"Oh, beautiful morning! Good day, dear Aunt Susan."
An'nan stood in the sunlight, bowing to greet Aunt Susan who was busy in the yard.
"Why is he talking like that?" Aunt Susan immediately questioned Martin, who was with An'nan. "What have you taught him!"
"I didn't teach him anything!"
Martin told An'nan, "Nobody talks like that."
"Of course, my friend," An'nan mimicked the bard's tone and words from last night. "I simply cannot help but remark: Aunt Susan, your beauty is like a dew-kissed rose in the morning light."
"I told you nobody talks like—"
"Martin! We must respect An'nan's family traditions!" Aunt Susan's glare made Martin shiver, then she turned to An'nan with renewed gentleness: "Dear An'nan, just do what makes you happy."
"Thank you, kind and gracious Aunt Susan."
In a good mood, Aunt Susan went into the kitchen to heat up the pumpkin pie they brought back last night.
An'nan barely touched the pumpkin pie, breaking black bread into his rice soup as he asked: "How's that unearned pumpkin pie taste?"
"Delicious! Really delicious!" Martin exclaimed while stuffing his face.
After breakfast, An'nan, now more accustomed to physical labor, continued chopping wood with Martin to sell at the market.
An'nan offered to carry some for Martin, but he refused, saying it was light work for him, boasting about his previous mining experience.
"When I was... mining... carrying... hundred pounds..."
Predictably, his speech was peppered with words An'nan had never heard before.
At the bustling market, Martin sold firewood while An'nan wandered around, practicing Common with vendors.
"How much is this shirt?"
He only asked but never bought, occasionally pointing at text to ask what words meant, drawing strange looks.
An'nan didn't care what these locals, whom he'd likely never interact with again, thought of him. Soon he returned to Martin, who had already sold all the firewood and was waiting for him.
On their way back, they passed a library—surprisingly existing in this remote town. Martin said an old man insisted on building it, though it barely had any visitors.
Building a library was a noble vision, but in a town with less than 1% literacy, it only let townspeople say "My town has a library!" and made passing merchants marvel "This poor place actually has a library?"
While Martin chattered beside him, An'nan suddenly spotted a familiar figure entering the bookstore.
Their boss.
Fast was rough and muscular, never without his thin sword—not the type who seemed to enjoy reading.
Martin hadn't noticed their boss, still staring at young women browsing clothes in the dress shop window across the street.
Back at Aunt Susan's house, An'nan's life didn't change much over the next few days, except for learning more Common from the bard.
An'nan began his seventh day of work to the bard's gentle lute music.
Today was quiet with few customers, making the bard's voice clearer, with only Martin's grumbling about "no food to take home today."
Fast leaned against the wooden post by the counter, part owner, part guard. An'nan, Martin, and Evelyn huddled behind the counter, only moving when customers came or left.
"An'nan."
Mr. Fast pushed a glass of juice to him, pointing toward the noble lady sitting in her usual spot: "Take this over."
Prepared to be made fun of again, An'nan reluctantly took the glass to her table, defending himself with flowery words: "Beautiful lady, may you have a pleasant evening."
"You think I'm still a lady?" The teasing came as expected.
But An'nan had studied hard these past days.
"Your beauty and fair skin are like..." An'nan assembled words learned from the bard: "An unopened flower bud."
The lady gave a flirtatious laugh, her full chest rippling. An'nan firmly maintained eye contact with her almond-shaped eyes.
As a reward for his compliments and proper behavior, the noble lady produced a coin—both soft and hard touched An'nan's palm.
A silver coin worth a week's wages gleamed in the lamplight.
The town had few wealthy people.
Drunks wouldn't waste money on anything but beer. An'nan quickly realized after starting work that Mr. Fast's promised "tips" were just a trap. Martin, working here for almost half a year, hadn't received enough tips combined to buy a rye beer.
"Your generosity is as noble as a lily."
An'nan returned to the counter amid whistles and catcalls.
Tap tap—
Mr. Fast knocked on the counter, scanning the tavern. The rowdy customers fell silent. Then he warned An'nan in a low voice: "Listen kid, I'm your boss, but the Wine Lady is your big boss."
"Did I do something wrong?" An'nan thought his compliments had crossed a line.
"What I mean is..." Mr. Fast gave a meaningful smile, "if you've really got what it takes, why not try becoming the big boss's husband?"
Later, as night fell, soft lute music filled the tavern.
"Evelyn, a rye beer please."
The Wine Lady had long gone, and An'nan, as usual, bought the cheapest beer to learn from the bard.
But today An'nan wasn't satisfied with just that—he asked about magic.
"You want to become a mage?"
"Of course."
The bard sized up An'nan; if it had been Martin asking, he'd have told him to get lost.
"To become a mage, you first need an aptitude test, costing one gold narr."
Typically, one gold narr was worth a hundred silver coins, or ten thousand copper coins.
An'nan now had one silver coin and thirteen copper coins.
He was only 98.87% away from affording the test.
...
At midnight, Dawn Tavern closed.
Mr. Fast returned to Evelyn, who was wiping the counter, and began paying An'nan and Martin's weekly wages: 1 silver and 70 copper coins. Evelyn received 1 silver and 50 copper coins.
"Why does Evelyn get more than us combined?" Martin saw Evelyn's wages for the first time.
"Would you take 50 copper coins instead of 70? Why do you think those drunks want Evelyn serving their drinks?"
Martin understood Mr. Fast's meaning with unprecedented speed.
After paying wages, Mr. Fast removed his thin sword and tossed it on the counter: "Clean up well, you won't need to come in tomorrow."
Martin and Evelyn were used to this.
"Going to the city again, boss?" Evelyn picked up the sword, wiping it with the cloth she'd just used on the tables.
"Yes, back in seven days." Fast threw a jingling coin purse to the bard.
"Bad timing, I can feel my profession's about to change," the bard complained.
An'nan didn't want to face it—just when he needed money most, he was temporarily unemployed.