The man laid the cards out again, this time ten.
They had no saying how many cards should be laid out, that was in the hands of the dealer. Because of that the amount of money they placed was fixed.
Mikael placed his money on the outer left card, not even considering splitting his money to have a back up.
"More than 5, red." he gave his bet, this time the amount he could win less.
Expectant, the crowd also was watching as the dealer uncovered the card. When the red color game through, Mikael got butterflies in his stomach, but the man said:" Sorry youngling, heart, 4."
The crowd groaned, others shaking their heads he had it coming.
The money vanished in the box the dealer carried, leaving Mikaels pocket.
'No big deal, but that was still a bummer. Still have some won money left.' He wanted to leave, keeping some of it, but the allure, the faint chance to double, or triple his money by the flick of a card drew him in.
"Still wanna continue?" he was asked, his hand closing around his pouch, fingers gliding inside and rolling the copper coins through his fingers.
'one more shouldn't hurt.'
He wanted to take out more, sure the amount won could cover his loss.
But just as he was about to lay down, he felt another, warm hand on his. It kept him in his place, his arm wouldn't budge.
He turned around, and the girl he saw yesterday together with the merchant stood behind him.
She smiled, like yesterday, just whispering in his ear:" Are you sure to continue?" And almost as fast as she came, her hand was gone, leaving his and the cold of the late season covered him, making him feel cold.
He came to himself like from a dream.
'If I really think about it, this is not right, getting money like that.'
He liked the feeling of his money multiplying, but also knew he couldn't always win.
He shook his head. "No, I'm out."
The others around him also voiced their opinion.
"Good call kid."
"At least knows when to quit."
"Why don't you try once more? You just had a single tiny loss."
But he steeled his resolve, not wanting to spiral down the path of gambling.
He carved his way out, not wanting to remain there a moment longer, afraid to give in to the temptation.
"Good call." He heard the female voice again. She stood by the carriage, leaning on the side munching on a apple. Her brown hair flowed down the sides from her hood, reaching her chest. Her chestnut colored pupils like from a animal, but having a exotic allure.
"Why bother to keep me from playing?" he asked. He had no relation to this woman, nor could she have a motive to ground him.
"You are still a whelp, and should not get scammed by a trickster." She said nonchalantly, biting off a chunk from that apple.
"You saw how he hovered his hands over the cards? May looked nice, but also made sure he had control over the cards, and he had a special mixing technique, so you winning was part of his plan."
She stopped talking, leaving room for Mikael to think. 'Should have guessed. Father told me nothing good comes from playing, but one should make the experience by oneself. Now I got saved from worse.' he thought, touching his purse with the sunken profit, but profit nonetheless.
'That could have gone south really fast.'
"Can I may inquire your name?" he asked after thinking. This Woman helped him, and was obviously more than meets the eye. Together with her affiliation with the merchant she was special, so he could only heed her advice.
"How fancy, just ask more natural."Her smile revealed small fang-like teeth. She finished eating the apple, not even leaving the carcass.
"Name's Horo, I travel with my companion, and when I saw you getting drawn in I wanted to give you a push."
She came closer, her finger tipping on his right hand, which he retracted by reflex.
"I did not hold you back from playing per se, you made your own choice."
He thought back to the moment, and she was right. But without her, he might have lost it, playing and loosing his hard earned money. "Even so, I'm grateful for your assistance, Miss Horo. My name is Mikael. And I hope I can someday repay that favor."
"Horo, can you help me out here?" The merchant called, trying to drag around a big chest from a building behind the street, most likely a warehouse for more goods they had.
"Oh, what takes you here, already gathered the money?" He said, leaving the chest for the time being and making a quick break.
"No, I have to work one or two more days before I can get it. Please keep it reserved for me. And by the way, my name is Mikael."
He stretched out his hand for a handshake, like his father taught him. "Well, nice to meet you, call me Laurence. But where does that comes from?" He received the gesture, with the other hand scratching the back of his head, looking over to Horo.
"Do you have something to do with it?" He asked, as if he had already drawn a conclusion.
"Miss Horo helped me keeping a cool head, saving me from a loss by gambling." Mikael explained. "I wanted to show my thanks also to you."
"No need to. She sometime does that on a whim, so please excuse her if her actions seem... strange at times." He kept looking from her to Mikael and back, a weak smile on his lips, one that the girl soundlessly retorted.
Mikaels stomach began to rumble, signifying he still had not eaten.
"Do you perhaps sell some of your fruits?"
On his plea Horo literally jumped in the carriage, carefully landing on the wooden bottom. "Want some pears and apples?" She held up of each kind one. Every single one as big as a mans fist, maybe bigger.
"Only 2 small coppers for one, they need to go before rotting, and the competition is more than anticipated." Laurece added, holding up two fingers.
"Gladly." Mikael took out 6 small coppers. These fruits were enough for him to fuel him over the day, and maybe he could get some beef jerky from Roàn, as he chewed on some when hammering steel.
With his ration secured, he moved on, keeping a bit more distance from the gamblers table.
When he left, Laurence walked back to the chest, Horo behind him.
"Why did you really help him?" He asked, knowing it had to be more to it than just her goodwill or whim. "Don't get me wrong, I'm fine that you did it, but only to clarify."
She stood there, finger on her temple as if thinking about it.
"Well, he was about to get scammed, and I don't really like that. But aside from that... He smiled nice?" She herself wasn't sure of her answer, her nose twitching a bit when telling so.
"Smell? Didn't he smell like sweat, and you don't like that, your words?"
"Sure, I know, but there was another scent, one I can't put my finger on..."
"Okay, then let's settle this with that." He bend down to the stone paved floor, ready to heave up the chest. "Can you lend me a hand?"
She also bend down, and seemingly effortless they lifted the chest he alone could barely move a moment before.#
Mikael went his way, quickly arriving a bit later then yesterday to the smithy, again knocking, walking in and greeting his Boss.
This time he already finished his pipe, gathering materials to continue their work from the day before.
"Ahh, lad, right on time." He began, "Our customer, ya know, the person we make that sword for. She came over, saying she'd like to have it done by the end of this week. So we have to whip that horse."
He gave Mikael a small, sharp knife, some wood, a whetstone and leather.
"For the handle?" Mikael asked, somewhat familiar with these pieces as they talked about it briefly yesterday.
"Aye, here is a outline." He gave him a rolled up parchment.
When Mikael put aside the materials for know, looking at the piece of paper that contained a fairly detailed drawing of a handle, downwards from the guard.
The sleek draft of the wood piece had a few fine details engraved on the guard, only uplifted by side notes.
It looked still simple enough to be done, and the only question he had was:" How long or wide should that be?"
"Lad, ya don't now measures? What did ya old man teach ya?" Roàn asked puzzled. For a blacksmith or any craftsman, measure and numbers were their second nature.
"Not enough I'm afraid. He still wanted to teach me more." He simply said. Over his stay here he came to accept quickly the reality of his fathers dead, not having the emotional breakdown like before.
Sure, talking about it or getting reminded so often of his lacking knowledge still hurt, but he could hide it.
"Aye, sorry lad. Don't want to dig to deep. An unearthed tree can fall quickly. Still, let me think." He looked around the room, taking quickly some branches from the fireplace that were reserved to start fires.
He took a cleaver laying by a table with many cut marks, tacking a glance at the parchment and hacking away pieces of the sticks, one longer than the other.
"Here, long one as long as the handle, the shorter is the thickness. More questions, come ask. Else if ya mess up badly the unearthed tree gets chopped up and made into timber."
Mikael took the sticks, giving them a quick glance.
"That should work, thanks."
Roàn just grumbled, walking out with his box of Fire Salt and ready to light up hell pit.
'Then, should I make myself useful again?' he thought, getting comfortable on the floor sitting by a window which flooded the inside in a golden light, checking his knife and the beautiful dark brown piece of wood and started carving. Slowly, piece of piece the peel fell, making the handle began to take form.