Dark Waters Rising

Market

Valentine was relieved when they finally entered town. Endless stalls lined the sides of the main cobblestone road. Vendors were pawning off anything they had to sell: fruits, vegetables, meat, fish, dresses, trinkets, and other things Valentine hardly recognized.

Wesley was on the ground now, leading the horse by the reins through the busy street as he inspected the merchandise they passed.

Time seemed to move differently at the market. There was just so much to look at that an hour seemed like mere minutes.

Valentine, perched atop the horse, curiously eyed the intricate craftsmanship of an old cartographer as Wesley bartered for some fish at the stall beside it. It was only when Wesley started fastening his purchases to the saddle that Valentine looked away from the maps.

"I think that's everything," Wesley looked up at him, patting the horse a little.

"Time to head back?" he inquired.

Wesley took on a thoughtful expression for a moment before saying. "Not yet. I have one more place in mind."

Valentine was curious, but remained silent as Wesley grabbed the reins again and led the horse farther down the street. At some point, they turned off the main road, but their journey wasn't long. They stopped at the next block of buildings.

After tying the horse to one of the nearby posts, Wesley helped Valentine down from the saddle.

"Oi. Is that young Roberts I see?" an elderly voice called out. Wesley turned at the sound of his name and smiled kindly at his neighbor.

"Good noon, Mr. Smith," he greeted the man, who was slumped in a chair beside his front door as he puffed on a tobacco pipe.

"And to you," the older gentleman replied.

"Would you mind watching over my horse for a bit? I've come to collect some things but it'll only be a moment."

"Sure, sure," the man said. "Got nothing else to do."

"Thank you," Wesley smiled before guiding Valentine up to the door of his townhouse.

"Do you have two houses?" Valentine asked under his breath as Wesley unlocked the door.

"No," he replied. "Only one. We've been staying at your mother's."

Valentine's brow rose. He didn't want to know how his mother had procured enough funds for the cabin. It did raise some questions about how long she'd been living on the surface, though.

Valentine and Wesley slipped into the townhouse. There wasn't much to the place. It was small, and mostly bare, but Valentine supposed that was to be expected for someone who spent most of the year at sea.

"Why have we come here?" Valentine asked lightly.

"For these," Wesley said, crossing the room to where a trunk sat against one of the walls. The merchant unlocked the clasps with practiced fingers and lifted the lid.

Valentine took a cautious step closer to peer inside. He was slightly stunned to find that the contents were familiar.

"You kept them?" he asked, though it was more of a statement than a question.

"You asked me to take care of them," Wesley said with a slight shrug as he pulled out a pair of boots so the siren wouldn't have to be barefoot anymore.

Valentine ignored them and instead reached into the chest to pull out a black leather tricorn. He ran his fingers over the familiar edges, tracing the brim and the rough, worn patches where the material creased. Reluctantly, he set it back down and reached for a worn blue shirt. He buried his nose in it and inhaled the familiar scents of spices and earth that had surrounded him in his previous life. However, the scent was almost imperceptible since it was overpowered by another. Wesley's.