3. The Position Will Hold #3
In response to the sceptical squint I offered the liquid, he chuckled.
“Trust me. Drink it. It’s packed with restorative nutrients, and it stabilises the metabolic system after being exposed to magic and long, err, journeys.
It will dull the edge of your appetite for now.
” He rearranged something on the worksurface.
“My little sister, Settyna, should be here in a moment. She comes to help for a bit of pocket money. Mostly she gossips with Elian and flirts with everyone, not to mention eats enough for two, but she’s a clever seller and minds the stall well.
When she arrives, I’ll send her over to the Cloud Cake counter to get us some breakfast. Aisling makes the best baked goods you’ve ever tasted and I don’t care where you hailed from. ”
“I like the sound of that. Cheers,” I said, tipping the cup back.
The texture offered a pleasant surprise. Smooth and filling, it slid down my throat, leaving a refreshing aftertaste of mint and toasted grains. I didn’t expect such good flavour from something that looked like a constipation remedy from a high-end apothecary.
Fern reached into a wicker basket and produced an elongated, curved fruit encased in a vibrant, sapphire-blue skin.
He scored it with his thumbnail and offered it to me.
This time I didn’t hesitate; having peeled back the rind, I took a large bite of the dense, creamy golden flesh within.
Its mellow, honeyed creaminess elicited an involuntary, satisfied grunt from me.
Fern flashed his teeth, appeased by my unrefined appreciation of his botanical assets. But then his smile waned and he gave me a critical once-over.
“Ke?lhem, let me offer a suggestion. Why don’t you lose that needle?
And the armour, too? It’s… way too conspicuous.
I don’t know the whole story, but knowing Elian—” he let out a telling tsk “—I’d say it’s best to keep a low profile.
I’m not entirely sure how legal this whole situation is.
” A shadow of worry crossed his face. “The market will get busy soon. Real busy. No point in drawing any unwanted attention.”
While it felt odd to hear a stranger address me by my given name, skipping my military title, I figured things followed a different social protocol around here. I took more detailed stock of the expanding market crowd.
Indeed, my attire and hairstyle differed from the flowing, whimsical garments of the merchants around us. Adding to the equation the fact that I stood a full head taller than most, I might as well have been a beacon in the dark.
I unbuckled the leather rigging of my harness, removing the scabbard that housed my sabre. Fern stepped forwards to assist, his hands deft as he unlaced the heavy plates of my back and chest. We stowed my gear out of sight in a storage bay right behind Fern’s display table.
Stripped of my defensive panoply, I found myself in nothing but my uniform robes.
The cut of the dark tunic still announced my martial background, but at least it didn’t scream run for your lives.
This sudden weightlessness felt wrong—even jarring—making my skin prickle with unease.
I’d spent so many years encased in heavy hide and steel that being without them now seemed akin to stepping onto the streets wearing only my undergarments.
However, brooding about my sudden change of status was out of the question in the presence of urgent practical tasks to perform—a notion Fern confirmed by offering a challenging smirk.
“Unless you want to wake Elian now, you’ll have to man the stall for him for the time being,” the herbalist said, squinting at me as though assessing whether a vanguard officer possessed the cognitive capacity to handle customers and currency.
“It’s the first morning of the Great Midsummer Market.
Believe me, the queues will be relentless, and the customers will be picky.
If nobody is standing behind this counter when the chime rings, the crowd will tear this place apart looking for their stock. ”
Secure the perimeter. Maintain the position. Protect the asset.
The commands clicked into place within my mind with ease.
I settled on a simple strategy: treating the marketplace as an exposed outpost. The civilian buyers were the advancing force.
And Elian? A high-value casualty currently compromised in the rear.
I’d held attacks against screaming barbarian hordes with far fewer fortifications than a wooden display.
“Understood,” I said, rolling up the sleeves of my uniform. “Brief me on the logistics. I need to be familiar with the merchandise.”
For the next quarter of an hour, I watched Fern’s abridged demonstration on the arts of commerce and listened intently to the intel.
Committing a vast catalogue of inventory details to memory came with the territory for a commanding officer who prided himself on remembering the name, rank and place of origin of every man serving in his battalion.
“Got that?” Fern asked, an amused glint in his eye as a massive copper chime began to echo across the marketplace, signalling the official opening of the daily trade.
I widened my stance behind the polished timber top and planted my boots on the cobblestones. “Rest assured, Herbalist Fern,” I replied, my eyes locking onto the first wave of customers turning the corner. “The position will hold.”