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Chapter 4.2: The Routine

“Mm, something smells delicious.” I yawn as the morning light peeks in through the grimy windows and closed shades.

“Morning.” Naiomi nearly snaps, reaching for a steaming hot mug while shoveling food into her mouth. She’s not a morning person.

“It smells great. Which means you didn’t fix it.” I dodge the lazily thrown empty wooden bowl, but not the sucker punch that is Naiomi’s glare.

“Icarus did.” I nearly jump out of my pajamas at the sound of Esilea’s voice, turning in her direction. I really wish people would stop sneaking up on me. Esilea straightens chairs around the table, frowning when she realizes there isn’t a way to have even spacing with the number of chairs per table. I hope it bugs her all day. “He also fixed your squeaky doors, evened the bottoms of your stools and chairs, cleaned your dishes, organized your stores, and reinforced the locks on your doors.” Well hot damn, I knew that kid was something special. Esilea throws me a hard glance, frowning before going back to her chairs. “He’s sleeping now.”

“Good,” Naiomi sets her mug and wooden plate on Esilea’s table. “That means you get to clean. Supplies are upstairs in the first room on your left.” She flashes the warrior a sadistic smile at the base of the stairs. “Have fun.” Esilea waits until Naiomi is gone before turning to me, leaning back against the table.

“That is a woman.” Esilea says appreciatively and I nod, grabbing the last bowl of food, scooping down my throat as fast as I can. “Is she with anyone?”

“Nope,” I mumble, swallowing painfully, chasing it with a glass of warm water. “But she’s not seeing you, that’s for sure.”

“Don’t be so sure.” Esilea says with a grin.

“Naiomi doesn’t really like…people.” I reply, wiping food off my chin and licking it off. “I’m an obvious exception.”

“You’re not?...” She begins, looking down at her feet. I shake my head.

“No. She just doesn’t stab me, unlike how she treats most others.”

“She hasn’t stabbed me.”

“Yet.” I reply with a small grin. Esilea frowns, eyes roaming over my face. For the first time, I think she’s uncomfortable. Have I made the mighty warrior uncomfortable with my face? I…don’t think that’s something to brag about, though.

“So…” She scoops all the bowls and utensils up, pausing before she heads back into the kitchen. “What’s with your face?” Esilea definitely isn’t the tactful one out of the duo. I absently run a hand over the bandages covering the entirety of my face, save my eyes, with holes only for my lips and nostrils.

“I got burned.” I reply, making my way into my room.

I hear the clatter of dishes through the thin walls, Esilea shouting to be heard. Not that she needs to.

“Really?” She asks as I shrug off my shirt.

“Yeah. Happened when I was a kid.”

If you stumble upon this narrative on Amazon, be aware that it has been stolen from Royal Road. Please report it.

“How?” I begin slipping on a fresh pair of pants, yanking them up above my waist and cinching a belt across them.

“Parents always told me it was an accident.” I frown, pulling a shirt over my unruly hair, careful of the bandages. “But they always looked real ashamed when they said it. Never really knew my mom,” I slip socks on. “She left when I was still young. My dad was the best though.” I smile, bandages twisting like snakes as I stuff my feet into sturdy boots. “I remember this one time, we were swimming, and he taught me about all the fish. Not just in that area. All of them. The man was a god.” I slip my mask on, grabbing the map and a small pouch of gold. I make a mental note to stop by Baerus’ shop as I step out of my room. Esilea’s eyes meet mine through the window from the bar to the kitchen. “But, that’s enough story time for today. Have fun. The grownups need to work.”

She slams dishes down. “I’m older than you!”

I stop at the entrance, door half open, looking back; she can’t see my smile. “No, you’re definitely not.”

||||||||||

“C’mon man, it was your cheap-ass weapons that broke. Why should I have to pay for the replacements when it wasn’t even my fault?” The small man looks up at me from underneath his thick eyebrows, copper beard twitching as he smiles. Baerus is always smiling, even when he’s conning you out of your hard earned money. A man after my own heart.

“And what were you doing with those ‘cheap-ass weapons,’ mate?”

I fidget, brushing my hand across the back of my head. “You know, uh, stuff.”

Baerus lets out a bark of laughter, climbing the rolling ladder deftly, despite his stocky bulk.

“Stuff! You’re always doing ‘stuff’, Namonai. Besides,” He pulls out a well-wrapped brown box from one of the top shelves, climbing down and setting it down on the counter. “I have durable weapons. You just never buy them.”

“Like I can afford your prices.”

“Nobody can.” He says with a wink, bringing out a locked metal box. This is our dance. I try to get weapons for free, he gets me the usual. Then the box comes out. Always the box. He whispers softly to it, and the top clicks open with a barely audible hiss. All of Baerus’ regulars know the ritual, and just have to deal with it. “Two kusarigama, stock material. Rush order, as usual. That’ll be five coins, two tiks.”

I sigh, bringing up my pouch, counting out the money. Malor is one of the few countries in this world with a standardized money system. You have tiks, small square pieces of gold barely larger than your thumbnail. Five tiks for a coin. Fifty tiks for a medallion—a half circle about the size of half a palm; one hundred tiks for a bar—a thin rectangle of gold the size of a hand. Of course, you also have ingots. But nobody is rich enough to use ingots.

“How’s business going man?” I pull out three coins, plopping them down. I hope I can find a couple more coins; I hate plopping a handful of tiks down to pay. People always look at you like you’re cheap. Which, if you’re paying entirely in tiks, you probably are.

“Can’t complain. Had an influx of foreigners after trouble began in the Kingdom. Can you believe what they’re saying, about ghouls and plagues? It’s ridiculous.” I keep quiet, setting another coin down. “Queens with light powers, shadow controlling mass murderers. This world’s going to the dogs, I tell ya. But all them little scared pups are good for business. Everybody wants weapons.” He chuckles, eyeing my pouch while I scrounge for another coin. Come on, just one more. Just one more. “Akath’s been giving me a bit of trouble though.”

My eyebrows arch behind my mask, as I set down seven tiks on the table. “Oh?”

“The usual. More money, or he’ll burn my place down, I should be lucky he’s ‘protecting’ me. The same ol’ shit he’s been saying for years.”

“Then what’s the problem?” I ask. Baerus swipes the gold into his box, clicking it shut and tucking it away.

“He brought out his girls this time.” I suck in a breath. Damn.

“Well, you know, everybody’s on edge more these days. What with the queen holding up in her castle, and just letting Inari’s agents run loose. People are talking now. I’m sure Akath’s just making sure you know what’s what.” I reason.

“I’m sure you’re right.” Baerus unwraps the box, giving me the two shoddily crafted kusarigama. Oh baby, I missed you. Come to daddy. I slip their familiar weight through my hands, fastening them to my belt.

“Thanks Baerus!” I wave to the little man, the shop bell tinkling as I leave. Time to get Naiomi her money.