Time slowly ticked away, and with each new customer came a new story for Arin to unwillingly collect.

"When I was eleven I fell into a well."

"My dog talks to me at night."

"My mother never loved me."

"I think I have measles. Is that contagious?"

"That's a neat mask you're wearing. My grandfather was a mask salesman..."

"I slept with the grand priest last week."

Every customer told a story, some more true than others, and Arin dutifully listened whether they wanted to or not. The day was dragging on, but they found a break in the monotony by sterilizing everything the measles customer touched, and they found themselves pleased by just how clean they managed to get the counter.

The hours ticked away, and Arin was taking care of another customer when the bell chimed, and a woman stepped in. She looked as tired as they felt, and they were no stranger to the way she gripped the side of her head.

“Hello miss, I’ll be with you in a second.” Arin rose a hand before turning back to the man they were waiting on, who was admiring a jar of pickles, “Uh... sir?”

“Hmm? Oh yes, where was I?” the man pressed.

“You wanted to know how much for the pickles.” Arin reminded him, “They’re a copper a jar.”

“Ah, yes the pickles.” the man nodded with a smile as if coming to some great understanding, and Arin prepared to make the exchange, “You know, when I was a young boy, my father took me into the city-”

“To see the marching band?” Arin sighed, “They’re playing next week.”

“My goodness, how did you know?!” the man exclaimed.

“They’re famous for playing during the annual pickle festival.” Arin explained, “It’s... a popular subject.”

"Ah, yes. The annual pickle festival." the old man smiled, "I remember when I had my first pickle. It was green, you know that?"

"As... opposed to another color?" Arin wondered if they were being pranked.

"Purple pickles," the old man nodded, "a specialty of Olana. They're sweeter and if you eat more than one you'll wake up in three days with pants but no underwear."

"I'll bear that in mind..." Arin nodded, "Can I get you anything else?"

"Oh no, just the pickles." the old man hummed, "I'm sharing them with my wife. We met thirty years ago you know..." he went on as Arin counted out his coins, "I was working on a ship out of Southern Solene - we were hauling cargo to Dravensport, you see, which reminds me- have you ever been to Dravensport?"

"No sir." Arin shook their head as the woman stood in line behind the old man.

"Lovely place, at least it was." The old man smiled, "met my wife there you know, did I tell you how we met?"

"Yes, sir." Arin lied, looking past the old man to the woman who was bouncing a bit impatiently.

"Ah, silly me." the old man shook his head before he smiled again at the jar. "I do love pickles... You know, when I was a young boy-"

"Excuse me." the woman gave a crooked grin.

"Hmm?" he turned, "Oh! I'm terribly sorry. Were you waiting long?”

“Oh, no. It’s alright.” she assured him while Arin waved their hands behind the old man’s back, but it was too late, “I just-”

“Oh, good.” the old man smiled, “I was just telling my young friend here about my visit to the pickle festival.”

“I- Oh really?” she pressed, her grin growing ever-more awkward as the man nodded.

“I’m not-” Arin sighed, dropping their head in defeat, “Just-.... Go on.”

“Now where was I?” the old man thought, “Oh yes. You see, when I was a young boy, my father-”

“You said that part sir.” Arin tried their best.

“Oh, yes. Of course.” the old man nodded, “Anyway, we were watching the marching band go by, enjoying our pickles on a stick - a fine Wufrod tradition by the way.”

“We’re not in-”

“But then, as luck would have it, one of the drummers tripped!” the man cut them off, “His drum rolled down the pathway, bouncing and thumping right towards me, but my father saved me at the last moment.” he revealed, and Arin and the woman exchanged glances, “He pushed me out of the way, and the drum barreled into him!”

“Was he... alright?” she pressed.

“Oh yes, of course.” the old man laughed softly, “It was only a little thing. Wouldn’t even have hurt me, but it’s the thought that counts, after all.”

“I- well... I’m glad he was alright then...” the woman mumbled, “but if you’ll excuse me I really have to do my shopping.”

“Oh of course.” the old man stepped aside, “by all means. My wife always reminded me not to keep strangers waiting. Beautiful woman, and smart too. Did I tell you how we met?”

“Yes.” Arin and the woman nodded in unison.

“Wonderful girl.” the old man grinned before he noticed the clock on the wall, “My word! Look at the time. Well, I’d best be going, you two have fun!”

“You... too.” Arin mumbled.

The two blinked at the old man as he sauntered out the door like he was on a mission, wielding his jar of pickles in hand. Neither spoke a word to each other as the bell chimed, and the door closed, but after a few moments, the awkwardness of the silence was broken.

“So... can I help you?” Arin pressed.

“Hmm? Oh!” the woman nearly jumped, “yes, sorry. I’m just picking up a few things for my daughter... does that... does that happen a lot?” she pointed towards the door.

“Every day.” Arin sighed.

“That’s... wow.” she gave a sympathetic smile, “You poor thing.”

“Yeah... poor me.” Arin shrugged, “Anyway, what can I get for you?”

“Right... I’m looking for some incense, and... candles.” her voice lowered, “If you have a good knife back there too, it’d be lovely.”

“Of course ma’am.” Arin gathered the items, “Do you need flint and steel?”

“Oh, that won’t be necessary.” she gave a soft smile, “I’m teaching- well... I don’t want to bore you with all my business.”

“You’re fine ma’am.” Arin shook their head, “Everyone else does.”

“I just-... My little Rin is so excited to learn magic.” the woman explained, “But my husband- well... he’s not exactly the most approving.”

“Only one solution there.” Arin shrugged.

“Well, yes.” she gave a crooked grin, “I’m trying to-”

“Find a new husband.” Arin shrugged, and the woman’s eyes widened.

“I- what?” she nearly chirped, “I couldn’t- I mean...” the ringing of a bell signaled the appearance of another pair of customers. “Shit!”

“It’s fine.” Arin whispered before looking to the pair, “Can I help you?”

“Hmm?” another young woman looked up to him, “Oh, no, thank you.” she gave a sweet smile beneath honey-colored eyes, “We’re just gathering a few things. We won’t be too much trouble.”

Arin nodded, but they were wary, not of the woman, but of the man she was with. He was a taller man than they were, with a black cloak wrapped around fur-padded armor of the same color, and dark hair that messily fell over eyes of silver and steel. He followed his companion without a word, speaking only when she would show two similar items, helping her choose. Yet despite his coldness, the harshness of his permanent frown, and the jagged scar that crossed his cheek, the golden-haired priestess he traveled with seemed happy to be in his presence.

“Is... she okay?” the mother pressed quietly, eyeing the pair.

“I think so.” Arin whispered, “Look at the way he looks at her.” they prodded, and the mother glanced cautiously.

A brilliant smile was covering the priestess’s face as she placed her items in her small basket, taking the young man by the hand while she pulled him towards the next aisle. He held it gently, gingerly, but his other hand was tightly gripped on the hilt of his sword. He was dangerous, yes, but his eyes were protective, not cruel, but the longer Arin watched the two, the wider their eyes grew.

“He looks... familiar.” the mother held her chin in contemplation, “Do you think he’s famous?”

“Yes... and I think it’s best we don’t attract his attention,” Arin whispered, and the man’s eyes flew to them, sending a chill up Arin’s spine.

“I- wh-why?” the mother pressed, “Who is he?”

“It’s not who he is... It’s who he was.”

Arin gulped as the man’s eyes locked with theirs, and he held the priestess’s hand a little tighter, earning her attention.

“Wren?” she pressed, concern flickering in her honey-colored eyes, “Is something wrong?”

Arin froze, the man was staring suspiciously at the two of them. His grip tightened, and the priestess’s gaze slowly drifted to follow his. He took a step towards Arin, but the priestess placed a soft hand on his shoulder, and he paused.

“It’s okay.” she spoke softly, and his grip loosened as she patted his shoulder, “Look! They have ginger root here!”

The pair continued their shopping, and Arin quickly made the exchange with the customer in front of him before the door opened to the sound of a bell, signaling another customer. The mother in need hurried to gather her items, but Arin’s eyes fell to the guard that had just walked in.

“Well, have a good-”

“Wait.” Arin stopped her, placing a hand on hers, “You should take a bag.”

“Oh, but I don’t-”

“Trust me.”

“I really should be go-”

“Vea?”

The woman froze in place at the familiar sound, and she clutched her items to her chest.

“Vea? What are you doing here?” the guard pressed, “Your husband told me you were feeling ill today.”

“Oh, is that so?” Vea quickly spun to meet the guard, keeping her items behind her back, “Well, I thought maybe some medicine would help, but I am feeling quite a bit better.” she gave an awkward smile.

“What do you have there?” he pressed, looking past her, but she stood on her tip-toes to block his sight.

“Just a surprise for my husband!” Vea chirped, “I uh-... it’s for all the guards at the barracks, really.” she added, and the dark-haired man paused, furrowing his brows as his gaze turned to the three.

“Well, you can’t expect me not to peek, can you?” the guard grinned, and Vea shook her head, “Come on, let’s see what it is?”

“Sir, please don’t crowd the counter.” Arin spoke up, and the guard eyed them for a moment, “We... had a customer with measles come in earlier.”

“It’s fine.” the guard growled at him, “I’m only- wait a minute...” he sniffed the air, “That’s...” he sniffed again, “Is that incense I smell?”

“No! It’s... my perfume?” Vea made an attempt.

“And candles...” the guard grabbed her basket from the counter, “Jars... quartz crystals... What exactly is going on here? Is that a tarot deck?!”

“It’s... for a project.” Vea explained, “I’m not-”

“Your practicing magic... aren’t you?” the guard furrowed his brows, “Don’t play coy with me Vea, you may be the lieutenant’s wife, but you know the law as well as any.” he turned to Arin, “and you... what business do you have selling spellcraft materials?”

“I just work here.” Arin was honest, “The owner will be in-”

“You were about to let this woman walk out of here with spellcraft materials, and you expect me to let you slide because you’re not the one in charge?” the guard growled, “I’m sorry Vea, but you’re both under arrest. When the captain hears about this, he’ll-”

“No one will be hearing about this.”

Arin’s eyes widened as the man from before stood behind the guard, and the woman he was with stepped back, looking rather nervous.

“Wren...” she mumbled quietly.

“Who the hell do you think you are?” the guard sneered at the stranger, “I’m under standing orders from General Shiren himself. Speak up again and I’ll have you for obstruction of justice.”

“I-... I should go.” Vea tried to slip away, but the guard caught her shoulder.

“And you...” his tone grew disdainful, “You should be ashamed of yourself. Do you have any idea what this incident will do to your husband’s career?”

“I- this has nothing to do with him!” Vea exclaimed, “I’m just- Holy shit!”

Vea chirped as the dark-haired stranger grabbed the guard by the back of his head, slamming his forehead down on the counter. The guard screamed, and Arin dropped behind the counter, closing their eyes as the guard was thrown into the wall.

“Wren!” the priestess cried, and the guard spat out a bit of blood before taking a sharp breath.

“W-wren...?” the guard groaned, “N-no... it can’t be...”

Wren growled as he threw the guard to the side, and he hit the floor with a loud grunt. The guard struggled to his hands and knees, reaching for his sword as Vea bolted for the door, her basket in hand.

“Vea! Get back here!” the guard snapped, but a swift kick to his ribs earned another pained cry as Vea escaped, and he fell on his side, “Damn you!”

“You had the chance to let her get away.” Wren stated as he towered over the guard, “but now you have no choice.”

“Some of us still remember our duty, Oathbreaker.” the guard spat, coughing up a considerable amount of blood, “when our captain finds out what you did-”

“I’m not afraid of your captain.” Wren stated, his foot planted on the guard’s chest, “And I haven’t forgotten my duty...” he slowly drew a curved sword from his hip, “You have your reasons... and I have mine.”

Arin flinched as the guard let out a gasp for air, and metal drove through plates of steel. They kept their eyes shut, their hands over their head as footsteps neared, but not a word was spoken. A bag of coins fell to the counter, and the door opened, then shut. Silence filled the room. Moments passed. Arin slowly peeked over the counter. The room was empty, and they let out a sigh of relief. Carefully they moved to the door, opening it before looking down the street. No signs of anyone coming. They looked the other way - all clear.

Slowly Arin closed the door, locking the deadbolt before gazing to the mess around them. A soft sigh escaped them as they shuddered slightly; the sight of blood covered the floor. Slowly they gathered themselves, and their eyes fell to the blood-stained counter.

They just cleaned that thing.

Broken amusement filled them, and they shook their head. They had their own story now, and they told it in their own way as they scribbled a note for the shop’s owner. They placed it on the counter, stepping around the body. It was limp, lifeless, and already going cold. Arin threw on their coat. They’d be closing early today. They‘d hoped the note would be enough. They had no idea what to do with the dead man that now sat on the floor. They had no idea where to begin with the mess that would need to be cleaned, but they knew what they could do. Slowly they reached for the back door, turning back one more time to look at the mess. It looked like a war had happened. It looked like a horror scene, but to Arin it looked like something else entirely...

It looked like a morning shift problem.