It’s a Secret
As we strolled past the food stalls, every one of them was selling about three to five kinds of vegetables or fruits, or fruits preserved in jars.
“Not so many kinds for sale, huh?” I said as I stopped at one of the stalls where a kindly older lady had called out to me to come take a look.
“First time at the stalls, young man? Here, it’s just whatever folks harvest at home and bring in. If you wanna find every little thing you need, you gotta head over to the proper shops,” she explained, pointing toward the market lined with store-houses and homes.
“So then, it’s all freshly picked produce?”
“That’s right. A stall’s all about selling what you harvest first thing in the morning, fresh as can be. Our fruit’s sweet and tasty, you’ll see.”
That stall was selling three kinds of pears and some kiwifruit, so I bought five of each.
“Thanks kindly. Since you bought so much, I’ll toss in two kiwis for free.”
“Really? Thank you very much.”
Meyer paid for it, and Wilson and the others tucked the fruit away into the Magic Bag.
Heading deeper among the stalls, we came across homemade jams, soups, skewered meat, sandwiches—shops cooking food right there. The smell was wonderful, but before we knew it, we’d reached the end.
“Aren’t you gonna buy any soup, sandwiches, or skewers?”
“Lucas, we already had breakfast. I’m not hungry yet, so no. Brother Gerald, let’s go check out the shops too.”
“Nothing catch your eye at the stalls?”
“Not really. Fresh, sure, but there wasn’t anything that really grabbed me.”
Truth was, I didn’t even know how to cook most of that stuff, so it would’ve been tough anyway.
We walked on toward the shopping street.
Here, there were bakeries, diners, butchers, fishmongers, greengrocers, fruit sellers—mostly food shops. I peeked inside the veggie and fruit stores, but didn’t find anything new.
Farther along, the shops shifted to selling daily goods, seasonings, second-hand clothes, and fabrics. I had high hopes when I saw the spice shop, but there was no miso or soy sauce—just salt, pepper, sugar, cheese, butter, bay leaves, and some herbs.
And farther along still—
“Hey, isn’t that Hardt? What’re you doing here?” called a voice. I turned and saw Canal.
“Huh, this is Mr. Bogart’s shop.”
“Told you, this is my house too,” he replied.
“Oh, right. You’re Mr. Bogart’s son. Should’ve just had you guide us, then—what a waste of walking.”
“Canal, perfect timing. What’s in season right now, the stuff harvested in plenty around here?”
“Be quicker to ask my dad, but… white beans or red beans, I’d say.”
“Where are they sold?”
“We’ve got some at home. Wanna see?” He led us inside.
“Dad, Hardt’s got something he wants to ask!” he called out loudly.
Mr. Bogart came out from the back, muttering, “Hardt? Who’s that?” to Canal. When Canal pointed at us, he realized who’d come.
“My apologies, Young Master Gerald, Young Master Reinhardt. My son’s manners are lacking.” He pressed Canal’s head down and bowed with him.
“No, no, it’s us dropping in unannounced. We were just looking around, from the stalls over to this market,” Gerald explained.
I asked Mr. Bogart if I could see the white beans and red beans Canal mentioned.
“Both kinds are winter stores, but I’ll bring some out,” he said, disappearing into the back.
Meanwhile, Canal was staring intently at Lucas.
“First time seeing him, huh? This one on my shoulder’s Lucas.”
“That’s a White Dragon, right?”
“Yep. But still a child. Lucas, this is my friend Canal.”
“I’ve seen that kid sometimes at the knights’ training grounds. Hardt’s friend, huh.”
“Yeah, we practice magic together and even head into dungeons sometimes.”
“… I see. I’ll remember that.”
Canal, overhearing all this, looked shocked.
“A White Dragon can talk? I thought Atre could only speak with Hardt.”
“Lucas can talk to anyone. He just doesn’t bother with folks he’s not interested in.”
“What kind of magic does a White Dragon use?”
“Healing magic.”
“Hardt, it’s healing and water,” Lucas corrected.
“Eh, really? I’ve only ever seen you heal, so I figured that was it.”
“Just never had reason to use it.”
“That’s not it. He’s still weak, so his magic’s not that strong yet. He says it’d hurt a dragon’s dignity to use it, so he won’t,” Atre whispered to me.
“Atre, don’t go blabbing!” Lucas protested.
“Hardt, what did Atre say?” Brother Gerald asked, but since Lucas looked about to sulk, I just said, “It’s a secret.”
What do you think about this chapter?
