The Rokkoh Adventures

Rokkoh and the Old Woman, Chapter 6

On the outskirts of the looming forest sits a building, just off the road. A path ventures from the main vein, leading up to the steps of the porch. Two-tiered and wooden, its four windows watch the road like unblinking eyes. The chimney lets loose a stream of smoke. Save for the sign sitting out front, it looks like a cozy cottage for a forest-dwelling family. But the sign reading Aloysius's Post alludes to the wares within.

"Let's stop for supplies," I suggest, to which Max agrees. We pull off the road and slow our horses until we arrive at the hitching post out front. Nana holds my hand again, the warmth nearly gone.

On the porch, lined down the front of the building, is a row of rocking chairs. Each is its own hue of brown, ranging from deep mahogany to a polished pine. In the one nearest the door sits a large toy bear. The size of a man and the gut of spoiled royalty, its stitched smile welcomes us. The brown fur almost looks genuine, as if it were made from a real bear pelt. Everything else, from its marble eyes to its soft fake claws, is felt.

A bell rings over our heads as we enter and look around with slow footsteps. The shop is quiet and empty. For a moment, I consider how easy it would be for someone with ill intent to steal from this place. I stow the thought away; theft is not on my to-do list.

A rush of footsteps comes from up above. They hurry from a room upstairs and then down a staircase. The runner slows to a halt as he passes through a doorway, out of breath. An older man, old enough to be my father, sports a pleasant and welcoming smile as he catches his breath. Long dark blond hair hangs past his shoulders, though the top of his crown runs bare. A beard, full and brown, covers his thick cheeks and strong chin. Seemingly a meek merchant, he wears only plain clothes. Can't imagine the need to dress up for customers at the edge of the wood. Judging by his merchandise, I'd venture to guess his primary clientele are forest dwellers or travelers. Few highborn folk to be found here. No one to impress.

"Good day, lads and lady," he says once his heart has slowed some. He takes his place behind the counter, various knick-knacks spread out on the top. "Pardon me for the inattentiveness. Wasn't expecting customers this afternoon. I am the eponymous Aloysius, and welcome to my little shop! Please feel free to browse the items we have available today. If you have any questions, just let me know."

On the wall behind the man hangs bows, quivers, and assorted tools. The fireplace burns to our left, filling the store with its warmth. Folded blankets sit on long tables, each a different pattern and color but all thick. Some are made of wool, others yarn. Bundles of firewood lay near the crackling logs, as well as other camping items like tarps and stakes.

Making our way to the other side of the store, we find racks of food. Collected into jars is a variety of jerky and nuts, as well as baskets of fruits. Next to these stands a tall case with several shelves, each holding a different selection of clothes. Two mannequins pose there as well. The feminine one models an elegant dress, the fabric a silky white. A pale blue lace takes over for the stomach, intricate designs sewn there. Inside the long sleeves is another layer of silk, a slightly darker shade of blue than that of the lace. Its skirt runs long and hovers not even an inch over the mannequin's base. The other mannequin, with broad shoulders and a masculine frame, displays a fine three-piece suit. The jacket and trousers bear the colors of an active feasting pyre, the vest a lighter yellow, and the cravat a rich red. Fit for a royal consort or perhaps a prominent bard, but definitely not for me. Max, I'm sure, would find himself ghastly in it. Too fancy for our ilk. Nana's hand leaves mine as she stands before the featureless and fabricated beings.

"Wow," she breathes, thin fingers caressing the material.

"You have good taste, madam," Aloysius remarks. "My wife made that. Makes all the clothing we sell. Never seen someone master the sewing needles quite like she has."