When the shopkeeper shouted towards the back of the store, Thomas swiftly approached and snatched the coin from the shopkeeper’s hand.
“Let me have a look!”
“Hey, hold on!”
Ignoring the shopkeeper’s angry shout, Thomas tossed the coin into the air.
As it spun, it seemed to disappear the moment it fell, vanishing into the thick fingers of Thomas’s hand.
“Wait a second…”
Leni gasped as a bright flash gleamed, and then—swish—Thomas extended his hand toward the shopkeeper.
“Take a good look. See what kind of coin it is.”
The shopkeeper adjusted his glasses, narrowing his eyes, and examined the coin carefully.
“It seems I’ve seen things.”
“No, you haven’t.”
Thomas’s voice was sharp as he shouted at the shopkeeper.
“Hand me the change. If you keep treating customers this way, your business won’t last long.”
Intimidated by Thomas’s forceful demeanor, the shopkeeper grumbled but handed over the change.
Still confused, Leni took the six silver coins and slipped them into the leather pouch at her waist.
“Let’s go, Leni. This is getting ridiculous. Who knew we’d run into something like this?”
With an arm around her shoulder, Thomas led her out of the shop.
As they stepped outside, a dark, flowing cloak passed by them, brushing against the air like a shadow.
For the rest of their walk towards the square, Leni tried to calm her racing heart.
It was a close call, almost being accused of being a scammer.
But that coin was definitely fake.
It seemed like Thomas had switched it with some sort of magic trick.
“Uhm… Mr. Thomas…”
Just as Leni was about to ask him about it, someone tugged at the hem of her skirt.
“Miss, please, could you spare a little for charity?”
A ragged old beggar was sitting on the cobblestone ground, his long, dirty beard tangled and a foul smell emanating from him.
His hands were covered with reddish, deep scars, one of which was a long, ugly mark that had crusted over with scabs.
Feeling sympathy, Leni took a piece of bread from her bundle.
“Here you go. It’s a bit tough, but it’s still edible.”
As the beggar took the barley bread, their fingertips brushed together.
His hands were freezing, like ice.
The beggar looked up at her, his gray eyes widening in shock, but his expression quickly turned cold and mask-like.
“The shadow has come.”
The beggar’s voice was as cold as his hands.
Leni felt a chill run down her spine, and she quickly pulled her hand away.
“Don’t do anything. Nothing will happen if you don’t.”
The beggar’s gaze lingered on the crescent-shaped scar below her lips.
His eyes were unsettling, too intense, and they felt almost predatory.
‘Who is this person?’
Leni took a step back, her unease growing. Behind her, Thomas shouted.
“If you’ve taken the bread, at least thank her! What’s with all these strange words? If you keep talking like that, even your luck will run away. Come on, Leni.”
“Right.”
Leni nodded, quickening her pace.
But even after they had walked far away, the sensation of the beggar’s cold touch lingered, and her hand continued to tremble.
***
The black cloak swept through the entrance of the Luminar Candle Shop.
“Welcome…”
The shop assistant, who had turned at the sound of footsteps, froze when they saw the figure beneath the hood.
A deep voice rang out from underneath the cloak.
“Hakan.”
“You’ve returned alive.”
“Yes. I survived.”
“Rumors of the Red Wolf’s heroics are spreading in the market.”
A wry smile flickered across Blayden’s lips as he carefully scanned the surroundings, lowering his voice.
“It seems that quite a bit of the Sun Coins are circulating.”
“Yes. The market has already become quite noisy.”
The thought of the palace’s concern over the mercenaries’ pay crossed his mind.
It would have to get louder.
He was curious how the enraged king would react.
A sly smile played on his face as his thoughts turned to the crimson-eyed beetles he had caught in the Forest of Forie.
“By the way, are they still bringing beeswax from the Ruelet Monastery?”
“Yes. It’s the finest quality. Though it’s in short supply, it’s only used for high-end products.”
“Do they use that beeswax for the products going into the palace?”
“Yes.”
After answering, Hakan glanced at Blayden, studying his expression.
“Why do you ask?”
“Oh, just curious.”
Blayden cast a quick glance toward the store entrance before changing the subject.
“And how are the moles doing?”
“They are working diligently, waiting for the day they can see the sun.”
“Soon enough, they’ll have to stick their heads out above ground.”
“I await your orders.”
Hakan’s eyes darkened as Blayden gave a slight nod and walked past him.
The thick black cloak faded into the darkness beyond the shop, the heavy curtain inside rustling briefly before falling still.
After Blayden left, precise footsteps echoed in the candle shop.
Hakan approached the young knight clad in scale armor, guiding him to the candles on display.
“Please take a look. These are the finest products delivered to the palace.”
“I know,” the knight replied distractedly, sweeping his gaze over the shop. His eyes lingered on the far side of the room, where the thick curtains hung in shadow, unmoving.
***
Back at the campsite in the Forest of Forie, a young dancer approached Leni.
“Master is looking for you.”
Leni made her way to her father’s tent.
Martin, dressed in a clean white robe, was adjusting his beard as he gazed into a round mirror.
His hair and beard, streaked with silver, made him appear as though his whole body had turned to ice.
Turning from the mirror, Martin spoke.
“Leni, did you buy the dress?”
“Yes. I bought a formal dinner dress.”
“Change into it. We’ll be meeting His Majesty, so tidy up your hair as well.”
Leni’s eyes widened.
“His Majesty? You mean King Tigrinu?”
“Yes.”
The ruler of this kingdom, King Tigrinu Olauus, had been a long-time patron of the Skalson Theatre.
Her father often visited the king whenever he was near the Claville Palace.
Leni was aware that sometimes royal messengers delivered letters or precious items.
She had often asked her father about King Tigrinu I, the king known for his strength and military prowess, but her father’s responses were always brief.
Now, however, her father was taking her along to meet the king.
Her heart fluttered in excitement as she smiled brightly.
It was a good day after all.
She had missed her kiss, but she would meet the king instead.
***
It was a warm spring day, but the king’s hearth still blazed with a fire.
The king sat deeply in an ornate wooden chair, his posture regal yet slightly less grand than the others, facing Martin, who sat in a simpler but still dignified chair.
They conversed.
“It’s been a long time, Sir Skalson.”
Leni sat on a small chair next to Martin, her head lowered, her ears keenly tuned to the conversation.
The servant who had guided them withdrew at the king’s command, leaving only the three of them in the room.
The thick curtains block out all the light, casting the room in shadow.
Candles burning from every corner of the room created shadows that danced across the rug and furniture.
“Have you been well?”
The king, though aged and frail, spoke with a voice that still carried authority.
Leni desperately wanted to observe the king’s face more closely, having only caught a glimpse when they entered, but the more curious she became, the more she clenched her hands tightly on her lap.
I am a chair.
I am wood.
I shall be as if I am not.
That is the proper way.
“I’m going to Master now, Your Majesty.”
Martin replied, and Leni’s thoughts drifted to the story she had heard from Thomas about her father’s past.
Martin Kieripier Skalson, born in the far northern land of Ekillium, was an old friend of King Tigrinu and had fought alongside the king in the Sun War.
Her father never spoke much of those days, always brushing them aside as distant memories.
“In the theater, I suppose you are also a king. Is it more entertaining than serving as the king’s guard?”
“That’s too kind of you. In my youth, I wielded a sword, but now I wish to use stories to better the world.”
“That’s why I’ve called for you. I need a special story to uplift the world.”
“Anything you wish, Your Majesty.”
The king’s weathered hand, resting on the armrest of his chair, moved slightly.
“The Red Wolf has done much for the recent war. I want everyone in the palace to know of his feats. Eventually, I hope the whole kingdom hears his heroic tale.”
“I will give it my full effort.”
“Make sure to include the scene celebrating Kiabel’s survival.”
“Would you like to make Sir Lehart and the princess the protagonists?”
“You read my mind. Kiabel loves theater. He was sent to Verden for peace negotiations but was captured as a hostage and suffered greatly. Now that he has returned safely, I wish to reward him. If you stage a play with Kiabel as the main character, I will double your grant.”
“I thank you for your generosity, Your Majesty.”
Martin bowed respectfully.
“Good. Then we shall proceed with the performance.”
King Tigrinu exhaled contentedly, then turned his gaze toward Leni.
“Is this the girl?”
“Yes. She will be twenty in two days.”
Oh, he’s talking about me.
Leni leaned slightly toward the king, then quickly straightened her posture.
“Has time passed so quickly?”
“Yes. She’s grown up well.”
Now a young lady.
Leni smiled with pride at her father’s words, but in that moment, her gaze fell on his hand.
His thumb pressed tightly under his other fingers, forming a clenched fist.
It was a habit he always had when something was troubling him.
Without realizing it, Leni raised her head.
Her father’s lips were steady, his eyes calm as always.
But why was he holding his hand like that?
Was it something about me reaching twenty, as if it were an omen?
The king’s voice broke through her thoughts.
“What is your name?”
Startled, Leni quickly lowered her head and answered.
“Solenia Eskahof Radelion, Your Majesty.”
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