“It was a pleasure to do business with you,” the old man at the shop said, flashing me a wide smile as I left, the weight of the chrotta in my hands. I returned his smile politely, though my mind was already elsewhere.

I glanced down at the chrotta, feeling the smooth black wood against my palm. 'One less problem to worry about,' I thought, as I walked through the quiet streets. 'The princess’s present is taken care of.'

The sun had just begun to rise over the rooftops, casting long shadows across the cobblestone streets. I considered stopping at an inn to rest for a bit, but then I realized the sun was already up. 'Too late for that i should head back to the caravan meeting spot Although it might be a little early.'

As I walked, my thoughts drifted back to the chrotta in my hands. The black wood was unmistakable—my family’s trademark. 'I thought there were trade sanctions on our house...' For years now, the royal family had banned my house from selling blackwood, our most valuable resource, as part of a punishment for... well, some things I’d rather not dwell on.

'So how did this end up here?' I ran my fingers over the smooth surface, admiring the craftsmanship. 'It must be an old one. There’s no way this was harvested recently.'

Still, it was a strange feeling. The blackwood was a symbol of my family’s former strength, back when our lands were prosperous and our name was respected. Now, it was a relic of a past I wasn’t sure we’d ever reclaim.

I shook off the thought as I approached the caravan. To my surprise, Leonard and the rest of his crew were already waiting, looking more than a little exhausted.

Leonard, who looked like he hadn’t slept in days, greeted me with a strained smile. "My lord... it is good to see you again."

I raised an eyebrow at the whole caravan assembled there. "You’re all up already?"

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'He probably waited for me from the sunrise...'

ever the dutiful caravan leader, nodded quickly. "We... we thought it best to be prepared, my lord, for when you were ready to depart."

"Good. Let's continue the journey then."

As I climbed into the wagon, I couldn’t help but glance at the chrotta again. 'At least one problem is solved.'

The road to Sharptown was long and uneventful, the landscape rolling by as the caravan trudged onward. I looked out the window of the wagon, watching the fields pass by. The sun was high in the sky now, casting a lazy warmth over everything. The rhythm of the wheels on the road had almost lulled me to sleep when, suddenly, the caravan came to a halt.

A familiar knock on the door came a moment later. 'Ah, Torsten again,' I thought, already smirking to myself. The poor guy had apparently been nominated as my personal messenger, the sacrificial lamb who had to bring me all the updates, probably because no one else wanted the job. I could see the nervousness in his eyes every time he spoke to me.

I opened the door, and sure enough, there was Torsten, looking as jittery as ever. "We will stop for a while, my lord," he said, his voice betraying his unease.

I nodded, pretending not to notice his discomfort. "Thank you for the update, Torsten. It’s appreciated." My voice was polite, but internally, I couldn’t help but find the whole situation amusing. 'Why do they always send you, I wonder? Was it a game of straws?'.

As I was about to close the door, I noticed Torsten was still standing there, looking even more nervous than usual.

"Is there something else, Torsten?" I asked, flashing him a polite smile, one that seemed to make him even more uncomfortable.

He hesitated, then stammered, "Oh, nothing, my lord... I just... I was thinking, it’s... well, it’s an honor to meet a member of the great Highcliff noble house in person. My grandfather was a carpenter, and he always spoke highly of the wood that came from your lands."

:Ah, so now we’re getting sentimental,' I kept the same polite smile on my face. "Thank you for that," I replied, pretending to be proud. "Your grandfather must have been a good man."

Torsten’s face fell slightly, his nervousness replaced by a brief flicker of sadness. "Yes... he passed a few years ago. He fell ill, unfortunately."

I nodded, keeping up the charade. "I’m sorry to hear that. He must have been a good man, especially to have a grandson like you."

That seemed to bring a bit of light back to his face. "Yes, thank you, my lord."

But then, as if the universe had decided I hadn’t been punished enough for my deception, Torsten’s next question hit me out of nowhere. "What about your father, my lord? I heard Lord Highcliff had fallen ill lately."

'Oh, you have got to be kidding me.' I froze for a split second, mentally kicking myself for not thinking of that detail earlier. But, like any noble with experience in talking absolute nonsense, I recovered quickly.

"Ah, yes," I said, feigning a solemn expression. "He’s still ill, unfortunately. But I’m hopeful he’ll recover soon."

Torsten nodded sympathetically. "Hopefully, my lord. I’ll pray for his swift recovery."

'Please don’t. I’m already lying enough as it is.' "Thank you," I said, keeping my face neutral as Torsten finally excused himself.

I closed the door behind him and leaned back against it, letting out a sigh. 'That was close.' I glanced out the window again as the caravan resumed its journey.