SNAP!
The fragile carriage, teetering on the verge of breakdown during its long journey, finally succumbed.
"Oh, dear," said the old man, his balance now disrupted.
"I apologize, sir, but one wheel of the carriage seems to have broken," explained the coachman from outside.
Sighing at the servant's words, the old man leaned out of the window. "How far is the nearest town?"
The coachman, now positioned in front of the window, anxiously scratched his head before responding, "Well, Gorn is the closest commoner village, about three hours away."
“It looks as if there’s a better option,” said the old man with an inquisitive tone.
The servant, clearly uncomfortable, lowered his gaze and confessed. “There’s actually a closer village ten minutes away, but sir, that village is reserved for nerics.” The coachman couldn’t help but coat the end of his statement with disgust. “And sir, considering the broken wheel, Gorn is our best bet for repairs. The neric village likely won’t have the materials needed.”
Nerics. It’s been a while since the old man has heard of such an existence. He has spent most of his life in the capital, after all. However, fear of the unknown was not enough to alleviate his fatigue and compel him to endure a three-hour trip.
After noticing the tired look on the old man’s face, the coachman spoke up once again. “Sir! We can both mount the horse, even if the trip might take a little long–”
Before the servant could finish the suggestion, the old man gave him an annoyed wave.
“It’s alright. I’ll just stay in the neric village. At the end of the day, they’re still people, aren't they?”
Unable to contend with the old man’s decision, the coachman sighed and nervously glanced in the direction of the neric village.
“Alright… But don’t worry! I’ll definitely arrive in half a fortnight to save you from those barbarians!”
The old man chuckled at the determination on the young servant’s face. “You do that.”
* * *
Happy birthday to you!
Happy birthday to you!
Happy birthday, dear Elric.
Happy birthday to you!
The now-six-year-old boy, with hair as dark as the night and eyes as bright as amethyst, gleefully clapped as his parents and aunt sang him the birthday song. Without hesitation, he blew out the candle tucked inside a single muffin as the song came to an end.
“What did you wish for Elric?” asked Elia, the boy’s mother.
Elric's face lit up with an innocent smile as he looked at his family gathered around him. With a twinkle in his eye, he replied, "I wished to marry Aunt Serena."
The room fell into a brief silence before bursts of laughter erupted from the amused adults. Such boisterous laughter created a joyous atmosphere that filled the entire room. Elric, puzzled, looked around, wondering what was so funny about his birthday wish.
Serena, used to Elric’s frequent proposals, wiped the tears that welled up in the corner of her eyes and ruffled the boy’s hair. “Oh, Elric," she teased.
Fervently reaching into his pocket, Elric took out the ring he had crafted from a simple wildflower outside. “I’m serious!” he proclaimed. Serena and his mother were unable to stifle their laughter. While the trio enjoyed the merriment, Elric’s father, Maurim, went to answer a knock at the door.
Tip, the son of the village chief, had arrived to inform him that a nobleman had sought shelter in their village. As the only inn owner in Vailee, Maurim would have to house him during his stay.
“Does he look dangerous?” asked Maurim. His top priority was his family, but rejecting a nobleman could lead to the destruction of his entire village.
“Not really. He looks like a regular old man. Apparently, his carriage wheel broke, and he was too tired to continue to Gorn,” replied Tip.
Maurim rubbed his temples and leaned against his raggedy door frame.
‘A nobleman that wants to stay in a neric village? What a predicament.’
As Maurim pondered the predicament, he gazed out at the humble surroundings of Vailee. The village, nestled amidst rolling hills and dense forests, was far removed from the grandeur and opulence usually associated with nobles. The extremely rundown buildings, worn but full of character, bore witness to the simple life the villagers led.
He turned his attention back to Tip. "If he's just a tired old man, it should be no problem to accommodate him. But make it clear that we are a small village with limited resources."
Tip nodded and headed back to escort the weary nobleman. Maurim, with a sigh, wondered how this unexpected guest would impact the peace of their close-knit community.
It didn’t take long for Tip to return, and behind him stood the nobleman.
‘He really was just an old man,’ Maurim thought.
The nobleman looked fatigued but grateful. "Thank you for your hospitality," he politely said as he extended out his hand. “My name is Linus Carlisle. I’m a baron who works as the head chef inside the royal palace.”
Chef?! For a moment, Maurim’s brown eyes shone brightly as he realized that he shared a profession with this nobleman. However, the excitement quickly dwindled as he knew he would never stand on par with such an individual, and it was embarrassing to think so.
Offering a hesitant smile and shaking Linus’ hand, Maurim finally replied. "I’m Maurim Sinclair. It's not every day we have a noble guest in Vailee. Please, make yourself welcome."
As the nobleman settled in, Maurim couldn't dispel the feeling of unease. A nobleman in a neric village was certainly an anomaly, and the repercussions of this encounter were uncertain.
‘If this is fate,’ Maurim thought, ‘I hope it isn’t too cruel on us.’
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