26 - The Market Trip

Morning light streamed through the window, casting a glow across Valrion’s cradle and illuminating his face. He opened his eyes, fingers curling around the edge of his blanket as excitement coursed through his veins. Today was the day. After three years of confinement within these walls, he would finally venture beyond them—to the market his mother had often described.

The scent of honey and wildflowers announced his mother’s presence before she appeared beside his cradle, wearing a simple yet elegant light blue dress, its hem swishing against the wooden floor. Her hair was neatly braided over one shoulder, and her eyes sparkled with enthusiasm as they met his.

“Good morning,” she greeted, reaching down to stroke his cheek. “Why are you smiling like that? Are you ready for your first trip to the market?”

“Of course,” Valrion replied, a grin spreading across his face.

His mother laughed before lifting him from the cradle. She carried him to the changing table, where their morning routine began, but today felt different. Every movement was charged with an anticipation that made even the simple act of wiping his face feel significant.

The outfit she had chosen for him was new: a finely tailored tunic of rich cream-colored linen adorned with intricate embroidery that traced elegant patterns around the collar. Unlike the plain shirts he typically wore, this garment felt luxurious against his skin, its soft fabric carefully selected for this momentous occasion.

Once dressed, his mother walked with him to the dining room, where Octavia and Fina were already seated at the table, their faces bright with enthusiasm. A hearty breakfast of warm rye bread, honey mixed with milk, sliced meat, and fresh fruit awaited them, filling the air with familiar aromas.

“Look at you, Valrion!” Octavia exclaimed, her eyes sparkling as she clasped her hands. “You look like a true noble today!”

“Finally, after three years of being hidden!” Fina chimed in.

Valrion smiled shyly. “I promise not to burn anything.”

The room erupted in laughter—the happy tune was like a comforting embrace. This was the first time he had cracked a joke ever since he was born. Whether divine or mortal, making others laugh would always bring him joy.

As he began eating with the others, Valrion couldn’t help but smile at Octavia and Fina, who eagerly urged him to try every stall they could think of. He had wandered through Eru before, sometimes cloaked in a protective veil that kept him hidden from mortal eyes and other times, he simply blended in with them. He could still remember the lively sounds of vendors calling him, packed stalls brimming with wares, and the laughter of children playing in the streets.

What he desired now was different. He yearned for the opportunity to learn more about this new Eru—to uncover its mysteries and explore the changes that had transformed it since his banishment. Of course, there was no way he could tell this to anyone.

After finishing breakfast, Valrion used half of his mana at the hearth, saving the rest in case something happened at the market. Then, he and his mother made their way to the side yard, where the horses were kept. Sergius was already there, checking the saddles and reins, ensuring everything was ready for their journey. His sword was securely fastened to his right thigh.

The older horse, Centurion, stood patiently as Valrion and his mother came over, his coat gleaming from a fresh brushing. Beside him, the younger horse fidgeted with barely contained excitement.

“Everything’s prepared, my lord and lady,” Sergius greeted lightheartedly, giving Centurion’s neck an affectionate pat.

Valrion’s mother smiled, adjusting her grip on the horse’s mane. “Thank you, Sergius. Would you mind holding him while I help Valrion mount?”

“Of course,” Sergius replied, stepping forward. Valrion, sturdy on his feet, took a confident step toward the horse, his tiny fingers clawing at the coarse mane as he climbed into the saddle with his mother’s help.

To Valrion’s surprise, it was Sergius who settled behind him, wrapping one arm around him to ensure his safety while the other was holding the horse’s reins. Valrion’s mother mounted the other stallion beside them, smiling when looking at him.

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“Hold on tight, Valrion,” Sergius instructed. Valrion reached forward to grasp the saddle’s pommel, his hands clutching tightly as the horse began to move.

As they descended the hill, Valrion observed the world around him with fascination. The houses, built of stone and timber, grew closer together, their paths merging with the main road. The sound of hooves against cobblestone echoed through the crisp morning air, accompanied by the distant bustle of the awakening town.

Finally, they reached the town center, and the sounds of the market grew louder—a lively chorus of voices and commerce that Valrion had never before experienced since his rebirth. His heart thumped faster as he caught his first glimpse of the bustling square, its awnings flapping gently in the breeze, creating shades of red, yellow, and green that matched the brightening sky.

Sergius and Valrion’s mother guided their horses carefully, navigating through the crowds of people. Valrion felt the pulse of the energy as they moved deeper into the marketplace, chattering rising and falling around him.

There were cackles of laughter, the sharpness of people bargaining, and the enthusiastic calls of vendors hawking their products. The air was also thick with enticing aromas: the sweetness of freshly baked bread, the warm spices of exotic goods, and the savory smokiness of grilled meats.

At last, they arrived at a quieter spot on the edge of the market, where their horses could be safely secured at a row of stalls managed by men tending to them. Sergius expertly guided Centurion to a sturdy wooden post, dismounting first and tying the reins securely. Adrianna followed, ensuring her own mount was tethered beside his.

“There we go. All set,” Sergius announced, then turned his attention to Valrion and helped him down.

Valrion’s mother held his hand tightly as they began walking through the market with Sergius right behind them. They passed stall after stall, each one more intriguing than the last, drawing Valrion deeper into the market life.

A woman in a bright yellow dress caught his eye. Her stall was overflowing with an array of glistening fresh fruits—crimson apples, bright oranges, and deep purple plums. Across from her, a man showcased handmade pottery, his wares arranged with care. Each piece was unique, some embedded with intricate designs that shimmered under the sun. Valrion marveled at the craftsmanship, imagining how cool and smooth the pottery would feel against his fingertips, yet he hesitated to ask to touch them.

Moments after, the enticing smell of freshly baked bread wafted toward him. Four bakers lined the pathway, each displaying loaves stacked high, their deep golden crusts perfectly browned. Valrion’s mouth watered at the sight. The thought of tearing into a warm loaf made him want to try them all.

Further along, a fishmonger drew Valrion’s attention with his dazzling display of fish, certainly caught that very morning. The scales glinted like jewels in the sunlight, and the distinctive scent of the sea mingled with the air. He called out to passersby, holding his catch with pride in both hands, while Valrion’s eyes widened at the variety—some fish were long and sleek, others round and plump.

Each time, Valrion would try to listen to every conversation around him, hoping to catch any mention of the evokers, summoners, eidolons, or anything significant related to them. So far, he consistently found that the discussions centered on the people’s own needs or debates about which seller would offer the best prices.

“Adrianna, your friend is over there. She’s been glaring at us for a while,” Sergius remarked, gesturing toward a stall adorned with colorful fabrics. “Valrion, those are fine silks from the eastern lands. You should feel them.”

Valrion’s mother nodded. “Yes, let’s go say hi.”

As they approached the stall, a middle-aged woman with a jovial smile waved them over. She had a red scarf draped around her neck. “Adrianna! What a pleasure to see you! Is this Valrion?”

When Valrion met her gaze, he bowed slightly. “Nice to meet you.”

“Well, isn’t he raised well?” The woman grinned.

“Valrion is seeing the market for the first time today,” Valrion’s mother explained.

The woman bent down to meet Valrion’s eye level. “What a handsome boy you are! Look at those eyes—just like your father.”

Valrion looked away at the compliment. Growing up, everyone in the house had praised his looks, but this was the first time he received such attention from a stranger. If this had been heaven, admiration would have been shared in whispers, reserved for private moments rather than open displays.

“Come, come!” The woman reached up to unfasten the scarf from around her neck and draped it over Valrion’s shoulders. “You must feel this silk. Tell me what you think about it.”

Valrion’s fingers traced the luxurious material, and he looked up at the woman, a tiny smile tugging at the corners of his mouth. “It’s smooth.”

“Exactly!” She laughed. “You have a good taste. One day, you’ll be picking the finest fabrics for your ladies.”

Valrion scoffed at the thought of such praise, but his attention was soon drawn to another stall where a man with a bushy beard was selling collections of wooden toys. The man barked at the children lining up in front of the display, who did nothing but reach out to touch the toys, shoving them away with scowls. They were just a little older than he was.

Solemnly, he watched as they returned to a group of ragged people huddled together at the edge of the market. Their faces were smudged with dirt. Parts of their clothes were tattered. Their wide, hungry eyes told a story of hardship and neglect. Older individuals sat among them with their weathered hands outstretched, seeking coins from passersby.

The contrast between the lively market, filled with laughter and vibrant colors, and the plight of the poor children tugged at Valrion’s heart. It was as if he was reliving the time when he walked in the Eruvian market as a god. The stalls looked the same, the visitors behaved the same, and the poor were also the same. He knew this was bound to happen everywhere he went in the mortal world, but the last time it happened, he had given these people some food.

Right now, shouldn’t he also do the same?