Aldoursaea: A Journey Within

Chapter VI: Duty, Tours, and Training

Heading northwest on the winding Imperial road from Illuminara City to Glisterven Town. The air grows colder as they near the Velorian border, making her grateful for the thick cloak her mother made her.

Upon arrival at the "Glisterven Patrol Outpost" in the Coldwind, she meets the outpost vice seer, Veteran Deron Farr, who greets her with a brief nod. His gaze, with burrowed knot in his brows is critical as he examines the uniforms.

"...these are crafted especially for the coldwind patrol, Sergeant," she explains. "... they're made from a versatile fabric that provides warmth against cold winds yet remains breathable for milder days."

He replied "Sorry ma'am , I'm just a veteran. Sergeant's in his office affixing his sigil for these orders. Thank you for thinking, anyways," to which Serriah releases an awkward smile, clasping her palms tight.

Deron's approval is evident as he nods. "Good work, ma'am. We'll be needing more like this. Please extend my thanks to your family."

As her supplies are unloaded, the business is concluded, Serriah mounts her horse again, feeling a quiet pride. There's a growing warm feeling inside her chest for a job well done.

The sun dips low over the rooftops, casting warm, faint golden light across Glistenven Square Market. Serriah wanders through the bustling stalls, taking in the scents of spiced meats and fresh bread, the chatter of haggling customers, and the calls of merchants advertising their wares. She's just finished resting after her earlier visit to the Patrol Outpost, and her curiosity draws her further into the heart of the market.

Near the far end of the square, a scene catches her attention. An elderly woman, her back hunched from years of labor, draped with a woven brownish, mottled green shawl, stands behind a modest stall displaying handwoven shawls and intricate wooden carvings. Her work is fine, and her prices are fair, but a sly, fast-talking man in garish clothes stands in front of her, waving his hands with exaggerated gestures.

The charlatan looks over the items with a sneer. "These are barely worth half of what you're asking, old woman," he says, tossing a coin in his hand. "I'll take the whole lot for... let's say a quarter of your price. Fair deal, yes?..."

The elderly woman stammers, uncertain and flustered. "But... but these took me weeks to make, sir. They're worth far more than..."

The man interrupts her with a scoff. "Do you think anyone else is going to buy this?" He casts a sideways glance at the crowd, playing to their indifference. "You should be grateful I'm offering anything at all..."

Serriah's eyes narrow. She steps forward, positioning herself beside the elderly woman, her presence radiating confidence.

"Ehermmmm.... Excuse me," Serriah interjects, her voice calm but firm. "I couldn't help but notice your attempt to undervalue her work. A quarter of her asking price is an insult to her fine pieces of work!"

The man smirks, clearly amused. "And who are you to tell me how to conduct business, woman?"

Serriah meets his gaze, her eyes steady yet showing a sweet smile. "A patron who knows quality craft when she sees it." She picks up one of the woman's shawls, running her fingers over the intricate stitching. "This is fine work. It deserves a fair price."

The charlatan laughs, dismissing her with a quick wave of his hand. "If you think it's worth so much, then why don't you pay for it.

Serriah smiles coolly. "I think I'll just... just do that." She raises her voice, drawing the attention of nearby shoppers. "Everyone! Look here... This woman's work is truly exquisite. I think you'll find her prices more than fair for the craftsmanship."