"Dad!" I yell. The sound of the swinging bell on the door rings frantically, my entrance is too dramatic for its normal welcoming chime. "The –" I pause; he is not alone. Right, Ferra's here.

"Hi, Noelle," he says in his merchant's voice, smooth as southern chocolate. "Is there news?"

His customer is frowning slightly at me. She wears a dress that is tight in the chest and loosely flows everywhere else. Her graying hair is up, held with jeweled pins that glitter in the light, and she has that familiar anchor-solid presence of nobility. Her tight-lipped frown betrays her annoyance at the interruption in her planned day. Her time is being wasted.

Discerning Matchmaker – Level 17

What a frivolous Profession. I bow my head down and reply “My apologies, the queen and crowned prince have arrived -- along with the rest of the new admissions. My lady” I say, remembering at the last moment to address her appropriately.

Looking up, I see a twinkle of joy in my father’s eyes, though his stubbled face is stern and reproachful. I remember my parting gift to him and the noise of his breath leaving his lungs; he must think of this moment as sufficient payback. His eyebrows rise at the news, and his eyes move to meet Ferras, who looks at him with a mischievous smile.

“Okay—” he starts.

“I was right,” she declares “Why am I always right? It’s a curse truly” she laughs and reaches out to touch his arm.

"—this time, you were right. Oh, It’s a curse now? I thought it was an inevitability?”

“Well, that’s what makes it a curse!” she exclaims.

They go back and forth, forgetting about me as my father works his charm. I begin to slink off towards the back of the shop, when my dad turns back to address me.

"Noelle, since you are here, instead of wandering free through town like I asked you to be. You should help. Bring out the formal robes we got in last week.” He says, a smile barely graces his otherwise stony face. I do my best to keep my expression schooled into the picture of neutrality.

"Really, Sir? I don't think those… loud... colors will make the best impression." I know what robes he wants me to move; they are sleek and tasteful. I am referring to the batch before this one. About two weeks ago, my father’s friend, an eccentric tailor, promised a new style of formal wear. One that would 'seduce and shape the people's sense of fashion for generations to come.' We received a large crate of polka dots and bright striping patterns, and even the liner at the collar didn't have a solid tone. They looked like robes that a jester would wear to an especially fancy dinner; in a word, they were hilarious.

"No," he says firmly. His lips twitch into a hint of a scowl. "the ones from THIS week. Not last week."

“Oh, of course," I respond; I bow my head again and bid farewell to the noblewoman with a quick “my lady," then I walk behind them to the storage room at the back of the shop.

“Hard to find good help these days” Ferra says idly, sorting through silken fabrics on the counter.

“She's my daughter” he says.

“Ah,” she says, “well, there is nothing more important than family. This one, I think!"

The door closes behind me and the sounds of their conversation cease. My shoulders fall slightly as tension leaves my body. I look over my shoulder, through the circular window in the door, my father has found his sales face again and they are laughing while he bags up her things.

I begin sorting and stacking the wares, pulling out the silks and dyed wools that sell fantastically to a wealthier crowd but don't get much attention from our regulars. After Ferra leaves, my father joins me in my task. He smirks at me as he arrives, and we quietly get to work sorting and setting aside the clothing that we feel will appeal most to the incoming nobles.

“Could you imagine if we put out those crazy robes" he says shaking his head, "What was Rex thinking?" he places one flat on a box in between us.

"We could sell it to a carnival?" I ask. He laughs, and we resume our work.

"Sorry about her," he says, apologetic. "I tried to save you."

"I know," I sigh.

"It's part of the job, dealing with nobility. And if you take over the business someday, you will have to learn to play their game."

“Can we talk about something else?”

“Yes, the queen and the prince, you saw them ride in?”

I nod. “You already knew, though, both of you."

“Yes, I knew they would come with the students, but they are ahead of schedule by almost a week. Ferra called it though, says the roads have been quiet recently. She didn’t think they would run into any trouble."

“How did you know?” I ask.

"I have my contacts," he says, his smile small and sly.

“Right, and information is power."

"Only if you have the time to act on it. That's why we rushed the order on these robes. They almost didn't make it in time.” he says, holding one up to the light and smiling.

“There was a purple-class fighter with them” I say. He pauses mid-motion, holding the robe in the air like an idiot. Then he puts it down and looks at me.

“You saw the rider?”

"Yeah, scary fucker. All black armor and a black mount that looked different than any horse I've ever seen. His class is Mistwalker.”

“Shit, you’re sure?” his eyes are locked on mine. I’ve stopped my work as well to answer his questions.

"Yeah, I'm positive. Ask any kid off the street, and they will tell you the same. Why? What do you know of him?" I ask.

“What is he doing here?" my dad mutters. His mouth moves up and down as he chews the inside of his lip, a habit I’ve only seen from gamblers at the Sunset Inn. When he speaks again, he does so without looking at me; his gaze seems trapped between the floor and the boxes.

“I’m going out for a little, I need to look into this” he is moving now, grabbing his jacket off the counter, he starts out the door to the storage room and then stops mid-step and turns to me. “You have the rest of this?” he asks, eyebrows raised.

"Yeah," I say quietly, knowing I won't get any answers from him now. "I've got it. Go"

I turn back to the boxes and continue working. He idles at the door for a moment.

“Don’t skip dinner okay? Whatever you don’t get done we can do in the morning.” He hesitates for a moment more “Love you kid, I will be home in time for our game” he leaves then.

"I'm not a kid," I mumble, low enough that he can't hear me.

I hear the stockroom door close and then the muffled chime of the front door as he leaves the shop altogether. I look at my jacket hanging on a carved wooden rack in the corner; my feet itch to run after him. But I don't. In a minute, the antsy urge passes, and I return to the job.

I finish swapping out the goods; they are all where they need to be. But we must organize it in the morning, folding and hanging the clothes in the storefront. I eat a small meal of dried meat and fruit; I am too anxious to eat anything heavier. I start and stoke the fire till it is bright and happy. Then I sit on the floor beside it. The rug is soft, and I lean against the couch and try to read. It takes me a whole chapter to realize that I haven't understood a word. I sigh heavily and move my bookmark to the previous chapter; I will reread it all later.

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I put the book down and I hear the thudding of familiar footfalls on the steps. He's home.

I stand as the door creaks open, he looks at me and smiles, it is tired but genuine. He takes a few steps into the room and stops, he twists his wool cap between his hands and looks down at it for a moment. Then he looks up at me.

“Sorry for running out on you like that. I didn't mean to worry you."

“You freaked out when I told you about the purple rider. What’s going on?”

“I don’t know” he sighs and falls into the couch. I stay on my feet. “He shouldn’t be here…” he pauses “What do you know about the purple-classes?” he asks me.

"Not much," I admit. "There are only a few in the kingdom; they all report to the king and queen. They live longer and have powerful skills. That's about it."

"That's all true; last I heard, there were four of them in the whole kingdom. It is a point of Talor's pride and a powerful deterrent to other countries who might otherwise have plans to conquer us. We have more purple fighters than they do, and as long as we do, our borders are safe. They are essential – they are also called 'Guardians'. So why is one of them here?” he asks.

“To guard the royal family?” I reply. Before I finish, he is already shaking his head.

“No, they are too important for that job. Better the queen and prince should die than we lose one of our Guardians. No, they spend their time keeping the people protected from greater threats. They are all unique and are suited to different tasks; the Mistwalker is a hunter and a tracker. The reason I was worried—am worried—is because his presence here means that there is something in our town or near it. It could be a person, a monster, a dungeon-break. But whatever it is, it must be a serious threat--”

"Or he wouldn't be here," I finish for him.

"Exactly," he says.

“What did you find out from your super-secret source?” I say, trying to lighten the tone. I feel some relief now that I know what was bothering him. Him being scared and me not knowing why, had been frightening. He smiles when he sees the tension in the room has lessened.

“Nothing really, lots of people are asking the same questions. Nobody has an answer, not yet.” He says, disappointed.

We sit in silence then for a little. It is a comfortable sort; he warms his hands by the fire and I set up the Tlack board for our nightly game. He takes off his jacket and sits down across from me, and we begin to play.

We take turns setting our pieces, dad is focused on securing the center of the board, for a while we play a positional game against each other. Taking turns placing our stones in locations that we believe will create or eliminate threats in the second phase of the game. We group soldiers near the nexus points, where they can flex into the various battle zones.

"I want to talk about something," I say, placing a piece. He looks up at me momentarily and places his own.

“Oh?” he says.

"Yeah," I place another stone.

He plays his turn quietly, waiting for me to bring up what's on my mind. Okay, you've got this. Stay calm, be logical.

"I want to be an adventurer," I announce.

“I know that” he responds quickly. Looking up at me, then down at the board. He is waiting for me to play my next move.

“No,” I say sternly “I will be an adventurer, I’ve decided” I place my piece with a loud clack.

"You've decided," he says; a hint of mockery enters his voice. I don't let it anger me.

“Yes” I say, my voice sounds smooth to my own ears. He looks at the board, the stone in his hand taps on the table as he considers.

"I think it's a bad idea, too dangerous." he places his piece.

He has always been better than me at this phase of the game, he is older, wiser, a more meticulous person. One who excels at preparation in his daily life, there are only two more pieces to place, then the war begins. That is my realm -- for I am a wily hunter and always find unpredictable ways to create counterplay. I place my final stone, a spy, alone in his central structure, protected from a jump by his own pieces, bracketed on both sides. It should be safe until his center shifts in the late game.

"I know it's dangerous," I reply.

"No, you don't," he says, placing his final piece. A natural break point in the game; the end of the first phase. "You haven't experienced real danger, not since you fell from that tree in the courtyard and broke your arm. Do you remember the pain?”

"I remember it," refusing to rise to the bait. "I cried.".

"Do you remember how quickly it happened though? Do you remember the moment you lost your balance on the branch? You kept telling me about the bark on the tree. How it had cracked and broken off, and you had been trusting it. Suddenly, you were falling; you knew it and tried to stop, but it was too late. There was nothing you could do—"

"That's not true. I could have broken my neck on that fall, but I extended my arm. I saved my life and broke the arm. Now, I have a wonderful story to tell around the fire and I still maintain the ability to kick your ass in Tlack with that same arm. I am fine"

"The stakes are higher out there, Noelle. You can't heal from death" his voice deep and cracked with grief.

"I am not a child," I say quietly, "and I'm not Mom." I look down at the board. I wince at my words.

"No, you're not a child. But you are my child. Your mother ... she would've done anything to keep you safe. Now, she is gone, yes. But when she was still breathing, she entrusted your safety to me. She would want me to do whatever I can to keep you safe"

"I know," I say quietly. "but I want to live. I want to see the world, I want to take risks. Just like you both did. You are my parents after all, is it surprising that I want what you once wanted?" I ask "The apple didn't fall far from the tree."

I reach out and tap my stone twice, signaling the beginning of the battle phase, then I move it quickly to capture an early-placed, outlying piece.

“I will be an adventurer," I say, repeating my earlier statement, my voice is iron. "If I have to do it alone, with none of your support, then that's what I'll do."

He holds my gaze for a few moments, searching. He looks down at the board and leans back in his chair, breathing deeply in and out. Then he leans forward, his eyes flicking over the board from edge to edge and back again.

“You want adventure, okay. Do you want to dive straight into the dungeon north of here?” His voice is tinged with frustration as he moves a piece, more aggressively than he normally might.

"I'll start at the guild, they can help me get my class." I move a piece to block his reckless attack. "Then I will sign on to guard a caravan or a boat, travel for a while. I'll make friends and see the kingdom."

The stones move quicker now, each of us reading the battle as it evolves on the board. He has built a solid stronghold in the center, with two adjoining outposts to limit my angles of attack. But I have many mobile units, and this is where I thrive. The battle pulses on the board and waves of soldiers are eradicated.

"You are sure, this is what you want?" He takes another of my soldiers off the board.

"I'm sure. I'd like to do it with your support." I say, feeling awkward. "I know why you're scared, I understand. I don't want to lose you either. But I need to do this, for myself." I exhale loudly "If my only choice is to go it alone, well, then I am still going." I move my piece, it's a bad move. But at this point I am struggling to care about the game at all.

We look at each other for a long moment. He stands and walks to the window, resting his hands on the windowsill. His breath fogs the glass. Then he turns and walks back to the table, he puts his hands on the back of his chair and leans on it. His eyes on mine.

"Is there room for compromise?" He asks. I am hesitant. This is where he offers me something cool so I won't leave.

“I need to see more of the world, dad” I reply. Our game is forgotten now and the silence feels heavy.

“That can be part of the deal" He says eventually "I have a task in mind, you would be safe, but still have a chance to see the world, even get your Class"

I hesitate. "It sounds too good to be true" I say. "Where am I compromising?"

"You would be safe," he says simply. "None of the risk you discussed in your plan, you won't fight monsters. When the task is done, and you have seen some of the world. We play another game, and have another talk." He gestures to the board.

"Okay," Is there a catch? "What task do you have in mind?"

"The nobles will leave in a week. Some will peel off the caravan early to go to their estates, but the main body of the caravan continues all the way to the capital. I have been meaning to have some valuable cargo delivered from a merchant there, Bengt, but I haven't had two months to spare on the trip." He has my attention now.

"I could take two months though" I say, tracking his thoughts. "and it would be a safe way to see more of the kingdom, and the Capital, I've always wanted to see the library there, I hear it is as big as the palace"

"It wouldn't be a joyride though." He says "This is going to be valuable cargo, monster parts harvested from the nearby dungeon, for our shop and Godfreys. You would ensure the quality of the goods, set up the wagons, hire a guard, and attach yourself to the next organized caravan back here." My mind races. "But sure, you could probably make some time to see the library too" That's no small ask, and ensuring the safe arrival of valuable cargo is a lot of responsibility. If it's something he doesn't feel comfortable ordering from a distance than it's probably VERY expensive.

"You would trust me to do that?" I ask. My body is finally catching up with our conversation. He is serious, he is listening to me and trying to help. I am going on an adventure. I can feel the heat behind my eyes, and my throat feels thick.

He nods, "what do you think? Do we have a deal?"

“Yes" I manage, there are tears now, sliding down my cheeks and landing salty on my lips. He stands, and walks around the table. He lowers himself to one knee and wraps his big arms around me. I am going on an adventure.

I have so many questions, but I resolve myself to hold them until tomorrow. The hug feels so lovely, and after our strained conversation, it feels good to be reassured that our connection is still strong. I know that he's concerned and scared for me, but he wants me to be find my purpose, too.

The hug ends too quickly and he kisses my forehead and moves to tend the fire. We retire to bed soon after our game. I strip my clothes off and fall into the soft mattress, it creaks welcomingly. How am I supposed to sleep after that? My mind is racing with questions; who will I meet on the road? what will I see? what will my class be?

I don’t think I will ever sleep again!!

A sudden thump on the door wakes me, and I groan, blearily looking out my window. The sun's up already? What time is it?