"Lady Cordelia? Oh I have never seen you before! Not that I see any of you right now. What a pleasure, nonetheless!"
His eyes were a calm grey, fixated over Tibetha's hood in search of a hint of her physical identity. They held a sense of restlessness within, something akin to a predator's eyes slightly widened at the prospect of having spotted his prey of the night. His rusty hair were pushed back, leaving his dark face and pointy jaw in service of intimidation for all.
The man was a buff creation one could observe from the way his simple silk shirt tightened over his chest and arm muscles, not in a wish to escape but just enough to caress and shape him. Baggy pants hid the shape of his lower half and the floor touching scroll in his hand suggested that he was about to win over the Letters shop as well.
"Oh, um, greetings?" Tibetha uttered, quite bewildered as she shrugged herself out of Lord Emir's grasp. Being close someone as brilliant as him made her physically squirm.
"Greetings, M'lady! I have a tea pot to return to you!" The man announced with much dedication in his tone, as if it were one of his life long goals.
"You do?" Tibetha blurted out.
"Most certainly! I took one from your household the other day. I must win you one back."
Before the Cordelia heiress could open her mouth, his buff hands got to rolling the scroll.
"Oh it's quite fine, you can keep it or return it later as per your convenience. No need to wi—"
"Oh no no, I must. Why leave it for later when you can do it now, am I correct or am I correct?" He grinned, a sharp toothed grin, which made Tibetha wonder if it was Emir who had been at the war front for most of his life— because this man had a very Northern accent and yet the most intimidating look for himself.
"That's not the most brilliant ideology," Emir frowned, folding his hands behind his back and scrutinized the man before him. His self seemed so scrawny in comparison and gentle beyond nobility.
"I don't confine myself to be brilliant. Come now, I'll take you to the oriental store," The buff man held out a coin pouch and gave it to the Letter shopkeeper. "I'll be back in a jiffy," he wiggled the scroll in his hand before pointing it at a faraway shop.
"Oh you shouldn't bother, I was accompanying—" Tibetha began but was cut off again.
"Ah, yes what a fine and familiar young lad," the man turned to face Emir, as if he hadn't noticed his presence all this while.
"Lord Emir," he introduced with slight entitlement in his tone and held out a hand for the hoarder to shake.
"Alzack, Royal Inspector," the man smiled humbly.
Tibetha and Emir sucked in a synchronised breath for their frazzled brains.
"Oh we should go to the oriental store right now, make haste kids!" Emir exclaimed and patted Tibetha's back, pointing his chin in the general direction of the shop. The girl scoffed but nodded in acceptance of her fate as the kids willingly followed for more adventures.
"I see you've got yourself a charity going, how nobel," Alzack grunted, attempting to share a smile with the kids. They ended up huddling behind Emir, not friendly to Alzack's advances.
"Heh, heh, my sire," Emir coughed awkwardly, torn between diplomacy and annoyance of calling the kids a charity case. Though there wasn't anything fundamentally wrong with it and there wasn't much Emir could do about it.
"No need to make haste, tell me your preferences. Those potters have been creating artifacts since ancient times of establishment. They have nothing but the best to offer, I assure you, Mr. Cordelia will not be disappointed," Alzack nodded in satisfaction with his own words as they walked forward.
Who'd tell Mr. Royal Inspector that she wasn't going home anytime soon — and it wasn't only because of the abandonment but also because she had no idea how to? She could ask someone, like the Royal Inspector very conveniently, but it would defame her family's name to great extents.
And as if she hadn't enough shame to bring to their name.
"We're obliged for having the favour returned," Tibetha worded carefully as she followed his footsteps on the cobblestone path. She could spot him in the distance, the man with bright hair and bright eyes, and his company of kids meandering around the oriental store. The man-guide-teacher hogged the brains of his students-customers with information beyond their levels of comprehension.
He talked animatedly, with many a hand gestures to go along with his words.
"Every civilization has a unique characteristic about pottery and ours has always been Functional Pottery. No-nonsense teacups and plates which could hold as much as one could give to sustain," he pointed at the shop's cabinets full of deep plates and sporks. "Having emerged through a war and being dependent on the sea's blessing for food was quite an ordeal to keep up with. That is why our history does not include artists or leisure workers for the most. That was, until year 20 of our creation, when a woman crafted a Tea set in compensation for her daughter's dowry— for that was all she could afford. It is said that she painted it with flowers and powdered pearls, and it was made with so much love that it became magic."
Some of the kids gasped whilst the others laughed over the mention of magic.
"Magic! What a silly thing to say!"
"I believe in magic!"
"You're dumb."
Exasperated gasps flew amongst children.
Tibetha's wide eyes met with his bright ones. He nodded in acknowledgement of her existence and she curtsied with her neck, just barely.
Had he seen her on the stairs?
"Ah, I've heard rumours in the South about its magic. The tribal people celebrate a whole festival dedicated to— what was it now?" Emir pondered.
"Tea of Life," the bright haired man supplied.
"Pfft," went some child.
The gentleman laughed, their mirth not reaching their distant eyes.
"Does the magic Tea Set happen to be here?" Alzack questioned as he made his way through the crowd of kids and stood beside the man. The shopkeeper hurried to stand out of perspective, in order to give everyone a good look of the magic Tea Set.
"There it is. One of its kind," the man-guide-teacher sighed, seemingly mesmerized by the simplicity of a yellowing tea-set placed in the centre of the display cabinet. Its kettle was as small as an infant's head, cracked slightly around its snout. Its round body was covered in miniscule flowers, each painted with precision and detail, and they seemed to radiate a glow of their own. The cups and saucers were lined with a golden dust, featuring one intricate flower of differing species in the very centre of all.
"It has been preserved by our family, for ages," the shopkeeper exhaled with pride. His gaze meandered amongst his three old customers and many a little ones.
"You've done an incredibly well job," Alzack grinned, "I shall win this for you, Lady Cordelia!" He clapped in agreement with himself.
"Oh no, no, please! No!" Tibetha waved her hands in ardent rejection of Alzack's bright smile and ambitious eyes.
"Yes, no indeed," the bright haired man pressed a hand over Alzack's chest and pushed him back just a tad, "This is mine, isn't it, Mr. Keeper?"
"Excuse yourself," Alzack swatted the man's hand off his chest and Emir pulled Tibetha a step farther away from them. A sear went around the crowd, their unbalanced power dynamics making Tibetha's hands sweat.
"He's the Roy—"
The man placed his hand over Alzack's chest again and pressed just enough, "I cannot, I apologise. My kids fancy the set so the school must have it instead. Do you not support education?"
Alzack did not swat the man's hand away, instead, clasped his over and gave it a squeeze. For the observer, it might have looked endearment through rose tinted glasses— though, only the bright haired man knew the way Alzack was crushing his poor bones with that squeeze.
"I support everything the Empire propagates but, I saw it first," Alzack worded through gritted teeth, his buff and tall frame domeneering over the lithe man's.
"Well, prithee, but I was here first," the man pinched Alzack's hand and buff man flinched away, with an offended frown.
"I will win it nonetheless," Alzack scoffed, eyeing the lithe man up and down.
"Ha Ha, I love your enthusiasm — but the set isn't really up for grabs," the shopkeeper ran a hand through his hair, almost embarassed on their behalf.
Tibetha and Emir cringed together.
"How about donations? I've had a miserable time growing up. I couldn't walk or sustain life until I was five or something. I was totally dependable on people who weren't even family. They had abandoned me in front of the church!" Alzack gasped and placed a hand on his own chest, as if trying to contain his palpitating heart.
"I couldn't walk most my childhood so they had me confined to a room. My only social interaction was dolls that my sister left behind after her child marriage. If I would sneak out, they'd beat me back in," The man-guide-teacher sobbed, rubbing his fist over his eyes.
"My teeth are fake and I am terrified of little embossed circles on any plain surface," Alzack shuddered.
"My father killed my mother and remarried for property," The bright haired man wailed.
"I—For real?"
He looked Alzack in the eye.
"Are your teeth really fake?" The man questioned, mimicking Alzack's expression.
"Not at all," Alzack clicked his teeth for all to know.
"He's a liar, you can see!" The man shouted, pointing a rude finger at Alzack's face.