The secret spilled out one evening as Nico and Kai argued over the last piece of honeycomb. "We need to save it for Seres' cake!" Mia hissed, swatting Nico's hand away.
The argument froze. All eyes turned to her, then darted to Ardyn, realizing he'd heard.
"Birthday?" he asked, the word unfamiliar on his tongue but the concept clear from their sudden, conspiratorial grins.
"Three days!" Nico confirmed, his earlier greed forgotten in a wave of excitement. The ruins instantly filled with whispered plans for streamers made of dyed cloth scraps, a special stew, and the perilous task of stealing Seres' measurements to secretly mend her favorite cloak.
Ardyn listened, a strange, warm nervousness settling in his chest. This was more than just another day; it was a ritual, a tradition. His first celebration. A sudden, fierce desire rose in him to contribute, to make it perfect for the girl who had given him a second life in the snow. The pressure felt entirely new, and entirely welcome.
Seres stepped through the doorway, the morning light catching the dust motes swirling around her. Without a word, Seres pressed the small, familiar pouch of coins into my hand, her fingers brushing mine for the briefest moment. "Salt. Thread. Barley," she instructed, her voice low and practical. Her pale eyes held mine, and in them, I saw not just a list of errands, but a silent trust. She was giving us a task, but she was also, unknowingly, giving us an opportunity. Ethan stood ready beside me, his own expression carefully neutral. We nodded, turning away from the ruins and toward the path to Velsharra, the weight of our secret purpose lending a new energy to our steps.
The moment she turned away to speak to Mia, Ethan leaned close to Ardyn, his voice a low, urgent whisper. "Today. It's the perfect day to get her gifts."
The morning of our market trip was exciting. Ethan met my eyes with a sharp, knowing nod—our mission was clear. As we prepared to leave, the younger children scrambled into action the moment Seres' back was turned.
Kai, nimble as a squirrel, scaled a crumbling wall to drape strips of faded, colorful cloth from the higher cracks. Nico hunched over by a secluded corner, his tongue poked out in concentration as he used crushed berries and charcoal to paint wobbly, cheerful pictures on the grey stone. Mia and Luna sat together in a patch of sunlight, their small fingers quickly and quietly weaving wildflowers into long, delicate garlands.
I watched them stash their creations in shadowy nooks and behind old pillars whenever Seres moved nearby, their movements a perfect blend of excitement and stealth. It was a coordinated operation, and I felt a surge of pride to be part of it.
The best plan was Mia's. As Ethan and I headed for the door, she skipped over to Seres, grabbing her herb basket. "I will come!" she announced brightly. "Show me the… blue-leaf plant again?"
Seres, ever patient with Mia's curiosity, agreed with a soft hum. As they walked away toward the forest, Mia chattering loudly about plants, I knew it was a perfect distraction. She would keep Seres busy for hours, giving us all the time we needed to prepare her surprise. Ethan nudged my arm, and we set off for the market, our own task feeling suddenly very important.
The familiar noise of Velsharra's market washed over them, a chaotic symphony of shouting vendors, clattering carts, and the general hum of too many people in too small a place. But today, Ardyn and Ethan ignored the stalls selling spiced meats and fresh bread. Their purpose was different. They went straight to the Adventurers' Guild, the sturdy hall with the crossed blades crest. The pouch of coins Seres had given them for supplies felt light in Ardyn's pocket, and they both knew its contents were for the family's needs—grain, salt, cloth for mending—not for gifts.
Ethan led the way inside, the clamor of the guild hall momentarily drowning out the market. He scanned the quest board, his eyes skipping over the notices for goblin exterminations and glowing mushroom retrieval. His finger landed on a smaller, simpler notice, pinned near the bottom. "This one," he said, pulling it down.
It was a request to find a missing tabby cat named "Boots," last seen near the tanner's yard. The reward was five copper pennies.
It wasn't much, but it was a start.
The work was… humble. Their first task, pinned low on the Adventurers' Guild board, was a crude sketch of a round-faced tabby with a perpetually sour expression. Boots—missing from the baker's home near the fish market. The pay was laughably small, but it was a start.
The fish market was impossible to miss. The air reeked of salt and scales, the calls of merchants rising above the crash of waves. And there, amidst the chaos, was their quarry: a plump tabby perched brazenly on the edge of a cart, swiping furiously at a slippery silver fish that kept flopping just out of reach.
"There!" Ethan hissed, pointing.
Boots spotted them at once. With the cunning of an old rogue, he abandoned the fish and bolted under a cart piled high with wicker baskets. Ethan moved right, Ardyn left, trying to box him in. The cat darted between the skirts of a fishmonger, nearly tripping her, before scrambling up a stack of empty crates with a furious hiss.
Ethan raised his hands slowly, clicking his tongue. "Easy now… here, kitty."
For a moment, it almost worked. Boots tilted his head, curious. Then, with a flick of his tail, he launched himself onto a nearby stall's awning, sending the canvas sagging under his weight. Shouts followed.
Ardyn didn't hesitate. As the cat made a dash along a low stone wall, his eyes fell on a coil of rope lying abandoned nearby. Instinct moved faster than thought. He scooped it up, spun it once, and with a single fluid motion sent the loop sailing. The lasso fell neatly around Boots' middle just as the cat leapt for freedom. A quick tug, firm but gentle, ended the chase.
Boots yowled, the picture of feline betrayal, but the fight was over.
The baker's daughter met them at her family's stall—a girl of maybe fifteen, with flour-dusted cheeks and worry carved deep in her eyes. When Ardyn knelt to place the squirming Boots in her arms, relief flooded her face. "Boots! You dreadful thing!" she scolded, though her voice shook with laughter.
Then her gaze shifted. Her eyes, wide and unblinking, traced Ardyn's sharp features, the mess of golden hair that caught the afternoon light. Color bloomed across her cheeks.
"Oh… thank you, my lord," she whispered, clutching the cat closer. Her voice had softened, gone almost airy, as though he had just saved her from a dragon instead of wrangling a gluttonous tabby.
Ethan made a choking sound, which he smothered with an exaggerated cough. "The payment?" he prompted, deadpan.
The girl blinked, startled, as if she'd forgotten the world outside her daydream. "O-of course!" She fumbled at her apron, producing five coppers. Her hand lingered a heartbeat too long as she pressed the coins into Ardyn's palm, gaze never leaving his face.
By the time they turned away, coins pocketed, Ethan could barely contain himself. He elbowed Ardyn sharply in the ribs. "My lord," he echoed in a ridiculous laughter. "Rescuer of lost kittens, breaker of innocent hearts. Goldhair, you're wasted on chopping wood."
Ardyn shook his head, a faint smile tugging at his lips despite himself. The whole thing was absurd. He'd lassoed a cat, and somehow it had played out like a scene from a cheap romance tale. Still—absurd or not—it was their first earnings.
The next job was less about chasing and more about strength. A merchant stood in the street, red-faced and sweating, his cart stuck fast in the mud. One wheel had sunk deep, tilting the whole load of crates so badly it looked ready to fall.
"A hand! For the love of trade, someone lend a hand!" the man shouted.
Ardyn and Ethan shared a quick look, then stepped forward. The task was simple, though heavy and rough. They planted their boots in the muck, leaned their shoulders against the cart, and pushed with all they had. Ardyn felt his ribs ache sharply, but he kept going, teeth clenched. Ethan, beside him, gave a low grunt, his strength holding steady.
With a loud, sucking noise, the wheel finally popped free of the rut. The merchant rushed to shove a stone under it, keeping the cart steady.
"Now, the goods! Quick, before they fall!" he cried.
Ethan climbed onto the cart, handing down the big crates one by one—pots, cloth rolls, and other heavy wares. Ardyn carried them to the side of the road, setting them down where they would be safe. They moved fast and in rhythm, neither needing to say much, until the cart stood empty and secure.
The merchant, breathing easier now, wiped his forehead with a rag. "Good lads. Strong lads." He dug into his purse and pressed two bronze van into Ethan's palm. "Saved me a week's work, you did."
The coins felt heavier than the coppers from before, a true reward for hard labor. Another step closer to the gift they needed.
Their last job was the hardest by far. The caravan master, an old man with a gray beard and sharp eyes, set them to mucking out his stables.
The smell hit them first—thick, sour, and heavy in the air. The work was worse. Pitchforks and shovels scraped over the packed floor as they hauled out piles of foul hay and waste. Flies buzzed around them, the heat of the stalls clinging to their skin.
Ardyn worked in silence, sweat rolling down his face. Every twist of his body sent a dull ache through his ribs, but he didn't stop or complain. Ethan groaned now and then, but he kept pace, matching Ardyn fork for fork.
By the time the stalls were clean, both of them were streaked with grime, their arms burning from the labor. The caravan master gave them a rare nod of approval and pressed a handful of iron bits into their hands. The dark, heavy coins clinked together, rough and solid, more real than the coppers or bronze from before.
The work was dirty, backbreaking, and thankless—but it was honest.
By the time they were done with the stables, both boys were exhausted. Their hands were sore, their clothes reeked, and the coins they had earned jingled faintly in Ethan's pouch. Still, it was enough. Enough to find something worthy of Seres.
They wandered the market streets, weaving between stalls stacked high with goods—bright cloths, rows of spices, iron tools, simple trinkets. Ethan stopped at one stand selling knives, lifting one to inspect its balance, but shook his head. "Too plain," he muttered.
Ardyn, meanwhile, had drifted toward a smaller stall, almost hidden between two larger ones. The items here were delicate, finer than the rest. Wooden combs, beads, polished stones, and a small display of pins. One in particular caught his eye—a slender rod of dark wood, smooth and simple, but tipped with a tiny silver flower.
He picked it up carefully. It wasn't flashy or expensive, but it had a quiet kind of beauty. He imagined it sliding into Seres's pale hair, holding it in place. Somehow, it felt right.
Ethan leaned over his shoulder, whistling low. "That's… actually not bad."
The stall keeper smiled knowingly. "Hair pin. Strong wood, won't break. Good gift for a lady."
Ardyn glanced at the price. Just enough. The coins they had worked so hard for clinked down on the counter, and the pin was wrapped in a scrap of cloth.
They left the stall with the gift tucked safely away. For the first time all day, Ardyn felt lighter. The dirt, the aches, the exhaustion—it was worth it.