Victor walked through the marketplace, examining the various stalls and examining his options, now that he had no leads, and no immediate goal. The majority of stalls were simple wooden things, clearly designed to be sturdy enough to last but nothing else. Some of the more popular stalls had signs placed above or below the wares, usually in dyed in the reds or blacks that were easiest to create. The shopkeepers were very quiet for a marketplace, and Victor once again noticed the nervousness sitting in the air. He wasn’t certain now if it was the fault of himself, or whatever seemed to have happened recently. Despite this, he wandered from one shopfront to another, buying a spare quill and inkwell, and picking up enough paper to write additional notes on for his spells. As he was moving through the stalls, he saw there was a peculiar sign that was both beautiful and completely illegible. Whoever had allowed the artist to make their sign must have spent an awful lot of money on paints as it was a veritable rainbow of color, depicting a small hillside and smiling trees. Victor stopped by the shop to discover it was a food stall. After approaching and waiting in the short line, he ordered what seemed to be some kind of rabbit meat seared and placed on a skewer. Intrigued, he struck up a conversation.
“A beautiful sign you have there. Whoever painted it must have been an artist.”
The man Victor was talking to flipped over several skewers before replying, “Aye, It was my daughter who done it. She’s got a bright future, so long as I can keep providing the paints!” The man seemed at once worried and proud as he laughed.
“I’m surprised you’ve had the time to teach her to write, what with your store to run.”
“Oh nay, I can’t claim to have taught her, that’d be Madam Struce. She’s taught most of the folks who’ll listen to her rambling,” He laughed again before continuing, “I’ve not the time myself, but I make sure my daughter goes. She’s even learning her numbers now!” The man positively beamed in pride for his daughter.
“She’s teaching the whole village? Where would she have that much room?”
“Oh, she’s up in the church building,” The man handed Victor his meal before continuing, “The old minister up and died in his sleep, and the church has better things ta do than send a new clergyman down to preach to a village on the outskirts. So his wife took over the building and uses it as a schoolhouse.” The cook suddenly got serious and leaned towards Victor, “We take care of her, since she’s the best shot our children’ve got ta get an easier life.”
Victor nodded, and got out of the way of the next customer as he spoke, “Well, I’ve the best of wishes to both her and your daughter.”
Walking away, he chewed on the slightly-too-tough meat and decided to talk to this school teacher. She might have a lead for him. He continued onwards through the street, only stopping to buy a spare robe.
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Approaching the church, Victor looked up at the largest structure in the village. It was a two story building, with a first floor reaching more than a dozen feet up to an arched ceiling. Several stained glass windows allowed the sunlight inside and was the first instance of glass windows Victor had seen in months. The second floor attic was covered by a red ceramic tiled roof, which made a triangular point. Towards the front of the building, supported by the stone walls was a tower that reached up four stories towards the sky above. Fixed at the highest point was a massive cast iron bell, which easily dwarfed any other ironwork in the city. Carved into the side of the tower were intricate pictures of vines with flowers blooming down their length. The vines curled around the tower and seemed to almost hang down around the doorframe. Had Victor not known better, he would have assumed them to be petrified rather than carved from stone. The doors themselves were simple wooden make, the reinforced dark oak standing out against the rest of the stone structure, both of them open to allow ease of entry, their simplicity allowing them to be inviting rather than daunting. As Victor walked up the several steps to those doors, he could smell some kind of incense being burned inside, and as he moved past the entryway, he could see an old woman moving the church pews around. Her hair was nearly white, and tied up firmly in a bun. Keeping the bun in place was a pink frilled ribbon Victor would have expected on a teenager, not the fragile elder in front of him. It seemed she had acquired several wooden tables as long as the pews, and was setting up the pews on either side of them. Victor coughed slightly, both due to his inexperience with burning incense, and to get the woman’s attention.
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Looking up, she saw Victor and seemed to examine him. Victor struggled not to fidget self-consciously, aware that his new robes fit him ill, and his dark hair and beard were both beginning to gray. “Alright then sir, you’ll assist me in moving these seats before class begins, and I’ll answer your questions until the children come back from playing.” Her voice was strong, belying her appearance. It was clear that this was an expectation, bordering on an order, rather than a request, and Victor had enough experience with people like this to not want to annoy this lady. He had a brief flash of annoyance at being ordered around yet again, but pushed it down and gave a tight smile to the woman as he walked in to begin helping.
Victor assisted her, and the two did not talk at all during the process. His lack of upper body exercise came back to hurt, as he only had barely enough strength to move the pews, and by the time they were done moving all six of them, he was sweating and out of breath for the second time this week. He made a note to try and fix this oversight as he leaned against the wall, refusing to allow himself to sit. The source of his determination to not feel weak stood nearby, the old lady somehow barely inconvenienced by the exercise they had just been through.
“So,” He began as soon as he caught his breath, “How did you know I had a question for you?”
“Easy,” she replied immediately, “you’ve been here not even three days and yet I’ve heard more about you, mage, than anyone else here. I’ve not heard of any bandits in the area, but you might ask the traveling merchant who arrived a few days before you. He’d be the one to know.”
“Well, actually,” Victor cleared his throat, now worried he’d been too obvious in his search, “I’ve a second question for you.” Pulling out the note that had been on his mind all day, he showed it to her, “Do you know whose handwriting this is? I found it on my bedside table when I awoke and would rather like to talk to the author.”
The old lady stared at the note for a long moment, and Victor could see a hint of annoyance in her posture as she looked back at him, “Well, sir, I’ve no idea what kind of idiot would leave this for an Imperial mage, but I know none of us here would want you harm. It seems that whoever left this note wants something from you, so I'd gander they'll contact you again. I would let him come to you, were I you.” She seemed almost placating as she talked, as though she were trying to calm him down; however, Victor was more interested in something she had said.
“Wait a moment, how did you know I was an Imperial mage?” Victor was quite certain he hadn’t told anyone that he had served in the Carian Legion.
“Your old robes,” she replied, “Only the Imperial army would have their mages wear robes so pomp-,” She quickly cleared her throat as if something were stuck in it, “colorful. The bright reds, yellows, and purple trim are very distinct. I wouldn’t worry about it, though. Few here would make the connection, and fewer would dislike you for it. I would guess with your new dull brown robes, even fewer will figure it out” Victor immediately thought back to the blacksmith and hoped she was correct on that.
“Well, thank you for your time,” As he spoke, several laughing children ran inside, one of them familiar to Victor as the Innkeeper’s kid, “I should be going then.”
After Victor had left, and was several paces past the bottom of the staircase, he swore he had heard the old woman chastising the children for something or another. He paid it no attention.