Chapter 2: Chapter 1: A Peaceful Life

Chapter 1:

A Peaceful Life

A gentle breeze passes through the vast grassy open space around me, stirring the brown mess that is my hair. I inhale the clean air around me and let out a soft sigh. It’s always this meadow I return to after any task, or to just plain relax. Just today I was out to the town market to buy some on sale fruits and vegetables for Mother. It wasn’t tiresome mind you, I have a heart-condition you see, it’s nothing life-threatening thankfully, but it’s also the reason that led me to this rather lax attitude I posses. Anything that could provoke a faster heart rate besides walking, talking and eating could trigger my condition. So I have to spend time alone like this to keep me at an all-time calm. I'm completely okay with it though, this life as poor village boy from the small capital of the Alino territory isn't bad at all. With a population slightly over a hundred, Lefaso, the capital, is a farming town with little noise. I like it here, no wars, nor any issues with the head of our territory. It’s generally a place where I can keep myself under check.

I hear the grass rustle behind me, followed by a busty pink-haired girl looming over me.

I feel my eyes roll. So much for my peace and quiet.

“So that’s where you were, Tracy.” the girl says.

This girl hanging over me is Mia, my childhood friend and daughter of the head of the territory. Her unnatural pink hair and above average bust were a dead giveaway to who she is around here. She’s wearing an expensive white-wool sweatshirt with floral designs at the hem, and dark-gray silken pants with leather bound shoes. If you were to see her in the midst of the market, you’d be able to pick her out in the blink of an eye.

I sigh, “yeah, I’m here, is anything new?”

“No, not really… papa has just been busy with the norm.” Mia sits down in the grass beside me arms wrapped around her knees, “How’s your heart?” She asks, “You haven’t pushed yourself too far, have you?”

It’s typical for her to worry about me, in fact, she’s the only one that worries as much as she does. When I’m ill she’s generally there, when I’m in trouble she stands up for me, she’s also there to support me emotionally when I’m at my weakest. In a sense, she’s my guardian angel, or my opposite in many occasions due to her major flaw, caring about me is higher priority than that of paying attention to herself, making her a tad clumsy. So a lot of the time she manages to get me flustered just by her being her. Making the source of 99.9% of the stress and heartache. I would consider her a pain, but I can’t seem to hate her, even if she causes my heart to beat faster.

“No, I’ve just done an easy task for mother.” I reply.

She sprawls her body out unto the ground and looks towards the sky. “The sky is so calm today, isn’t it.” She says.

“Yeah, same as always.” I say in an unenthusiastic tone. I don't mean to sound rude towards her, I do agree with her statement, the clouds as as white and fluffy they can be and the sky's a light blue, it's just that my attitudes been hardwired into my personality just so I could avoid my condition from kicking in from any intense emotion or activity.

A couple hours pass as we lie there in silence, listening to the gentle breeze. It is rather nice before Mia decides to break the silence.

“One more year, Tracy. One more year, then I can step up as the head of Lefaso.” She says in a distant tone, “and then…” She clenches her fists into the air, “You won’t have to worry about your poverty anymore.”

I sigh. My poverty has nothing to do with what I struggle with. The problem is my condition as I stated before. In every way possible, allowing my heart to beat faster complicates many aspects in life. It’s the thing holding me back from a normal life. But it seems Mia still has the wrong idea about me. “Sure I guess…”

Soon the afternoon bells of the church begin to ring in the far off distance.

I sluggishly get up from my grassy resting place, brushing off the dirt on my dark and ragged patchwork pants.

“Going already?” Mia asks before getting to her feet.

“Yeah.” I say, “I’m heading back to town to get something to eat.” My stomach growls, as if it was trying to prove I wasn’t lying.

She gets up as well, “Then I’m going with you.”

“Why?” I ask.

“It’s my day off from training to take my dad's place as head.” She says, “And I would like to spend my day with you.” She smiles warmly towards me.
I feel my heart skip a beat. No matter how many times she says cheesy lines like that it throws me out for an emotional loop. Even if I’m mentally prepared for it, even if my barriers are up, she can tear them down with a measly phrase like, “I would like to spend my time with you.” I take a deep breath and wait a moment to calm down before making my next move.

“Sure, not that I’ll be able to get rid of you anyway.” I say before heading down the grassy hillside and onto the bumpy dirt roads that lead back.

Upon arrival, the town plaza is bustling with life. Yes, I said town plaza, we may be a small farming town, we do have some facilities about. Many unknown faces wander the stone paths walkways, and carriages led by horses dragging mercantile goods. Some people linger by the stone fountain in the center, and the laughter of men can be heard from within a gray-brick tavern as Mia and I walk by the entrance.

It must be time for traders to come in and restock our supplies again, because the town is never this busy on normal days. Generally all the townspeople are busy breaking their backs in the fields, It’s a spectacular sight to behold when you live in a small town. The excitement in the air generally would make anyone’s heart go pitter-patter, but no, I can’t let that get to me.

I make my way down first avenue, passing the church and some run-down wooden buildings, and I arrive at a green building with giant letters across the roof reading: Leo’s Sandwiches.

Leo’s Sandwiches is the place I always go to for lunch, given that I’m under age to enter a tavern anyhow and the prices of tavern food is stupidly high and the quality is rather low. The store bells ring as I open the door. “Hey Tracy!” A bulky red-haired man in his thirties shouts. He’s wearing a white apron on top of a brown t-shirt and grey shorts and is holding a simple spatula in his hand. “Yer, right on time, oh and you brought the little chief with ya too.” Believe it or not this isn’t Leo, it’s his son, Bryson. A loud man with a good heart, and the man who’s learning under Leo to become a ‘Sandwich Master’, whatever that means.

“She came with me, I didn’t take her anywhere.” I say.

Bryson laughs heartily, “Of course!” Dense as always I see.

“Bryson where are you!?” A short-bald man's head pops up from the back of the counter, “I need help carrying dis meat!”

“Alright, Pops!” He shouts. Bryson scratches the back of his head, and looks at the two of us, “You two should take a seat, I’ll be with you after I help Pops carry the meat to the back.”

Mia answers for the both of us, “Alright.” and we sit down by the closest booth we could find. We sit in silence for a minute or so, until she decides to break said silence. “It’s an empty day here, isn’t it?” She says to me.

It’s annoying how she’s now trying to start a conversation with me, but she isn’t wrong. Only a wrinkly old couple sits in a booth a little ways from ours, slowly chewing away at their sandwiches. It is a tad bit odd how this place sees less business than any other store in town, the sandwiches here although cheap, are of great quality for such a small town, and it’s not that out of the way to get to to boot. “Yeah, it is odd,” I say, “but it could just be just bad business today.”

“I guess.” Mia rests her elbows on the table and supports her head. “Or it could just be the lack of advertisements around this small town.”

“But it’s a small town of one hundred people, why would there need to be any adverts?”

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She chuckles a little before Bryson arrives at our table, covered in meat juices. “Sorry for the wait yew two. May I take yer order?”

“Just the regular, Bryson.” I reply.

Mia pinches her nose and attempts to waft away the rancid stench emitting from Bryson, “Dear Gods, what did you do, Bryson?”

Bryson’s face becomes stern, “The meat fell, that’s all I’m going to say.” His expression then softens, “So what will you order?” Obviously he has no intention of explaining, which is good. I’ve no interest in such a trivial matter.

“The regular.” She says.

“Right, I’ll be back.” He says before disappearing to the back of the shop. Thanks Mia, for not letting me have a say in what I want for lunch.

I know it sounds vague when someone says ‘The Regular’, but Bryson has known the both of us since we were small children, and it just means our childhood favorite sandwich: a Cheddar and ham sandwich with homemade wheat bread. It’s nothing special, but it’s a classic to us.

As we wait for our lunches to be brought out, I shift around in the uncomfortable wooden chairs of the booth, and Mia looks at me intently. Her body hunched over towards me and the neck of her sweater open to my eyes, revealing her chest.

“What?” I say.

“Nothing, just observing.”

“But why?”

“Cause I’m checking how you’re feeling by reading your facial expression.” She leans onto the table and brings herself closer. Her cleavage becoming more pronounced to my eyes.

I can feel my pulse rising, I try to avert my eyes but they keep finding their way back, “Mia, could you back off?” I say, “Your sweater is…”.

“My sweater?” She pauses for a moment to think, “Oh!” She exclaims, her cheeks turning a bright red, “I didn’t mean to excite you!” She nervously pulls up the neck of her sweater.

Twice in one day she’s done this already, and if it wasn’t clear enough already, it’s something I’ve been trying to avoid. She’s bad for my heart, I swear it.

Not too long after that little conundrum, Bryson brings us our sandwiches and we begin to eat.

“So, Tracy.” Bryson says, “How’s the family?”

I swallow a piece of the sandwich, “You mean Mother?” I don't know why he brought it up that way, I never had a dad, mum told me he left when I was born and never elaborated on it.

“Yeah, how’s Joanne?

Why is he asking me this right now? I swear he’s trying to get some sort of reaction from me. “Working herself to the bone as always.”

“She’s a writer, right?” Mia sets her sandwich down.

“You of all people should know that, Mia.”

She laughs, “True.”

“It must be so troublesome for her to make the money all by herself, especially since the income is so inconsistent.” Bryson says.

“What are you getting at, Bryson?” I ask.

“Well...” He pauses, “I was thinking of ways for ya to help out with the family.”

“Why would you go to such lengths?” I ask with a sigh, “You know that I can’t do any physical labor of the sort, it’s not good for my heart.”

“Have you looked at the work-board lately?”

“No I haven’t. Why would I?”

“Well, among all of those kill-quests normally found dere, there’s a couple easy jobs listed.”

“Like what?”

Bryson begins to count his fingers, “Let’s see here, herb gathering, house inspecting, an internship at the highest prestige magic industry, drawing, and lastly writing. Five in total.” he says.

The third one on the list catches my eye due to its strange nature of being found in such an out of place town. More importantly, why is that industry searching for applicants? If I recall, they don’t let anyone inside any of their facilities, only people that are scouted and sought out after by the board are allowed to enter.

Picking option number three would surely open a can of worms, and that just sounds like a headache I want no part in. So I pick the option Bryson had listed, herb gathering. House inspecting is a more social job, and would involve me entering someone’s home, and I don’t do well with people in general. Drawing, I’m just awful at, anything I try to draw would end up as a distorted stick figure of the sort. Then again I haven’t drawn since I was three years old, but I’m not willing to try once more. Alongside the final job on the list being for writing? Well, that's mother's thing, not mine, never had the brain power for it.

I end up picking the first option, herb gathering. It’s not too strenuous, and think I’d know the forest by the town like the back of my hand. I tell Bryson about my choice. He pulls out a piece of paper from his back pocket and hands it to me. “I thought ya might pick that.” Then why give me the option to choose in the first place?! I’ve never understood how he thinks. “I went ahead and picked it offa the board fer ya. Yer mother will be happy to hear that her child's workin'.”

Well, at least he’s helpful in that respect. Wait… why am I working now? Did I get just guilt tripped about the topic of my own mother by one of my best friends into working?! What a pain...

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