Chapter 3:
Settling In
Corazon was right, Lady Hirata was up on her feet, albeit she had to use her sheathed blade as a crutch or cane. Even if she lightly protested, Gabriela and I always tried to make things easier on her. It was hospitality to guests, and Bayanihan, a term denoting the spirit of civic unity and helping each other without expecting a reward amongst Maniolians, at work I guess. She all but demanded she let her repay our kindness by helping out around the shop. “It would be ill for one of the House of Hirata to be slothful while their hosts work, even if sick or injured.”
While Gabriela and I were happy for the help, in good conscience, we suggested she only do less strenuous tasks, if only to not aggravate her wounds. One of the first things that came to mind was helping take stock of inventory. She proceeded to dive into her task with vigor and gusto. “Watch and be amazed, Lobo and Gabriella, as I, Lady Jeanne of the House of Hirata, effortlessly sort out your stockpile!” She said with a flourish and grin, before zooming off with the logbook and carved stylus. I chuckled, there was the grandiose nature of Cultivators I sometimes missed. The morning was rather slow to start with as we waited for customers to slowly trickle in. A few of the dockworkers or rickshaw drivers stopped in to buy some of the snacks we had in store, such as coco bread, on their way to their jobs. They’d grab what they wanted, swiftly pay, and be out the door as quickly as they had entered.
Our first real customer came just a short while before lunch. The front door’s bell jingled to signal their announcement. “Good morning, and welcome to-” I coughed, the scent of pungent tapuy, the traditional rice wine from the mountainous provinces and their rice terraces, filled the air. Only one man in Sugbu drank enough tapuy to practically radiate its strong fermented rice odor. He was a local arnis teacher, and one of the oldest non-Cultivators in the area, around a hundred-and-four years old, and still going strong. He considered it a blessing from Bathala, as well as decades of training and staying in shape. He had muscles as thick as a caribou, and was a head taller than most. He kept his hair and beard well trimmed, and had multiple scars running across his weathered body. His face was, more often than not, always turned up in a large, toothy grin. “Good morning, Master Escorpizo.” I nodded my head toward him, eyes watering from the acrid rice wine odor. Even if he was not my teacher, it was only proper to show one’s elders proper respect, especially if they were an instructor.
Stolen story; please report.
His hazel eyes fixed themselves on me, and he let out a deep belly laugh, “Ah, young Lobo!” With grace and speed most would not believe in a man who was practically all muscle, he bounded over to the counter, and clapped me on the shoulder with the force of thunder, causing me to wince a bit. “Heard you were back in town, and came to see how you were. Yah gotten hitched yet? No, well, no matter, all the time in the world for that.” He chuckled, slapping me on the back.
“Welcome to the Emporium, good sir.” Jean said, as she entered, carrying a small box of ube, the famous Maniolian purple yam, and placing it atop a shelf. I was always more of a mango type of guy.
He rounded upon her, his ponytail swinging as he did so. “Ah, you must be the foreigner that washed up on our not so little archipelago.” He held out a hand, which she took, and shook.
“That I am, Lady Jeanne of the House of Hirata, at your service.” Jeanne smiled, her pale golden hair, almost silver, shining in the light. “I’ve been settling in well enough.”
“Good to hear. If you ever need advice, come and ask for old Master Escorpizo!” He said, and picked some ingredients for rice wine, and a mortar and pestle, setting it on the counter. “Just these for today, kiddo.”
“Oh, Master Escorpizo, it has been awhile.” Gabriella said, wiping her hands on a cloth. My beloved had been busy organizing some produce in the back. She took his currency, and handed him his change.
“Take care, Master!” I called out as he swiftly left, likely eager to brew more tapuy. His whistling could be heard even through the walls and windows as he practically skipped down the road.
Overall, the day proved mostly uneventful. If only we knew that Jeanne’s quarry would soon come knocking on our gate soon enough.