It was getting late, the sun dipping under the high mountain peaks, bathing the city in a warm pink-orange glow. Wide eyes peeked around the side of a building, spotting the last merchant’s stall to still be open. It was a baker’s stall, the small table holding a few small loaves of bread; the prettier, bigger treats were long gone. It didn’t matter… the little girl held her aching stomach.
The baker was folding up her tent, her back turned to the nearly-empty street. The child moved deftly, her cold, bare feet barely making a sound on the dusty cobblestone path. She looked around, making sure no one was watching, and reached up to take the bread. Out of the corner of her eye, she saw something else next to the loaves; a few gold pieces the baker forgot to put away. The child debated taking them as well, but a shrill gasp made her flinch and look up at the face of the old woman.
“Thief!” the baker cried, grabbing one of the child’s wrists, “Filthy brat! You stole my bread and my gold!”
The small girl shook her head, “No! I swear I didn’t take the gold!” she fought to get her wrist free.
“Liar!” The baker didn’t listen, and began waving her free hand and shouted out into the street, “Help! Help! Thief!!”
A few Keepers turned the corner upon hearing the commotion and began jogging up to the stall. The child’s eyes filled with tears, knowing that prison would be infinitely worse than life on the streets. With all her might, she wrenched her hand free of the baker’s grasp and dashed away, loaf of bread tucked protectively in her arms.
“Stop! Thief!” one of the Keepers shouted and they picked up the pace, chasing the child down the empty street.
The girl cried as she ran, her feet numb from the cold but unable to stop. It was steal or starve; the outline of her ribs were beginning to cast shadows, her once-snug linen dress now hung loose on her slight figure, threadbare. This bread might last her two or three days, it was priceless.
The street ended and split off into a wide-open area, and the child panted, looking around desperately for a place to go, a place to hide. A raggedy-looking tent fluttered in the breeze, and the girl dashed for it. She tripped, crying out in pain as her bare knees slammed on the ground, but she held tight to her meager meal and crawled under the thin canvas of the tent. She curled up on herself, making her body as small as possible as she heard the thundering of the Keepers’ feet, nearly as loud as the hammering of her heart. The footsteps of the guards stopped in front of the tent, and the girl realized she wasn’t the only one in the tent. She looked up at a tall human, a young man, wearing a glittering, heavy robe. His face was set in a smile as he regarded the guards.
“Gentlemen!” The human’s voice was powerful without being overwhelming, and accented with a tone the girl had never heard before, “I’m afraid you’re a bit early, I haven’t even gotten a proper tent yet!”
“We were following a thief, a child. Have you seen her?” The girl heard one of the Keepers respond.
The mysterious young man seemed to think for a minute, “Hm, no, there haven’t been any children around here, sirs. I wish you luck on your chase, though, and please feel free to stop by when my shop’s open.” The girl watched as the man flicked his wrist and a small, nearly-invisible beam of pink energy split in two and hit the two Keepers. The guards looked dazed for just a moment before they seemed to come-to.
“R-right.” One of the guards muttered.
“Y-yeah. Thank you, sir. Good night.” The other nodded and they both turned around and walked away.
“Now,” the young man turned to face the child, who jumped as she was spotted, “Let’s see what we can do about those knees…”
The child trembled as the man knelt in front of her and produced some bandages and a flask with bright red fluid inside of it from his robe. He gave her the flask, “Drink up, it’ll do you good.”
Not wanting to get into any more trouble, the child popped the cork and drank deeply, the sweet-sour flavour dancing on her tongue. Nearly instantly, the throbbing pain in her knees was dulled, and she watched as her legs were bandaged with the dexterous hands of the strange man.
“My name is Marcus, by the way,” he said softly, taking the glass bottle from her, “I just recently moved here to open my shop.”
“I… I’m Rachel.” The child said softly, in awe of how much better she was feeling, even though her stomach was still achingly empty.
“What a lovely name!” Marcus hummed and tied the bandages off, helping Rachel to her feet. Upon seeing the loaf of bread in her arms, Marcus clicked his tongue and presented his empty hand.
Rachel sniffed, crying once more as she handed over the bread. She wiped her eyes with the backs of her little hands, and startled as she saw the man was now holding a plate with a very large wedge of cake, piled high with cream, custard and fruit.
“I purchased this earlier today, but I couldn’t finish it all myself.” Marcus gave her a smile and produced a silver fork with a flick of his wrist, giving both to the child.
Rachel looked at the plate of cake in her hands then up to the man, “Are… are you sure?”
Marcus hummed and stroked his stubbly beard thoughtfully, “Well, I suppose we can consider the loaf of bread for the cake an even trade, but as for the bandages and healing potion…” He nodded with a smile, “Let’s call them a bonus gift.”
“A bonus gift?” Rachel looked up skeptically.
Marcus gave her a beaming grin, “For being my first customer here!”
He pulled up a cushion for Rachel to sit on as she ate the slice of cake, humming with joy at finally being full. Marcus took in the sight of her, what sort of life did she have? Certainly nothing a child deserves… Marcus smiled before letting out a melodramatic moan, “Oh, woe is me!” he sighed.
“What’s the matter, sir?” Rachel looked up nervously.
Marcus gestured to the tattered tent around them, “I’m supposed to open my shop to the public soon, but I have no one to help me set up! It’ll be such hard work without someone to help me. Oh! Who could possibly hold nails for me while I hammer in the supports? Who could help me set up shelves!? Who could help draw in customers with an adorable face!?!?” He lamented, holding the back of his hand to his forehead.
Rachel giggled and got up from the cushion, “Would you like me to help you, Mr. Marcus?”
The human gasped, delighted, “Are you offering to be my special assistant!? Oh, Rachel, would you?” He knelt down, clasping his hands together, “Please! I beg of you! Please be my assistant!”
Rachel laughed, “Yes! I will!”
Marcus cheered and got back up, dusting off his robe, “How marvellous! Tomorrow I’ll buy you some new clothes and shoes.”
“R-really?” Rachel jumped, not used to having things bought for her, “Why?”
“You’re my assistant now, dear, you need to look just as beautiful as me!” Marcus laughed grandly.
Comments