Chapter 5

  Was Eli already late getting home? Yes, very. However, he knew one of the members of the house Rodrigo shadow-guard had been ‘discreetly’ tailing him since his father’s carriage had driven away. Whomever it was would definitely report his movements to his parents, so he didn’t worry too much about the detour. If he was going to be in trouble for tardiness he may as well get some errands done while he had the chance. Who knew when the next time he’d have this much agency would be. With that in mind he turned towards the artisan’s district, watching with some amusement as his shadow took just a moment longer than was natural to follow him.

  The carpenter’s shop smelled of sawdust and fresh timber. The door to the back room cracked open when the bell above the door chimed. Through the opening Eli could see a small carpet of wood shavings curled like pig’s tails across the well finished, herringbone patterned floor. In the center of the room a large, scarred wooden table with the beginnings of an obviously huge undertaking was being worked into shape on its surface. Against one wall was a veritable cartload of metal stock of well cared for woodworking tools, all organized in neat rows that caught the afternoon rays and created an abstract painting in sunlight as it reflected off the tools and onto the ground.

  A reflexive warmth blossomed in Eli’s chest when he met the carpenter’s eyes. He had known this man, he liked this man. Being somewhat of a friend to the family had made it a no-brainer for Eli to come straight to the man, despite it being a little out of the way.

  “Ah. Well if it isn’t the Young Lord Elias,” said the jovial man once he’d fully emerged, the workroom door swinging gently shut behind him. “And by himself as well. Welcome, welcome.”

  The carpenter, aptly named Alvin Carpenter was a wiry man of average height and genial disposition. He was the kind of man who knew a little about everything, and a little more about most everyone, and was genuinely content with his lot in life. He was one of Eli’s favourite kinds of people as they had a tendency to have a positive impact on everyone around them.

  “What can we Carpenters do for the Lord’s family.” The man’s tone was friendly; his bushy mustache hid his upper lip and quivered every time he spoke in a manner that the younger him of his last life had found endlessly amusing.

  Eli remembered the first time he’d met the man. He’d been delighted by the fluctuations of the facial hair on the otherwise clean-shaven man. Facial hair was not in fashion amongst the upper echelons of society – seen instead as a sign of ‘vagrancy,’ ‘barbarism,’ and ‘lack of hygiene’. This conjecture conveniently ignored the cost of metal grooming implements for common folk, or of their lack of time or funds to be seen regularly by a barber. Reflecting on it now, he could understand why artisans and merchants were so keen to adopt the practice of regularly shaving, and just what it may have meant for Mr. Carpenter to maintain carefully groomed, but very present facial hair.

  In his first childhood, observing the man actively choosing to break convention, despite having access to both the tools and the means necessary for a commoner to remain in fashion, had been revelatory for a young Eli. It was quite telling for a man of his station to simply not care about ‘acceptable fashion’. It was perhaps one of the things that had warmed him to the man so immediately when he was normally a much more cautious and sceptical individual. When Mr. Carpenter had passed away in his first timeline in what would be some 50 years into the future, House Rodrigo had paid for his celebration of life, and all additional post-mortem costs.

  “Young Lord?” Carpenter prompted. Returning to the past had perhaps made him too reflective. However, it was difficult not to fall into introspection when almost everything he did was weighted and weighed against both a pervasive sense of nostalgia and of the insights of a much longer-lived man.

  “Hi, Mr. Carpenter,” Eli didn’t even try and stop the boyish grin that spread across his face. Since he’d returned, he’d found that his juvenile thoughts and reactions had been in a constant tug of war with his centuries of memories and insights. It felt good to let his younger self take the lead, if only in safe company. “I’m here for me, not the Rodrigos.”

  “Oh, a private commission then,” he said. Eli nodded. Behind the counter Mr. Carpenter placed his forearms against the flat wooden top that came just up to the seven-year-old Eli’s chest. He leaned down to be at a somewhat closer height to the young scion, and grinned back. “Well then, as a first commission from the Young Lord, I’ll be sure to do my utmost. What will you be ordering from our humble establishment?”

  “Humble? The scion of house Rodrigo would only order from the best.” Eli said, placing a hand to his chest and affecting a serious disposition.

  “Of course, Young Lord. You flatter me with the truth.” Carpenter replied. They both laughed.

  “I’d like to order a handcart,” Eli said once the laughter had subsided. Then clarified. “A small one.”

  “Oh? That can be arranged,” The man raised an impressive eyebrow no less bushy than his mustache but asked no further questions. This was one of the things Eli liked about the man. Despite knowing very well that the keep was well stocked with wagons, wheelbarrows, handcarts, and the beasts and servants to haul them along, Mr. Carpenter didn’t even show the inclination to pry.

  Stolen content warning: this tale belongs on Royal Road. Report any occurrences elsewhere.

  “Yes.” Eli didn’t feel any pressure to clarify or explain himself, not that he would’ve given in. Instead, he detailed the approximate dimensions of the cart he was looking to order, as well as the materials he required, then he haggled the price until he felt like he’d worked out a reasonable deal.

  “It’ll be done to the best of our ability, Young Lord” the man smiled, though there was a knowing gleam in his eyes that Eli couldn’t help but pick up on.

  “Sir?” Eli prodded.

  Mr. Carpenter leaned even further forward on the counter. It was a sudden movement, and habit had Eli putting up a discreet mana shield around himself, though he felt silly for it when he heard what the man had to say. “Word around town is that you’ve made yourself a new friend. One who struggles to lift heavy weights all by herself.”

  Eli’s brows knit together, lips twisting to the side as he pouted. The expression was comically childish, but the glint in his eyes was unmistakably authoritative.

  “Gossip about the Lord’s family sure spreads far and fast.”

  Carpenter blinked, his smile briefly quirking into something unreadable before a much more mellow, if no less kind, expression overtook his countenance. “You know how it is Young Lord. The townspeople don’t mean anything by it. More to say, less to do and all that. I just figured you might be interested to know the goings on.”

  The man seemed genuine, and that was good enough. Eli inclined his head with the over exaggerated magnanimity expected of true and proper nobility. Both a joke and a play into his youthfulness. “I’ll accept your apology on their behalf,” Eli stated, expression benevolent before his grin returned, bright as ever. Considering the man himself had brought it up, Eli figured this was a perfect time to get some information on his new-old-friend. Sure, it was gossip, but could he truly be considered a noble if he wasn’t at least a little hypocritical.

  “The girl I was with…” Eli began slowly. “Aria. You know her?”

  Alvin carpenter’s face softened into something distinctly avuncular. “Aye. She’s the hardest working girl in town, I’d bet. And that’s a hard bet considering my own daughters. She’s sweet too, a kind little soul. A few of us have seen her give butcher scraps to the stray cats sometimes -when she can get away with it. She always minds her manners too. Quiet, though, that one. Polite, but so, so quiet.” The man shook his head, pushing himself off from his elbows to stand tall once more.

  “She seemed tired,” Eli said carefully. “Her father didn’t seem very friendly either.”

  “You met the butcher?” Alvin asked, his expression darkening before he reigned it back in. “I wouldn’t think to give a young lord any advice, but if you were one of mine, I’d tell ya it’d be better for you not to get too involved there. My lord. He is…” the man paused then, searching for the right phrasing. “…the butcher is not an easy man.”

  Eli smiled again, masking the calculation going on behind his eyes. Noted, he thought.

  “Thanks for letting me know,” Eli said, feeling he’d gotten what he reasonably could without pushing for more than childish curiosity could account for, or arousing suspicion. So long as most of the town believed his interest in Aria was juvenile curiosity, or maybe just the blossoming childhood friendship of two of the most reclusive kids in the town, well then nobody would even guess at his true purpose.

  “The handcart. Please have it delivered to the keep,” Eli said, switching the subject in the blatant way only children and the elderly seemed to be able to get away with. “Tell Marta, that the cost should be taken from my allowance, she’ll know how to handle it.”

  The man’s bushy brows rose but he nodded. “Consider it done, young lord.”

  Eli waved cheerfully and jogged off, all boyish energy.

  Carpenter watched him go. For generations, his family had been the primary carpenters serving the lord’s household. Even when it belonged to the Adler’s before the purge, and before that when the Adler territory itself was still an unnamed frontier. For generation after generation, the Carpenters kept a record of who ruled, and how. That’s why Alvin could say with certainty that the Rodrigo’s, despite their abrupt appointment, were absolutely the best rulers that had ever held the seat of power in Adler.

  Watching the young boy’s surprisingly defined back as he walked away, Alvin couldn’t help but believe that the boy carried the best of both the Rodrigo Lady and Lord. It was obvious that he had inherited his mother’s warmth, and his father’s discipline; his father’s strength, and his mother’s intelligence. The boy was confident, composed, and compassionate. A child who already knew who he was. Alvin Carpenter couldn’t wait to see where he went from here.

  “Boy!” He called into the back, hearing the sound of his own son’s footsteps rapidly approaching. May as well begin preparing the next generation to serve.

  ~

  On the road back to the keep Eli cycled his mana internally. This time it wasn’t to use body strengthening like he had while helping Aria with her absurdly heavy delivery basket, but instead he was using a different technique. This one also provided physical enhancement, but it was focused on sharpening his senses.

  In mere moments the dull buzz of the market streets and the many occupied residences he passed turned into a roar that Eli began to filter through with practiced ease. Soon, the morass of noise was separated into the identifiable sounds of town life. The scrape of wooden shutters against stone windowsills, the scuffle of leather shoes, and the patter and clatter of animals and beasts of burden on the cobble lined roads. Then there was the ever-present cacophony of voices that he isolated as they were captured by the magic and brought to his attention. With those voices came one of the most prolific and recognizable forms of social currency: Gossip.

  “…little lord Rodrigo, carrying her basket…”

  “…poor girl, you know her father…

  “…seems like a sweet boy. Can you imagine…”

  “…got the girl to laugh with him. Laugh! Never heard…”

  The soundscape painted a picture clearer than any report. Eli couldn’t detect any disapproval. Only curiosity, intrigue, and perhaps a little delight.

  Mostly the gossip only told him what he already knew: Aria was well-liked, the butcher, had a pretty terrible reputation, people were surprised to see the ‘little lord’ out and about in town alone. If only they knew Eli thought.

  As the keep’s gates came into view Eli let the threads of sound drift away as he tilted his face to the sun that had just past its zenith and basked in the warm rays wondering when the next time he’d see them would be as he prepared himself for the well-deserved reprimand he was sure to receive.

  Oh, to be a child once more.