The magical journey of a countryside boy

Multiple wagons and travelers were heading out from the inn at the same time, everyone moving in a slow, quiet rhythm. William watched from his seat as people yawned openly, still blinking away the lack of sleep. The morning atmosphere here was entirely different from the frantic rush of the previous evening; everything felt peaceful, heavy, and slow.

​When John steered the mules onto the main avenue, William was surprised by how much the view had changed. The loud hawkers were gone, the wide stone streets were mostly empty, and the overwhelming noise of shouting and running crowds had vanished into complete silence. Yet, despite the morning peace, one thing hadn’t changed at all—the entire avenue still smelled terribly like shit.

There wasn’t much else to interest a six-year-old kid besides the massive stone houses, and William grew tired of looking at them fairly quickly. Just as he was losing interest, John pulled the wagon over to the side of a shop that barely looked open. Both of them got down and knocked on the heavy wooden door. Nobody responded for the first few minutes, but just as John raised his fist to knock again, the door swung open and a sleepy little man stepped out into the morning air.

​“John, have you no shame waking a poor soul this early?” the man said, throwing his hands up in an exaggerated display of agony. “I could have died from the fright!”

​John stared back at him, completely unbothered. “Stop the drama. If I waited for you to wake up on your own, I’d be standing out here until noon.”

​“But there is no business before noon,” the man muttered weakly. As he looked down, his eyes finally adjusted to the morning light and landed on William. A sly grin crept onto his face. “John, you know I stopped dealing in little kids. Though, lucky for you, I might know someone interested in a tender boy like this.”

​William’s heart dropped. He instantly took a panicked step backward, gripping the edge of John’s leather tunic and hiding behind the blacksmith’s massive frame.

​“Stop your jests, Mark,” John grunted, looking entirely exhausted by his friend already. He reached back, gently nudging William forward. “Mark, this is William.” John’s tone turned dull as he pointed a thick finger at the shopkeeper. “Kid, this is Mark. He’s a lazy idiot who inherited this store from his uncle.”

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​“Hey, that’s just rude!” Mark protested. He dropped down onto his knees, bringing himself eye-level with the boy, his expression softening. “Hey there, kid. I’m Mark. I’m a friend of this serious ape over here.”

​William offered a small, hesitant nod, still keeping his guard up. “Hello. I am William, from Ashbrook.”

​“Ah, such a polite kid,” Mark said, clapping his hands together as he stood back up. He turned his attention back to the blacksmith. “So, the usual?”

​John nodded quietly.

​“Alright, you know the way. Move the crates through the back door,” Mark said, waving a dismissive hand as he turned around and vanished back into the dark shop.

John worked quickly, hauling the heavy wooden crates off the wagon bed and carrying them through the back door while William helped by carrying the smaller, lighter bundles of loose iron pins. By the time they finished stacking everything inside, Mark walked back into the storeroom. He had splashed some water on his face and straightened his tunic, looking far more presentable than he had at the front door.

​John and Mark immediately began prying open the lids, pulling out the freshly forged swords, heavy axes, pickaxes, and various farming tools to inspect the quality. Almost instantly, an intense round of haggling broke outWilliam stood a few paces back, out of the way of the two men. He couldn’t quite catch the specific numbers or coin values they were muttering back and forth under their breath, but as the argument heated up, he caught a sharp, calculating glint in Mark’s eyes. The sleepy, dramatic shopkeeper had completely vanished.

Maybe Mark wasn’t as lazy as he seemed.

After a final, tense round of arguing, the two men finally came to an agreement, both of their faces settling into a look of quiet satisfaction. Mark disappeared into the back room for a moment, returning with a small handful of shiny silver coins which he pressed into John’s palm. John counted them out carefully before dropping them into his leather pouch.

While they traded the coin, William wandered around the dim shop, peering curiously at the cluttered shelves. He found himself comparing the dark, cramped room to the grand, magical place he had imagined a city store would be, and he was greatly disappointed. It wasn’t magnificent at all; it was just dusty, cramped, and smelled like old metal.

A heavy hand landed on William’s shoulder, snapping him out of his thoughts gesturing towards the door

“We have places to be, kid,” John said, gesturing toward the door.