Across the ocean Book 1: On the run

Chapter Fifteen : Mellina's Well.

Mayen slept through a night of comfort on a rich bed with pillows and blankets; for peasant farmers, Soren and Eliadoriss sure had the luxurious lifestyle. The room he had been given was separated from his father, which was also nice: no more snoring.

The following day went fast and was filled with wonders for him. Never in his whole life, so he thought, had he ever been into a marketplace; years later, he would recall with amusement how ignorant he had been to say such a thing as "in my whole life" when having been only sixteen. Still, for that Tuesday the 25th of the summer month of Windor, in the year 3'405, it was true most certainly then. The worst he had ever lived had been the time when the bear threatened to kill him at the age of eight, followed immediately after by the dreadful night less than a week ago. To see all those stands with artisans bellowing like wolves had mesmerized him.

-"Why not a merlot-coloured kirtle?" Said a mistress of a clothier's workshop. "That would marry well your light brown eyes. Most simple, yet a wonderful shade of red for a young aspiring handsome man. Plus, it allows you to show the ladies the firm grasp you have unto fashion." She gestured at the end with a fist to emphasize the manliness attribute she wanted to subtly infuse her statement.

-"What do you say laddie!?" Soren was excited enough for the entire group. "Do think about it! Och... Whyot go yorself in front of a mirror? Mistress! Any changing cabins?"

-"Yes, we do Mister Soren." She grinned greedily, seeing an easy sell.

It did look good on him. Seeing the satisfaction in his own eyes made him leave the cabin and turn to Soren and Eliadoriss, not his father, and began to practice some moves.

-"Seems like this cotte fits me well, does it not father?"

-"It does, but this is not a cotte, my boy, this is a kirtle."

-"Actually," intervened the mistress, "cotte is another word for it."

Rowen coughed, annoyed that his showing off had failed flatly. His habit of boasting subtly about himself in any ways he could had given him a moment of discredit in the matter of clothes. Mayen knew him well enough to know it would only last a few seconds, unlike that one time he failed at making a better chair than another man in Gimvault.

-"Nonetheless, there is a nuance which few grasps, and I believe your father might be aware of it." The mistress in truth had not given reason to Rowen but used his attempt as an opportunity to bring in another item she hoped to sell. "Hats are known to go well with kirtles, especially the muffin tail hat."

In the end, Mayen had seen a day of bargaining and pampering. It was not without fear the went to bed, but neither without anticipation. There was pride in being dressed in an attire such as this one. He smiled gently at the hat. It was a headwear like those seen in cities such as Mildoyest were trade flourished, or so he thought. What pleased him was how the tail part was like a long narrowing scarf which could be fastened in so many different ways: he could have a protection against the wind by wrapping his face; he could use it as a kind of chin the mistress had said by having it around his face in a dangling manner; he could coil it around his forehead and give him another look.

Dreams of courting and being courted took hold of his dreams, and yet no matter who the girls was, none managed to strike a deal with his father. Each time, Rowen would demand something, like land or a dowry.

Morning came and he stretched his arms as if to break any ice coating on him. Stiffness gave way. It felt good to be in warm blankets, even during Summer, if only for the softness which caressed his skin. Opening the window felt nice, although it did let in the subtle unpleasant smells of the city which he had come to grow bored of.