Before dawn, rustling sounds could already be heard from Clara's house.
Lester yawned, stumbling into the kitchen half-asleep. He fumbled for the flint, lit the oil lamp on the stove, and warmed up the ten multigrain buns he had prepared the night before—today's breakfast.
Clara stepped out with her things packed and knocked on the children's door.
"Adam, Ben! Wake up your siblings and get dressed. It's chilly—put on everything."
Each child wore a new cotton base layer, a thick cotton jacket in the middle, and an old outer garment. When the sun came out, they could shed the outer layer, which also protected the new clothes—no spares in winter.
Their old rags? Lester had tried washing them by the river once—they came back as shreds. Now, they served as cleaning cloths and foot rags.
The four kids bounced out of bed, brimming with excitement. After a noisy round of washing up, breakfast was ready.
Once the six had eaten, they locked the house and headed off by fire torches to the village chief's home.
Lester had already arranged to borrow the ox cart. The village chief's youngest son was up, cart hitched and ready. He gave Lester a long list of dos and don'ts.
It wasn't easy to borrow this cart—Clara's reputation had made it possible. If Lester had come alone, the door wouldn't even have opened.
The ox had been well-fed, and though the cart wasn't fast, it was still quicker than walking. They'd reach Willowridge County in under two hours.
The four kids clung to the sides of the cart, starting off full of energy but quickly going quiet from the jostling. Lester wasn't exactly a smooth driver—the ox kept stopping to snack on roadside grass.
Still, they finally arrived under the county's city gate.
It was a cloudy day. Morning light had fully broken, yet a mist still lingered.
But nothing could dampen the crowd's enthusiasm—it was market day, and near year-end. People had come from all around to shop. With the county office also auctioning cattle, the place was packed, lines stretching out at the gate.
Lester had thought they'd arrived early—clearly, others had beaten them to it. So they obediently queued up at the end.
City entry cost one copper coin per person—babies exempt, but any child who could walk had to pay.
So most people didn't bring children. Usually, it was couples, father-son pairs, or adult neighbors going in together.
Adam and his siblings sat wide-eyed in the cart—just the gate alone was enough to awe them.
Then came the crowd—so many people, so many dialects. They couldn't look around fast enough.
After ten minutes of queuing, it was finally their turn.
Clara was surprised when the two gate officers recognized Lester and even greeted him by name.
Lester played it cool, chatted briefly, paid six coins for the family, and led the ox inside.
Since they brought a cart, they had to pay two extra coins as a "vehicle management fee."
But it wasn't just a pointless charge. Paying allowed you to park your cart in the livestock pens near the gate, guarded by officers.
Of course, parking cost another five coins—flat rate, regardless of time.
They hadn't even stepped fully into the city, and already thirteen coins were gone.
Still, it reduced the risk of theft—ox carts were valuable.
Once the cart was parked, Clara called the kids down.
Adam and Ben were old enough to walk behind the adults, while Clara and Lester each carried one of the twins as they moved through the crowd.
The children were filled with curiosity but also a bit nervous.
They noticed how nicely city folk dressed—colorful clothes, embroidered collars.
Men had attendants, and noblewomen wore veils and silk, escorted by stout women who cleared paths through the crowd.
From the moment they entered the city, it was clear—commoners had to walk on the edges of the street. The center was for the privileged.
Only after passing the busiest stretch did regular folks begin to fill the middle of the road.
East Street and West Street were like two different worlds.
East Street was lined with restaurants and shops. West Street? Street vendors everywhere.
It was finally less crowded, so Clara asked, "You seem pretty friendly with those gate guards?"
Lester raised an eyebrow smugly. "I did study at the county academy. Knowing a few people isn't that strange."
"Didn't the academy only allow two days off per month?" Clara quickly caught the slip. "When did you have time to make friends with gate guards?"
Lester clammed up.
Clara narrowed her eyes and gave him a sharp look.
Grumbling, Lester muttered, "I helped them with a few things, that's all."
Clara could guess what kind of "help." With Lester's personality, he'd probably been a lookout or muscle for something shady.
"What's with that look?" Lester snapped, sensing her judgment.
Clara just shook her head.
Lester gave her a side glance. Was she scared now, knowing he had ties to the guards?
He was overthinking again. Clara had simply spotted the cattle auction and rushed over, telling Adam and Ben to stay close as she carried Chad and Deb through the crowd.
People surrounded the square in three thick circles, waiting for the officials to bring the cattle out for bidding.
Several wealthy households had sent stewards to buy livestock.
Though technically servants, they were better dressed than most commoners—well-fed, tall, and robust. You could mistake them for wealthy farmers.
Lester stood tall, wearing a brand-new blue cotton coat. With his good looks and scholarly bearing, he held his head high like a refined man from the academy.
Some bystanders even thought he was a student and politely made way, allowing Clara's family into the front ring.
Adam was amazed—he never knew his dad had such clout in the city.
Clara wasn't surprised. Lester clearly knew how to lean on his looks and charm. He hadn't said anything about who he was—these folks had just made their own assumptions.
A few of the stewards politely asked if Lester was also here to buy cattle.
There was a hint of probing in their tone, but Lester, long feeling unappreciated at home, now basked in the attention. Never mind he didn't have a single coin to his name—he replied with confidence:
"Just browsing. If they're strong and healthy, I might take a few home."
Clara clearly saw their expressions shift—now they really thought he was a serious buyer.
They'd just mistaken a performer for the real deal.
(End of Chapter)
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