"Please! C'mon!"
"I've said it once and I'll say it again: the price is steel."
While moving through the bustling market section of the town, he found a boy that looked to be around his age haggling down a stubborn merchant, who definitely wasn't willing to budge on whatever it was that was being bargained.
The boy was tall and lanky, with light-green hair kept in a messy ponytail. By his plain, beige tunic and matching breeches, he didn't seem particularly well off, but he wasn't malnourished looking, either.
"How about I pay you the rest next time I'm around? Huh? That sounds fair, right?" The boy bargained.
The merchant with the bushy, brown-and-gray beard remained as stubborn as an ox with his arms folded over his chest, "The price is steel."
It was clear that the beer-bellied merchant was not going to be haggled as he stood behind his wares like a doting father over his children. All he looked to be selling was a variety of pastries, so it was understandable that food wouldn't exactly be something with a large margin to cut down on.
Either way, he watched for a minute, noticing the peculiar body language of the ponytail-wearing boy.
What's he doing? He thought.
He noticed the boy's hand fidgeting near a piece of bread that was laying in the twig-woven basket.
Even his naive eye could pick up on what was about to happen: the boy was planning on swiping the pastry and making a run for it–that much was clear by how antsy he seemed to be.
"C'mon–just this once!" The boy pleaded.
"Price. Is. Steel."
"--"
For a moment, the boy and the merchant had an intense staring contest while he watched the lowborn boy's hand stay near the long loaf of bread on display.
Just before the boy could swipe it–
"How much is it?"
He asked the merchant, stepping beside the green-haired boy. Both the stubborn merchant and the lanky boy seemed surprised by his presence.
"Huh? Who are you?" The merchant grumbled.
The boy beside him looked confused, but the look they exchanged told the green-haired boy that he was there as a friend.
In his head, he got an idea based off of how the people around the town had been treating him, he decided to fully embrace the favor they had been showing him.
He introduced himself politely to the merchant, holding a hand over his heart as he bowed, "Emilio Dragonheart."
Simply, he took advantage of his name.
"Wha–? Oh, my apologies, young Dragonheart! I had no idea you were in town today–what a splendid occasion," the merchant laughed while sweating, rubbing his hands together.
"It's alright," he smiled, "So, what's the price of this bread?"
The merchant blinked a few times before quickly grabbing the loaf of bread and presenting it to him, "For you? Zero!"
"Oh, I couldn't," he politely declined.
Though he was just playing it up, trying to act benevolent but indeed–he wanted to spare no coin, especially since it wasn't exactly his money to spend.
"I insist–your father has protected Yullim for years now! This is the least I can do to return the favor," the merchant nodded a lot of times with a smile.
"Well, if you truly insist…"
"I do!"
–Just like that, he acquired the fluffy pastry without sparing a single coin to the merchant. He waved him off, walking away as he signaled for the perplexed young boy to follow.
As the lowborn boy, who was a good head taller than him, met up with him in the midst of the busy market, he tore the bread in half, tossing one half of it to the boy.
"--Why'd you do that?" The boy asked as he caught the bread.
"Do what?" He asked, biting into the soft bread.
The green-haired boy looked at him, "You knew I was going to snatch this anyway. Why'd you go through the trouble?"
"I think what you should be saying is 'thank you'; I'm sure you wouldn't have exactly been praised and patted on the head for thievery," he said, swallowing the bread down as he hit his own chest to aid his body in taking it down.
He stood against the wall, trying to look cool while he ate his half of the bread though it was incredibly difficult to look imposing while being a pre-teen who was hardly four-and-a-half feet.
I'll give him a lecture about not being a drain on society and contributing…though it's a bit rich coming from me–but, I'm a new man! Or…boy. It's my responsibility as an overly-wise eleven-year-old to help my fellow youth! He thought.
"Thank you."
"--"
It was surprising to him. He didn't actually expect the young boy to thank him that easily, but he was met with an extended hand and a smile from the boy.
"I'm Pip," the ponytail-wearing boy said with a beaming smile.
The boy with pale-green hair was missing a tooth in his front row of teeth, adding a certain innocence to his smile.
"Emilio," he shook his hand.
They both smiled with a new friendship being forged at that moment.
–
"So, you're the Dragonheart kid?" Pip asked.
The two of them were sitting by a wall, sharing the bread the merchant had given as a gift. Again, he felt it odd that his name seemed to carry some sort of weight behind it.
"Yeah," he looked at Pip, "--What's it mean, anyway?"
"Wha–?"
"Dragonheart. It seems like everybody in this town knows who I am," he said.
Pip blinked a few times as if confused by his question, "You're tellin' me you don't know who you even are?"
He nodded, "That's exactly what I'm saying."
"Well, must be a good reason for it. So, I'm not sayin'."
After sitting silently for a few minutes in thought as he kept his knees close to his body, he looked up as the boy with the light-green ponytail jumped up to his feet.
"Well, I'm off now!"
"Oh, alright…"
Pip looked at him for a moment, "I've got some errands to run. But…we can hang out again sometime, alright?"
He wore a smile before nodding, "Yeah."
"Alight, then–cya, Dragonheart!"
Just like that, Pip was off like a cat swiftly exiting through the crowd. Though he questioned what sort of "errands" the young boy must've meant, and if it had anything in common with the almost-thievery that occurred just earlier.
I should get going, too, he thought.