Chapter 7

Chapter 7

Lansius and Stefi continued browsing the quiet market, where only a few persistent vendors remained after the siege. They discovered a small shop tucked between two larger, shuttered establishments. Although there was no wooden sign, an assortment of colorful clothes hung gracefully from the second-floor window.

“Ah, the old grandpa made it through!” Stefi exclaimed excitedly, pulling Lansius by the hand and pushing the door open with the other.

Upon entering, they were met with the scent of well-worn fabric and leather. A tall, sharp-looking man with a thin beard and contrasting dark clothing rose from his seat, setting aside his needle and unfinished work. “Ah, Miss Squire, it’s a pleasure to see a familiar face in Riverstead.”

“Happy I’m not running from my debts, Keith?” Stefi teased.

Keith stifled a polite laugh, turning to Lansius. “How may I help you, tradesman?” He gestured toward the wares in his shop.

“I need a tunic, affordable but with a formal appearance,” Lansius replied as formally as he could be, looking at the neatly organized racks of clothing, which included tunics, dresses, and cloaks.

“And for what purpose?” Keith inquired politely, albeit with a demeanor more akin to a soldier than a tailor.

“He’s a scribe,” Stefi chimed in.

“Ah,” Keith murmured, turning to a neatly stacked pile of garments.

“Why not this one?” Stefi suggested, pointing to an already folded piece of clothing.

Keith glanced at Lansius, and Stefi assured him, “He’s all right; he’s with me.”

Lansius quickly added, “I can keep a secret.”

Keith smiled and explained, “The folded ones are likely looted from this city or nearby area. Lord Karius’s men forced me to buy them. I’ve already bribed their officers, but they still demand more.”

Stefi looked at them, found something she liked, and inquired. “Can’t you sell them to us?”

“Let’s avoid trouble. Those garments are tailored for nobles, and someone will recognize the original owner. If word gets out, we could all face consequences,” Keith reasoned, pulling two tunics from the pile—one yellow and one blue.

Lansius immediately took a liking to the vibrant blue tunic, but he maintained a neutral expression and replied, “Don’t you have something brighter? I don’t want my employer to think I’m uneducated.”

Keith chuckled, refraining from commenting on Lansius’s accent, and returned to the stack, searching for a tunic that would suit Lansius’s needs.

Stefi approached Lansius and whispered, “I like the blue one.”

“If you’re in a fight, do you show your intention to your opponent?”

Stefi was taken aback and understood his reasoning. “Good thinking.”

“I’m not a teacher for nothing,” Lansius quipped.

“Now, here’s a brighter one.” Keith pulled out a red tunic. Its color was faded, making it closer to a pink, but the intricate embroidery along the neckline and hem spoke of its former elegance.

Lansius had no intention of buying that one, but he put down his leather bag on the table and tried on the red tunic. The fabric felt soft and comfortable against his skin.

Eh, linen can be this soft?

“You can tell from the stitches that it’s quality work, not too old. You can wear it until you’re too old to work,” Keith joked, promoting the tunic.

“What’s the price for this one?” Lansius asked.

“If it were new,” Keith said, employing his merchant skills, “the material, dye, and tailoring cost would make this tunic worth at least four silver.”

Lansius softly sighed and said firmly, “Too expensive.”

“You haven’t heard my offer,” Keith said.

Lansius removed the tunic and politely handed it back to Keith, saying, “If it’s around forty copper new, then I probably can’t afford it. Do you have anything else?”

“How about this Centurian blue tunic?” Keith suggested.

“If you need a simple adjustment, I can do it for you, free of charge,” Keith said.

Lansius proudly wore his new blue tunic as he stepped out of the shop, brimming with newfound confidence.

“Come here,” Stefi beckoned, wanting to admire the blue tunic with its intricate orange embroidery along the neckline and hem.

“Lans, it looks good on you. Now you look the part,” she complimented.

“Of course, it cost me five copper,” Lansius quipped. “That’s enough to buy food for a week.”

Stefi giggled and elbowed him, knowing he had gotten it at a bargain.

“Oof, what’s that for?” Lansius complained but couldn’t help chuckling as he followed her.

“Next up is the sword,” she announced.

“Eh, no, I’m a scribe. I don’t need a sword,” he blurted, fearing she was going to train him with a sharp sword for real.

Stefi paused and pondered. “All right, then let’s just head there,” she decided, leading him southward, toward a large building at the end of the market district.

“What’s this place?” Lansius looked up at the tall stone compound with walls and large double gates for carts.

“Hopefully, your new office,” Stefi replied.

Lansius was taken aback by the size of the municipal office. “But weren’t we planning to do this tomorrow?”

“Well, it’s nearby, and it can’t hurt to try out your new Centurian blue tunic.”

The two walked until they saw a small door just beside the double gate. A guard in brigandine lazily greeted them with a nod but didn’t ask any questions. They entered through the open door and passed several other guards who watched them with similarly little interest.

Inside, they discovered a garden and a large, paved courtyard, with the towering three-story Riverstead municipal office building overhead. The structure had once been a proper castle, but now it served as storage and a taxation office.

Lansius marveled at the well-maintained medieval garden, filled mostly with herbs and a few blossoming flowers and plants protected by a fence. A carpet of grass and tall, old trees with roots spreading into the stone wall and buildings completed the picturesque scene.

The garden was so well taken care of that Lansius commented without thinking, “This would be a great spot for a picnic.”

Stefi looked at him and asked, “What’s a piknik?”

“Umm . . . eating out in the open on the grass?”

“Like when we’re stuck outside on a campaign? Why would you want to do that again?” She rolled her eyes.

Lansius chuckled but refrained from explaining further.

They finally entered the building and observed its disheveled interior, a clear sign that it had been ransacked during the siege. The garden outside had survived, likely because it had been covered by snow all winter, but the once-orderly office, a symbol of Riverstead’s administrative prowess, now resembled a war-torn relic.

The staff had made attempts to restore order, but it was a work in progress. Partially empty wooden cabinets lined the walls and the broken chairs, tables, and desks had been gathered, possibly pooled here to be repaired. Light filtered in through the shattered windows in the back, casting a gentle glow over the sorry scene.

Two servant boys were cleaning up, while a staff member in a gray tunic eyed Lansius and Stefi with suspicion, mistaking them for a merchant and his bodyguard. “My apologies, but didn’t the guard inform you that the office is still closed?”

“We’re not here for business. The guards probably can see that,” Stefi clarified.

Lansius reached into his bag and pulled out a letter from the captain, displaying it to the staff member. “I’m part of the young lord’s retinue. The captain sent me.”

The staff member hastily wiped his hands on his sleeve before approaching Lansius. “May I see the letter?”

Lansius glanced at Stefi, who gave a nod of approval.

The staff member accepted the letter with a respectful gesture and skimmed its contents. “A new member?” His gaze flicked between the letter and Lansius, clearly taken aback. However, he decided it wasn’t his place to question. “Please wait here. I’ll inform Master Hubert.”