Chương 23: Chapter 016 An Arman Wrap A Day Keeps The Healer At Bay (Part 1)

With his new bow and quiver of arrows, Jack headed towards Royal Library Square with a big smile as he thought about buying a couple of wraps from Arman. At 15 coppers each, he could buy a couple of dozen and still have change left over. As he approached The Square, he remembered he was carrying a bloodstained bow. I shouldn't let Arman see me with weapons. He might discuss it with Dad. He thought about heading home to hide the bow, which reminded him he hadn't thought of a good hiding place yet.

Damn it, he's probably already noticed the dagger. He gripped the weapon's handle." I really need to get better at subterfuge." Jack paused to think. Could I convince Mom that I've taken up archery as a hobby? Having lived alone for decades, he wasn't used to hiding things from those he cared about. If he could, it would solve most of his problems.

Although his parents didn't carry weapons, it wasn't unusual for white-collar workers to take up a weapon; the Kingdom had a plethora of dangers, from goblins to bandits. He looked at the bloodstained bow.

The blood splatters stood out on the white oak. That's going to be a problem. His mother wouldn't be happy with a bow that's covered in blood. I c an't paint it or sand it off… that would damage the runes. Some runes required absorbing ambient mana from the environment; painting over them would reduce the absorption efficiency. Jack continued walking towards Arman's stall. I can't afford to hide my archery practice. It would hamper his levelling speed if he had to keep it secret.

He decided not to hide the bow and instead say he bought it on a whim to help with his new fitness obsession.

"Damn it, I forgot all about exercising again," he muttered and mused if his [Perfect Recall] skill was broken. It wasn't. Though the skill allowed him to remember anything he'd seen written down, it still required him to think about the scroll, book or piece of paper to recall what was written on it. While waiting in line for his turn to buy a wrap, Arman spotted him and called out, "Jack, I must be blessed by the Gods, no? Visited two days in a row. Does your mother not feed you, yes?" Arman laughed.

Stepping from behind his stall and wiping his hands on his apron, the old man approached Jack, leaving his assistant to tend the stall.

"Thank you for sending me an…" he began, pausing to choose his words before leaning in to whisper, "…for sending me an unusual young customer, yes." Jack's eyebrows twitched in confusion. Noticing his puzzled look, Arman's face darkened with a trace of panic.

"Don't tell me I was tricked by one so young, no?" he exclaimed, shaking his head in disappointment.

"Arman should know better, yes? It seems these little scamps are growing ever more cunning. I was certain it was you who sent her when she said, Climb the stairs!" He scratched his bald head in confusion and said, "How could she know? How could she know this?" Jack recalled the little girl who tried to steal his coin purse.

"Don't worry, Arman. I sent her. It just slipped my memory, is all." Arman regarded him with hopeful eyes.

"You did? Yes."

"About yay tall." Jack stuck his hand out at chest level.

"Hair that looks like it needed to be sheared by a sheep farmer, with brown, puppy-dog eyes that could break the heart of a marble statue?" Arman's shoulders relaxed, and he laughed.

"Yes, yes. That's the one. I wasn't tricked, no?" Jack shook his head, assuring Arman that he hadn't been duped by the sad, puppy-eyed girl. I'm glad he didn't ask me how I met her. Beaming, Arman clasped Jack by the arm.

"Come, come, let us get you fed, yes?" He smiled and led Jack behind the stall to be served.

"What can I put on your tab today, young Jack?" His laughter caused his belly to jiggle. Jack jingled his coin purse to show he had coin today. They both shared a laugh.

"Two wraps, please. And whatever I owe you for the girl." He dug through his pouch for coin.

"Was it three wraps she had?" Arman nodded.

"Yes, the little one ate like a starving goat." He chuckled.

"Three wraps, gone in under a minute. Poof; just gone." He stopped preparing Jack's order, mimicking a 'poof' explosion with his hands.

"With a stomach like that, the little one would be my best customer, if she had coin, no?" He laughed once more. Jack looked wide-eyed at the old vendor.

"She wasn't supposed to eat them all at once. She could have made herself sick." Handing Jack his two wraps, Arman shrugged.

"I think she was afraid someone would take them from her. She was a good kid, stayed to help Arman close the stall, but," the old man wagged his finger, "you need to be careful with the orphans, young Jack, no?" Scratching his chin in thought, he added, "If you aren't careful, they'll empty your coin purse faster than a dog devours a steak. You understand, yes?" He patted Jack's shoulder. Jack nodded.

"I'll try to remember, and I'll be careful, Arman." He recalled multiple times in his past life where street orphans had tried to steal from him. He'd lost a few silver when he passed out drunk in the street, and orphans had snatched his belongings. This time, it had been a sweet little girl, but he knew all too well that not all street children were like that. Some would cut your throat for a few coppers!

He remembered waking up hungover in an alleyway, and his underwear and socks were gone, but not his trousers or shoes! It left him confused for days. Glancing back at the old vendor, Jack asked, "How much do I owe you?" If you discover this narrative on Amazon, be aware that it has been stolen. Please report the violation. Arman rubbed his chin once more.

"75 coppers, my young friend." Jack dug out a silver coin and handed it to the old vendor.

"Add the change to my dad's tab." He smiled and pointed towards the Royal Library.

"I'll be working at the library in a week, so we'll be seeing a lot more of each other." Arman grinned.

"But young Jack, I already know your face better than my own, yes?" Jack grinned back.

"What can I say, an Arman wrap a day keeps the healer at bay." The old vendor burst into hearty laughter, his exuberant smile beaming with joy.

"I think Arman will put that on a sign for all to see, no?" he declared, sweeping his hand in an elegant arc towards the stall's awnings as if to mark the very spot where the sign should hang. Then, nodding at the bow slung over Jack's shoulder, he teased, "You still plan to be a scribe? With the bow, I thought you'd joined the army, no?" He laughed at the idea. Jack returned the laughter.

"A scribe has to keep fit. I thought I'd take up archery as a hobby." The old vendor nodded and returned to serving customers to the delight of his busy assistant. As Jack went on his way, Arman called, "Good luck with your new hobby. Try not to shoot your own foot, yes!" Still smiling from talking with Arman, Jack settled onto an empty public bench and unwrapped his hot snack. A fragrant steam rose, carrying the scents of sweet honey, aromatic spices, and tender, juicy lamb.

He inhaled, letting the warmth and comfort sink in. The sun was bright, and the day warm and pleasant; one of those rare moments when everything felt right. Content, he held the wrap before him, opened his mouth wide, excitement bubbling in his chest, only to be interrupted by two small tugs on his sleeve. There was a young girl with a dirty face, tied-up, matted hair, and sorrowful, puppy-dog eyes. She was standing beside him. It was the orphan girl. She stared at the heavenly wrap in Jack's hand.

Jack glanced from the wrap to the girl and then back to the wrap. Offering an annoyed smile, he nodded towards the empty space beside him on the bench. The orphan rushed to sit down, like the space would disappear if she didn't claim it. Jack sighed, without meeting her eyes; he tapped her arm and offered her the open wrap. Drooling, she moved closer, leaning into him, and waited for Jack to unwrap his remaining snack. She wiped her mouth with the back of her hand while she waited.

For the next few minutes, the pair sat in companionable silence, enjoying their meal. The only sounds were the gentle bubbling of a nearby fountain, the distant chatter of birds, and the soft, contented groans of two young damaged souls delighting in Arman's divine creations. Jack watched the orphan lick and chew clean the wrapping from her meal. If she chews any harder, she'll eat it.

Glancing at his own wrapper, which still had a small amount of grease and flavourings, he licked his lips and considered copying the girl. He was still a little hungry and considered revisiting Arman. I've got 4 silver. His gaze shifted to the girl, who was now eyeing his unlicked wrapper. If I buy another wrap, I'll have to get her another one as well. Jack took in the state of the orphan. Her face was dirty, her hair matted, and one of her boots looked like it had been marinated in a sewer for months.

Her clothes were filthy with traces of old blood, and only the Gods knew what else. What happened to you? He wondered. Poor kid. She was still eyeing his wrapper.

"Have you no family in the city?" he asked. She looked down at her chewed wrapper and shook her head. Jack frowned.

"No family. That's rough." He remembered how alone he felt after his family was killed by Greaves. Mercia was a great Kingdom, but great at caring for the less fortunate, it was not. The orphan continued to eye his wrapper. He handed it to her.

"Who looks after you?" He already knew the answer. An intrusive thought to protect the girl surfaced. He tried to ignore it. She shrugged while pulling open the unlicked wrapper, searching for any remaining crumbs. Jack forced a smile and shook his head, knowing he was going to regret his next action.

"Follow me," he said, "my younger sister should have some old clothes you can have." He stood and began walking towards his home. The girl hesitated but then jumped down from the bench and ran to walk beside him. They walked towards Jack's home in silence. A few streets from home, they skirted close to the two inquisitors exiting a property. Behind them, their guards were escorting a young man and woman who looked distressed. The young man had a bloody nose and the woman was crying.

One of the guards was carrying a crying toddler. Another guard was carrying what looked like a box of books. Jack took a deep breath and continued on his way. What did they do wrong? A little while later, Jack unlocked the door to his home and entered, the orphan close behind. The house was quiet.

"Mom?" Jack called. There was no reply.

"Mom, are you home?" he called again, still receiving no reply. They headed towards the kitchen. The room was warm and inviting, even though the oven wasn't on. Mom must be out ordering supplies, Jack thought. His mother cooked food for multiple merchants in Lundun and went through quite a lot of meat and vegetables. Jack pointed to the kitchen table.

"Take a seat," he said to the orphan girl he'd brought home.

"My mom's out; I'll find you some old clothes." As the girl took a seat, he leaned his new bow and quiver against one of the chairs and wondered where Polly's old clothes might be stored. He assumed they'd be in her room. She won't mind if I take a few old items for a good cause. He started to leave the kitchen but detoured to the stove, where his mom almost always had something cooking. Jack grabbed a clean bowl and filled it with what he assumed was stew.

"Still hot enough to eat. Hmm, smells really good." It seemed she'd left the kitchen less than an hour ago. He placed the bowl of warm stew in front of the girl.

"Here you go. Enjoy." Her eyes widened at the sight of the food before looking up at Jack for confirmation, to which he nodded. She grabbed the bowl, drinking it like lumpy soup. Jack chuckled.

"Slow down." He passed her a clean spoon.

"My mom's a great cook. She used to work at one of those fancy restaurants that only serve nobles. Take your time to appreciate it." He glanced at the time.

"She should be home soon; unless she's lost in another one of her errands." As the girl wolfed down the stew with the hunger of a stray dog, Jack searched Polly's room for old clothes. After rifling through her wardrobe and finding nothing small enough for the orphan to wear, he stood in the centre of the room, frowning.

"Where would she keep her old clothes?" He wasn't even sure if her old clothes were still in the house. When he outgrew his own, they just disappeared, replaced as if by magic. He'd never thought about where they went, or who made that happen. Jack spotted the flashy prince's costume and remembered he still had the prince's valet uniform stuffed in his pack.

"Better put that back before I forget." He gave it a good shake to flatten out the wrinkles and returned it to where he'd found it, then resumed his hunt for his sister's old clothes. As he looked under the bed for the second time, the front door creaked open.

"That must be Mom." After one last glance around for potential hiding places for old clothes, he grabbed his pack and headed back to the kitchen. Then came a scream.