Keldon’s hands shivered. He crunched back another coffee bean, closing his eyes and taking another deep breath as he let his gaze wander over the soil and rusted steel of his surroundings.

  He’d given up on sleep tonight, it just wasn’t happening.

  The morning light pulled up over the horizon, casting bands of orange tint over the cool morning dew. But even the sunshine hadn’t been able to break the spell of weight that bogged down Keldon.

  He’d wandered back to the campsite after the horrifying encounter last night, jumping like a rabbit at every creak and whistle. What lies had he taken? What truth did the monster want to steal from him?

  Keldon bounced his foot on its heel and fidgeted with the scarf that Deat- Yan rather, had given him. It was silky and soft. A fleeting comfort during the still night. Every bump in the night had already chased away any hopes he wanted of peaceful rest.

  “_{Too much}…” murmured Keldon.

  Too much to think about.

  The Grand Academy. His scribe entrance exams. Final calamity. The monster. Truths. Lies. Mastering the Names. Returning the names. Returning the Master of Names. And that’s just a start, he hadn’t even thought about what he was going to even do once he’d gotten to the Grand Academy and how he was going to avoid The Divine once he was there.

  Creeping laughter burbled up from his chest as Keldon found himself giggling.

  “hah…haha….HAahahah!”

  It was a painful laugh. The kind of laugh that one only drew on when they came face-to-face with overwhelming pressure and bearing mountains. Honestly, what else could he do but laugh? Keldon let his laughter embrace the sheer absurdity of it all.

  Moments later, after giggling himself to cramped cheeks and a painful stomach, catharsis embraced him in its insane bliss. It pulled his mind from its swirls and worries, helping Keldon clear his thoughts.

  First thing’s first. He needed to make it to the Grand Academy in time for his entrance exams. There was nothing else he could reasonably plan until he knew for certain he’d have access to one of the largest banks of information on the continent. Everything else, he could hold off on until later.

  A familiar cooing, however, interrupted Keldon’s thoughts as the serenity of the was shattered by Darian’s alarm clock cuckooing into the morning air.

  There was a ruffling of blankets underneath the caravan as Darian woke up with a thump and a crunch.

  “Hooo-WEE! Can’t wait to rabble me up some breakfast!” said Darian, in a muffled voice.

  Darian crawled out from underneath the cart and popped up like a jack-in-the-box. He bounced with a spring in his step, shuffling over to the back of the cart and turning off the alarm.

  “Goodest of Mornings Keldon! The early bear gets the bee spit am I right?”

  “Morning Darian, you okay?” said Keldon, doing his best to seem chipper.

  “Just peachy! why do you ask?” asked Darian.

  “Sounds like you hit it pretty hard.”

  “Happens every morning, it’s why I keep my leftover eggshells tied to the bottom of the cart to soften the blow.”

  “Right. Whatever works I guess, glad to hear you’re okay,” said Keldon.

  Darian paused for a moment, letting his eyes linger on Keldon as the sweat of tension built up underneath his clothes.

  “Something the matter?” asked Darian.

  “What? No. Nothing’s the matter. I’m great. What…what makes you say that?” stammered Keldon.

  “You reek of thoughts,” said Darian, plugging his nose. “Gross thoughts too.”

  Keldon raised an eyebrow, lifting his armpits to take a whiff. His nose wrinkled at the pungent smell, remembering that he hadn’t taken a bath in weeks.

  “Sorry, I’ll wash up in a second. When are we leaving for the capital by the way?” asked Keldon, forcing the point.

  “Uncle Darian, when’s breakfast?” asked Clara, interrupting their conversation and sneaking up behind the two of them.

  Was it just his imagination or did Clara seem a little more… childish than usual? Her posture was relaxed, and she clutched a wool blanket close to her chest, bright-eyed like a normal kid for once.

  “Oh well Oh my, what a pleasant surprise! Glad to see you here today!” said Darian.

  “It’ll be out in a minute dear,” called Sims.

  He scampered down from his tree branch, scuttling up beside Clara as he placed his hand on her back. Sims put himself between Clara and Keldon, blocking his view of her as Sims led Clara back to the caravan.

  “Why don’t we do Uncle Darian and our new friend here a favor and help get some ingredients set up, hm? The lad seems rather antsy to get going after all,” said Sims.

  “I can help,” said Keldon instinctively.

  Sims turned around to Keldon with an exaggerated flourish of the hands and shook his head.

  “Now now, it wouldn’t be proper to strong-arm our guest into doing our dirty work. You go wash up as I take of things,” said Sims.

  “Yep Yep!” exclaimed Clara as she peeked out with a grin behind Sims.

  A pressed smile crossed Sims’ face, yanking Clara back behind him as he hurried her towards the caravan.

  “Someone’s quite energetic this morning. How about we put that spring to good use hm? Our friend looks rather worn out after all,” said Sims.

  “But I- “said Keldon.

  “Ah-bupup, I’ll be having none of it. We’ll be done in a split,” said Sims, waving his hand back in elegant nonchalance.

  “Well… if you insist,” said Keldon.

  Keldon’s mood dipped. Was it that easy to tell he wasn’t feeling his best? He stroked his hands through his messy brown hair, hoping to make himself seem a bit more presentable. But Darian must have noticed something was off as he extended a hand and a gentle smile to Keldon.

  “How about after you clean up, you give me some help with the coffee,” said Darian with a warm grin.

  Keldon hesitated for a second before reaching out to grasp Darian’s hands as he was hoisted up with little effort.

  “If it’s coffee we’re talking about, I’ve got just the thing,” said Keldon.

#

  “More butter Clara?” asked Sims.

  She shook her head, nibbling on a slice of plain toast. After helping with breakfast, it looked like Clara had spent up all her pent-up energy. Her usual stoic self had returned, accompanied by the usual solemnity that came with her stiff personality.

  To his left, Darian was trying his best not to heave, his face contorted into disgust.

  “So, what do you think?” asked Keldon, stifling a chuckle.

  “Terrible. I'd rather eat a pound of uncooked boulderwheat in lukewarm watermelon tea,” said Darian.

  Keldon let out a shy laugh, grinding the rich grit of roasted coffee in the back of his teeth. He held out the bag of coffee beans towards Darian, teasing him a bit as he waggled the bag in a taunt.

  “Any more?” asked Keldon.

  “Certainly,” said Darian, taking another fistful and stuffing his mouth.

  “Oh, sorry, I was just messing with you. You don’t actually have to have anymore,” said Keldon.

  But Darian choked back the coffee beans as tears watered in his eyes. His face had scrunched up like a prune and yet, despite his obvious displeasure, he continued to choke down the coffee beans, going in for a third handful.

  “I am a keeper of the breakfast arts. It is my duty to respect and honor ALL breakfast traditions. No matter how disgusting they may be,” said Darian. “Don’t mean I gotta like ‘em though.”

  Keldon raised his eyebrows in appreciation. Guess there was more devotion to the silliness than he’d originally thought.

  “I’m going to go wash my mouth out,” said Darian, swallowing down the last of the coffee beans and limping away.

  Keldon gave him a nod, returning to his breakfast.

  Keldon had another spoonful of cinnamon oatmeal, letting himself forget the stress of everything for a few blissful moments when out of the corner of his eye, Keldon caught Sims’ staring at him.

  The two of them made eye contact for a brief second as Sims’ gaze flicked away.

  “Again,” thought Keldon. Was it just his mind playing tricks on him or was there really something so noticeable about his change?

  Keldon kept eating, hoping it was just his imagination. However, twice more, he caught Sims’ eyes wandering in his direction.

  Finally, he put down his food.

  “Something wrong?” asked Keldon.

  “Hm?” said Sims’, pretending to be blissfully unaware.

  “You keep looking at me,” said Keldon.

  “Well, I…,” said Sims.

  “First time I’ve ever heard him stutter his words like that,” thought Keldon.

  “You can tell me anything you know? I won’t be offended,” said Keldon.

  Sims paused for a moment, before letting his eyes fall to the scarf on Keldon’s neck.

  “That scarf you’re wearing. It seems to be made of an exquisite weave. If it’s not too much trouble, would you do me the honor of allowing me to admire the craftsmanship?” asked Sims, pointing at the scarf Yan had gifted him.

  A flash of panic made Keldon freeze up for a second before he forced himself to put on a smile, gingerly pulling it off his neck and handing the scarf to Sims. There shouldn’t be anything weird with the scarf, he thought. He didn’t want to attract anymore suspicion if he could help it. Though, admittingly, he didn’t do a particularly good job of that. Lying was never his strong suit.

  Sims held out two hands, not making any motion to take the scarf from Keldon as he placed the scarf with care into Sims’ callused hands. A glimmer of light reflected off Sims’ dark eyes as he admired the handiwork, running his fingers through the fabric with reverence.

  “My word… A perfectly balanced beat. And these Selvages! Graceful weaves, immaculate warp, and practically flawless sequencing.”

  And as if his words of praise weren’t enough, Sims’s face knotted with complicated emotions and he actually began to cry. He flicked away a tear of joy from the corner of his eye as he handed Keldon back his scarf as Keldon wrapped it back around his neck, a stiff expression crawling onto his face.

  “So, um… that’s good?”

  “Good? Merely good is an insult. The word masterpiece would barely even be able to give that caliber of craftsmanship the respect it deserves! Isn’t that right Clara.”

  Clara gave a quiet nod of appreciation, having seemed to return to her typical stoic self.

  “Keldon, if I may be so discourteous. But if you’d be so inclined, I would be honored to purchase that scarf of yours from you. I can offer you two- no three thousand deniers!”

  Electricity shot through Keldon. That was more money than he’d ever made working at the Hissings! He could buy a whole two-story house to himself and live comfortably for years!

  “Th-three thousand bronze Deniers?!” asked Keldon.

  “Bronze Deniers?” asked Sims, shooting Keldon a puzzled look.

  Suddenly, he broke out in a boisterous howl, doubling over as he clenched his stomach, wrinkling his suit. He took a handkerchief from his suit pocket, wiping away the tear at the corner of his eye as heat flushed Keldon’s cheeks.

  Did he mean demi-deniers instead?

  “Oh Keldon, you’ve never mentioned that you were such a comedian!” said Sims.

  “Was that too much?”

  Sims erupted in another howl, nearly stumbling over onto the ground as he placed a hand on his chair, slowing his laugh down to a wheeze.

  “You’re simply too much,” said Sims. “But yes, three thousand gold deniers, with room for negotiations of course.”

  He nearly fell off his chair himself. His head swooned as he tried to even mentally wrap his head around the concept of so much money.

  However, as much fun as it was to dream about that level of wealth. He was confident that Death hadn’t gifted him the scarf to pawn it off. He took a deep breath to compose himself.

  “Sorry Sims. It’s not for sale,” said Keldon.

  “I see. A shame, but completely understandable. If I were you, I wouldn't want to part with such a masterpiece even for every Denier in Kharburn,” said Sims. “If you don’t mind, could you tell me where I’d be able to commission a piece for myself?”

  Keldon looked down at the scarf around his neck, thinking about what he could tell Sims.

  “It was a gift. From a friend,” said Keldon.

  A look of disappointment flashed Sims’ face as he shifted his expression to understanding, crossing his arms over his chest with a knowing nod.

  “Simply another reason as to why you wouldn’t be willing to part with it,” said Sims. “Even a masterpiece needs to be worn. Say no more, I won’t speak of it again.”

  A warmth filled Keldon’s chest, grateful for Sim’s graciousness. He thought about all the nasty lots he’d run into over the years, offering up a small thanks to who he could only imagine was Lady Fate for their meeting.

  “Salutations chummies, what’s so funny?” asked Darian, coming back from gargling his mouth.

  “Oh, nothing Darian. Just chatting about the joys of a magnum opus and the theoretical value of a human relationship.”

  Darian immediately shoved his fingers in his ears, as he hollered at the top of his lungs, shattering the tranquil morning atmosphere. He whipped around and sprinted straight, putting as much distance between the three of them as he could. Sims chuckled, turning to Keldon.

  “Shall we get going then?” asked Sims.

  Keldon’s face lit up with anticipation, looking at his scarf with nervous curiosity. He had barely taken the first step and already he’d found a world leagues beyond his comprehension. A terrified excitement twinged at him inside and he dared to wonder, what sights and feelings winding path would gift, or curse, with him next.