Whispers

A week soon passed, and the day of the festival was upon them. Driven by excitement, Mildune hurried through his field work, and was surprised at the end to find an extra silver in his pay. When he asked Perin about it, however, the old man simply laughed and waved him away. Confused, but grateful, Mildune took the money and raced home.

When he got there, he found his uncle loading a wagon, the back of which was already filled with several wooden trunks. Mildune opened one to find a variety of wooden trinkets, all hand crafted by his uncle, who was a carpenter.

"Is this what you plan on selling tonight?" Mildune asked, closing the trunk. Every year, his uncle would occupy a stall at the festival, and put his extra wares out for sale. And every year, he would return home with an empty carriage, and a heavier coin pouch.

"You've outdone yourself this year."

His uncle grunted, struggling beneath the awkwardness of a chair twice his size. Mildune reached over and gave him a hand.

"Thank you. I don't know how I would have gotten that up there myself," Berrodin said, closing the wagon. "Do you have time to help me set up my stall? I'd like to finish early."

Berrodin hopped into the wagon, and Mildune climbed up beside him. With a flick of the reins, they were off.

Berrodin's stall was situated near the center of the city, in a decent spot with a lot of foot traffic. Already, people were clamoring about, with men discussing new tools, while their wives haggled over the prices of cloth and precious jewelry. Nearby, their children shrieked with excitement, and chased after one another with wooden swords.

Mildune eyed the neighboring stalls, from which spices hung, and blades were displayed. Behind them, the stall owners were smiling widely, hinting at a good night. Further down the street, Mildune caught sight of a stage, upon which people in outlandish costumes prepared for a show.

"This is us," Belroddin said, stopping the wagon. Mildune glanced at the stall they were beside. It was quite a bit bigger than the ones next to it.

"How did you manage to get a stall this big?" Mildune asked, hopping out of the wagon.

"I've been wondering the same thing, Belroddin. Mind sharing your secret?"

A hulking man stomped over for a nearby stall, glaring at Berrodin. A thick beard covered his face, and muscles bulged from under his shirt, pulling it taunt. He gripped a forge hammer in his left hand, while a pair of tongs hung from his right.

The two glared at each other before both breaking out in laughter.

"You nearly had me there, Desmont. How have you been?"

"I'm good. Hoping to have a decent sale this year," Desmont said, picking up two of the chests and moving them to the stall. "I wasn't kidding by the way. How did you manage to acquire this?"

Berrodin waved his hand. "It's nothing much. I did some work for the son of the Lord, and he awarded me a bigger stall. It pays to have connections."

As the two spoke, Mildune opened the chests one by one, and arranged the stall in a flattering way. From the rafters he hung an assortment of chimes, while on the counter he placed delicately designed boats, and hand chiseled towers. There was even a miniature version of the city, with a fully operational gate, and chipped stone towers.

Once finished, Mildune set up the chair for his uncle, and tapped him on the shoulder.

"Is it alright if I go now?"

Berrodin glanced at the stall in surprise. "Oh, yes. Of course! Go on and have some fun. But don't be out too late! You still have work in the morning!"

Berrodin shouted the last bit as Mildune had already darted away. Waving in acknowledgment, he nimbly made his way through the bustling crowd, and towards the old library in the distance. As he ran, he bumped into someone, but when he turned to apologize, he felt his blood run cold. A man clad in a black cloak stood before him, his face hidden by the hood. From the shadows of his cloak, a silver blade glinted, though he made no move to use it.

"Be careful, boy, lest you lose your life." The man spoke coldly, before spinning away and disappearing into the crowd.

For a moment, Mildune just stood there, unable to move until the church bell tolled in the distance. Shaking his head, he pushed the strange man out of his mind, and raced down the road, slipping past corners, until he arrived at the old library.

There, he found Roalin leaned against the wall, flipping a silver coin in his left hand, with a bored expression across his face. When he saw Mildune, his bright blue eyes lit up, and he returned the coin to his pouch.

"Well, this is quite the surprise. You actually made it on time," Roalin said. He looked around, and then frowned. "Where's Melrin? Isn't she coming with you?"

"No? Did she say she was?"

Roalin scratched the back of his head. "I thought so. I went to talk to her about it three days ago, and she claimed you already did. I thought that meant the two of you would meet me here together."

"Maybe she's still helping her father at his stall. If you want, you can go check, and I'll meet the two of you later," Mildune said. "This will also give the two of you some time alone together."

Roalin slowly nodded. "Yeah… yeah, you're right. Thanks, I owe you one!"

Roalin broke away from the wall, and ran in the direction of the stalls.

"You can pay me back later! I'll meet you at the tavern!" Mildune shouted. He sighed as Roalin ran around a corner without looking back. "Great, now what am I going to do?"

Mildune walked around the stalls for a bit before making his way to the games. The were a variety of them set up, including one where people payed to throw axs, and those who made a bulls eye would win a prize.

The woman running the stall waved Mildune over, and motioned to the stall. "Would you care to give it a try? Only two bronze for three tries."

Mildune pondered for a moment before fetching the coins from his pouch. The woman's eyes sparkled as she took the money and handed Mildune three axes.

"Where's Captain Alberch?" Mildune asked, taking a stand. He threw the first ax, but it missed the cirlce completly. Grunting, he readied the second one.

"My husband? Oh, he's out guarding the gate. Said it was the least he could do on his last night. He should be here soon though."

The woman watched as Mildune threw thr second ax. Still no bulls eye, but he managed to hit the circle this time. She pursed her lips, and watched as he narrowed his eyes. With a steady hand, he flung the ax, its blade twirling through the air. With a thunk, it hit dead center, splitting the wood.

"Well done! You're only the third person tonight to his the bulls eye," The woman handed Mildune a token. "That's a voucher you can take to any of the food stalls. You can get one thing from any one of them."

"Thank you," Mildune said. The token was a rectangle slip of iron, with Captain Alberch's family crest on it. On the back, there were directions for its return, so the food stalls could colect their payment.

Slipping it into his pocket, Mildune bid farwell to the lady, and made his way to the food section. As he did so, he passed by the front gate, but something strange stopped him. Tilting his head, he stepped outside the city, and glanced around.

"Hello? Is anyone there?" Mildune called out.

The gate stood silent, its shadow flickering beneath the lanterns hung overhead. No one was to be seen in either direction. Neither guard, nor commoner.

'Strange… Did they leave for the festival?'

Mildune forwned, and looked back at the city, his gaze running over the faces in the crowd. If the kingdom's officials were to learn that the gate was left unattended, there was bound to be a court hearing.

Not wanting that to happen, especially not to someone new to the job, he went to find the young guard, and give him quite the scolding, only to freeze as a soft breeze swept past, whispering in his ear.

'Mildune...'