Chapter 5 – The Trio at the Market
On their way back, Shawn hesitantly broke the silence. “I’m sorry, Grandpa. I wouldn’t have done it, but the sword was calling to me, urging me to test it. I couldn’t resist. All my senses told me to test the sword, and for some reason I don’t know, I’m good at wielding it.” Ruth added, “Yes, I have seen it with my own eyes.” Shawn’s grandfather turned his gaze toward Ruth, who kept silent, lowering her head.
Shawn continued, his voice tinged with frustration. “I see how much effort you put into your work. I’ve watched you forge swords, but I’m the only one in the village who’s never allowed to make anything. Even kids younger than me are learning to craft daggers. I feel useless.”
Hearing this, Shawn’s grandfather’s expression softened. “So, you want to make a sword?” He paused, looking at Shawn thoughtfully. “Well, today you’re going to make one. Let’s see how talented you’ve become from observing me.”
Shawn’s eyes lit up with excitement, as did Ruth’s. “Are you sure, Grandpa?” Shawn asked, disbelief mingling with hope.
“Yes,” Shawn’s grandfather confirmed, a small smile tugging at his lips. “First things first, we’re taking a detour to the marketplace to find the perfect ore for your sword.”
Ruth, unable to contain her excitement, chimed in, “If we’re going to the market, can we buy fried chicken legs too?”
Shawn’s grandfather chuckled. “Sure, why not? I’ll buy you both as many fried chicken legs as you can eat.” With renewed spirits, the trio took a detour and headed to the marketplace, anticipation and excitement filling the air as they prepared to find the perfect ore and indulge in some well-deserved treats.
The marketplace, situated just southwest of the village, was a hive of activity. It was nearly half past lunch, and it took them a while to reach their destination. Vendors called out their wares, and shoppers haggled over prices. The air was filled with the enticing aroma of roasted meats and spices, mingling with the scent of freshly baked bread and other goods. People traded goods in preparation for the upcoming war, though only a few remained unaware.
Once they entered the market, they couldn’t resist doing some window shopping. They savoured fried chicken from a street vendor, the crispy skin crackling with every bite, and sampled some sweets. Their main objective, however, was to find the perfect ore for Shawn’s sword, so they started looking for vendors selling metal ores.
After some time, they came across a vendor selling various types of metal ores laid out on the ground. Just before approaching the stall, Shawn turned to his grandfather. “I’d like to buy the metal ore using my gold coins,” he said earnestly.
His grandfather chuckled. “The gold coins you earned using my sword?” he teased. Both Ruth and Shawn felt a twinge of guilt at the remark, but their grandfather laughed heartily. “I’m just messing with you. Go ahead.”
Relieved, Ruth and Shawn rushed to the vendor. The vendor, eager to make a sale, called out, “Gentlemen, gentlemen! Here are the finest metal ores straight from the deep slopes of Mount Erzgebirg! Top quality, high-grade goods, only available here!”
Shawn and Ruth examined the ores. Most were too small to make a sword, but one caught their eye—it was just the right size. “How much for this one?” Shawn asked.
“Just twenty gold coins,” the vendor replied without hesitation.
Shawn and Ruth were taken aback by the steep price. At that moment, their grandfather joined them. “Why is it so expensive?” Shawn inquired.
“Due to the upcoming war,” the vendor explained. The mention of war sent a ripple of concern through the group. Grandpa quickly decided it was best to steer clear of this topic.
He gently pulled Ruth and Shawn away from the vendor, whispering, “Let’s look somewhere else.” As they moved away, Ruth and Shawn exchanged worried glances and whispered, “What war?” Meanwhile, the vendor shouted, “Come back! I’ll give it to you for 15 gold coins!” but Shawn’s grandfather guided them away.
To divert their attention, Grandpa pointed to a distant shop perched on a high cliff. “There’s a shop up there. They might have what you are looking for. Shawn, you go check it out, while Ruth, come with me. Let’s get more fried chicken.”
To divert their attention, Grandpa pointed to a distant shop perched on a high cliff. “There’s a shop up there. They might have, on what we’re looking. Shawn, you go check it out, while Ruth, come with me, let’s get more fried chicken.”
Shawn nodded and made his way up to the cliff-side shop alone. The stair path was steep and winding, surrounded by rocky outcrops and sparse vegetation if no one was there. The shop itself was an old, solitary building, weathered by years of exposure to nature, isolated from the rest of the market. A massive tree had grown up through the centre of the shop, its thick trunk stretching up through the ceiling and branching out to create a canopy that shaded the interior and the tree was embedded along with the shop.
The shop has a second floor. With the support of the tree, the shop had a balcony that jutted out over the cliff, offering a breathtaking view of the bustling marketplace below. From this vantage point, one could see the entire market, with its vibrant stalls and throngs of people, all moving like tiny figures in a grand tapestry.
When Shawn entered the shop, it was eerily quiet; no one was at the front desk, but a bell rang when the door was opened. The air was cool and damp, carrying the earthy scent of the tree that dominated the space.
“Is anyone there?” Shawn called out, his voice echoing slightly in the spacious room. As he looked across the shop and everything was old and nearly withered and dusty.
From the back of the shop, an old lady emerged, her eyes sharp and discerning. “What can I do for you, young man?” she asked, her voice carrying the weight of years.
Shawn took a deep breath and approached the old lady. “I’m looking for a metal ore. Do you happen to have any?” he asked.
The old lady cupped a hand to her ear. “A kettle store? Oh no, dear, I sold my last teapot years ago.”
Shawn shook his head and bit loudly. He shouted, “No, no… metal ore.”
She leaned in closer, frowning. “Uh…, melon core? I planted one this morning. It will take a month to grow.”
Shawn sighed and dropped his head down on the table, and in a low voice, “No, I said ME-TAL ORE.”
The old lady tapped her chin thoughtfully, then smiled. “Ohhh, of course… a metal ore! You should have asked that first. I was confused. Why did you need a kettle store or a melon core?”
Shawn was in disbelief and in shock.
The old lady continued, “Well, I don’t have metal ore, but I do have a meteorite, and I can let you have it for ten gold coins.”
Shawn knew that a sword could be forged from a meteorite, but he wanted to examine it first. “Can I see it?” he asked.
The old lady nodded and went to the back of the shop. She returned with an object covered in an old, tattered cloth. Placing it carefully on the table, she slowly uncovered it to reveal a dark, metallic stone.
Shawn’s eyes widened as he examined the meteorite. The old lady’s voice, low and mysterious, broke the silence. “This meteorite is not of this world. It has fallen from the sky, and it is one of the rarest materials you can find.”
Shawn thought to himself, ‘That is what a meteorite means…’ Aloud, Shawn asked, “Okay… how much is it, granny?”
The old lady replied, “I can let you have it for ten gold coins.”
Shawn could feel that the meteorite indeed contained a metal unlike anything he had seen before, yet he was certain it was perfect for his sword. Not wanting to miss the opportunity, he decided to make the purchase. “I’ll take it for eight gold coins,” he bargained.
The old lady blinked in confusion. “Did you say ate? Are you hungry, boy? There is a food stall in the market.”
“No, Eight!” Shawn said louder.
“Eh?.. Cake? There are some vendors that sell bun cake too,” she said, tilting her head.
“No, EIGHT! …EIGHT! …EIGHT!” Shawn’s voice echoed through the shop like a desperate chant.
“Ohhh… weight? I agree, the stone is heavy, but you can carry it,” the old lady replied.
Shawn clenched his fists and again dropped his head on the table. “I just said Eight!” in a low voice.
The old lady finally smiled at Shawn’s struggle and made up her mind. “Very well,” she said, “I can sell it for eight gold coins—but not a single coin less. After all, you were hungry for bun cake.”
Shawn froze mid-shout, his jaw dropping. He couldn’t believe it.
The old lady continued, “It is a pleasure doing business with you”, when Shawn handed over eight gold coins for the meteorite.
Shawn carefully wrapped the meteorite back in the cloth. As he turned to leave, the old lady watched him with an inscrutable expression and waving goodbye. Shawn smiled a bit and felt a mix of excitement and a familiar feel, but he left the shop and made his way back to rendezvous with his grandfather and Ruth.
As Shawn departed, the old lady retreated inside, passing by a sleeping older woman in the corner who was similar to her. She climbed the creaky staircase leading to the second floor, and as she moved, her appearance began to transform. By the time she reached the balcony, her appearance had changed completely. She changed into a young lady. From the shadows of the balcony, she quietly watched Shawn rejoin with his grandfather and Ruth, her visage veiled in shadow. “We will meet again, brother,” she whispered to herself before disappearing into thin air.
Meanwhile, Shawn returned from the cliff-side shop and spotted his grandfather and Ruth seated at a quaint outdoor restaurant, enjoying their lunch. Excitedly, Shawn approached them and proudly displayed the meteorite he had acquired. Ruth’s eyes widened with fascination. “Wow, a meteorite! That’s incredibly rare,” he exclaimed, leaning in to get a closer look.
His grandfather studied the meteorite intently, a furrow forming on his brow. “This… it can’t be,” he muttered under his breath. Thoughts swirled rapidly in his mind, but before he could make sense of it all, a strange sensation prickled at the back of his neck. Someone was watching them. He turned his gaze toward the cliff-side shop, only to find no one there. Shawn, oblivious to his grandfather’s suspicion, interrupted eagerly, “Grandpa, how does it look? I got it for eight gold pieces!”
Ruth chimed in, “You’re so lucky, Shawn. It looks amazing.”
Shawn’s grandfather masked his growing unease with a reassuring smile. “Indeed, this is quite a rare find,” he remarked vaguely, glancing around. His intuition told him someone was watching them from afar, but that figure had vanished now.
“Alright, finish up your lunch, you two,” Shawn’s grandfather urged, a note of urgency in his voice. “We need to head back to the village, especially you, Ruth. Your grandfather will be worried. Since you didn’t tell him where you went.“
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