A Liberty Sought: Part One
25th of Winter, 513 A.V.
25th of Winter, 513 A.V.
The winter moon hung low in the sky, offering little light as thick clouds drifted pass. Soft, light rain pattered down above, making the city even more damp that it already was. But the crowd scattered across the Midnight Market didn't seem to notice, each too absorbed in their own dealings. Bright lights from every sight, the noises of merchants and buskers trailing about the place. Despite that, an air of danger lurked beneath the livelihood. Yet, many chose to hide under the shadows, doing who knows what. It was certainly not a place where a Dynasty should be in.
But there was Verena Lorak, half-hidden under an oversized cloak and dirty clothes stained with blood. She kept her head lowered though no one bothered that much with a lone figure. Never mind her status, the young woman's appearance fitted right in with everyone else. She had just finished her rounds across the Whitesnake Plantation, mostly treating whip lashes - with the Rujaro activities, people are being harsher to slave. And her first though was to go back to her clinic in the city. However, when she passed the Market, she found herself telling the driver to stop and leaped down without another word.
Now, she was standing in front of a weapon's merchant, looking over blades that she could not identify. Only two were familiar to her - the daggers and a cutlass. Instinctively, she touched the cutlass's blade and pulled her hand back with a jerk, surprised at how cold it was. It was a beautiful weapon, its handle delicately etched with winding patterns. The black hilt reminded her of Cad's own sword. He was the one who taught her about what little she knew of blades.
Behind the stall, a woman in his thirties laughed deeply. "It's cold iron, sweetheart. Much better than the regular iron."
"How much?" the girl asked, still not looking the merchant in the eye. Of course, she could have easily bought this in the blacksmith, but someone was bound to ask her why and Verena was not eager to deal with that. Because honestly, she just wanted to.
"I doubt you can afford it," the light-haired woman dismissed, eyeing Verena's clothing. Not that she was to blame, the Lorak was dressed as a commoner.
Verena sighed with annoyance. How could the woman expect to know what she could afford? It was not like they knew each other. "How much?"
The woman raised her eyebrow at the girl's unconcerned tone. She didn't seem the least insulted or even hesitant. Then she saw the pale girl reaching for her bag with her left hand and the merchant could glimpse the coiling snake of the Lorak family. Not branded or hastily drawn, but an ornate tattoo with great detail. It was then she realized, she was actually talking to a Dynasty brat. "36 gold."
With an ease of someone who did not value mizas as much as the common person, Verena handed the gold to the merchant. The woman hastily took the money and gave the now-sheathed blade to the girl in front of her. The exchange was quick and soon, found herself weaving across the thick of bodies again, a newly bought sword poking out of backpack.