Quite bustling. Ardent conversations filled the hall. Although from where he was standing, most of it fell to his ear akin to fading echo on distant hill. Murmurs. However, not even distance, far as it was, managed to make him mistake the energy, the enthusiasm that was blaring; bright as the noonday sun. So often he heard shouts, or simply voices, rose above the rest and one after another. Some were simply people talking to each other, but the most prominent ones were the questions. Questions to the speaker on the platform. Which if his eyes, a bit wincing from all the light contrast and God willing, hadn’t caught some form of temporal degenerative diseases, was a man. Stocky, almost pudgy, and middle-aged. There was brief silence, a hush, as he answered one person in the audience; a woman in subdued green, her hand was raised, grasping a quill. It only happened briefly however, the moment the question was answered, he could hear that the rest of the audience swarmed the man back with their own questions.

“...what a crowd.”

He didn’t remember this many people when he came here. At least half of the seat were filled. Some he saw were sitting on the middle, other more comfortable clustering in pack of threes or gaggle of fours, or pairs, or the other combination he didn’t spare a thought to label it exact. But majority, like the lady before, were packing the front. On their hands were quills, papers, and occasionally a little plate of kellats and meil cup.

It was quite surprising to find a gardening lecture to be this popular. Well, somewhat popular. He was pretty sure that the group over there — the three younger men slumping on the back row seat, their mouth half-opened, their head tilted, was you knew, sleeping. One of them was even lying down, his feet dangling from the end of the three chairs that had been pushed together to create a makeshift bed. 

Then again, perhaps they were ...tired? Most likely. Compared to their tired, sweat-drenched faces, the rest of the people here were still bursting with energy. Although they too were more ...aged. Older. 

He shook his head, it obviously was acceptable ageism at play — younger people were asked to do more work because well, the previous generation felt that they already did their share. Or so the argument usually went. 

Putting that bit of observation aside, he took a seat on the third-row right side — the farthermost corner from the crowd, Clar beside him. It’d be at least an hour until the ship depart, at least he could rest his feet here.

As he was closer now, he took a look more closely toward the speaker, to the man. He was right apparently, the man was a thirty-five, forty-something old. Sporting a green tunic and silver buttoned waistcoat, he was talking animatedly as he pointed to the walnut brown vine beside him. That must be Mr. Donovan. He looked energetic. 

“...good Mr. Kav, very good. Listen to Mr. Kav everyone, leather gloves. You need leather gloves when Marsi start their second bleed. We don’t want our record be ‘spotty’ like Mrs. Nora, right?” 

“Hahahaha!” the crowd burst. Laugh, guffaw. One of the men, the one with a feathered cap even holding his stomach down.

“Don! Stop bringing that up, you pan muncher! Every time!” A woman stood up, her face alternating between embarrassment and anger. One of the small flowers in her bonnet even fell down from her abrupt standing. That didn’t deter her from what coming, however. Lifting her skirt, the woman, Mrs. Nora, stomped — marched toward the platform much to the gasps and cheers of the entire audience.

“Wonder what he’d get next?” a lady nearest to Euca said, putting her cup of meil back to the serving plate. Mrs. Nora was pulling a hairpin from his bonnet. It was long, ridiculously long, almost double the length of a regular kitchen knife. 

“Something horrible must be,” her friend replied, smiling conspiratorially. “Last time she slipped melpi kernels to Mr. Isom’s grain sack. His [Miller] didn’t even realize it! The man didn’t leave his outhouse that week.” Seeing the inevitable, the man whispered a few words under his breath. Mana flared, Euca saw. And as to mock his apparent pudginess, the man sprung — sprung like children on a sugar rush. 

“True, true! I remember that! Even my undermaid knew. And the little girl only leave the house on the produce day!” Uncanny. His weight didn’t even bend the trellis down. Like the martial artist of old, he teetered and tottered the wall, leaped, and jumped like a leopard while still managed to making face to the woman.

“Is it true though that they are only a friend? Forgive my curious heart. But Light, one could not look away to which is bright, no?” Realizing her disadvantage, the woman took a more realistic approach. So, flew a pot, then a cup, then the rest of the plates. Telekinetically bound, they growled in inside loops, slow, menacing — waiting. For ten seconds he counted it so. 

“So their families say. Childhood mates the four spouses, since their Eptom days. But who could say what love sprouts behind a closed door?” Then they struck! 

“A vigorous one?” Up line, 45-degree climb, a reverse zig-zag. Missed!

“Hush, you! Light, have mercy on this woman’s tongue!” That apparently was a feint, Euca gasped. Free from the man’s line of sight. The cunning cutleries cut into a half-cuban eight; the inverted 45, ½ roll erect down, and head strike, people! 

“Haha ha!!!” Everyone laughed. Even Clar. Unfortunate he was not a fan of slapstick comedy, he’d watch the man perform every Sunday though.

“All right, All right, that’s quite enough everyone.” the man was smiling galore to the now much more subdued but still smirking crowd. Something that Euca found odd considering that his hair was drenched in meil and his face marked in slap. A big red one that he got the moment he fell from the trellis heigh. But hey, he wasn’t a jerk who judge other’s fetishes. Whatever floats your boat, sir. 

“Again good job Mr. Kav.” the man said, wiping his hair and face. “Now regarding the second bleeding.” he continued. “It is not just a chore need to be done, no. It also an opportunity.” 

“Now not all households deem it necessary, but there was this tip that shared to me.” he half crouched to the crowd surprise, his cheeky smile turned smirk as if it was anticipating a reaction. Which of course true, the crowd rippled as he whispered the next sentence. ”By the Principality own [Gardener]!”

“What did he say? Carol, had my ears gone daft, dear?” a man, old with long, greying hair, turned his head sharp. A ninety-degree right facing to a woman who he guessed as his wife. The woman, likely amused by what his husband said, shook her head.

“When? Why I don’t know anything about this!” shouted the other.

“Really? Did you really meet Principality’s Gardener, Mr. Isom?”

“Now, now everyone. Please! Please!! This is but the Lady’s Blessing I ever allowed such honor.” his contrite apologetic tone contrasted so much with his wide plastered grin that it was no surprise to Euca when everyone in the room boo him. Even the youngsters were hurling their handkerchiefs and caps. Most were missing, of course, not everyone was telekinetically gifted. But the point well, the point was very clear. 

“Ehm, so as I was saying,” the man coughed, ignoring the fact that he was a target of quite a hurling a moment before. “Instead of leaving it to dry in the sun, the honorable [Gardener] said the sap could be collected and used as a base for cooling ointment. Yes, you heard that right! When you applied the sap, after processing it of course, the sap would cool your skin like if [Cool Mist] had been cast!” 

“Is this true, Don?” a voice asked. Loud, and choppy. It was the old man from before.

“Yes, Joseph. I tried it myself. The result let just say, is very good. Especially after you were stung or got some rash.”

“That’s good. Josephine’s baby was having a hard time sleeping at night. Carol, remind me, later. We’ll bring some to her, later.” 

“Yes, dear.”

“Now it needs to be the sap from second bleeding. Not the first, not the third. The second bleeding. So what sap we need, Glenn?” the man asked one of the young boys in front, picking up a hat from the platform floor. It was round, brown, and a bit dapper, causing the boy’s face to take a shade of red, scratching his head. 

“Second bleeding sap, Mr. Isom!” 

“Good!” he threw the cap back to the young man much to the laugh of his friend. “Of course while it’s not as burning as the first bleeding sap, Glenn, you need to be careful. To collect it there are a few available methods, the easiest one, of course, to invite a [Hydromancer] to coax it to a good bottle. In this case, Mrs. Jenn just needs to call her daughter right?”

“You flatter Belle too much, Don.”

“Oh, hush. Mrs. Jenn. Even my useless son knew that your Belle aced the last walk. What collecting a bit of Marsi for her Mum amount to?”

“I’ll make sure the girl thank you for your high praise.”

“No need, no need. What an old pan knew what young people do, nowadays. Now, everyone, for the rest of us who don’t have a brilliant daughter like Mrs. Jenn.” he winked at the still blushing woman. “We must use the more traditional method; brushing. So we, took a brush, not erwee, that won’t do. It must be a good lutrin. Preferably the one from their tail.”

“First you dipped it in a mix of water until it wet…”

The lecture continued for some time as the audience furiously scribbling; taking notes, asking questions as the man explained the processing method of the sap. No wonder it was so popular, Euca thought. This Mr. Don knew how to handle an audience. Though he couldn’t help but tuned the rest out after the man moved to the method of transplanting the sapling. While it smelled wonderful; citrusy, a mix between mandarin and kaffir lime, he already had too many matters to attend to. For example...

“Clar, Clar…”

“Yes, mwhaster?” the girl turned toward him, her cheek filled with kellats. He restrained himself from rolling his eyes seeing that the chair right of her had been filled chock with the plates of the snack.

“Look.” He pointed toward the right side of the room, to a boy who was cutting some branches of a bonsai-like tree using a curved knife. Apprentice.

“Hmph!”

“Come on, Clar. Don’t you want to play again with Apie?” say yes, please, say yes please…

“...Apie bad, master! Apie didn’t let Clar help master!”

“Well, while that might be true.” he paused. His heart all smile, while his brain buzzed, searching for the right word to make sure the girl didn’t lose her first friend. “Apie is Clar’s friend right?”

“...hmph!”

“Friend forgives each other, Clar,” he said, patting her head, hoping that it worked. How a bad parent—ehm, brother he would be if he couldn’t even pass this hurdle. 

“Clar just needs to tell Apie that master is important to Clar,” he said, nodding. “Also,” 

“Clar has the power to save master.” 

He didn’t say that she should abandon him if anything like before ever happened again. No. Although, he felt guilty condemning her to future danger, saying otherwise — saying otherwise, would be lying. Both to her and to himself. 

Also, he was 90% sure that she would be unsummoned if anything was ever happened to him, much to the disgust of his conscience. 

“Right!” he tapped his hand, shaking the thought off. “Who is the one that beat the instructor at adventurer’s guild, huh?”

“...Clar did.”

“And the one who told off bad customers when they were making a mess?”

“Clar?”

“And who’s the one that kept me from freezing back there?”

“Clar!”

“So Clar is amazing, right?”

“Yes!”

“So, go out there and say to Apie. Hey Apie! Clar is powerful! Clar can protect master! For now, Clar can forgive you because you don’t know that Clar is powerful! But if you repeat it again, you’d taste Clar’s fist!” he said, grinning then whispered the next sentence conspiratorially. “Challenge him if he doesn’t believe it.”

“Okay!” said the girl, literally jumping to the boy’s location.

Sorry, Apprentice. 

He could imagine the ensuing ‘duel’ that would happen. If the boy’s personality matrix was what he thought it was, then, well, good luck... Also, he kinda left Clar with ...free reign of his mana. Which of course, certainly too much. But considering what happened back there, the girl did need some ego boost.

Yet before he could close his eyes, sighing wistfully and smiling wryly, footsteps, heavy with thuds were approaching him.

“The kids are making up, huh?” Ivar greeted him. Beside him, Tobias was looking exasperated as usual. The latter’s face was even more drenched than before. The accident must take a toll on him. 

“[Gardener] Apprentice is not some ‘kid’, Ivar. He is a noble elf!”

“Hey, a kid is a kid.”

“You!”

“Gentlemen. Please.” he pulled his hand to a clasp. “What important is that over there are two friends making up, making amends,” he said, smiling. 

“So please don’t ruin it by setting a bad example.”

That deadpan switch apparently caught them off guard enough that it turned the larger man abashed and the black-haired one to a coughing fit. Good, he didn’t have any energy to play a middleman anymore. Releasing his choked sigh, he stared both of them, level. “Can I help both of you?”

“Ehm, so, Mr. Euca.” Tobias coughed. “It had been a bit of concern to our fellow seats in the Jewel that your welcome had not been quite sufficient, especially in the light of ...recent development. Thus it fell to me as the responsible [Administrator] of the Jewel to inform you, that if you are free on the next seventh, we will host a more fitting welcome for your peruse.”

“...then perhaps we could talk about the historical relationship between sprites and good people of Ar’endalian.”

“He wants to know what do you talk inside the no-no room with the spirits...”

“Ivar! Stop being so barbarous! I’d nev—”

“—fine! You caught me.” the man relented after he and Ivar eyed him with no-more-bullshit stares. “But, Mr. Euca you must understand!” he fetched his clipboard, shuffling its pile of papers. “No one besides the caretaker themselves had ever been invited to the inner sanctum for tens of calendars! Even Sir Sargei was only allowed till the waiting room.”

“Hahaha…” he laughed. Choked and chortled at the same time. “Surely you must be exaggerating, Mr. Tobias.” 

“Look at this!” he pointed toward a particularly aged sheaf. The paper was still the usual kraft but more brownish, the edges were folding inward. “This is the list of people that had been invited for the last hundred calendars. There were only three. The previous headmaster of Everlight, Grand Magi Tharissa was invited because she was accompanying Mayor Colt. Then there was one wanderer, a man called ‘D’. Which we don’t know who to this day.”

“The point is, Mr. Euca,” the administrator inched closer to him. His voice took a sweet cloying that made him shudder. “You and your sister are the fourth and fifth person to be invited in a hundred calendars...”

“...ah.”

“Yeah, man. Knew it you’re pretty up there. So what did you do, huh? Did you slay a drake’s nest or something?”

“Yes, Mr. Euca...” Tobias said, his face getting closer, smacking his vision with the high-definition of the man’s stiff unblinking eyes, his creased three-lines brow. “Lately our relationship with the sprites had been quite ...tenuous. Then there’s today’s incident with the mound. I know it’s imposing but...”

“So much things depend on the continuation of our good relationship...” Then like a clap of thunder, the man’s eyes burst wider. 

”Would you please entertain this [Administrator]?”

“It just…” he backed off. His tongue could taste the salt of sweat that had seeped from his outer lips. “I… I was invited?”

“Come on, Mr. Euca! You jest...” He gulped, the man — the man had turned feral. His eyes were boring down on him with a pupil that in a size of a point dot. His mouth — his mouth was a ...line, opened wide and only showed his upper teeth, the canines glinting, drooling like unvaccinated dogs that the bastard owners let loose to prowl around his neighborhood. Then there was his hand; white, pale. Death-gripping the quill, ready to jot down whatever word that came from his own mouth.

“Ehm… It’s true though.” he braved a nod, smiling. Hoping — hoping that this neutral answer was sufficient enough to mollify the hound in front of him. “The sprites were simply curious why I was using their ship in the middle of Lord Thesiphe’s anger.”

SNAP

Did—did he say something wrong? 

“Ivar…”

“...yeah, Tobi?”

“Did you hear that?”

“Yep.”

“Did Mr. Euca just said the mound’s Lord name?”

“He did, bud. He did.”

“I see, I see.”

Damn his tired head! Thesiphe must be a great spirit! If not grand elder, then at least he’d be equivalent to Crystal! Just because the twin sprites spoke about him in a familiar tone, it didn’t mean others would do the same!

“...”

...what didn’t kill him would make him stronger, right?

“Ehm, also” —he coughed, drawing their attention— “Mr. Tobias, forgive me to say this but that is the extent I can help you with.”

“...sorry?”

“Even if I want to help you, Mr. Tobias.” he smiled. “Even then, wouldn’t you agree that whatever had spoken between grand elder and us is considered a private affair?” 

“That…”

“If it’s just up to me,” he said, pretending to be disappointed. ”I’d of course volunteer the information.” 

“For the good of our town.”

“But, there also grand elder consideration, no? I might not be an expert in spirits-mortal affairs like you, Mr. Tobias. But I know people.” he smiled, holding the man’s shoulder, giving it a squeeze. “And people sometimes, like to keep private things private.”

“...right. I apologize Mr. Euca,” the administrator replied, downcast. “I’ve been too hasty.”

“That’s okay.”

Crisis averted! Good job Euca! Now what he needed was something else to distract them. Something that could steer the conversation away. What it could be… what it could be…

Right!

“Do you want some bread, Mr. Tobias, Mr. Ivar? I made it for Clar, but she was full on kelats.” he said opening his haversack, pulling a little basket. Inside them were four sourdoughs and five sandwiches. Leftover that he meant for Jeanne and Rod. But, oh well...

“Mr. Euca, you don’t have—”

“Thanks!” Ivar chimed. Taking the second biggest one. He smiled at that faux-politeness tactic, suppressing his eye roll. ”Hey your bread looked weird.” the man paused. Pressing his bread in a way that made Euca a bit uncomfortable.

“It’s a sourdough, our family secret recipe,” he said, suppressing the stray thought. “Try it, it’s quite a treat.”

“Wow! What—what’s this?” the man’s jaw hinged, a few specks of bread spurt from his mouth as he turned to his friend, amazed. “Tob, Tob! It’s amazing.”

“Uh? O—okay. Pardon me, Mr. Euca” 

“How! How—how could it be so soft!”

“It’s good, yeah?”

“No that’s not the point you, moron, it’s — Mr. Euca are you a chef?”

“A chef? No, I’m not a— ” Wait. He didn’t exactly have a backstory for his job because well, because he wasn’t supposed to be here in the first place. But chef… Chef was a bit too wide? Let scale it down to a more manageable bit. ”I’m more of a baker.”

“What is that?”

“Well, a baker is someone who ...focused more on the bread. Like the one you eat right now,” he smiled. “It’s bouncy right?” 

“Yes!”

“Mm-hmm. So while chef could make more food. I could do bread better. Try this one, this is called a sandwich.” he said, handing each of them half of the sandwich.

“Light takes me! What is this — this white liquid?” Please don’t call them that… That just mayo...

“Can I have one more?” 

“Sure! It’s all yours!” he said giving the basket to both of them. Clar would be miffed, but the girl already ate tons anyway.

“This is amazing, Euca. Where is your shop? I’ll visit it every day!”

“Well, I’m still in the middle of developing the recipes,” he said. “Also, I haven’t exactly found the right place. So it might take a while before my shop opened.”

“Ah that’s too bad.” said the man, his hand angling to grab another sandwich. But before he could grab it, his hand was slapped by his steaming friend.

“Ivar, you had two!”

“Ugh. Look, look, how about I did ‘that’ if you just let me have—”

“No!” the man glared to his friend, reproaching him. But before he could grab the remaining sandwich, a hand, large and wrinkly grasped it first.

“Oh, what is this, Tobias?” Mr. Donnovan, who had apparently finished his lecture was now munching the sad administrator’s portion of sandwich.

“Mr. Isom, that—that’s...” 

“Hey, this tastes amazing! Joseph, Carol, come here! Tobias got a new kind of food!” 

And that was how and to the sadness of the annoying and loud duo, the unopened Euca’s Bakery became popular.