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?

  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 could sand it off… but that would damage the runes.

  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.”

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  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 is the one. I was not 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 silvers when 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 that way. 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?”

  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 said with a smile, pointing 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. “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!”