The city's marketplace is as lively as it can get. Buyers with different professions scoured the stalls for materials they will need. Unlike the shabby stalls near the city gates, these shops were draped in silk and guarded by well-equipped arms men. Merchants, both local and exotic, barked out the quality of their wares, offering high-quality gear to any adventurer brave enough to seek fortune in the outer wilds.
Damian woved through the crowd and stalls, trying to find merchants that sell magic textbooks. He passed through rows of armorers and weaponsmiths, clanking their hammers from steel to steel, creating their masterwork; their blades and armors gleamed with deadly polish. He passed by alchemists hawking their brewed vials that enhance a person's physical strength, and detox potions to cure common ailments. But none of the stalls sell what he was looking for.
Damian bumped into a girl slightly taller than him, sending her ice cream tumbling down the cobblestones.
"Y-you! Watch where you're going!" She barked, puffing her chest out and shoved Damian. "Now you'll have to pay for that! If you don't, I'll tell my father—the Mayor of this city—that a common brat like you harassed a highborn girl like me." The girl said. She had bright-crimson hair that matches her attitude: angry, entitled and rowdy.
Damian stared at the fallen dessert with contempt rather than regret. The coin pouch is being kept by Sir Robin, and he has slipped away from him trying to find a merchant that sells magic textbooks.
"Dont worry, I can even pay you with gold for that ice cream you ordered, enough to buy more perhaps." Damian said, not even bothered by her haughty attitude.
"Tch, what even are you, a son of a High Lord?" She scoffed and crossed her arms, "My grandfather is the Lord of Melvor, he has the backing of the Northern houses within this territory. And my father, he discovered there were mana crystals deep in the mountains. The Duke of Aisdel himself ordered for the mining operations to begin. Which is why the North is now catching up to the advancements of the southern regions.
Damian did not bother telling her his real noble status. He wanted to see the look of her face if he stood next to his father, probably choking on her own breath.
"I'll just wait for my companion, he has my coin." Damian said.
The girl blinked with disbelief.
"Grrrr… forget it. Benneth!" She barked at the man in black, who was paying the ice cream seller at his stall. His mustache is thin and neatly trimmed.
"Yes M'lady? Is someone bothering you?"
"This idiot boy spilled my ice cream. I want a new large one. Immediately!"
Benneth, I heard that name in the meeting. Could it be… Damian thought. He was preoccupied with the girl's rowdiness and the thought of getting over with this that he hadn't realized.
"As you wish, m'lady." He nodded and headed towards the ice cream stall.
She stared at him intensely, almost wanting to pounce at him at any moment. But for Damian, he ought to be wandering off to another stall instead of dealing with petty matters like this.
"Hey, Little brother! What are you doing with this girl? She looks like she's about to bite you?" Ivan caught up to him, and Sir Robin followed like a shadow.
Ivan stopped beside Damian. His eyes darted between the crimson haired girl and his little brother. A grin slowly spread across his face as he connected the dots.
"You found her already?"
"Uhm, yeah…"
"Nice work, lil' bro!"
Ivan grinned and turned to the girl, his grin widened. She is, without a doubt, the daughter of Maximillian.
"So, you must be Agnes right?" Ivan said.
"Indeed I am. Wait– how did you know my name?!" She shrieked.
"My father is at the meeting with lord Cedrick and your father."
"Oh? And who might you be?"
Ivan puffed his chest.
"Ivan Vermillion! And my brother here is Damian. The knight beside me is Sir Robin, a sworn knight of our Great House."
Agnes fidgeted her sleeve. She had just yelled at the third-in-line to the Great House of Vermillion over a large scoop of iced dessert.
"V-Vermillion…" Her gaze dropped to the floor "The…Great house of Vermillion? I…uhm… nice to meet you, Ivan."
Where did your fiery attitude go now, Lady Agnes? Damian thought and closed his eyes with a satisfied smirk.
Benneth returned, balancing the ice cream in his hand. He had ordered a big sugar cone layered with lots of ice cream on top.
"M'lady, your ice cream." The butler said. Agnes took the ice cream with trembling hands, casting small glances towards the brothers and their knight.
"Woah," Ivan nudged Sir Robin. "buy me one of those too!"
"Of course." Sir Robin pulled two silver lyons inside the pouch and headed to the ice cream stall. He was only instructed by their father to spend the money on anything other than swords and armor; the things that Ivan thought of buying before they went here.
Ivan stepped closer to Agnes.
"Actually, we came here to pick you up. But now I have other plans." Ivan said, a smile tugged his lips. "Why don't you show us the more interesting parts of this city?"
"Oh, that I certainly can do." Agnes said, "Come on then, follow me!"
Agnes led them outside the crowded marketplace and towards the landmarks of Kolberg. The first stop was the central plaza and the fountain they passed on earlier.
Oh right, so she was the same girl who tried to swim in the fountain's basin… Damian thought.
"This is the wishing fountain. They say your wish will come true depending on the coin's value." Agnes said, a playful smirk danced on her lips. "Which means one golden lyon is equal to a wish come true; a silver lyon, the wish may come true a week from now; and with a copper penny, your wish will come true at the most unlikely moments."
"Oohhhh…" Ivan hummed and his eyes gleamed. Without warning, he grabbed the pouch from Sir Robin's belt, pulled a golden lyon, and flick it towards the fountain's basin. The coin plopped on the water as he closed his eyes and wished.
"I wish to grow so strong," He muttered under his breath, "even Damian's petty tricks won't save his butt from me."
Damian can't help but roll his eyes, his palm buried on his face as a suppressed chuckle escaped him.
"M'lord, the pouch!" Sir Robin stammered to grab the coin pouch from Ivan, "Your father instructed me to–"
"Bah! It's mine now, Sir. Besides, my father is thousands of steps away, and I am right here." Ivan smirked. He tucked the coin pouch deep into his jacket. "You must follow me, my sworn knight."
Sir Robin didn't say a word after, only a pained look on his face. He let the boy take charge with the pouch full of gold.
Agnes led them towards a tailor shop: 'The Northern Loom'. She proudly announced it as her personal favorite . They entered and her butler followed, Sir Robin took up his post as their sentry outside. The shop was filled with Northern garments; thick fabrics designed to protect you from the biting chill of the region's harsh winters.
"Your jacket is awfully drab for a young noble like you." Agnes said, eyeing Ivan's outfit "Does your father always dress you in such gloomy colors?" Agnes said.
Damian couldn't help but agree.
Father has always had a fondness for the drab… Damian thought. Lanius saw it fit to dress his sons with common dark-blue, grey and black wool garments; a small fur cloak to top it all. It's not as fancy as a southern noble's tunic, but it fits their father's pragmatic way of thinking.
"I know that part is true…" Ivan replied. "What would you have me wear then?"
Agnes tapped a finger against her chin, her eyes narrowing as she appraised him.
"A tunic of red and white, mayhaps. Isn't it the colors of your family's crest? The red lion rampant holding an axe, in the field of white?"
"Oohh, you're right." Ivan said, "That one then." He pointed towards the nearby spruce rack. A long sleeve, white garment of wool, with red linings on the sleeves and hem. When Ivan put it on, the whiteness of the wool made his auburn hair burn like a fiery hearth.
"Woah…" Ivan struck a pose and puffed out his chest. "I look like a true Vermillion!" He roared like a little lion.
Agnes broke into a fit of giggles, while Damian struggled to hold his own. He looked away, a sharp puff of air escaped from his nose, and his lips formed a tight line.
"I bet you do, a drab colored jacket doesn't make your fiery hair shine bright." She said, "As for me, I decided to go full red to suit my crimson hair."
Meanwhile, darker colors suit my style. Damian thought.
Ivan paid two golden lyons for the finely tailored clothing.
Their next destination, the bakery where Agnes buys her pastries. The bakers have a very welcoming presence as they head inside. The smell of freshly baked bread from the well-heated oven filled the air. Tarts, pies, cream puffs and loaves of bread were all displayed according to their shelves.
Ivan bought a basket of bread while Agnes bought a basket of cream puffs.
The two seem to go along well, like two peas in a pod. Damian thought as he watched them munch on their bread.
"Damian, you should try this bread too." Ivan said, his voice muffled while chewing his bread.
"Dont talk while chewing food." Damian grabbed one, "Thanks for this though." He took a bite of the freshly baked bread.
Meanwhile, the two adults have been talking for a while. Damian heard of the usual self-introduction to both men, how long they've been in service of their respective noble House, and of course describing how troublesome the young nobles they take care of.
As the group were about to head to another place, Sir Robin asked Ivan regarding the ongoing meeting. He leaned down to whisper in his ears.
"A moment, m'lord." Sir Robin said in a cautious tone. "In case you forgot, the meeting at the manor is still in session. We were tasked with bringing Lady Agnes back so she might witness the terms of the betrothal herself."
Ivan paused, looking at the bustling streets of the city.
"Can't the meeting wait? I'd rather take another stroll in the city with Agnes leading the way. I'm not ready to go back yet and neither does she."
"Your father won't be pleased if this drags on. We have less than an hour before his patience wears thin." Sir Robin whispered gruffly.
Meanwhile, Benneth was engaged in a losing battle of his own.
"No way!" Agnes shouted, her voice rang so loud it turned heads across the street. "I finally have someone to play with, and I won't waste this chance to get to know him!"
"M'lady, please." Benneth said, his voice steady and showed no hint of irritation. "Sir Robin has already briefed me about the meeting. You ought to be present before the lords."
"Then they can talk with my empty chair!" Agnes yelled louder. "I can't stand those boring adult talks, just let me play with Ivan for a bit more!"
Benneth let out a long, weary sigh, pinching the bridge of his nose as he felt a headache would pop the longer she refused.
"What is the meeting even about?!"
Damian, who has been strangely quiet and observant, finally said a word.
"I heard it concerns your uncle, Sir Elric." Damian said, his eyes fixed on her. "He is to become a sworn knight of our House and…"
Damian paused, letting the weight of the next words hang in the air.
"Your father also mentioned the possible betrothal between you and Ivan."
Agnes froze, the spark in her eyes had vanished. She turned, her neck moving stiffly as she looked towards Ivan.
"Huh? Uncle Elric… he's not… he's not staying with us anymore?" Agnes said, her voice dropped to a hollow whisper. Her jaw clenched, shifting rapidly from shock to a burning, white-hot anger.
"Tch… I'll talk to my father," She said with disdain in her mouth. Her teeth grit so hard they almost ground together. "Damn him!"
Without another word of protest, she spun on her heel and bolted. Her dress fluttered as she sprinted towards the manor.
She must have been incredibly close to her uncle knight… Damian thought.
"M-my lady! Please, wait a moment!" Benneth called out. Despite his frantic tone, the butler maintained a steady pace as he trailed after Agnes.
The rest of the group followed, their focus solely on Agnes's sudden outburst. Damian, however, began to lag behind once they passed the central plaza. He slowed down his steps, allowing the distance between him and the others to stretch until he was merely a shadow at their vision. Damian made sure that they were all gone, ensuring even Sir Robin's keen eyes weren't looking for him.
"Forgive me Sir Robin, but I can't just let this chance slip away." Damian muttered under his breath, a faint smirk spread on his lips.
He spun around and hurried towards the plaza's ornate fountain. His eyes locked onto the shimmering water where Ivan had tossed a golden lyon earlier and said his absurd wish.
"The pool can't be that deep, right?" Damian muttered, taking off his wool jacket.
Damian dived into the basin. The cold water shocked his skin as his small hands swept through the coins spread across the floor.
l can't seeit, Damian thought, his eyes squinting through the shifting blue light. Only copper lyons…spread on every corner. Some are silver, about six. He shook his head underwater.
That won't buy even a basic magic book, it'd cost as much as a luxury silk robe or more…
He breached the surface to gasp for air before diving a second time. This time, he swam deeper into the center of the basin. There, a sharp glimmer of light caught his eyes. With a burst of energy, he kicked hard and snatched the gold coin from the floor.
Alright, now it should be more than enough to buy the book I wanted.
He swam up, dried the hem of his shirt and put on his jacket he had left lying on the floor.
Damian sprinted towards the marketplace, his heart hammering against his ribs.
He skidded on the cobblestones as he came to a halt, his eyes roaming around the crowd searching for any sign of magic. To his left, a merchant was selling leather jerkins for novice warriors, and reinforced robes for casters. A small party of adventurers had gathered there; one of them is a young man who is leaning casually against a weathered wooden staff. Damian felt a sudden urge to ask him for directions.
Without further hesitation, Damian waded through the crowd and approached the young man at the stall. He reached out and hesitantly tugged at the man's travel-worn robe.
"Uhm… excuse me, mister." Damian said.
"Oh? Hello there, kiddo." The young mage answered, offering a warm smile. "Are you lost?"
"No. Well, technically?"
The young mage tilted his head, amused. "What do you mean by that?"
"Nothing," Damian corrected himself instantly, shaking his head . "You're a mage, right? I was just wondering if there are any stalls nearby where you can buy grimoires and magic textbooks."
The young mage's smile faded and his eyebrow raised. "I see, but aren't you a little too young to–"
"–I know, but please just tell me where I can find one." Damian said, his voice hushed but firm.
The young mage paused, considering if what he's about to tell to the boy will be wise. Damian is just six, in the eyes of many adults, it is a strange thing for him to be asking for a grimoire, even dangerous.
"Hmm. Alright then," The young mage said, pointing directions for Damian. "Head straight towards this road. Once you passed the armorer's stall, turn right. Keep walking until you see a purple tent. There's an old caster there who sells grimoires and other magic items for far less than any official bookstores."
He pulled a leather-bound book from his bag, the cover embossed with flickering flaming motifs."I bought this grimoire about fire magic for a single gold lyon. Normally, an official bookstore would charge ten more for the same thing."
"Amazing…" Damian said.
"Hold on, have you been awakened beforehand?"
"Awakened…what's that?"
"To become a mage, even most apprentices, you have to be tested to see if you have the potential for mana control. Well, have you?"
"No," Damian admitted "But I can learn how to. My mother is a mage, she can teach me once I have the materials."
The young mage exhaled and nodded. "Well, good luck to you, kid. I hope you become an accomplished mage someday."
"Thank you! Thank you so much, truly!" Damian beamed a smile, already headed towards the path the young mage had described.
Damian sprinted towards the road, his eyes looking for the armorer's stall. His feet came to a halt when he spotted a familiar figure. A man draped in a fur cloak and olive green tunic underneath, talking to the armorer.
Damn it! He's already looking for me. Damian thought, his heart hammering against his ribs.
Sir Robin turned his head slightly, and Damian dove behind a fruit seller's crate.
I can't let him catch me, or my father will give me a long scolding…
Damian stayed low and crawled beneath the fruit stall, moving through the shadows of baskets and burlap sacks. He reached the back of the section and peered out. Sir Robin was moving in his direction. With a burst of silent speed, Damian snuck from stall to stall, weaving through the crowd of buyers until he reached the edge of the marketplace's section.
To his right sat the road the young mage had described. At its end stood a vibrant purple-colored tent.
Damian make haste where the tent stood, not even attemptig to turn his head back to check if Sir Robin is still after him. He stopped when he was near the entrance of the purple tent.
This is it…
Damian slipped inside. He was met with various crystals in shades of ruby, emerald, citrine and sapphire, all hung from the ceiling by thin threads. It bathed the purple fabric with an illuminating and ethereal glow.
The shelves were a gold mine of magical knowledge. To the right, grimoires written in jagged, foreign tongues sat there gathering dusts; those written in the common tongue were neatly arranged on the left corner. Tables were filled with enchanted scrolls, runic daggers, and exotic robes hung from darkwood racks.
The tent's desk was empty. Damian walked over it and looked closely, he bent his knee and checked underneath. The travelling merchant must have wandered off or took a leak outside.
Damian stood and went towards the left shelves. He grabbed a heavy grimoire and read the title: [Ice Magic: Advanced Lessons]. When he flipped a page, he found a circle with the shape of a snowflake etched in the grimoire. The texts described how it was casted, and each medium will have different output: hand casting is fast but limited in range; a wand offers more focus and better damage; but a staff, while it takes more time to cast, provided the greatest area of effect and precision.
"Are you lost, boy?" A whispy voice called from the desk, "Or perhaps you mistook my shop for a funhouse?"
Damian jumped, quickly returning the grimoire back from its shelf and turned to face him. An old man with messy blue hair and a thick mustache wiped the dusty book with a rag. He looked him straight in the eye.
The boy would have run away just as a fox would if he were caught rummaging through the chicken's coop. But no, Damian came with a clear objective in his mind.
"Or perhaps," The old mage offered a welcoming smile. "You are exactly where you're meant to be."
He placed the cleaned book away from the dusty ones. "I see a certain hunger in those yellow eyes. Tell me, boy. Do you truly desire magic?"
Damian stepped near the desk. His voice is small but firm. "Yes. I need a book to start with."
"Hmm…indeed." The old mage scrabbled through the pile of old magic textbooks. "I have the [Basics of Elemental Magic], [Healing for Beginners] and…ah!"
The old mage held up a dusty pocket-sized book. "You're a complete beginner, this one will satisfy your needs."
The old mage wiped it clean from dusts before handing it to Damian.
Damian took the book from his hand. He traced the cover and read the title: [The Fundamentals of Mana Manipulation]...
"It's small enough to hide in your pockets. Perfect for a young mage-to-be like you." The old mage noted.
"How much for this?"
"Seventy-five silver lyons. But for a commoner like you? Fifty shall suffice."
Damian grabbed the golden lyon from his pocket and handed it to the old mage.
"Gold?" The old mage raised an eyebrow, his eyes fixed on the lynerian lion embossed on the gold coin. "Are you of noble blood, boy?"
"I am." Damian nodded.
"Hm, I see. And does your guardian know you're here?"
"If he did," Damian muttered. "he'd have me dragged by the collar before I could even step inside this tent."
The old mage left out a wheezing chuckle as he counted fifty silver lyons into a small pouch.
"Thank you, old man." Damian smiled, tucking the book inside his jacket and clutching the pouch of silver in his small hands.
"Have fun learning." The old mage called out. "And don't forget me once you become a master."
Damian turned to leave, but the sunlight on the exit's path had been blocked. A man clad in fur a cloak stepped inside the tent, his hand clutching the hilt of his sword. Sir Robin looked at the mage, then down to Damian. He let out a long, weary sigh and pinched the bridge of his nose.
"Young master." Sir Robin said. "We're leaving, now."
Damian never said a word. He gave the old mage one last look as the knight hoisted him up, carrying him out of the tent like a sack of grain.
"You're going to get me in trouble for this…" He furrowed his brow.
"I'm sorry, Sir." Damian whisphered. "Should my father scold you, I'll tell him it was all my fault."
"Dont bother." Sir Robin grumbled, though his grip on the boy softened. "He wouldn't listen to you anyways."