Chapter 13

Chapter 13

Lansius sprinted through the woods until his better judgment stopped him. He surveyed his surroundings and concealed himself. Examining his bag, he realized he had items that could arouse suspicion. A clerk fleeing from war with a sword wouldn’t go unnoticed, and carrying a large sum of gold coins would be unwise. At best, they could be confiscated; at worst, he could be robbed or jailed as a thief.

So, he scanned the area and noticed something gray. Lansius cautiously approached the spot, careful not to lose his bearings. As he got closer, he saw a large, half-buried boulder, which was easy to locate even from a distance—as Miranda had told them, perfect as a landmark but not for hiding. Lansius then spotted an old tree with dark-colored bark behind some shrubs.

He pushed through the surrounding vegetation and reached the tree. Sitting on one of its giant roots, he felt protected by the plants that concealed the spot. Lansius then noticed a gap in the tree roots and cautiously inserted his sword, still in its scabbard, to test its depth while praying he wouldn’t disturb any snakes or spiders inside.

Finding the hole deep enough and undisturbed, he pulled out the sword and dug a small hole for his money pouch. He carefully placed the pouch inside, covered it with dirt, and flattened the surface using the scabbard. He then gathered several stones and plugged the hole, followed by a layer of dried leaves to conceal it further.

Satisfied with his work, Lansius checked his pockets for anything that might raise suspicion and found his purple plants. On a whim, he pulled out his knife and began digging in a clearing near the ancient tree. He planted the purple plants and sprinkled some water on them. Now, he was ready to meet the villagers.

Filled with anticipation and hope, Lansius retraced his steps to the gray boulder and then walked east toward the village beyond vast meadows and a clear, azure blue lake.

After an hour of walking, Lansius spotted an elderly couple in their orchard, staring at him. Lansius waved at them, and they quickly dropped their gardening tools and approached him. “Young man,” they called.

Lansius stopped, his heart racing, as he finally met them.

“Young man, are you a merchant?” the elderly woman in gray gardening attire asked.

“Huh?”

“He isn’t, Martha. Your eyes are deceiving you again,” said the elderly man with a thin face but sharp eyes.

“I’m sorry, I’m not a merchant,” Lansius replied. “May I ask the name of this village?”

They were stunned. “Are you lost? But Torrea is far from anywhere.”

“I came through the woods,” Lansius said, gesturing toward the forest.

The couple was taken aback. The elderly woman motioned for him to follow her, while the elderly man grasped Lansius’s hand and led him away. “Come with us. The village chief will need to know.”

Over two weeks had passed in peaceful monotony. Life in the village of Torrea was much like Bellandia for Lansius—slow and tranquil. The sun blazed on this day, but a cool, pleasant breeze persisted.

Lansius sat on a backyard porch bench as the village chief skillfully cut his hair. The old man with graying hair wielded his large scissors with ease.

“There, now you look the part,” the chief said.

“Thank you, chief.” Lansius then took a refreshing outdoor bath using water from the well, a quintessential summer activity.

“So, you’re leaving tomorrow?” the chief inquired while sweeping the porch.

“Yes, in the morning.”

“I see.” The old man nodded. “I’ll ask my daughter to cook breakfast for you.”

“Gratitude,” Lansius replied with a smile.

The chief waved his hand and went inside.

Amelia giggled. “Too bad they’re fishy and rot easily. Also, without salt, we can only grill them.”

Lansius laughed. The two had talked about this topic several times. She was a few years older than him, but already a widow. Her much older husband had succumbed to an illness two years ago.

“Honestly, I like staying here. It’s peaceful.”

Amelia paused her work, turned around, and looked at Lansius. “Then stay.” Her tone was serious.

Lansius exhaled. Even as dense as he was, he knew Amelia wanted him as a brother she never had, or as a substitute for her late husband. Torrea was surrounded by dense forest and lacked any trade routes, causing many young people to seek employment in neighboring villages with more opportunities. This led to a severe shortage of eligible partners for marriage.

“I wish I could,” Lansius said. He had too much guilt to accept such an offer.

Amelia said nothing and returned to cleaning.

Lansius did the same. This was his last day, and he intended to clean as thoroughly as possible. While his hands worked, his mind wandered. The offer was a tempting one.

If he stayed, then his future would be set. As an educated man, he could apply for a clerical job in the nearest estate. Moreover, the chief’s vast farming land would be his if he married Amelia. He wouldn’t have to worry about anything. To top the list, Amelia had a sweet side and was dependable by nature.

“I’m going to prepare something for you tomorrow,” she said when they were done.

“Gratitude,” Lansius said politely, and the conversation ended that way.

As morning arrived, Lansius enjoyed an early breakfast. He had discarded his moldy gambeson, which was too conspicuous when not on a campaign. Instead, he traded it for a second-hand gray doublet that he confidently wore.

Carefully packing his belongings into a hemp sack fashioned like a duffel bag, he donned a felt hat to cover his hair. Unbeknownst to him, the chief had arranged for a donkey cart.

“I can’t repay your kindness, chief,” Lansius said, touched by the stranger’s generosity.

“Don’t get me wrong, lad. You’ve been a great help to me.” The chief pulled an envelope from his coat and handed it to the coachman. “For the baronet.”

The coachman nodded and kept it in his breast pocket.

Lansius smiled with satisfaction. The envelope represented his idea to initiate trade between Torrea and its nearest neighbor. Although Torrea lacked a prized commodity and wouldn’t typically benefit financially from trade, Lansius believed the villagers should barter their harvest for salted meat.

While salted meat was expensive, this trade could help alleviate the village’s salt shortage, which Lansius suspected had caused illness and deaths after the salt mine closed due to a lack of young miners. He also suggested the chief invite people who knew about the smoking process to preserve fish, potentially turning the underappreciated catch into a valuable commodity.

The chief bade him farewell. “Don’t get in trouble again. Visit Torrea if you find yourself nearby.”

“Thanks again, chief. Until next time.” Lansius carefully loaded the hemp sack and climbed aboard the cart.

The coachman gently nudged the donkey, and the cart began to move.

“Visit us when you can.” Amelia waved.

“I will. Take care, Amelia.”

As Lansius left Torrea with the sun yet to shine brightly, he eagerly anticipated his return to the world outside.