Kael sat at the back of the wagon, shoulders slightly hunched as the constant rattling of the wooden wheels over the firm gravel road resonated through his bones. Fortunately, the road followed one of the kingdom's most important trade routes — the road to Sheshir. The constant traffic of merchants and travelers had compacted the earth, pressing ruts into the gravel, which made the journey, despite its monotony, at least somewhat more bearable.
Above him, the sky was shrouded in heavy gray clouds; only here and there did a weak ray of sunlight break through, casting the landscape in flickering, shifting light. The air was cool but not cold, and a light breeze carried the scent of salt and sea. To his right, the road ran close to rocky cliffs. Kael could hear the muffled rumble of waves crashing against the dark rocks below, over and over, wearing down the stone.
To his left stretched barren, infertile land. The ground was rocky and hard, and only occasionally did farmhouses or sparse fields appear, seeming like islands in this desolate landscape.
The storm must have ruined the harvest, he thought. There were hardly any forests here along the coast. Instead, the landscape was dotted with low, dry shrubs and occasional wind-bent trees, whose branches jutted toward the sky like gnarled fingers.
Kael adjusted himself on the hard wooden wagon and leaned against the large barrel that had been his familiar companion for the last five days. He had named the barrel Graz yesterday — for whatever reason. He liked it, as much as one could like a barrel. A barrel didn't talk back.
He pulled his worn brown coat tighter around himself to ward off the cool breeze blowing in from the sea. His face, slightly reddened by the salty air, had distinctive but not overly exotic features that revealed his origins from the eastern lands — almond-shaped eyes and high cheekbones, but not striking enough to make him seem an outsider in the kingdom.
He ran his hand over his stubbly chin; the short beard itched unpleasantly, and he grimaced.
That needs to go soon, he thought, and began scratching himself irritably. The close-cropped black hair on his head had also mixed slightly with the dust and cold of the journey, and he felt the urge to get himself back into proper shape quickly.
But here, on this exceedingly boring road, there was only Graz the barrel, the caravan, and the endless journey to Sheshir.
Of course, he knew it wouldn't go on like this forever. They were at most a day's journey from the port city. Usually, he would have been there faster by ship. But no ship had wanted to set sail at the beginning of his journey — and for good reason.
Kael had also seen the animals' reactions: birds flying low, ants building their nests higher up. But reading the clouds had never been his strength, so he figured the storm wouldn't be too bad. Luckily, the sailors were much more skilled at forecasting the weather than he was. Kael had to smile. Anything else wouldn't make sense.
The caravan he was now accompanying was the only one desperate enough to take the risk. They reached the last village just before the first raindrops fell. The ensuing storm was fiercer than usual and had lasted throughout the night and into the next morning, delaying Kael's plan by at least half a day.
He sighed. That meant he would spend yet another night on the road, now making it two more than planned. He had nothing personal against the merchants and mercenaries here, but... Hearing something coming closer, Kael clenched his teeth.
What theatrical punctuality.
"Kael!" a hoarse voice called out. Kael didn't even need to look up; the image of Hako already appeared in his mind's eye. He looked up, and the lean merchant came riding on his brown-black stallion. The horse, a sturdy creature with shaggy, tousled fur, was visibly exhausted from the many days on the road. Yet it still moved purposefully forward, with the stoic calm of an animal accustomed to these distances.
Hako himself looked scarcely better than his horse. His worn clothing hung loosely from his shoulders, and his sharp-featured face was weathered, marked by many years of trade and travel. His gray hair stood wildly from his head, as if it hadn't been combed in days, and his eyes, framed by deep wrinkles, held a slightly sullen expression accompanied by a hint of sarcastic friendliness. The merchant was a man who viewed the world with a certain cynicism but had nonetheless carved out his place in it. Moreover, Kael was certain that he would spruce up his appearance before their arrival in Sheshir tomorrow.
"I've got a small task for you," said Hako as he slowed down next to the wagon and let his horse trot alongside. Kael sighed inwardly; he had almost expected these words.
"You once mentioned that old Fred's scale would soon break. Well, guess what: it's actually broken now."
Kael shrugged. "So?"
"And since you're apparently so clever to know when it's going to break, you can surely repair it too, right?" Hako smiled slightly mockingly. Kael just shook his head but nevertheless jumped down from the wagon.
Even though Hako always expected things from him that he hadn't promised, he couldn't blame the experienced merchant. After all, it was Kael who was allowed to join them on the journey — not the other way around. Even if it wasn't Hako's wagon he was traveling on, they were part of the same caravan and had shared the price for the mercenaries' escort. Hako thus had as much right to request Kael's help as anyone else.
Kael stood at the side of the road and waited for the other wagons to pass by. The noise of rolling wheels and the clatter of equipment on the wagons accompanied his thoughts. Fred's wagon finally came into view, and Kael stepped toward it.
"Do whatever you can, stray," said Hako and gave his stallion a small kick. The horse moved off leisurely and carried Hako back to his own wagon.
Fred sat on his wagon, holding the reins of the two draft horses firmly in his wrinkled hands. Kael wondered how the old merchant still embarked on such long journeys despite his advanced age. As the wagon stopped before him, Kael swung himself up with a jerk and landed among the goods on the loading area. One of the horses neighed.
"Easy, girl," said Fred in a surprised tone. Then the merchant turned around and looked at Kael. "Stray? What are you doing on my wagon?"
Kael frowned."Hako said your scale is broken."
Fred watched Kael for a few moments and then furrowed his brows, annoyed. "Hako says a lot when the day is long. Even when the day is short. Or when there's no day at all." Then he turned forward again and refocused on the reins.
Kael stood there, glancing around a few times. Fred continued to look straight ahead.
"So is your scale broken or not?" he finally asked, growing more confused.
"Yes," Fred called back.
"Yes what?"
"Yes, it's broken."
"So, should I repair it or not?"
"Yes, please. It's in the box back left in the corner."
Kael's mouth hung slightly open. Mother, he thought, I just don't understand these people.
This conversation was a fiasco. Kael decided not to ask further — it was easier just to do it. The task was also good to distract him from his other thoughts. What he would have to do in Sheshir. He had had enough time to think about that over the past nine days. He found the box and opened it amid the loading area, where he found a bit of space to sit.
Inside the box, he found the spring scale, which he had briefly examined a few days ago. It was a simple device, commonly used by merchants to weigh goods — small, handy, but not particularly precise. The spring inside pulled a weight downward, and through its extension, the weight was displayed on a scale. For a quick glance and rough measurement, it sufficed, but for precise measurements, it was never the best choice.
Remember that when you shop there next time, young Adar! His mother's words came to Kael's mind as he recalled how the scale worked.
Examining the scale, he immediately noticed the problem: the spring itself seemed intact, but the small lever that regulated its tension — and thus the zero point — was bent. The scale would constantly give incorrect readings, and most likely, the spring was experiencing uneven tension. Perhaps the wear and tear of the journey had gradually caused this mechanism to give way until it finally warped, making the spring sit too loosely.
"Here's the problem," Kael murmured more to himself than to Fred, who continued to hold the reins and stare at the road.
Kael tapped lightly on the lever with his finger. "The lever is bent. Without the correct tension, the spring doesn't work properly, leading to inaccurate weight measurements." He lifted the scale slightly to demonstrate the play in the spring. Fred didn't even look back.
"Do you have any tools here?" Kael asked, without much hope that Fred would answer at all.
"Tools? Tools... Yes, yes, there should be something in the box at the back," Fred finally grumbled, without even glancing at Kael.
Kael rummaged through the box and found a small, half-rusted pair of pliers that probably hadn't been used in years. It wasn't ideal, but it would do the job. With careful movements, he began to bend the lever back into shape. Adjusting the lever was by no means easy, especially since they were on the road and the wagon kept jolting. It also wasn't particularly bright, which didn't make the task any easier. Nevertheless, Kael persisted.
Spring scales are useful because they're small and light, but... He paused and pulled the lever a bit tighter.
The problem is that the tension of the spring decreases over time. Each stretch weakens it, and the more often it's used, the more inaccurate it becomes.
When he had brought the lever into a somewhat usable position, he tested the scale by placing a few small weights on it. It worked again — more or less — but it did its job.
"It will hold," said Kael, placing the scale back into the box without even showing it to Fred. "At least for a while. But I'd advise you to get a beam scale in Sheshir."
Fred gave him a fleeting glance. "Beam scale, huh? Why's that?"
"Because beam scales are more precise," Kael explained calmly. "A beam scale works with a fixed counterweight that always remains the same, regardless of how often you use it. The accuracy doesn't decrease over time — not like with a spring scale. Moreover, a beam scale can be extremely accurate when properly calibrated."
Fred grunted in agreement as Kael closed the toolbox. "Another reason you should consider a beam scale is that the spring in a spring scale is sensitive to temperature fluctuations. If it gets too cold or too warm, the metal expands or contracts, making the measurements inaccurate. A beam scale, on the other hand, remains stable, whether it's hot or cold."
Fred shrugged, as if he hadn't quite expected this explanation, but finally nodded. "I see..." he murmured slowly.
Kael stood up carefully, trying not to lose his balance. Good, thought Kael contentedly.
"...you're quite fascinated by scales, huh?"
Kael paused. He turned to Fred, who continued to hold the reins undisturbed. Kael wanted to open his mouth to protest but then closed it again. He realized he had indeed talked a lot — more than he had since leaving home. How unusual.
Has this scale just brought more words out of me than these people have in five days?
Kael glanced at the spring scale once more. "From now on, you are... Urud," he murmured and nodded contentedly.
"What did you say?" Fred called back.
"Beam scale!" Kael replied before smoothly jumping off the wagon and hastening back to his usual spot.
Back on the wagon, he climbed up again and leaned against the barrel. The merchant driving didn't seem to have noticed his absence at all or had skillfully ignored it. In any case, Kael made himself comfortable again.
"I have someone to introduce to you, Graz," he murmured.