals nodded and patted her hand before letting it go. Laius quickly grabbed her and Kiril’s food and stuttered out “Um, bye,” before unsubtly shuffling to hide behind Falin and Marcille, who also said their much less awkward goodbyes before they walked away. 

Falin and Marcille lead her over to a small cluster of tables and chairs beneath a patchwork canopy shielding various folks from the sun as they conversed and ate whatever they had bought at the market. The four of them managed to find an empty enough spot—though Falin had to sit on the ground, and Kiril in Laius’ lap—and were finally able to eat.

Laius unwrapped her mystery delicacy to find a fried patty of what looked like grated potato, a few pieces of diced veggies that were mixed in peeking through the crispy yellow exterior. Falin and Marcille were already happily digging in, so she quickly unwrapped Kiril’s serving for him and placed the wrapping between his legs as a plate before taking a bite.

It was delicious; salty and savoury with a bit of tang from some onion and some other green vegetable she couldn’t identify. She had grown up her whole life eating potatoes in her village, as they were a staple—but they had always been boiled, mashed, or baked. She’d never thought to fry them, and she felt silly for not thinking of it sooner. Their group ate in relative content silence, and Laius very quickly devoured the whole thing, and then stole the last few bites of Kiril’s when he understandably couldn’t finish the generous portion of food he’d been given.

It was nice, just to eat a meal in quiet company, with the cool spring morning breeze gently brushing her face. Even with all the hustle and bustle around them, it felt like her world stood still for just a moment, savouring the peace of it.

Eventually, though, Marcille fumbled with a pocket watch from somewhere beneath his cloak and exclaimed, “Shoot! We’re going to be late if we don’t go right now.”

Falin half-groaned, half-sighed, “Yes, yes.” As he stood and brushed the dust off his dark pants, he asked “You’ll be okay staying around the market with Kiril, right? We shouldn’t be long at all. Adventurers are very straight to the point.”

“I think blunt and extremely rude are probably better words,” Marcille grumbled next to him, fidgeting with his staff.

Laius rubbed some crumbs away from Kiril’s mouth with her sleeve as she said, “Yup! We’ll be just fine,”

Falin sighed again, “Okay, good. Don’t go far, alright?”

“I’m your older sister, that’s my line” she protested, though it was a distinct possibility. Falin chuckled softly. Then the two men waved goodbye and walked away, becoming folded into the crowd.

Kiril was getting restless in her lap, kneeling up to stare over her shoulder at the other people in the small rest area. Laius patted the back of his head, “Yeah, let’s go look at some other stuff. C’mon bud.”

Navigating the market on her own was nerve wracking, though everybody seemed to be minding their own business and stall owners were content to let her gawk at their wares without buying anything (though, the only reason she didn’t was that she had forgotten her money at home), which made it a little easier. 

At one stall, she saw a stall displaying beautiful and intricate tapestries hanging over and around its counter. One of the tapestries—displayed at the very front, right next to the round-faced dwarven girl manning the stall—was a beautiful ocean scenery; swirling blues and greens enveloping colourful fish of varying sorts. As Laius peered closer, she saw tiny, iridescent bits woven into the scales of some of the fish that shifted from dark green to shimmering gold as the fabric fluttered in the warm breeze.

“Dragon scales,” the girl explained, as if reading Laius’ mind, “I was told these were from a type that are found deep in dungeons within the central continents. Very expensive. But very beautiful, no?”

Laius’ eyes went wide, leaning in close to stare at the tiny, shifting shards. She had never seen parts of monsters be used in art before. She had heard that some had practical uses in magic, but as magic was looked down on where she was from she’d never seen anything like that herself, much less used as embellishments on a tapestry. 

“Have you…” Laius paused to swallow, her throat suddenly tight, “Have you ever used other types of monsters in your tapestries?”

The girl paused to think, not at all thrown off by the question, “Not often, but yes. With the dungeon discovered not too long ago, adventurers are always bringing out all sorts of beautiful scales, hides, and things like that,” she shrugged nonchalantly, “I once made a tapestry of a wolf and added in real patches of dire wolf fur. Surprisingly soft.”

Laius’ hands shook as she gingerly reached up to touch the pad of her index finger to one of the scale pieces, its edges rough and as cold as steel even in the late morning sun, “I wish I could have seen it.”

The girl grinned, “Bring me a dire wolf pelt and l’ll make you one just like it, for a price.”

Laius managed to eventually pull herself away from the dragon scale sea, making an effort to try and see everything the market had to offer before her time was up. It was all very similar to her first day on the island, wandering around with her son and getting distracted by new sights, sounds, and smells. It was nearly too much, but that didn’t necessarily make it unpleasant. It was exciting.

Soon enough, though, Laius could tell that Kiril was starting to get exhausted with it all, tucking himself as tightly into her chest as he could to get away from all the noise and movement. She huffed, a flash of frustration flickering in her chest just before she was able to stamp it out. She took pity on him, instead, and walked them both over toward the end of the street, where the road declined into a shallow set of rough stone steps. Laius sat down on them with Kiril, and though the crowd was much more dispersed here, she still stuck to the sides to avoid being in the way of all the people coming and going past. She gathered her skirt, tucking it beneath her legs as she sat to keep it from being stepped on or tripping anybody. Kiril sat in her lap and fiddled with the ends of her hair, twining them around his short fingers and occasionally tugging a bit too hard. It seemed to soothe him though, so Laius allowed him to continue while she stared off at the road ahead of her.

She watched a pair of small grey birds—doves, of some sort, but not ones that she had ever seen back home—hop about on the road a few feet away, strangely unbothered by the commotion of people around them. Their wings were streaked with black and a patch of a jewel-like green coloured each of their throats, shifting as they bobbed their round, sleek heads up and down as if observing the village themselves. One picked up a pebble off the ground, tossing it quickly aside as it seemed to realize it was not, in fact, a crumb of dropped food. The other dove hopped clumsily after the discarded pebble, apparently not understanding why its companion threw it away, and then proceeded to do the exact same thing. Laius bit back an amused grin.

Then, abruptly, a wide, imposing man stormed carelessly right between the birds, almost trampling them and frightening them off—taking flight and retreating up into the rafters of the shops lining the streets. Laius startled as well, holding her breath as she watched the man seem to not even notice the peace he had disturbed and continue marching on down the road. She let out a heavy, disappointed sigh through her teeth. Her breath ruffled the curls on top of Kiril’s head, and she idly brushed them back into place with her middle finger, tracing the swirling locks of hair on top of his head. He, in turn, tugged roughly at her own hair and giggled as he twisted his head away from the sensation. “Tickles,” he grinned into her shoulder.

“Laius!” somebody then called distantly. Laius jolted and craned her head around to find the source, spotting Falin and Marcille coming down a narrow side street adjacent to the market behind her. Falin waved and was smiling as he always did, but closely behind him Marcille looked significantly less pleased, thin lips drawn into a pout and his brows pinched together in vivid irritation.

Laius waved in return and stood to greet them, hauling up Kiril with her. When they got close enough to not have to yell over the din of the busy village, she asked “How did it go?”

Falin’s warm smile wobbled. Marcille scoffed, “They expected magic school alumni to be made of money. They were very rude when we informed them otherwise.” He wrung his hands over the length of his staff, clutching it against his chest indignantly.

Falin sighed, “Adventurers have to make a living, but…” he folded his arms and lolled his head to the side, now unable to hide his crestfallen expression, “I wish they had been up front about their rates sooner.”

Laius frowned sympathetically, “I’m sorry, you guys, I–”

Kiril suddenly whined loudly, trying to squirm out of Laius’ arms.

“What’s wrong? You were fine a minute ago!” Laius cried, fighting to keep a hold of the writhing toddler.

“Is he okay?” Marcille asked worriedly, stepping forward.

“Yes, yes, he’s fine!” Laius said, a bit defensively, “He’s just—Kiril, hush!—getting a bit fussy.”

Falin made a sympathetic noise, “Shall we go home, then?”

Laius frowned, “I suppose, I just–” she hushed Kiril again, “I haven’t really gotten the chance to see much. Kiril got tired pretty quickly.” She began bouncing Kiril like she did when he cried as an infant, which worked marginally in getting him to stop struggling against her physically, at least. Her arms and back ached with the strain of the movements, getting tired.

Marcille let out a thoughtful hmm , “We could take him home while you stay here, if you w–”

“Oh, no, you don’t have to do that, it’s alright,” Laius blurted before Marcille could even finish, “Besides, I’m sure the last thing you guys want to do right now is look after a fussy toddler.”

“No, it’s no trouble at all,” Falin insisted, “we’re headed back anyway, and if you want to stay then you should stay.

Marcille nodded along, “And it’ll give you a minute to yourself, something I’m sure you don’t get very often.”

“I…” Something in Laius’ stomach clenched unpleasantly, “You guys have already done so much for me, and Kiril is my son; he’s my responsibility.”

“It’s not about responsibility. Kiril wants to go home, and so do we. You want to stay. It’s very simple,” Falin said.

“Laius, I’ve already stressed that you are not a burden to us,” Marcille added, resting his hand on the back of Falin’s arm as he stepped closely beside him in front of Laius, “That includes your kid.” Kiril whined in her ear again, tired and overwhelmed, starting to squirm again the longer she stood there.

Laius averted her eyes and let out a long and resigned exhale, “Okay, yes, take him with you. But if you need–”

Falin was already reaching for Kiril, “We’ll be fine. He probably just needs a nap anyway.”

Laius relinquished her son to her brother. However, Kiril did not go without a fight, reaching for Laius as he was gently lifted from her arms and kicking his feet against Falin. This caused Falin to fumble with him a bit, which he resolved by simply setting Kiril down on his feet and kneeling in front of him.

“Marcille and I are gonna take you home. Do you want to be held or do you wanna try walking?”

“Uh,” Kiril looked away and took a step as if to try and run away, but Laius gently held him by the shoulders to keep him still, squeezing reassuringly. “Walk,” he eventually mumbled.

Falin smiled with relief, “Okay, it’s not too far,” He gingerly took Kiril’s hand and stood, “Let’s go, then. Marcille?”

“Ready whenever you are.”

Falin nodded. “Okay. Come on, Kiril,” he urged the boy away gently, taking small steps so that he could keep up. Kiril looked back once at Laius, dazedly, who nodded her encouragement. He turned forward again and let himself be led by Falin.

Falin and Marcille left again, this time with her son in tow, toddling alongside them. Laius watched their backs for just a second; watched Marcille say something to Falin and watched his shoulders shake with laughter; watched Kiril look up curiously between them. Then Laius turned her focus toward the unexplored roads ahead of her, considering where to go first.

She settled on heading down the road leading away from the market, where the grey doves had flown off. She glanced around curiously at the shop fronts, some with displays outside of clothing, tools, and even elegantly carved wooden furniture, some with windows to peer inside and gawk at the shelves and racks of wares inside, all sorts of varying trades and crafts on display in this one small street. Laius felt very much like a tourist, hands folded behind her as she didn’t quite know what to do with them and weaving indecisively back and forth across the street. Still, she was enjoying herself, now having all the time she wanted to explore.

On the corner at the far end of the street, where cobblestone and brick began to give way to grass and dirt and she could see what looked like residences in the distance—downhill from the more bustling, commercial parts of the village—there was a squat, brown stone building. A blacksmith’s shop, she guessed, as right at the front a pentice covered a stout crucible protruding from the wall, alight and flickering, as well as a roughly-hewn workbench, an anvil, and an impressive collection of hammers and other blacksmith’s tools hanging on the wall next to the crucible. Most notable above all of the equipment, however, were the myriad weapons hung on display and placed upon tables at the front.

An intense, older-looking dwarf—clearly the blacksmith himself, judging by his leather apron and the soot smeared along it as well as his thick arms and face—stood leaned against his work table as he conversed with a pair of tall-men, youthful and dressed in similar sets of light armour. A pair of adventurers. One of them was examining a longsword, weighing the sizable blade in her thick-gloved hands. The blade shone in the sun as she turned it in her palms. Her partner was looking at another weapon on one of the display tables, tilting his head in careful assessment

Though all they were doing was standing and looking at swords, Laius found herself staring at the pair as she walked slowly past the shop. She seen many types of people in only her first couple of days in Merini, but this was Laius’ first time seeing—or perhaps simply noticing—the adventurers that have turned this village so bustling, and something about them drew her eyes in such a way that she had a hard time averting them. It may have been the way they carried themselves in their armour, their movements so smooth and light as if the leather and chainmail weighed nothing. Something about their confidence, about the way the sunlight glinted off their pauldrons–

“Ah!” Suddenly, Laius felt an impact and her whole body was knocked back, having walked directly into something that hadn’t been there a moment prior. She tripped over her own feet for a moment as she stumbled, trying to regain her balance;

Fortunately, a hand caught her sleeve and reoriented her, “Oh, I’m so sorry! Excuse me.”

“I’m sorry!” Laius echoed on a reflex, her brain only just catching up to the fact that she had just ran into somebody because she wasn’t watching where she was going. She jerked her head up and saw a young woman looking at her with concern.

“Are you alright, miss?” The woman asked, and Laius found it difficult to answer on account of her bright, frighteningly blue eyes boring into her, catlike and piercing in contrast with the woman’s dark brown skin and even darker hair, thick curls like a dense thicket framing her face. A slight smile tugged at her lips—welcoming, sweet—yet her stare felt hot on Laius’ face.

Laius was sure her cheeks were turning red at the sudden attention, “Yes! Yes, I’m fine. Thank you. Excuse me,” she took a step to leave, but found the woman still had a hold on her sleeve, and she wouldn’t stop staring . Laius stilled and met her gaze uncomfortably, fighting the urge to look away. “Excuse me,” she repeated, slower. 

“Ah,” the woman blinked, her eyes widening just slightly, and shook her head as if snapping out of something, “Pardon me, but you just–” she tilted her head, eyes sweeping up and down Laius, “You aren’t Falin Touden’s sister, are you?”

Laius’ whole body went stiff and cold like she’d been petrified, the spike of panic shooting through her causing her to forcefully jerk her sleeve out of the woman’s hold. “What? I don’t…” She certainly hadn’t introduced herself as Falin’s sister to anybody here. She knew nobody on the island except for him before she arrived, so how…

The woman seemed to recognize Laius’ unease, because her burning stare abated, blinking slowly and looking down at Laius’ hands clutching anxiously at her skirt. “Oh, sorry, I just assumed,” she apologized, taking a step back, “I just heard there was a new face with him at the Adler Inn, and you both looked so alike…”

“Oh.” Laius shifted on her feet, fidgeting in place. Laius took in the stranger in front of her more properly. She was young, short in stature and quite thin, which was made plain by the way her tall leather boots and black pants hugged her deerlike legs, and the belt cinching in her loose white blouse into her narrow waist. The woman’s tone was casual, light in a way that made Laius start to believe that she wasn’t trying to be nosy. She really was not so intimidating. Laius let her shoulders drop and asked, “Are you and Falin friends, then?”

“Well,” the woman smiled bashfully and glanced away, “Not particularly, but communities like these are tight-knit. Word gets around fast, and…” then she looked back at Laius and her gaze had softened, more gentle than the fixed, intense eye contact of before, “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to startle you.”

“No, no it’s alright…” Laius said, and then trailed off, not sure what else to say. Then her father’s lectures on her manners came to her and she stuttered out, “Ah– My name is Laius! And yourself?” and stuck out her hand to her new acquaintance for her to shake.

“Laius,” the woman sounded out, as if tasting the name on her tongue. She took Laius’ hand in both of hers, warm and surprisingly soft, but did not shake it—merely holding it, “It’s wonderful to meet you, Laius. I’m Kabru. Are you free? Let me treat you to a meal, as a welcome to the island.”

Laius fidgeted again, fingers flexing involuntarily in Kabru’s grasp, “Oh, sorry, I just ate. Some other time, maybe?”

Kabru didn’t look disappointed, only nodded with that same friendly smile on her face. She was still holding Laius’ hand, and Laius worried about her palms getting sweaty, “Of course. I suppose I’ll be seeing you around either way, what with us being neighbours, after all.” She released Laius’ hand, stepping back, “I should get going, anyway.”

Laius’ hand remained hovering, outstretched. “Um, yeah,” she replied intelligently.

Kabru nodded again and stepped to the side to walk past Laius. As she did so, her voice rushed past Laius’ ear, bright and full of promise, “Until next time, Laius Touden.” 

And then Laius was left standing, unmoving, with her hand held out awkwardly in front of her and a dumb look on her face. Her mouth opened to reply, before realizing it was much too late as she looked behind her and only saw the winding streets looking back. Her jaw clicked shut, but then opened just as quickly as she realized–

Neighbours? Next time?

The fingers of her outstretched hand flexed again and then curled into a fist that she brought close to her chest.