The Seventh Flame

Chapter 10

- Aimar - 

The rich aroma of honey hung thick in the air around Aimar's stall. It masked the peculiar scents of the lower market and brought those seeking the sweet scent. His old, waxy fingers passed a silver artium from hand to hand, shaking less than they used to. Times were good. Better than last month when his honey sales had plummeted. Now, however, there were people flooding in from every corner of the kingdom.

Tournaments always brought good business. People became excited and generous. They didn't notice as Aimar bumped up the prices and pocketed the extra cash. He didn't feel bad about it. He was no different than every other merchant in the market. Herly, whose stall was straight across from Aimar's, was scamming strangers left and right. His fine cloth – or "silk fit for nobles" – was not worth the many copper artiums he was charging them.

Aimar loved times like these. If he were allowed in the inner walls of the castle, he would bow at the King's feet in thanks. A tournament was just what the kingdom needed, especially at a time of such unrest. It brought the people together, bringing smiles to otherwise thin lips. It sure brought a smile to his.

"How much for this?" A man asked, picking up one of the glass jars of honey. Aimar looked up from the silver artium in his hands to study the stranger. He wore a thick, dark traveling cloak with beautiful purple embroidery. His hands were covered with sleek leather gloves and his clothes had no hint of strain, as if bought only yesterday. His skin appeared young and youthful, his eyes were bright, and his hair was soft and fluffy. Aimar did not recognize him, and he remembered every face from the market. The man was not from around there, and that meant he could easily be swindled.

"A silver artium, and then half price for another. That means only five copper artiums for the second. You won't find a better offer around!"

"Deal, I'll take two." He agreed without question and Aimar raised his eyebrows at the outrageous price the man had accepted. He usually could only sell a jar for two or three copper artiums.

"What's your name young man?" Aimar asked, eyeing the velvety pouch from which the man poured his artiums from.

"Declan, Declan D'airelle."

"You're not from around here, are you Declan?"

"No, I am not." A boyish grin spread across his features, "Is it that obvious?"

"You should be a bit more careful of how much money you toss away for a jar of honey." Aimar shrugged and Declan chuckled slightly, sliding the stack of silver and copper artiums across the wood. "You here for the tournament?"

"I am, an old friend of mine is competing."

"Really?" Aimar's back straightened. Everyone knew only The Seven would be competing in this tournament, and that meant this boy knew one of them. He knew someone who may one day be King or Queen. Aimar couldn't understand what a boy like Declan was doing in the lower market, whether he was from around there or not.

"Yes, well, I best get going." Declan nodded, and before Aimar could tell him to wait or ask him which one of The Seven he knew, he had melted back into the crowd. He sighed, hunching over once more, bringing the stack of artiums closer. As he counted, he realized it wasn't even close to the right amount.

It was more. So much more. More than Aimar would normally make in a whole day.

He had to force himself to stay at his stall the rest of the afternoon. The heavy weight of coins in his pocket urging him to take the day off and return home to his wife. He wouldn't be losing any money if he did so, he'd already made more than expected. But he made himself stay for the simple fact that another kind, rich fool could wander by in search for honey.

Only when the sun was handing low in the sky and the crowded market was dispersing did Aimar pack up his stall and start the trek home. Although it wasn't a short hike and the uneven cobblestone streets did not make it easy for old legs to walk, he enjoyed it anyways. He knew all the shopkeepers and the kids who played a game of Victus vincit with spinning tops in the street. He would stop to pet the stray cats who lounged on the steps of the shoemaker's shop and sometimes the old woman at the bakery gave him a leftover loaf of bread. The guards at the gate knew who he was and no longer stopped to search his stuff before he exited the walls of the castle. From there, it didn't take too long to reach the small farmhouse he called home.

Aimar's stomach rumbled when he caught the whiff of supper in the air. His wife, Josephina, was the best cook in the kingdom. He suspected she was even better than those who cooked for the King. She used to work her own stall at the market, selling the best baked goods. It was where Aimar had met her, and where he had fallen in love with her.

"How was your day?" Josephina asked when she heard Aimar enter the house. Through the foyer, Aimar could see her placing plates on their old table and arranging a bouquet of wildflowers she had set in the center.

"It... was not as expected." Aimar didn't lie, the day had not gone as expected at all. But he did put a somber look on his face to deceive his wife.

"Oh." She looked up at him, surprised. "That's... disappointing. You thought there would be lots of sales from all the people coming in for the tournament, did you not?"

"I did." He nodded, joining her at the candle lit table.

"Maybe I should start bringing in my baking again. I'm not so sure I can walk that whole way but if necessary-"

"That's not necessary my dear." Aimar couldn't hold back his smile anymore as he pulled the filled sack of artiums from his pocket.

"Oh! You sly old man." She pinched his arm, grinning ear to ear. "We'll be eating like royalty this week."

"I already feel like royalty with this." Aimar spread his arms out to the filled plates before them, "I eat better than the King every day, poor man doesn't know what he's missing."

"Don't be silly." Josephina scolded him and yet, was still smiling. Her smile was the most beautiful thing he'd seen all day. Even more beautiful than the silver and copper artiums he poured onto the table.