“Oh, little one, you’re back,” the same tanned merchant with short black hair and rough hands eyed her dress with interest. “And in a dress this time! Do you want to try carving a hook to hang that on?”

He gestured towards stone carving tools made of metal and stone on his wooden stall, grin wide just like the first time she met him. “I think I’m alright,” Abeni replied, assessing him with her eyes. How much did he make and how did he get these products? Was he a hunter?

“Really?” She nodded as he spoke. “Then, why are you here? Oh, I know! You’re finally willing to sell me what your parents left behind?” His grin grew, wrapping an arm around her shoulder again.

Why did he seem so obsessed over that?

It’s annoying but Abeni spoke in a polite voice. She wanted to ask him questions, not anger him. “Is that how you get your equipment? Asking hunters’ families for what they leave behind at a low price?” She looked down at the fancy clothes on his table with a curious expression, making sure to not keep the accusation out of her voice. “Guards’ families too?”

For some reason this comment made his smile crack a bit. Was it because she found him out? “...So…what do you want then?”

“Four for one! They’re now only four for one zinc!”

“Wood, wood, everyone needs wood! He—! Hey! You look like you need some wood! No, it’s quality wood~!”

Abeni shook her head and blocked them out. Let’s start with flattery. The village chief liked that. “I was wondering if you could answer some questions I have. Just about the hunters. Out of all the merchants, you seem to be the most knowledgeable, so—”

“Work for me.”

“...Huh?” Abeni blanked, looking at him with shock. That wasn’t…that wasn’t something she expected. But looking at this man frowning at her for the first time…it seemed like he was being serious.

“You want to know about the hunts, I want to know what your parents – who were most likely hunters – left behind. I also need someone to help manning the stall on the weekends so I can maximise my profits. Work for me.”

That made…sense. A merchant seizing an opportunity made sense, but why so suddenly? Why Abeni? A supposedly weak, unassuming child that he barely knew. How could she succeed at this competitive game of pulling the most customers? So, she asked him and he answered. “Because you’re sharp…for a child at least. And you won’t need much money, will you? You don’t seem like the type to steal either.”

“…How much are you willing to pay me?” This was an amazing opportunity for her. Abeni pondered female ẹda who wasn’t supposed to be here, her own needs and the nickel her parents gave to the doorman every month or so. Judging by what certain items costed in this market and the nearby shops, Abeni deduced that she’d need at least five nickels – which equalled to fifty zincs or five hundred coopers – per week to live.

“One nickel per hour. Eight hours per shift, for two days a week…how’s that sound?”

Sounded like a good deal. That added up to ten…no, sixteen nickels a week. That should be more than enough. This way she wouldn’t have to go to the village chief or Uncle Ibrahim and ask for more like she had been – regrettably – considering.

The only problem was that he still wanted to know about what her parents left behind. And even if they had left anything behind, Abeni’s not had the chance to properly look for it. What should she do? Should she lie or should she tell him the truth, that she had no idea?

Either way, she had to keep her cards close to her chest for now.

Abeni didn’t know if she even qualified to work as a hunter or even a guard and, frankly, she didn’t just want to throw her life into the village chief’s hands like that. The life her parents sacrificed everything for. The life she valued so much. So, this was…good. Unexpected, but good. She had to say yes.

“I’m happy to do that.”

“Nice,” the grin was suddenly back on his face as the tanned merchant grabbed her hand and shook it so hard that she almost felt over before straightening herself out, slightly embarrassed. And suddenly, looking at that grin, it hit her and her eyes naturally narrow with suspicion. “Now, about your—”

“I need proof though.”

“...What do you mean?” He looked to the left and away from her, grin cracking apart again. That was it. That was what he was aiming for! She knew it was too good to be true. He was probably relying on her not asking for any verification so he could pretend he never agreed to this after he got what he wanted.

Of course. Abeni wasn’t surprised.

“I mean, I need some kind of proof. I don’t know how this works, but there must be some sort of way to verify that I’m working for you. Do we have to let some village workers know about this since I’ll have to pay them a fee?” Abeni recalled her parents paying some kind of fee for working, even though she never knew why they did.

The merchant breathed. “…you use complicated words for a child.”

“I’m thirteen,” she’s technically a teenager now. A teenager who listened to people talk.

“And?” He raised an eyebrow, smile now completely wiped off of his face again as if he couldn’t tell the difference.

“…don’t worry.”

With that, they spend the day writing up what the tanned merchant called a contract on actual, expensive paper, almost pouting when she insisted that he put the amount he said he would pay her in writing, as well as the days, hours and a scheduled break. He fed her Eba and Egusi soup with mole meat in a Nigerian restaurant nearby out of courtesy. It didn’t taste as good as her father’s stews but it would do.

Then Abeni followed him to a tall stone building near the centre with the letters ‘AVRC’ painted on the side of it and a line of villagers in worn clothing, compared to her and the merchant. Abeni couldn’t hold in her curiosity as she stared at the ripped thread in their fabric. Do they not have changes of clothes like they did?

“What does it mean?” She asked instead, pointing to the acronym.

“‘Aajiz Village’s Revenue and Customs’. It’s a place where you pay taxes. That ‘fee for working’ you were taking about. For some reason, we use the English words for ‘Revenue and Customs’ in Derin which is why it’s ‘AVRC’ and not something else.”

“I see.”

They stood in silence in the queue, just waiting for the line to ease up. Abeni noticed various types of people leave the hut. Some with foreign faces of joy, some with familiar tilted heads who scratched their chins and wondered how she’d leave here today. Abeni turned her head to peer at the man she came here with again as the line slowly moved. Something else coming to mind.

“...Mister Merchant, where are you from? Heritage wise,” His tanned complexion was ambiguous. Abeni knew that she was from Nigeria like a small percentage of the village of over a thousand eniyans were, the only other minority ethnicity here seemed to be from a place known as Europe judging by their pale skin, but he…

“Heritage?” He snorted, smile back again. “Again, with those big words...Anyway, I’m from Libya like the majority of the village. I’m half Iranian, half Libyan.”

She looked at him, confused. Abeni had no idea what a Iranian was. “So, does that mean you speak another language?”

“Sure I do…helps me communicate with the Arabs. Anty ghabeya,” Something about his tone when said that sounded rude, but since he continued speaking to her with a smile...maybe it was just her. “See? You should use that too! There are some Nigerians here, use your language to talk to them when you’re conversing with them on the stall!”

“I guess…” Abeni wondered if they all spoke Yoruba though.

She found out a moment later that they didn’t when screaming momentarily ruffled the crowd. At the end of the line, a struggling Nigerian man and girl were being dragged away on the floor by pair of guards. Veins were nowhere to be seen on any of the three as they begged in their native tongue and yet the guard’s Derin voice was clear. “Foreigners cannot work in this village without permission from the village chief. You are dangerous to the good people of Aajiz and will both be removed by any means necessary.” He stated.

“But there’s nothing out there but rock and ẹda!” The woman pleaded in the same language.

But the guard didn’t care, spitting on them in disgust. “So, be it.”

And Abeni warned herself, as they were shoved away and the villagers casually turned back their attention to the waiting, that that was her and the female ẹda’s fate should she get complacent. Only she’d get dragged out by a junior manipulator instead.

The tanned merchant, seemingly also unaffected, resumed chatted for a bit longer, reaffirming Abeni’s age was at least thirteen until they were let in and she resided to simply observing. Feeling more anxious than before. That wouldn’t happen to her, right? The tanned merchant continued to talk in the AVRC office, she took note of his name – Yousef Shamoun – and before long they were back at the stall, where Yousef coached her in sales. Telling her to be everything Abeni didn’t want to be. Bothersome, manipulative and desperate for attention.

But she admitted that this would help her in the future. When dealing with authorities like the village chief...this would help!

After all, you have to be a bit cunning to win even a game of Oware.

“Alright, they’re putting out the lights. Technically, your training shift is over now, so...”

Abeni looked at Yousef with widened eyes. They agreed that a shift started and ended at an approx. time – just after the morning torches were lit – with at least one break in between. So, technically, should they both agree, this classified as a shift that he must pay her for. But why would he put himself in that position? There must be some hidden reason behind this. Maybe he wanted to make her owe him before they even started. To have some leverage over her, “This counts as a shift?”

His grin didn’t waver. “What are you talking about?”

“You don’t have to pay me…” Abeni felt unnerved. All she did was sign up to her job and he—

But Yousef raised his eyebrow, confused, “Eh? I’m not paying you? It’s not the weekend, you idiot. I’ll see you tomorrow for your first official shift. This was just ‘training’.”

…Oh.

She felt her cheeks burn on her way back, not that he noticed.

Of course. She played herself.

“See you tomorrow...boss.”

[Current Total Beings In ‘Abeni’s Army’ – 1]