"Oh, beautiful morning, good morning, dear Aunt Susan," Annan greeted with a bow, standing under the sunlight as he addressed Aunt Susan, who was busy working in the yard.
"Why did he say that?" Aunt Susan immediately questioned Martin, who was with Annan. "What did you teach him?"
"I didn't teach him anything!"
Martin said to Annan, "We don't speak like that."
"Of course, my friend," Annan replied, mimicking the tone and phrasing of the bard from the night before. "I simply couldn't help but express my admiration: Aunt Susan, your beauty is like a rose covered in morning dew."
"I've already said no one speaks like that—"
"Martin! We must respect Annan's family traditions!" Aunt Susan's fierce glare made Martin shiver. Turning back to Annan, she softened again. "Dear Annan, do whatever you like."
"Thank you, kind Aunt Susan."
In a good mood, Aunt Susan headed into the kitchen to reheat the pumpkin pie they had brought back the night before.
Annan didn't eat much of the pumpkin pie. While tearing apart black bread to dip in rice soup, he asked, "Is the pumpkin pie that was earned without effort really that good?"
"It's delicious! Very delicious!" Martin responded loudly, stuffing his mouth as he spoke.
After breakfast, Annan and Martin continued their work chopping wood, which they would sell at the market.
Annan offered to help Martin carry some of the load, but Martin refused, saying it was easy for him, bragging about his past experience as a miner.
"When I was… a miner, I carried… a hundred pounds…"
As expected, his speech was filled with terms Annan had never heard before.
Arriving at the lively market, Martin started selling the firewood while Annan wandered around, practicing his conversational skills with the vendors.
"How much for the shirt?"
But he only ever asked without buying. Occasionally, he would point at a sign and ask what it meant, which attracted some odd stares.
Annan didn't mind the curious looks from the locals, most of whom he would never see again. Soon enough, he returned to Martin, who had already sold all the firewood and was waiting for Annan to return.
On the way back, they passed a library—quite an unexpected sight in such a remote town. Martin explained that it was the work of an old man who had insisted on creating it, although it rarely had visitors.
Building a library was a noble aspiration, but in a town with a literacy rate of less than 1%, it mostly just led locals to think, "Our town has a library!" and passing traders to remark, "A poor place like this actually has a library?"
Listening to Martin prattle on, Annan suddenly noticed a familiar figure entering the bookstore.
Their boss, Fast, was a burly man who always wore a sword at his side, not the type to spend much time reading.
Martin didn't notice his boss, as he was still staring at the young woman in the clothing store's display window.
Back at Aunt Susan's house, Annan's life didn't change much over the next few days, except for learning more of the common tongue from the bard.
As the soft notes of the bard's lute began, Annan started his work on the seventh day.
There weren't many customers today, and the relative quiet made the bard's music even clearer, with only Martin muttering, "No food to bring back today."
Fast stood leaning against the wooden pillar by the counter, looking like both a boss and a bodyguard. Annan, Martin, and Evelyn gathered behind the counter, occasionally busying themselves when a customer arrived or left.
"Annan."
Mr. Fast slid a glass of juice toward him, pointing at the noblewoman sitting in the same seat as last time. "Take it to her."
Resigned to once again becoming the subject of jokes, Annan picked up the glass and walked over to the table, defending himself with elaborate words. "Beautiful lady, I wish you a pleasant evening."
"You still think I'm a lady?" came the teasing reply, as expected.
But Annan had truly been working hard these past days.
"Your beauty and fair complexion are like…" Annan searched for the words he'd learned from the bard. "A flowerbud yet to bloom."
The lady let out a flirtatious giggle, her full chest causing a subtle ripple, while Annan held her narrow eyes with steady gaze.
As a reward for his praise and for not being inappropriate, the noblewoman took out a coin and placed it gently yet firmly into Annan's hand. The silver coin, worth a week's wages, shimmered in the dim light of the oil lamp.
There weren't many wealthy people in town.
Drunks wouldn't waste their money on anything other than beer, so Annan quickly realized that the "tips" Mr. Fast had promised were just a trap. After almost half a year of working here, Martin's total tips didn't even amount to one glass of rye beer.
"Your generosity is as pure as a lily."
The tavern held no secrets. Annan returned to the counter amidst the whistles and strange calls from the patrons.
Knock knock—
Mr. Fast tapped the counter, looking around at the rowdy customers, who quickly quieted down. He then turned to Annan, his voice low and reminding him, "Listen, kid, I'm your boss, but the lady with the wine is your real boss."
"Did I do something wrong?" Annan wondered if his praise had overstepped its bounds.
"What I mean is…" Mr. Fast flashed a meaningful smile. "If you really have the ability, why don't you try becoming the lady's husband?"
Soon after, nightfall arrived, and the soothing sound of the bard's lute filled the tavern.
"Evelyn, one glass of rye beer, please."
The lady with the wine had long since left, and Annan, as usual, ordered the cheapest beer to chat with the bard.
But today, Annan wasn't satisfied with that. He asked about magic.
"You want to become a wizard?"
"Of course."
The bard sized Annan up. If it had been Martin asking, he'd have told him to get lost.
"Before becoming a wizard, you need to test your potential. The cost is one gold nar."
Typically, one gold nar was worth a hundred silver coins or ten thousand copper coins.
Annan currently had one silver coin and thirteen copper coins.
He was only 98.87% away from being able to afford the test.
---
At midnight, the Morning Dawn Tavern closed.
Mr. Fast returned to the counter where Evelyn was wiping it down, and began distributing Annan and Martin's wages for the week: 1 silver coin and 70 copper coins. Evelyn's was 1 silver coin and 50 copper coins.
"Why does Evelyn get more than the two of us combined?" Martin was surprised to see Evelyn's pay.
"I give you 50 copper coins, and you give me 70. Do you think those drunks want Evelyn to serve them drinks for free?"
Martin quickly understood what Mr. Fast meant.
After handing out the wages, Mr. Fast threw his sword onto the counter. "Clean up. You won't be coming in tomorrow."
Martin and Evelyn had become used to this.
"Boss, are you going into town again?" Evelyn asked as she picked up the sword and wiped it with the cloth she'd just used to clean the table.
"Hmm, I'll be back in seven days," Mr. Fast said, tossing a money pouch to the bard with a pleasant clink.
"Damn it, I can feel a change in the job coming soon," the bard grumbled.
Annan wasn't ready to face it. At the time he needed money the most, he was temporarily out of a job.