Before leaving the hut, Laladoya called out loudly to the waiting workers, "All right, everyone, let's get to work! Today's task must be completed, and tonight, we'll reward you handsomely!"
At his urging, the workers surrounding the hut sprang into action, heading towards the Sand Fishery in a steady stream. The crowd was substantial—Limon estimated there were at least fifty people in total, all moving with practiced efficiency.
Curious, Limon stepped inside the wooden house, passing through the side porch to a wide balcony overlooking the quicksand pool. The balcony resembled an observation deck, complete with a table and a few chairs, ideal for overseeing the entire operation of the fishery.
"Not bad," Limon muttered, noting the prime vantage point. Laladoya clearly knew how to blend business with comfort. From this spot, the quicksand pool stretched out in full view, its surface occasionally disturbed by shimmering sand ripples.
Below, Laladoya was far from idle. The diminutive figure was darting among the workers, issuing commands with a voice that carried authority despite its youthful pitch. Nets were cast into the quicksand pool, and now and then, a sand bone fish—each nearly a meter long—leapt out, thrashing against the sturdy nets. Workers shouted and laughed, their voices carrying a sense of joy that filled the air.
Seated on the balcony, Limon watched in silence, his expression thoughtful. Though this world was brimming with magic and strange creatures, the struggles and joys of ordinary people bore an uncanny resemblance to those in his own world. For these workers, life boiled down to the essentials: food, shelter, and survival.
The sun sank lower, and with it came the culmination of the day's efforts. Night fell, and the workers, urged on by Laladoya, wrapped up their labor and began preparing for the much-anticipated harvest feast.
The day's catch of sand bone fish was deposited in a bunker beside the wooden house, where a few workers busily sorted the bounty. Meanwhile, others gathered firewood, piling it up to light bonfires along the nearby road.
As darkness settled over the land, clusters of flames flickered to life, chasing away the encroaching shadows. The bonfires burned brightly, their glow illuminating the workers' faces as laughter and chatter filled the air. The tantalizing aroma of grilled fish wafted through the scene, a mouthwatering promise of the feast to come.
Standing on a wooden bench in front of the house, Laladoya raised his hands, silencing the crowd. "Ladies and gentlemen, tonight, we celebrate the annual harvest of the Sand Fishery. As always, we offer our gratitude to the god of trade, Walikru, for blessing us with a bountiful yield. Let the feast begin!"
Cheers erupted from the gathered workers as Laladoya stepped down, dragging his bench closer to the house. He plopped down onto it, his small frame nearly disappearing into the oversized seat. Next to him, Limon leaned casually against a pillar, his sharp eyes scanning the festive scene.
Bonfires crackled in the darkness, their light casting dancing shadows across the sand. Workers bustled around the fires, roasting fish and sharing stories. Yet despite the lively atmosphere, Laladoya's expression grew somber.
"You know," Laladoya began, his voice carrying a tinge of melancholy, "since the Third Magic Tide ended five years ago, things have changed. Arizela may still be a city of gold, but it's become a magnet for the desperate. Every day, more and more refugees flood in, hoping to find a better life. But for most, it's a cruel illusion. The slums grow, and the rich grow richer, while the poor struggle just to survive."
Limon glanced at him, surprised by the sudden shift in tone. "You seem awfully concerned for someone in your position," he said, his voice tinged with curiosity.
Laladoya sighed, his small face etched with worry. "These people look to Arizela as a beacon of hope, but the truth is, there's not enough for everyone. And the merchants? They don't care. Profit is all that matters to them."
Limon's gaze returned to the bonfires. "Hope's a powerful thing," he said after a pause. "Even if it's fragile, it's better than nothing. These people know the odds, but for them, it's Arizela or nothing."
Laladoya fell silent, digesting Limon's words. After a moment, he murmured, "Maybe you're right. Maybe hope is all they have left."
As the first plates of roasted sand bone fish were served, the tantalizing aroma intensified, mingling with the sounds of crackling flames and merry laughter. It was then that a small commotion arose near one of the bonfires.
"Teresa, go on! Don't be shy!" someone called out, followed by encouraging laughter.
An elven girl, dressed in simple gray clothes and wearing a delicate pink wreath, hesitated for a moment before stepping forward. In her hands, she held a plate piled high with roasted fish. Her cheeks flushed a faint pink as she approached Laladoya and Limon.
Laladoya's eyes twinkled with amusement as the girl stopped before them. She bowed politely to Laladoya before turning to Limon, her head lowered in a gesture of shyness. With trembling hands, she held out the plate to him.
Limon looked at the girl, then at Laladoya, his confusion evident. "What's this about?" he asked, his tone cautious.
Laladoya chuckled, clearly enjoying the situation. "Ah, Limon, you're not familiar with elven customs, are you? The pink wreath symbolizes chastity. When an elven girl offers you food while wearing one, it means she's chosen you as her lifelong companion."
Limon blinked, utterly bewildered. "Wait, what?"
"Teresa is a wonderful girl," Laladoya added with a grin. "If you accept her, she'll be loyal to you for life."
The elf girl peeked up at Limon through her lashes, her cheeks burning brighter. Limon, still processing the situation, awkwardly scratched the back of his head.
"Uh… this is… unexpected," he muttered, unsure of how to respond.
Laladoya laughed, clapping him on the shoulder. "Think it over, Limon. Not every day an elf offers you her heart."