Jerks Journey to Saffron Hollow
The road to Saffron Hollow was long but peaceful. Jerk rode at the front of the small escort team, bouncing excitedly on his saddle as if he were heading toward a festival instead of a recruitment mission.
“Why do I have to do this?” he muttered. “Clothes? Dresses? Craftswomen? Why can’t I go recruit warriors? Or blacksmiths? Something cool!”
The guard behind him chuckled. “Master Jerk, Heldric trusted you with this because you have a way with people.”
“Yeah,” the second guard added. “You’ve got… charm.”
Jerk puffed his chest. “Charm, huh? Well, you’re not wrong. I AM the most popular one in my family.”
Both guards exchanged looks that said otherwise.
By noon, they reached the outskirts of Saffron Hollow—a bustling town known for its colorful markets and skilled artisans. Rows of fabric stalls lined the streets, shimmering with bright silks, wool capes, and embroidered dresses hung like fluttering flags.
Jerk jumped off his horse and spun dramatically. “Ah! Look at this place! Fashion everywhere! Women everywhere! Color everywhere! HELDRIC, YOUR LITTLE brOTHER HAS ARRIVED!”
“Stay focused,” the guards warned.
Jerk nodded with exaggerated seriousness. “Right. Focus. Mission. Dresses. Important!”
He began approaching the stalls one by one.
---
At the first stall, he bowed flamboyantly. “Greetings, beautiful craftswoman! I come from Ashenveli, the rising star of the kingdom! We need your skills to dress our people in dignity and style! Will you join us?”
The woman stared blankly. “No.”
Jerk froze. “Why not?!”
“I’m already busy, kid.”
“Kid?! I’m twenty-two!”
“Still a kid.”
Jerk’s shoulders dropped. “Next!”
---
At the second stall, he placed a hand over his heart. “Madam, your embroidery is as flawless as moonlight on water! Ashenveli needs you!”
“No.”
“Why?!”
“I have a shop to run.”
“But—”
“No.”
“Fine! But I hope your shop gets too many customers and you regret not hiring ME as your talent scout!”
---
At the third stall, he tried again.
“Hello, master weaver! Would you be willing—”
“No.”
Jerk blinked. “I didn’t even finish!”
“You’re obviously here to drag people to some village job. I’m not interested.”
Jerk groaned. “Ugh! Do women in this town hate opportunities?”
The guards behind him shook their heads sympathetically.
After hours of rejection, even Jerk’s endless energy began to drain. He slumped on a bench, staring at the sky.
“Heldric… why’d you send me? No one here wants to help.”
But he refused to disappoint his brother. So he stood again.
“One last try. And if this fails… I’ll cry. Very loudly.”
And then… chaos erupted down the street.
---
A loud crash echoed from the center of the market.
Stall owners shouted. Guards rushed toward the commotion. People scattered.
Jerk sprinted toward the noise, weaving through the crowd until he reached a shattered fruit stand. Fruits were smashed everywhere, rolling across the road like colorful marbles.
A young girl—maybe sixteen—stood at the center of the mess. Her dress was torn in multiple places, patched up with mismatched cloth. Her hair was messy, her cheeks smeared with dirt.
But what hurt the most were the patches on her face—rough spots of irritated skin that looked painful and swollen. She clutched a bundle of old fabric against her chest.
Two town guards towered over her.
“You clumsy rat!” one guard barked. “You destroyed public property!”
“I—I’m sorry!” the girl stammered. “I slipped, I didn’t mean—”
“You’ve been causing trouble all week!” the other guard spat. “This time you’ll be punished.”
“No! Please! I didn’t—”
Jerk felt something twist in his chest. The guards were huge. The girl was trembling. And her dress… was barely holding together.
And then the guards did something that made Jerk snap.
They grabbed the girl by the arm and dragged her toward the punishment post.
Jerk stepped forward. “HEY! What do you think you’re doing?!”
The guards turned, annoyed. “This is none of your business, traveler.”
“It IS my business,” Jerk said, stepping between them and the girl. “You’re treating her like a criminal when she’s clearly struggling!”
“She destroyed a stall.”
“She fell!”
“And she has been disrupting merchants.”
“She looks sick!”
One guard sneered. “Look at her face, brat. Those patches? She’s cursed. Probably brings misfortune wherever she goes.”
The girl flinched.
Jerk’s blood boiled. “She’s not cursed! She’s hurt! And even if she DID cause trouble, you don’t punish someone like this!”
A guard shoved him back. “Move, boy.”
Jerk stumbled… then grinned dangerously.
“You shouldn’t have done that.”
The guards laughed. “Or what? You’ll cry?”
“No,” Jerk said, rolling up his sleeves. “I’ll show you what a REAL craftsman can do.”
The guards frowned. “Craftsman? What do you—”
Before they could finish, Jerk grabbed a loose rope from a merchant’s stall, looped it around a support beam, and used his momentum to swing straight into the guards like a battering ram.
WHAM!
Both guards toppled backward into a pile of crates.
The crowd gasped. Jerk landed like he had practiced the move for years.
He puffed his chest. “Craftsmen aren’t just builders. We’re thinkers. Movers. Problem solvers!”
The guards scrambled to their feet, furious. “Why you little—!”
Jerk held up his hands. “Wait!”
They hesitated.
“Before we fight,” he said proudly, “let me at least fix the damage!”
Without waiting for permission, he knelt beside the broken fruit stand.
His hands moved quickly—faster than most people had ever seen. He grabbed broken planks, aligned them perfectly, tied joints with rope he twisted on the spot, and reinforced the frame with support beams scavenged from nearby crates.
In less than two minutes, the fruit stand looked sturdier than before.
The merchant blinked. “H–how did you—?”
“I’m a builder!” Jerk declared. “And I work under Heldric, the greatest architect in the kingdom! This kind of repair is easy!”
Even the guards paused, impressed despite themselves.
Jerk stepped in front of the girl again. “Now that the damage is fixed, you have no reason to punish her.”
One guard growled. “She still caused—”
“Don’t.” Jerk stepped forward, eyes sharp. “If you touch her again, I’ll fix YOU like I fixed that stall. And trust me… I’m less gentle with flesh.”
The guards paled.
He tilted his head. “So? Want to try me?”
After a moment of hesitation, the guards clicked their tongues and backed off. “Fine. But keep that girl away from trouble.”
When they left, the girl collapsed to her knees, trembling.
Jerk knelt beside her. “Hey. Don’t cry. You’re safe now.”
She looked up, eyes wide and glistening. “Why… why did you help me?”
“Because,” Jerk said gently, “your dress is falling apart, your face looks like it hurts, and no one deserves to be treated like trash.”
She touched her cheek self-consciously. “My skin gets like this when I’m stressed. People say it’s ugly.”
“Ugly?” Jerk scoffed. “Do you know how much my face swells when I’m stressed? I look like a potato!”
The girl giggled weakly.
“My name’s Jerk,” he said proudly. “And you?”
She hesitated. “Mira.”
“Mira…” Jerk smiled softly. “Are you a craftswoman? I saw you holding fabric.”
Mira nodded. “I sew small things… patches, simple dresses. Nothing special.”
Jerk shook his head. “If it comes from your hands, it’s special. And Ashenveli needs people like you.”
“M–me?” she whispered. “But I’m… I’m a troublemaker. Everyone says so.”
Jerk gently lifted her chin. “No. You’re someone who needs a chance.”
Her eyes widened as if no one had ever said that to her.
Jerk stood and offered his hand. “Come with me to Ashenveli. Help us make clothes for people who need them. Let us give you a home where no one punishes you for slipping.”
Mira stared at his hand.
Then, slowly… she took it.
“I’ll go.”
And for the first time that day, Jerk felt like he wasn’t failing Heldric.
He had found the first craftswoman.
Not from skill alone… but from seeing someone in need.
Just like Heldric always taught him.
Too be continue...