Arvi slowed his steps to a leisure gate. He was now crossing pass low-town bridge on the main canal. No need to rush from the guard who had been following him. The guard was slow and Arvi only wish to avoid a scene.
Be swift, be smart, be quiet and be unnoticeable. That is how we survive.
Granted swiftness was not an attribute afforded to the guard. His movements were slow versus what they should be. The guard’s beautiful armor belabored the work it was to meant to protect him for. Instead of being the intimidating and swift hand of justice he was the slow white turtle shell of mediocrity.
What an insufferable loser. His strides would pace him at only being able to run at half the speed of leatherbacks, at their jogging pace. Regardless, once I cross pass this bridge I’ll lose him. Easy. And he can return to being an overly opulent stone fixture with the illusion of providing safety.
He spits to the side in disgust.
Utterly unbelievable.
To the right Arvi could see the low-town gate as he passed bye. It was not made of stone like the other, but of hardwood. Strong but splintered hardwood. A beaten version of what it used to be. It ran across the canal in a large arch. Ontop fishermen and various merchant stalls could be found. There just barely existed enough space for a cart or carriage to cross. Not like a carriage would be seen this far south. The bridge led to the west side of low-town; which had the same run-down grey block buildings as on the east side. Except on the west side you could see what appeared to have been towers that once defended this side of the isle from the shore. On the east side, that stretched out like a labyrinth. Many of the walls were made from sandstone made from the beach area here, giving a grey and dirty tan look. The place, in fact, wasn’t actually dirty, surprisingly, but it just looked it. And the smell of people living upon people just didn’t add to the appeal.
Arvi stopped past the edge of the bridge. He looked back to see that the guard had indeed stopped and turned around. He had done his job.
The bare minimum. No commitment to justice. What a waste of human material due a myopic and self-serving lens. He’s a little shit. Like those he serves.
A group of men can be seen carting heavy loads. Their drab grey and brown outfits clung to their bodies. Some of the men were big some scrawny. But all strained under the loads with their muscles taught like corded wire, their foreheads kissed with sweat, and their musk that of exertion. Even their wheelbarrows and carts seem worn, screeching under the weight as if in pain, with wheels that have seen lubricant as much as these men have seen birthday presents; just enough to it was done.
“Did you hear?” A pale skinny man with a balding head said to a stout but greying man dark-skinned man.
“No. What’s new?” The grey-haired man responded.
“A bunch of folks got roped up this morning,” said the skinny man while whipping his brow on his shoulder.
The other man paused his cart. He arched an overgrown grey eyebrow and asked “by who?”
“The leatherbacks,” the skinny man responded.
“Ah. Well as long as it’s not the white turds.”
The skinny man stops and leans into a whisper “I even heard some of them tried to fight”
The older man smiled broadly then said “Oh. So I suppose some of them have concussions now. Well, they’ll probably be alive at least.”
“Yeah I heard those that tried got whooped like a lad found in the bed of his betrothed sister”
They both laugh heartily and continue pushing their carts.
“Well serve’s em right. I ain’t much for someone standing over my shoulder like a guard. But I tell you, those leather backs have been nothin' but a help since that Gricrir fellow got up the ranks. I mean. They’re annoying, don’t get me wrong. But I’d prefer them then not. Anyways what were those fools up to anyway?” inquired the greying man.
“Kicking ass and makin’ right” said the skinny man.
“No fool. Not the leather backs. The ones that ‘tacked them. What was that about”
At this point another man with a pot bellied pulled up. He butted into the conversation with “Oh they were drinkin’ some of this the night before”
“Is that the Floggin’ Inn’s Dragon Juice,” said the skinny man.
“Ab-so-lutely.”
I must never drink any of that in public. If it’s strong enough to make people attack leather backs… I wouldn’t be surprised if it was laced with a magic concoction. Thought Arvi, who had turned around to follow the men.
The pot bellied man continued “Yeah. With the celebrations they got too excited. And I guess it hit some a bit more than others. In fact, ol’ ice-eyes told me to port this up to one of those small bars and make us a profit”
“Oh yeah,” said the dark skinned man.
“Yeah,” said the pot-bellied man. “She said let them loose their minds up there. She ain’t trying to deal with that much celebratin'. And if those fancy sort merchants want more, they can come down … and pay a good price for it, over here in low-town.”
All men said at once “Fair.”
“Hey, how’s the grand kids doing anyway,” the pale skin manned asked the greying man.
“Oh you know, we’re tryin to save up so the can learn a trade, maybe do better than us and their parents -“
Arvi had stopped listening. The rest would be the usual stories he had grown accustomed to hearing from those in low town. No need to repeat the obvious, practical, and usually, unfortunately unobtainable.
“That’s just the way it is ... for now”
Arvi ducked down one of the many winding pathways attempting to not concern himself with the troubles of others. Troubles he was not able to solve. He continued to walk in a well known path way and the further he went the better the smell got. He could hear voices as he came about a small opening that was tucked away. On this small plaza known to locals.
There were an assortment of benches and tables. Most of them made out of scrap wood, some even out of driftwood. A few were donated old tables. There were potted plants strewn about the plaza and a little well off to the side and an out house a further bit down the way, since piping hadn’t been extended to this part of town mostly yet. But most exciting was one of the buildings lodged in-between the rest of the mix-colored stone buildings.
Arvi followed his nose to it. It was a bakery shop.
***
Arvi whole head was lifted now as his wide open nostrils were tugged to the smell of delectables. The bakery show straight back. It had a door and one large window that ran horizontally. It was one of the few windows in the area and definitely one of the few that could be opened and closed. But despite it’s location, it was one of the best treat places in all of Bridgebourg. The owners definitely had money.
They would have so much more. But basic supply and demand requires them to observe the market. If they price themself too high with this areas clientele they surely wouldn’t make it. Unfortunate, I’m sure they’d do well in mid-town, and could compete even footedly in high-town.
Stolen from its rightful place, this narrative is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings.
“Hey there little Arvi,” a sweet voice rang out to him. It was a woman in her late fifties, very shapely, tall, with silver streaks running through her black hair. She wore a purple dress and had a purpled ribbon that held her thick hair into a pony tail. This caramel-skinned woman was somehow able to mix elegance with cute. She was standing at the counter that her window formed next a woman of similar age, with platinum blonde hair and tanned skin.
“Mrs Geltcher. Ms. Flavion. It’s a pleasure to see you both. I hope the day has treated you kind, elegant souls well,” and with that Arvi takes a deep bow. The two ladies eyes light up and they give a little clap.
“You’re such a sweetheart little Arvi,” responded Mrs. Geltcher with a smile.
“Well no where as sweet as the amazing donuts your husband makes. I imagine Mr. Geltcher is baking right now.”
“He sure is,” Mrs. Geltcher says as she adjusts her purple ribbon. “I’ll make sure he comes out here to greet you.”
“Thank you Mrs. Geltcher”
“Arvi, you’re not a sweet little thing” Ms. Flavion, the woman with platinum blonde hair says sternly, starring him down.
Arvi’s heart quickens, his blood pressure raising.
Impossible. I’ve followed all the appropriate customs. Neither too quiet not too loud, neither to shy nor too forward.
“You Arvi, are a little sweet charmer. If I were your age I would be dropping’ handkerchiefs all around,” Ms. Flavion says, her mouth going from a tight flatline to a warm smile.
Arvi’s heart slows down, though his sweaty palms are hard to get rid of.
I was worried for nothing. I need to relax. But it’s so hard, I never know what angle someone will come at me.
Arvi lets out a quiet sight of relief.
“Bri, Bri, I’d say the same.”
“I heard that!” Came a deep voice from back in the bakery.
“I’m sure you did. And you know it’s true. You just got lucky because you could cook... and … “she whispers this lowly to everyone else. I simply find him irroestiable. But you know, I can’t tell him that all the time. You guys,” she points at Arvi “begin to rest on your laurels with too much praise.”
Ms Flavio laughs and shakes her head in agreement. “That’s true. My husband was great but with too many compliments he’d think he was one of the knights of the order of the snow”.
Glady’s nodding says “you know, I remember that. Ha. I miss that old willow tree of a man”
These four grew up together. Have grown old together. And even lost one. True bonds of friendship. I’m glad I at least got Abigail”.
Breaking the moment of silence Glady’s starts up “Thing about love birds. The idea of the merchant princess marrying a noble is quite the thing.”
Dear goodness, not this shite again. Gosh, I can’t do with another round of this.
Glady’s eyes Arvi. “Why the bored face little Arvi?”
“Well ma’am, I just don’t see the big deal.”
“Well,” Bri jumps in “it’s a big deal for us low-towners. Her household came from low-town within a generation to become one of the wealthiest families. But, unlike others, they’ve never forgotten their roots. They give back in so many ways. The taxes that are taken rarely equal to the work needed on this side of town. And since we don’t have money, we can’t do it ourselves.”
“Well at least their doing something right I suppose…”
Glady’s arches an eyebrow at Arvi.
I can’t believed I let that slip. I must be still frustrated from earlier. From those venom pumas who parade as women, known as Jess and Olivia.
“Arvi it goes even further. The house of nobles here have a say in a lot of the policy. They present it to the king. However, the House of Commons, where merchants and skilled trade folks, get to voice our opinion, is not as regarded when we negotiate with the house of nobles. Both houses have to come to an agreement before presenting to the king. With members of house Hali as noble, and given their history …. Well, well things could change here. Not only would we have a stronger seat at the table, but the idea of merchants becoming nobles might become more acceptable over time. We might. We might even start to be treated on a whole as better with advocates from the inside.”
Plausible. Difficult however for the first to marry in as all eyes would be on them and it would be expected that they try to swing policy in favor of non-nobles. The nobles will do their best to either indoctrinate her or to clearly shut her out. A very tedious game of chest for long-term and checkers on a regular basis. And who, would really want to have to put up with that the rest of their lives.
“Well ma’ams, you all have much more wisdom than I do in such matters as these. However, I do have a concern. I am concerned that the ‘merchant princess’ as miss Hali is belovedly called might be doing this for that and other economic reasons, and not out of love,”Arvi states, beginning to present his case.
Both ladies faces turn, like being nudged in a sensitive part unexpectedly.
“Both of you charming, beautiful and respectable women chose your partners, I assume given your statements, because of love. Is it fair to force a woman, who in a sense, probably has the most prospects for anyone from the Merchant class to be forced into a loveless marriage where she is but a public service political tool, guided now by both rules of the merchant class and nobility. To literally live a separate life from what friends and extended family she has? To …”
Arvi pauses. It creates a dramatic tension but that was not his point. He noticed his hands were clenching and that he could feel the throbbing of his temple. All signs of agitation leading to anger. He took deep breath, to regain himself, slightly backing off in tone but still conveying the weight of his message.
“Never truly have a home? To always live in a constant limbo. No anchor and no one to console her? To then produce heirs who the nobles will, and please pardon my language, would perceive as bastards? Or to be used as pawns. As she herself will be used by everyone. Is that right? For her to forever live in twightlight?”
Because I know what it means to have no home. To have no place to fit. To always be the odd one out. ….
Both ladies, to their credit, take a few moments to consider his statement carefully.
I was too eloquent in my impromptu speech. I should have held back. That voicing can isolate people. My self control are not satisfactory today.
Gladys walks closer to Arvi and places both hands on his shoulders before beginning to talk “And is it fair for a woman to have to guess at her best lot in life based off who she marries. Is it fair that we are the only ones who give birth. Is it fair that we are treated weaker even though we are the gateway to whence life starts and when it came. None of it is fair. But we do what we must. And sometimes what we want and what we must do not coincide together.”
I know. Sadly so.
“And thinking about fair. Have you, you little charmer ever though about marrying your friend Abigail? You two have been friends as long as I’ve known you two. What other boys would have a chance with you around as an obstacle.”
A strong, sister girl “mmm hmmm” sound can be heard from Ms. Bri over at the counter.
I knew this would come eventually. I’m not interested. Not at all. She truly is my one and only friend and I see her as such. Ad even if I were interested that would be complicated. A complication I’d fight for. But not one I’d prefer anyone to go through. It would be a hell of a battle though. But not something just to take on to wax my ego and wanton whims.
“If am an obstacle then they need to do better ma’am,” he respectfully lifts her hands off of his shoulders and holds them kindly in his for a moment. “While I want her to have the best, I do not want her in that way. And that, to marry her, a person I simply consider my sister, for the sake of making things easier for her, but to not give her the love she deserves, is an unfairness I am unwilling to take part off,” and he let’s Gladys’s hands go.
Gladys stares at him a moment and then wraps him a in a huge hug.
“What a damn amazing kid you are.”
“Damn,” Bri says as well “If I were only 30 years younger, heck, I’d take even 20. They sure don’t make ‘em like they make him”.
While trying to breathe through the enormous hug, his words barely coming out “you ladies honor me”.
Both ladies shake their heads. “You need to stop being so cute. I’m going to have to match you up with someone,” Gladys says.
“Hey, how about you let go of my woman Arvi,” a deep voice from the counter bellows. Behind it was a tall bald man, pale, and stocky man.
“Yes sir” Arvi’s voice still muffled by the hug.
“Gladys!,” the man states excitedly.
“Alright, alright Raizon,” Gladys says as she lets go.
“Finally,” Raizon said. “Now instead of hugging up on may woman, she’s all mine you know, you hug up on this boxes of donuts I made for you?”
Uncharacteristically, Arvi sprints over to the counter immediately plunging his hand into the box of treats.
“Jelly field? Please tell me jelly field,” Arvi say’s excitedly observing the donuts.
“They-“
“Jelly filled!” Arvi announces as he sees the filling hole. He immediately jams half of the donut in his mouth, jam ungracefully flashing on his cheeks.
Oh my gosh. These things are heaven. Literally. They are soft cotton clouds filled with joy. I know no better treat than this in the world. Ambrosia fruit or pie would barely touch this.
Trying to collect himself after seeing Arvi’s outburst, Raizon lets forth a rumbling laugh. “Yeah kid. You’re favorite. I made sure to put fresh glaze ones in there too. And it’s a bakers dozen”
Arvi sheds a single tear of joy and then sinks his teeth into a glazed donut.
With the mild taken aback a mother would have seeing their kid scarf down a rare birthday cake “Well … he is a boy after all.”
“No one’s perfect. Not even Mr. Charmer. He best beware the woman who can bake - he’ll be putty in their hands”
Arvi starts working on a third donut, like a true sweet glutton when a large man, rolling in sweat rushes up to the plaza.
“Abigail!?” He yells.
Arvi stops chewing, even though his cheeks are filled with donut and his hand is still holding one. Through muffled tones “Mr. Stichmerson?”
What’s going on here. He doesn’t run. Damn it. My mouth is filled with glorious donut. I really need to wean myself off of these things. I’m such a pig. A dirty little pig.
“Abbbby! I can’t find Abby! She’s been missing since last night!”
Arvi drops his donut. His eyes widen as he intakes the information and then his dark eyes narrow. His eyes becoming like pools to the black abyss. All sense of kindness and mercy forsaken.
If anyone has harmed my Abby…they will know what it is to become misery incarnate by my blades.