As Geo trudged back to the camp, an oppressive weight settled on his heart, burdening him with guilt for the guards he had injured. Could he have handled the situation differently? The question plagued him, gnawing at his conscience. But it wasn't just the guards that troubled him. It was the enigmatic duo who had conversed with Jove, their intentions shrouded in mystery. And then there was the shadowy figure, cloaked and speaking with the guards at the door. Who were they? Why had the guards targeted him? The answers eluded him, slipping through his grasp like sand in an hourglass.

As he mulled over the events, Geo couldn't shake the sense that these men held some kind of secret knowledge about him. It was like a puzzle he couldn't solve, a mystery that refused to reveal itself. His instincts screamed at him to be cautious, reminding him of the countless times he had been burned by trusting too easily. Self-preservation had become second nature to him, a survival skill honed through bitter experience. There was already enough darkness clouding his mind; he didn't need any more.

When he finally reached the camp, the tantalizing aroma of soup filled the air, drawing him towards Lake. Despite not realizing how hungry he was, Geo found himself irresistibly drawn to the warmth and comfort of the meal. He settled beside Lake, the two men perched on the back of the wagon, eagerly sharing the steaming bowls of soup.

Lake fiddled with his food, his frustration evident. He leaned in close to Geo and whispered, "What did you find out?"

Geo observed Lake as he finished his soup, then responded in a hushed tone, "I received a note, it's in my pocket.

The waiting was wearing on Lake's nerves, and it showed in his voice. "I can't stand this waiting anymore. We waited during our journey here, and now we've been waiting here for hours while you were out socializing. And now, we're still waiting." His anger was palpable, expressed through his words and gestures.

Understanding Lake's frustration, Geo suggested in a whisper, "When you need discreet assistance, you inquire then sit patiently to not draw attention. We will trade just like any other trip to the trading circle." His serious tone conveyed his determination. "But you need stop acting like a child. Your outbursts will attract unwanted attention and that attention will make achieving our goals much harder." Geo refrained from mentioning his altercation today and personal history in this place.

Lake threw his bowl aside and stormed off. Geo brought his hands up to his temples messaging away the pain and stress of dealing with hormonal teen boys. There was nothing to do about Lake he would need to cool down on his own. Geo inspected his trade goods and reviewed the offers, swiftly rejecting most of them. Combining the information, he had gathered on his meandering the various wagons and trade blankets and the offers made while he was gone, Geo had a good sense of the value of his goods.

When he ensured no one was nearby or approaching, he retrieved the note from his pocket and read it. The message simply instructed him to meet at the fork bridge after dark. The fork bridge, a place only he and Jove would know. Memories flooded Geo's mind as he recalled a reckless evening from their youth, when a heated argument turned into a brawl at that very bridge. Jove had resorted to using a fork as a weapon before Geo managed to subdue him. Geo always wondered where Jove had found that fork. That night, they had returned to camp laughing, and the incident became a running joke whenever they sat at a table together.

Did you know this story is from Royal Road? Read the official version for free and support the author.

Geo was lost in his thought when the very charismatic trader with the cloth Trolane arrived carrying two wooden boxes, the boxes likely contained the same cloth he had been looking at earlier that day.

"Ah, Geo! Fancy seeing you here," Trolane exclaimed, a mischievous glint in his eye. "I brought you a drink, my friend. You know, the wife will not be pleased if I do not come home with the items on her list, and you are the only one with rutabagas. She has never had any luck with gardening and rutabagas in particular. Her family owned a warehouse full of cotton cloth, it has been a very good trade item, but most of the traders here have enough of my fine cloth this season. So how about we do a little trading? It would make my life a little easier."

Geo sipped his drink, contemplating Trolane's proposition. "Hmm, interesting," he replied. "But I already have a list, and your cloth was not on it."

Trolane just smiled, undeterred. "Ya whatever, so what are you thinking?"

Geo took his time, relishing in Trolane's anticipation. "Well, I still have not completed trades for the other items we discussed earlier," he finally responded.

Trolane's smile widened as he pulled out a rusted can of three-inch-long nails, a looped section of electric wire, and a fine leather belt with a half dozen matching throwing knives. "But I have, as I said, the best selection of quality goods found at the trading circle. There is no need to take your business to another less scrupulous vendor when I have everything you need right here."

Geo smiled back, examining the items lined up next to his goods. "How much?" he asked curiously. "The nails are a little rusty, and the wire is a larger roll than I was shopping for, but I guess they would do."

Trolane's smile slipped momentarily, replaced by a thoughtful expression. "Rusty, huh? Where do you find shiny new nails? I will buy them from you; they would be worth an enormous sum for sure," he said, a manic glint in his eye. "Just thinking of the things, I could trade for." He stopped before finishing the thought. "You have what I want, I have what you want. How about an even swap? I will include the two bundles of cloth of your choice. As I am sooo generous, you will have enough fabric to make your wife a dress for each day of the week!"

Geo placed a basket of root veggies and two barrels of fine liquor closer to the exuberant trader. "Very interesting, and since you searched me out, I will also be generous," he countered. Motioning to the items, Geo smiled and said, "Good trade," as he held out his hand to Trolane to shake.

Trolane took a step back dramatically, clutching his chest as if in pain. "You wound me!" he exclaimed, feigning hurt. The men went back and forth, exaggerating their positions and items, weaving stories and sipping liquor, until they finally stood, shook hands, and exchanged goods with a smile and a fist bump. Geo was skilled at bartering and enjoyed the game of getting the best deal possible. Now that he had traded for everything on his list, he would trade and leave the rest of his goods with Jove.

As the men stood, a boy of about nine years hurried up, standing a few feet behind Trolane. Trolane placed the lighter box of butter and the basket of veggies along with the wooden mugs to one side. He motioned to the pile, then addressed Geo, "This is my son, squirrel." To his son, he ordered, "Take these back to the wagon and wait for me before heading back. I owe Geo another bundle of fabric." Trolane gathered up two barrels, one under each arm. "Hope to see you again, maybe do some more trading."

Geo nodded, a smile playing on his lips. "Could be, until we meet again, blessings and safe travels."

Geo's third bushel of cloth arrived soon after Trolane left. Smiling, Geo motioned the boy to put the basket in the back of the wagon.

Offering the boy, a hand down from the wagon, Geo said, "What's your real name, young man?"

Gin, sir. My papa calls me squirrel," the boy answered, avoiding eye contact.

"Good enough, Gin. Many blessings," Geo said, watching as Gin walked away.