Chương 24: The Easier Choice

Bellhaven woke before the sun had properly cleared the roofs. Garrick had expected quiet streets at that hour. A few guards changing shifts, merchants lifting shutters, perhaps fishermen already moving toward the Lower Quay. Instead, the town seemed to have decided morning was an event. A bell rang somewhere below them, followed by a burst of voices. People poured toward the market streets carrying baskets, buckets, and small wooden tokens. Children ran ahead of their parents.

Innkeepers stood outside their doors calling orders to apprentices. Even several upper-district merchants abandoned their shops long enough to join the movement descending toward the lake. Talia stopped at the edge of a crowded intersection.

"What is happening?" A man carrying two empty crates glanced at her.

"First Catch." He continued downhill before either of them could ask what that meant. Garrick looked toward Talia.

"Helpful."

"We could follow him."

"I have training in an hour."

"That sounds like enough time to make at least one bad decision." They joined the crowd, the streets narrowing as they descended. Water from the previous night's rain still ran through the stone channels beside the road, carrying bits of straw and leaves toward the lake. The smell reached them before the Lower Quay came into view. Cold water, woodsmoke, and then fish. A great deal of fish. The First Catch market occupied a long open stretch between several warehouses and the raised plank walks of the quay.

Fishermen unloaded the morning's earliest haul directly into shallow bins packed with lake ice. Merchants competed to purchase the best stock before the sun warmed it, while cooks and householders crowded around smaller stalls where the catch had already been sorted. A broad silver fish struck the side of one bin hard enough to spray a woman standing nearby. The fisherman apologized while laughing. Talia looked over the market with open interest.

"So this happens every day? At this hour?"

"Fish do not respect sleep."

"Another flaw in the profession." They stayed near the edge rather than pushing into the densest part of the crowd. Garrick watched traders hold fish up by the gills, checking the color and firmness before naming prices faster than he could follow. It reminded him of harvest mornings growing up. Not the fish, but the urgency. Back home, families had gathered early whenever the first grain wagons reached the village square. Buyers argued over quality while farmers pretended not to listen.

Children carried messages and stole pieces of breakfast when no one looked. Their parents had always taken Garrick and Talia together. Their father negotiated, and their mother purchased whatever the house needed. Garrick carried bags because he insisted he was old enough while Talia disappeared toward anything interesting. The memory arrived with enough detail that he could almost smell dry grain instead of wet rope and scales. Talia nudged him.

"You stopped walking."

"I was thinking."

"That is dangerous this early." They left the market before the crowd trapped them and followed a narrower road curving away from the lake. Bellhaven changed quickly beyond the busiest streets. Workshops replaced warehouses. Small homes stood behind low stone walls. A stream ran between two rows of buildings, fed by water descending from the hills before joining the lake farther south. A shrine stood beside it. The structure was barely large enough for two people to kneel beneath its roof.

Weathered blue-gray stones formed the base, while dark timber posts supported a steep, bell-flared canopy. Someone had tied thin strips of pale cloth to the railing around it. The stream carried several fallen petals beneath a small arched bridge. Talia slowed; Garrick did the same. Their parents had taken them to a shrine near the river every spring. It did not look exactly like this one.

The old shrine had been larger, with a roof patched by three different kinds of wood and a crooked offering box Father always complained about. The water, however, had sounded the same. Talia rested one hand on the stone rail.

"Mother used to bring those little honey cakes."

"She said they were offerings."

"She gave us half of them before we arrived."

"Father said the spirits could not be offended by food they never saw." Talia smiled.

"He always ate the largest one."

"He claimed it was damaged."

"They were all damaged whenever he was hungry." They stood there longer than Garrick intended. The memory hurt, but not in the same sharp way as the bandit attack or the empty house afterward. This belonged to a time before fear shaped every decision. Their parents had been alive. Talia had complained about walking too far. Garrick had tried to skip stones across the river and struck Father's boot instead. A woman approached the shrine carrying a small cup of grain.

Garrick and Talia stepped aside and then continued uphill. Talia kept glancing back until the stream disappeared between the buildings.

"You liked that," Garrick said.

"It reminded me of home."

"So did the market."

"The market reminded you of home?"

"The harvest square."

"That place smelled better than Bellhaven."

"Only until the animals arrived." They turned onto a street lined with craft shops. A cooper had placed three newly finished barrels outside his door. A tailor displayed bright lake-blue coats behind glass panes. Farther along, a narrow shop front carried a carved sign shaped like a feathered arrow. Garrick stopped as he noticed several bows hanging in the window. Talia took three more steps before noticing.

"What?" He pointed. The fletcher's shop was small but carefully maintained. Longbows, hunting bows, and several shorter recurved designs had been mounted against a pale backing so the shape of each limb remained visible. Bundles of arrows stood beneath them, their fletching arranged by color and intended use. Talia moved closer to the window; one bow drew her attention immediately. It was shorter than the others, made from layered pale and dark woods that curved sharply away from the grip.

Silver-gray wrapping reinforced the center.

"You used to have one like that," Garrick said.

"Short and curved."

"Mine was cheap ashwood."

"You still liked it." Talia studied the bow. She had practiced archery before their parents died. Not because she needed to hunt, but because she had simply enjoyed it. Garrick remembered her standing behind their house with a row of straw targets. She would spend entire afternoons adjusting her stance, moving farther back whenever three arrows landed close enough together.

"We could ask how much it costs," he said. Talia looked at him through the reflection in the glass.

"With what money?"

"Roy signed some enormous contract."

"That is Roy's money."

"Household money."

"We are not part of the household." The words landed awkwardly. Talia immediately seemed to regret them. Garrick looked toward the bow again.

"Not formally."

"No." They resumed walking. The street remained busy, though less chaotic than the First Catch market. Shopkeepers greeted people by name. Several residents stopped to exchange brief words with one another before continuing toward work. No one hurried past without noticing who shared the street. Talia tucked her hands into her coat pockets.

"You have decided already." Garrick glanced at her.

"Decided what?"

"That you want to stay."

"I said this could be an option."

"You have mentioned guard pay three times. You also pointed out a fletcher's shop because I used to enjoy archery." Garrick kept his attention ahead.

"We need to understand our available options." Talia laughed once.

"That sounded like Orion."

"It did not. Orion would have said we need to identify every risk before committing."

"Then stared at the town until it apologized." Garrick ignored that. He was the older sibling, which meant considering what Talia needed rather than what felt easiest to him. Bellhaven had guards, healers, work, and more people than the two of them had known in years. Talia could explore without checking every tree line for bandits. Garrick could train. They could earn their own coin instead of depending on Orion, Roy, and Aurelia indefinitely.

"We should examine everything before choosing," Garrick said.

"The estate may not remain available. The siblings may return to the cottage. They may decide to build elsewhere."

"And you think Bellhaven is safer."

"Yes." Talia looked ahead. She did not argue, which worried him more than if she had. A familiar voice called from across the street. Stolen from its rightful place, this narrative is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings.

"Garrick. Talia." Velara Dault approached from the direction of the upper civic district. The Reeve wore the same forest-green coat she had worn during the council meeting, though the one-shouldered mantle had been removed. Her dark auburn hair remained braided into a compact knot, silver visible at both temples. People greeted her as she walked, although not formally. A baker raised one flour-covered hand from his doorway. Velara asked whether his daughter's fever had broken.

An elderly man beside a public well complained about a drainage grate. Velara promised someone would inspect it before noon. A fish seller carrying an empty basket called out a joke Garrick did not catch. Velara answered without slowing, and the seller laughed. No one behaved as though a powerful official had entered the street. They behaved as though someone familiar had. Velara stopped in front of them.

"Are you occupied?"

"Garrick has training soon," Talia said.

"In an hour," Garrick added.

"Then I will be brief. Have either of you eaten?" They had shared bread at the estate before leaving. Garrick suspected that was not the answer Velara expected.

"Enough," he said.

"There is an eatery nearby with better standards than that." Talia looked toward Garrick, who nodded. Velara led them to a small establishment overlooking the stream. Outdoor tables occupied a sheltered terrace beneath a sloping roof. The morning air remained cool, but iron braziers stood between the tables, providing enough warmth to keep the seats comfortable. Velara chose one near the railing.

A server greeted her by name and brought food before anyone ordered: warm oatcakes, soft eggs with herbs, strips of smoked fish, and small cups of dark tea. Velara paid immediately. Talia watched the coins change hands.

"You did not have to do that."

"I invited you." The Reeve began dividing one oatcake with the edge of her fork. Both Garrick and Talia waited as Velara looked between them.

"You do not need to be nervous. I make an effort to get to know Bellhaven's residents. Not equally well, but enough to understand who may require attention."

"We are not residents," Talia said.

"Not yet."

"We have not committed to anything."

"I am aware. That does not absolve me of responsibility while you are here." Talia folded her arms.

"What responsibility?" Velara set down her fork.

"You are both young. You have remained for several weeks with a family only a few years older than you, living outside town beside several magical creatures. I wanted to speak with you privately." The meaning became clear. Talia's posture changed.

"Are you suggesting Orion and the others are coercing us?"

"I am asking whether you are safe."

"They saved us, and have never hurt us."

"I am glad." Talia leaned forward.

"You met them yesterday. You saw how they treat us. Why would you think—""Because they were present." Talia stopped. Velara did not soften the words after speaking them.

"If you were afraid of the siblings, would you have said so during a council meeting held inside the estate, with all three of them and several drakes nearby?" Talia opened her mouth, but no answer came. Garrick had none either. He knew Orion, Roy, and Aurelia would never harm them, but Velara did not. The Reeve watched Talia's expression change. Some of the firmness left her face.

"I apologize for the bluntness," Velara said.

"But taking your word in that setting without any private follow-up would have been irresponsible." Talia looked down at her plate.

"We are safe. They have treated us like family." Velara nodded.

"Then I am pleased my concern was unnecessary." Garrick picked up his tea, the cup warming his hands. People continued moving along the stream behind Velara. Several greeted her. She acknowledged each without allowing the conversation to dissolve. Talia pushed part of her oatcake around the plate.

"You do not trust the siblings."

"I do not know them." Talia looked up again. Velara studied her for a moment.

"Are you purposefully searching for a reason not to like Bellhaven?" Talia flinched; the reaction answered before she could. Her eyes then narrowed.

"That is not fair."

"No," Velara said.

"It may not be."

"People have been kind, but that does not mean we should stay."

"No."

"The estate is not ours. The guards barely know us. We have been here for two days."

"All true." Talia's frustration increased because Velara did not resist her. Talia stared toward the stream.

"It would be easier if Bellhaven were worse," Talia finally admitted.

"If people were cruel, or if the town was dangerous, or if there was no work, then we would know. We would stay with Orion and the others."

"And because Bellhaven appears stable, the choice becomes difficult."

"Yes." Garrick watched his sister carefully. He had thought the same thing, he simply had not admitted it in those words. Velara took a drink of tea.

"I understand." Talia looked surprised.

"But," Velara continued, "I do not understand the logic of choosing three uncertain siblings over a town that can offer established work, security, and community." Talia's expression hardened again.

"They are not just uncertain siblings."

"I did not say they were bad people."

"They did more for us than anyone else. When our parents died, no nearby family offered to take us in. No one brought enough food. No one helped us leave safely." Garrick looked down at the table. The empty weeks after the attack remained difficult to remember in order. Their parents' bodies, the house, and neighbors who expressed sympathy but had children and shortages of their own. Every offer came with limits, and no one had said they could stay. Talia's voice sharpened.

"We would have died on the road to Bellhaven if they had not found us. The siblings gave us shelter. Food. They let us remain even when they had almost nothing themselves." Velara nodded.

"You should be grateful." Talia stared at her.

"That is all?"

"No. Gratitude is the foundation of many successful relationships. It is not the same as defining the remainder of your future stability around another person." Talia's mouth closed; Garrick felt the truth of the statement before he wanted to. Orion had saved them, but that did not mean Orion knew what their future should be. Roy had shared resources, but that did not mean Garrick and Talia should spend the rest of their lives dependent on whatever strange quest appeared next.

Aurelia had made space for them, but that did not mean refusing another home proved loyalty. Velara looked toward Garrick. He said nothing. Everything Talia said was true; the problem was that Velara had not denied any of it.

"You have endured repeated loss," the Reeve said.

"Your parents. Your home. The journey. The dragon attack." Her gaze moved between them.

"Trauma makes certainty appealing. So does gratitude. Neither should make decisions on your behalf." Talia looked toward Garrick as though waiting for him to object, but he could not. Velara's advice did not push them toward Bellhaven because she insulted the siblings. It pushed them toward Bellhaven because she treated their future as something separate from their debt. The Reeve picked up her fork.

"Eat before it gets cold." The command ended the most difficult part of the conversation. Velara asked simpler questions afterward. What work had Garrick done before? How long had Talia practiced archery? Did either possess skills useful beyond farming and hunting? She listened without turning every answer into a promise. When Garrick mentioned the guardhouse, she confirmed recruits received modest pay after acceptance and better pay after training. When the meal ended, Velara stood.

"Consider every option. The siblings are entitled to honesty, not ownership." The phrasing made Garrick uncomfortable. Velara appeared to notice.

"That was not an accusation against them."

"I know."

"Good." She left them beside the stream. Garrick watched her greet a woman carrying a sleeping child and stop long enough to ask whether the family required assistance. Talia remained quiet.

"You have time to walk back with me," Garrick said.

"I know." Neither mentioned the conversation. ─── 🐲🐲 ─── The guardhouse dining hall was louder than the market. Garrick sat at the end of a long table with his training group while the last of the morning meal disappeared around them. Most recruits had already eaten once before drills and seemed entirely willing to eat again. Rowan sat across from him. He was close to Garrick's age, perhaps slightly younger, with short black hair that never seemed to fall into his eyes no matter how quickly he moved.

His build was lean rather than broad, but every motion carried practiced control. During the previous day's training, Rowan had been the first recruit to notice Garrick favoring his injured side. He had adjusted the exercises without announcing it. He had also struck Garrick hard enough in the ribs to leave a bruise.

"You returned," Rowan said.

"Edric did not forbid it."

"That is nearly an invitation." A freckled recruit beside Rowan leaned closer.

"How did you sleep after yesterday?"

"Fine."

"That means badly," Rowan said. Garrick looked at him. Rowan smiled.

"You moved like a man whose entire body objected to the stairs." The surrounding recruits laughed. Garrick felt some of the tension from breakfast ease. Another recruit slid a plate of oatcakes toward him.

"Eat. Marrow runs us harder when she thinks we look comfortable."

"That seems backward."

"You will learn." They asked about Bellhaven first. Whether Garrick had visited the First Catch market. Whether he had found the upper wells. Whether he understood which tavern watered its ale. Everyone disagreed on the last question. Then someone asked about the drakes.

"What does the big one eat?"

"Wood," Garrick said.

"Could it eat a house?"

"Probably." The recruit looked delighted. Another leaned across the table.

"Does the blue one actually fly?"

"She floats."

"Without wings?"

"Yes."

"Can she carry someone?"

"Maybe."

"What does the green one make?"

"Greenbind."

"That is the glue Roy brought to Dorian?"

"Yes."

"How much?" Garrick hesitated.

"I do not know."

"Can the fire one still breathe flame?" The question tightened something in his chest.

"Kindle is recovering."

"From what?"

"The dragon attack."

"What happened to him?" Garrick's answers shortened, though the questions did not. Did Shale bite? Could Nimbus drown someone? Had Clover ever eaten meat? The recruits' curiosity was not cruel, but that did not make Garrick enjoy becoming a doorway into the siblings' lives. He had spent the last several weeks surrounded by people who treated the drakes as family. Here, every answer turned them back into wonders, threats, or stories. Rowan noticed before Garrick said anything.

"That is enough," he said. The others looked toward him.

"We are meant to exhaust Garrick during training. If you irritate him into leaving beforehand, Marrow will assign one of us his laps." A recruit groaned.

"I only asked whether the big one could eat a boat."

"And he answered that he eats wood. Apply what little reasoning you possess." The table laughed again, and the questions stopped. Rowan looked toward Garrick.

"You can thank me by losing more gracefully today."

"I did not lose badly!"

"You fell into the mud."

"That is generally how training works." Rowan had an easy way of redirecting a room. He had not ordered anyone to apologize. He had made continuing the questions socially inconvenient, then provided a joke that allowed everyone to retreat without embarrassment. The entire exchange took seconds. Garrick liked him for it. A bell rang in the yard. Immediately, benches scraped against the floor.

"Formation," someone called. The recruits moved at once. Garrick followed them through the rear doors and into the training yard. The morning sun had risen above the eastern roofs, throwing sharp shadows across the packed sand. Rows formed quickly; Rowan took position beside Garrick. Across the yard, several Awakened guards trained in a separate ring. Orion stood among them. Edric circled while Orion practiced deflecting spear thrusts with a wooden axe.

Two First Seals attacked in alternating patterns, forcing Orion to turn rather than overpower either directly. His movements remained rough, but they were already better than the previous day. Orion caught Garrick watching. For a moment, the yard seemed quieter. Orion gave him a single nod of recognition, then he turned back toward the next attack. Velara's words returned. Gratitude was not the same as building a future around someone. Bellhaven had work, training, and people Garrick's age.

A respected leader who asked difficult questions because she believed his life deserved deliberate thought. Talia could practice archery again because she wanted to, not because someone might attack them on the road. The answer seemed obvious, but that did not make it painless. Choosing Bellhaven felt like choosing safety. It also felt like taking everything the siblings had given them, carrying it to the town gates, and leaving Orion's family behind with a polite thank-you.

Garrick faced forward as the instructor called the first command. He had not decided - not fully - but he knew which choice he would have to argue against.