As soon as she passed out of the Academy gates, Saga activated Haste. She felt the wind surround her once more, pushing her forward, and she smiled. Her body felt lighter, and she felt like she could run across the world if she wanted. Today, she settled for running across the city.

She headed south from the Gates, sticking to one of the spokes of the wheel that made up the city’s main streets rather than duck and dive through the alleys. The main streets were busier, of course, but there was also more room to avoid running into wagons or pedestrians. Using Haste to navigate the streets on foot wasn’t unheard of, but there wasn’t much overlap between those with the magical talent, physical stamina, and inclination to do so, and today she was the only one she saw moving as fast as she was.

It took her less than a minute to reach the Grand Ring, the large road that circled the Academy district and separated it from the outer Crafthall districts. Directly south of the Academy District was Beacon’s Gate, which contained the entrance to the city and the general market and residential areas for those who weren’t attached to any of the Crafthalls. Directly west of Beacon’s Gate sat the Shapers’ Forge, where one could find the Blacksmith and Jeweler Crafthalls and her home.

She skirted the outer edge of the Grand Ring to avoid the worst of the traffic, dodging around citizens going about their daily business. The actions felt effortless, as if she was the wind itself, and she reveled in the feeling up until she felt her foot catch something. She dropped Haste and cast Shield on instinct as she tripped, tumbled a few times, and came to a stop on her back a few yards away, groaning.

Dapper was in her vision, looking down at her from the brim of her hat in concern. “What was that?” she asked him, sitting up. The answer was immediately apparent: fruit littered the path around a market stall that had been set up to face the Grand Ring, and she could see where a stray crate had been sticking out into the walkway just enough to catch her foot. The crate was demolished, though the fruit seemed to be fine.

The stall owner, a middle-aged woman, began shouting at Saga as she climbed to her feet. “You! What are you thinking, using your magic and running around like that!? Look at the mess you made! My oranges are all ruined! They cost me a fortune, I’ll have you know!”

Saga gritted her teeth, trying not to shout back. She was the one who’d left the crate sticking into the walkway! Anyone could have tripped over it, it just so happened to be Saga. It wouldn’t do for the Craftking’s daughter to make a scene, though. A small part of her raged that she had to consider that, but that was reality.

“I’m sorry, ma’am,” Saga said, bowing. “I was in a hurry and grew careless. Please, allow me to help.” She stooped without waiting for a response, gathering the fruit and setting them into the remains of the crate. The fruit, she noted, was a kind of citrus Miss Lessa especially liked, a Balornic orange, with a thick rind and sour flavor she enjoyed. Saga liked it enough, but she preferred her fruit to be sweet.

“Don’t tell me you’re in a hurry! We’re all in a hurry!” the vendor continued. “That doesn’t give you the right to knock over fruit stands and trample old women!”

What does that even mean? Saga thought. You’re just standing here waiting for customers all day, and I didn’t even hit you. Her right eye itched, but she resisted both the urge to scratch at it and to reply out loud. Instead, she let the vendor continue her tirade while she worked.

“Do you know how much it cost me to get those?” the older woman demanded. She’d stopped shouting, but her tone was still harsh. “I got those straight from Balorn! The harvest was smaller than usual this year and I had to pay a premium to get them! Look at this!” She snatched a fruit from Saga’s hand and thrust it in front of her face. The outer rind had been lightly scuffed, but the fruit looked perfectly fine as far as Saga could tell. You didn’t eat the rind, anyway.

Saga scratched at her right eye, feeling her anger boil and trying to hold it down. She knew it was partially her own fault for going as fast as she had been, but this woman was making this simple accident seem like a personal slight. Just as she opened her mouth to reply harshly, she noticed something that immediately doused the fire in Saga’s eye.

The vendor had tears in her eyes. Did oranges really mean that much to her? Saga took a moment to actually take in the scene. The vendor’s clothing looked old, frayed in some spots, and most of the other fruit in her stand didn’t look particularly appetizing.

Saga chided herself mentally. Angels above, she probably spent most of her money on these oranges. I could have ruined her livelihood if I’d actually stepped on the crate instead of tripping over it.

Saga gave the fruit seller a sweeping bow, removing her hat in the same gesture to show respect. “I’m truly sorry, ma’am. Please, allow me to make it up to you somehow.” The other woman gave a short gasp in response, and Saga realized her mistake. She supposed it was too much to hope that her hair would hide her horns.

"No, I'm sorry, Lady Vance, I shouldn't have taken that tone with you."

When Saga straightened, she could still see the anger in the woman's eyes, but now it was mixed with a touch of...fear? No, not quite. People didn't fear her family. Worried, perhaps? She was uncertain what offending Saga would do to her reputation.

Saga's frown deepened as she stared at the woman, wondering why it took seeing Saga's horns to recognize her, not just her scar, but with the city being full of adventurers, she supposed she didn't really stand out in that regard. Still, she hated this. Hated what people expected of her just because she was a drake, and because she was born a Vance. The City wasn't a true monarchy, the City Council elected the Craftking from among their own number, but the title of Craftking led a noble esteem to the family, and for the years they were in power they might as well be actual royalty.

Realizing the woman was staring at her, waiting for a response, she shook her head and donned her hat. “It’s alright, ma’am. I’m the one who brought harm to your stall, and for that I’m in your debt.”

The woman’s face fell slightly, though her eyes were still hard with contained anger. “No, no, Lady Vance, it’s nothing. The fruit are all fine, see? Just a little scuff here and there, no harm done.” She smiled, but Saga could tell it was forced.

No, I’m not letting my status get me out of this, Saga thought, frustrated. This was why she always wore her hat, or at least a headband. She reached into her coin pouch and grabbed the last of her coins, some copper, a few silvers, and a single gold. Saga knew this would be overpaying for oranges, but she wanted to make it right. "I'm sorry, miss. Will this cover the cost of the oranges? I'd like to purchase them."

The woman remained silent for a moment, glaring at Saga, but eventually her eyes darted to the coins and back. "What, you think throwing money at this will make everything better?" Her false polite demeanor was gone, and Saga counted that as a win.

"What? No, I just...I owe you, for the damages and the distress." Saga kept her voice low, her eyes downcast. She’d perfected this pitiful look as a child, and it had saved her more than a few scoldings from her parents.

The woman stared at her, then sighed. "Fine, I can see that you mean it," she said, but when Saga began to reply she held up a finger. "But, I have my pride. You will pay the fair price for the oranges, and not a copper more. I won't have you throw money at me and think it will make everything better. Understand?"

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Saga nodded, and the two counted out the proper coins for the oranges, which the woman promptly dumped into a large sack before handing it to Saga. She accepted it, but frowned when the stall owner didn't let go.

"Why were you running?"

Saga blinked, surprised by the question. "Beg pardon?"

The woman smiled wryly. "I'm just curious what had you in such a rush that a polite young lady like you didn't even look where you were going.

"Oh." Saga blushed. "I was accepted to take my Journeyman Trial today. I was running home to tell my family."

The woman grunted. “A bard, then. Alright, if you really want to make it up to me, pass your trial. I assume from your fancy sword you're a dancer?"

Saga raised an eyebrow. "You recognize a dancing saber?"

"I spent more than a little time watching the bards practice in the training yard in my younger days." The older woman had a twinkle in her eye. "Tell you what, promise you'll come perform for me someday and all will be forgiven."

Saga gave the woman her best smile. This was the chance she wanted, a chance to accomplish something on her own merit, without her nobility or power being a factor. "It's a promise."

The older woman nodded again. "Alright, then. Get out of here before I decide you still owe me.” Her face formed a scowl again, and Saga decided that must be her usual look.

She bowed again to the fruit seller. “Thank you for your understanding and grace, Miss. Angels bless you,” she said with all the sweetness she could muster.

The woman harrumphed, but bowed her head to Saga. “Same to you.”

Saga’s smile grew more genuine as she waved to the woman and walked away, satisfied the matter had been resolved. She was left with a few coppers and a silver, and would have to see if she could get a bit more coin from her father for her trip, but she was sure Master Dorrin would allow her to earn her keep on the road if necessary. She wondered idly what could be going on in that village that a Master Bard needed to get involved, but quickly pushed those thoughts out of her mind. She could deal with that when the time came.

For now, she had people to see.

———

Saga walked the rest of the way to her home, a modest dwelling near the Great Forge. One wouldn’t know from looking at the home that it belonged to the ruler of the city, but she knew that was the point. She took a moment to take it in, as she probably wouldn't get a chance to in the morning.

Her father earned a nice salary as the city’s Craftking so long as he held the position, but he preferred to remain in his more practical family home. It was big enough to house their entire family, including Grandpapa when he needed to get away from the Academy for a while, and the few staff they kept on hand. The outer walls were made of bricks, like most buildings in the city, with a small flight of stairs leading up to the front door and a larger entrance at ground level around the side. The only real flourish the building had to it was the wrought iron decorations adorning the walls and door, all crafted by her family.

She smiled wryly when her eyes fell on the covering she'd made for her own window, the journeyman piece that had convinced her father she had completed her apprenticeship to his satisfaction. It was designed in the shape of a rose, her favorite flower, though it was the same dull grey iron as the rest of the decorations.

She had spent long hours working on the piece, trying to bend the hot iron in just the right shape. Lorana, her mother, had offered her the use of a Redlight forge to better control the heat and make it easier to bend, but Saga had refused. She then spent the next few hours struggling with her work and wondering if maybe she should have taken her mother up on the offer, but she knew even then she wouldn’t have been able to work with the magical fire.

As a drake, she was meant to have an affinity with Redlights, a special connection, but ever since that accident almost took her eye, she could barely stand the sight of them without that crystalline flame filling her vision. Besides, she didn't want to rely on them to make her job easier, not when the whole point of this test was to show her own skill. Still, even though she'd eventually succeeded in making the piece, she couldn't help but wonder how much faster the process would have been if she'd just been able to tolerate the Redlights.

Dapper tapped her shoulder, and she shook herself out of her reverie. “Sorry, just thinking.” She smiled at him, then marched across the street, down the alley alongside her house and towards the side entrance. Miss Lessa was right where Saga thought she'd be, in the kitchen just inside the side entrance. She and the cook were working on what appeared to be the evening meal. “I’m back, Miss Lessa, and I’ve brought a gift for you!”

Miss Lessa turned to look at Saga, continuing to peel potatoes. “For me?”

Saga held up the sack and pulled out an orange. “Picked them up fresh from the market! I know how much you like them.”

"Oh, Balornic oranges? Those are hard to find lately." She finished the potato she'd been working on and came to inspect the proffered fruit, then frowned. "A little scuffed..." She narrowed her eyes suspiciously at Saga. "I don't suppose you bought these purely as a gift for me?"

Saga winced. "I may have made a mess on my way here. I felt bad, so I bought the fruit to make it up to the seller.”

“I see," Miss Lessa said with a thoughtful smile, taking the sack and the orange Saga was holding. “Well, the fruit’s still perfectly fine, and I haven’t had these in a while. Thank you, Lady Saga.” She gave Saga a little hug and moved to put the fruit away. "Why are you here?"

Saga blinked. "I brought you fruit?"

Miss Lessa chuckled as she returned to peeling. "I mean, here in the house. You don’t have a rain cloud over your head, so I assume you weren’t passed up for a Trial again. Shouldn’t you be on your way to whatever village they’ve sent you to?”

Saga shrugged, taking a seat at a nearby they used for preparing food. "They assigned me to accompany Master Dorrin to a lumber village called Dove's Landing in Balorn. We leave tomorrow." She grabbed an apple from a nearby basket, but before she could take a bite, the Housewoman snatched it away and replaced it with a potato. Saga scowled, but acquiesced and joined her in peeling. "When are you going to stop calling me ‘Lady’? You don’t call Epic or my parents by their titles.”

“They don’t insist on calling me Miss, either.” Lessa was facing away from Saga, but she could hear the woman’s grin. “It makes me feel old.”

“It’s a sign of respect,” Saga replied with mock solemnity.

Miss Lessa glanced at her. “Were you recognized again?”

“The fruit seller,” Saga sighed. “Lady Vance this, Lady Vance that, the usual.”

“Tsk. It’s your own fault, you know. If you didn’t wear that hat and coat every day, maybe covered your scar somehow…”

Saga made a face. “I’m a bard, I have to look my best. All the heroes in the stories have iconic looks, like the Keepers with their long green coats. If I want to be a hero one day, I need my own look.” She stopped peeling for a moment to pose with her arms wide, though she knew the two would just think she was being silly. “Also, I can’t cover the scar. What if the makeup runs into my eye while I’m dancing?”

Miss Lessa only smiled, remaining silent.

Saga returned to peeling her potato. “I suppose I can tolerate being called a Lady, if it’s only by you, Miss Lessa.” She sighed dramatically before switching vegetables, grabbing a carrot from its pile and beginning to peel and clean it.

Alder, the cook, shot her a look over his shoulder and shook his head. The man hadn’t been there as long as Miss Lessa, but he’d been there long enough to be used to their antics. He was as much a member of the family as Miss Lessa was, and unlike the Housewoman, didn't call Saga by her title. That was one of the reasons she liked him. “Saga, are you going to see your parents?" the cook asked, turning back to his pot.

"That was the plan. Have you sent lunch to the Forge yet?" Saga's stomach rumbled at the thought of food. Her Haste spell was fun, but it worked up an appetite.

“Not yet. If I make some sandwiches, would you be so kind as to run them out to your parents?” Alder’s tone was one of amusement, and Saga realized the man had planned this so he wouldn’t have to go himself. “I’ll make an extra for your brother, too, if he’s there.”

Saga nodded in response, a wry smile on her face. “Well, as I’m headed that way after all, I suppose I can deign to do our favorite cook a favor in exchange for a sandwich for myself.”

Alder laughed and set to work. Meanwhile, Dapper hopped down onto the table and gestured at Saga with his front legs, a signal for her to hold her hand out so he could tap a message to her. She obliged, then nodded her understanding to him. He would search the house for a meal, then catch up to her later. She knew he’d leave one of his threads attached to her so he could find her later, no matter how far away she went. His silk had several odd properties, and no one she asked seemed to know anything about them, but they’d certainly come in handy over the years.

She gave him a wave, which he returned before leaping away. His knack for vanishing was uncanny; he could be in plain view one second, but then completely disappear with a single jump. Saga had always admired that little trick of his.

She finished her pile of carrots just as Alder brought her a basket with several sandwiches inside. “Here you go. Give your parents our regards, and we’ll see you for dinner.”

Saga had grabbed the basket and was already on the way to the door when she stopped. “Oh, I almost forgot, Grandpapa will be joining us for dinner tonight. I’m sure he’s looking forward to your porridge, Miss Lessa, as usual.”

Miss Lessa and Alder exchanged a look, the former’s annoyed and the latter’s saying ‘I told you so’. “I’ll bet he wants extra raisins, even.” Lessa sighed. “Alright, I’ll get started on it.”

“Thanks, see you tonight!” Saga called, and headed out the door.