The Orphan of Saint Olette

Fifteen

Honeywell was a strange little town. Eturia, and the South by extension, had established itself as the home of culture and the arts. If an artisan wished to prove himself a true master of his craft, his work had to meet the incredibly high standards of the master craftsmen of both Eturia and Olmaea. The smaller towns that ran on less glamourous trades—milling, fishing, farming—had taken to treating their trade as if it were an art, and the people there would perfect their trade as the years went by. All except for Honeywell.

The largest provider of honey in all the world, Honeywell was expected to follow suit and turn honey making into something artisanal and fanciful, but its citizens chose instead to simply leave things as they were. The honey bees did all the hard work, and the end result was liquid gold. Why should they tamper with it beyond need? Unlike the rest of the South, Honeywell had prospered through very little work at all and still managed to be one of the South's best known tourist traps.

It was this fact that would work in Rin and Aoife's favour. Honeywell was used to people coming and going day in and day out, and as such the people that called it home never paid much attention to the passers by. Two disheveled and hungry looking youths weren't cause for concern, and though they wouldn't realise it, Rin and Aoife should have been more than grateful of that. That didn't change the fact that it had taken them two days to reach Honeywell, though, and it certainly didn't change the fact that neither of them had eaten in as many days either. With no money between them, their future was beginning to look bleak. Aoife was even starting to consider returning to Eturia and facing the city watch, in the hopes that she might get something to eat if she cooperated.

While the residents of Honeywell might not have paid attention to the pair, someone in Honeywell noticed them. He hadn't necessarily been intending on spotting them—people watching wasn't exactly a hobby of his—but he was used to turning situations to his advantage, and the two of them were perfect for what he had in mind. Not that he had much in mind in that moment, besides a distraction. He waited til the two were comfortable enough in their surroundings before making his move. He'd watched them try and beg food from a few market stalls now, and neither had had much success. Oh, how that worked in his favour.

"You two look hungry," he announced as he made his way over to them, making Rin startle. "I can fix that."

"And why would you be so eager to help?" Rin asked, suspicious.

The stranger's brusque accent said everything about him that Rin needed to know. He was from Olmaea, and not the best part by the sounds of it. The grubby state of his clothes implied he had left somewhere in a hurry, and his hulking frame suggested he was a labourer of some sort. Where Rin saw someone suspicious, though, Aoife saw someone eager to help.

"We haven't eaten in days," she confessed, much to Rin's chagrin.

"See, this is why you oughtta prepare better when you're going out to get one on one with nature," the Olmaean said, tone deceivingly similar to that of a travelling salesman. Rin half expected him to whip out a bottle of some tonic or another and claim it could cure all their ills. "I get it, though. Hell, I'm guilty of doing it myself. It's a city thing, I think." He spoke the last part in a stage whisper, earning a quiet laugh from Aoife in response.

"What makes you so certain we are from the city, Mister...?" Rin asked defensively.

"Shay Tanner, at your service. And I can tell by the way you're dressed. The humble folk of Honeywell don't dress so fancy."

Rin certainly didn't think they were dressed fancily. In fact, he was decidedly underdressed for entertaining polite company, and Aoife was barely in more than a nightgown, something that still turned his cheeks beetroot red all the way to the tips of his ears.