Evan brushed his dark hair upward, his eyes lifting to the paling night sky. He muttered under his breath, "This is really not my problem…right? but still, I pity the three who died in the execution floor in front of me." Evan sigh heavy. "I know I don't need to interfere, and mind my own business."
He stood in the plaza for a while longer now, staring at the execution platform.
Countless foot soldiers were already scrubbing it down with a buckets of water splashing across the whole wooden platform boards. They carried them back and forth, again and again until the blood thinned into pale streaks that slowly faded into the floor.
But no matter how hard they worked to clean it, the stench smell of iron lingered in the air of the plaza, it was sharp and suffocating.
A few seconds passed.
The creak of wood as they dragged the bodies across the platform rang in his ears, a sound that refused to fade away.
Evan shut his eyes for a moment, but it was still there, the death, flesh against timber, death made into mundane.
The orange light spilled over the rooftops of the house, piercing Evan's vision. He raised his left hand to shield his face and eyes, feeling its warmth against his skin.
It should have been comforting for Evan. But no.
One by one, the soldiers and the executioner carried the corpses away, stuffed into rough burlap sacks as though they were nothing more than carcasses.
Evan followed their movements with a steady gaze, his eyes tracing the way they slipped behind the raised platform, their forms swallowed by shadow.
Beyond it loomed the towering church, its dark silhouette rising like a sentinel against the sky.
He hesitated. "Should I follow them?"
Curiosity gnawed at him stronger than caution. Adjusting his sling bag over his shoulder, he slowly drifted toward the massive oak tree at the platform's edge and hid in its shadow.
From there, he peeked through the tree, watching as the men hauled the sacks away.
They crossed into the main cobblestone street, their boots striking in rhythm. The executioner led the procession at the front, his heavy steps never faltering, while the soldiers muttered to one another behind him.
Evan clenched his jaw, then slipped out of hiding, and followed them keeping a careful distance as he followed.
He walked with practiced nonchalance, as though he were just another villager minding his own errands.
Still, his heart pounded. If no one else were on this street, I'd be caught in an instant, Im so lucky there are other people now.
The village was stirring awake. Doors slowly creaked open, shutters banged and men and women stepped out into the sunlight, heading to their own errands.
But then Evan's stomach growled so loud and hollow, breaking his focus on the shadowed figures he had been following.
He pressed a hand against his abdomen, grimacing. "Damn it… I need a food, I need to eat." The ache gnawed at him more fiercely with each passing step.
His eyes caught the sight of a small stall tucked against a wall, its table stacked with fruit, bread, dried meats, and grain sacks. An old man sat behind it, nose buried in a book, his white beard drooping over the pages. Evan hurried toward him.
Clearing his throat, he said, "Good morning, sir. Could I buy two bread from your stall? How much for them?" His voice was steady and polite.
The old man glanced up, blinking slowly. "Two copper for three," he answered in a tired drawl voice. Then he squinted at Evan. "So? Are you buying or not?"
Three for two copper? That's… actually fair. Evan nodded. "I'll take them." He dug into his sling bag, fished out the coins, and exchanged them for the wrapped loaves.
"Thank you, sir." Evan resumed walking.
He bit into the bread at once, chewing hungrily as he rejoined the flow of villagers.
While his eyes stayed still fixed on the group of soldiers up ahead.
Slowly Evan devour his one bread, and then bite another one, still following the group.
Closer now he could hear their voices clearly. They laughed among themselves speaking of mundane things, but one remark caught his ear, "…the librarian's still looking for an assistant right?. Someone that who can read and write."
Another soldier snorted. "My son can barely hold a quill. Such a shame… they pay well, twenty copper a week if the rumors are true."
The first laughed bitterly. "Better salary than swinging a spear, that's for sure."
Evan perked up of what he heard.
His chewing slowed. A librarian? Twenty copper? He smirked. "I can read… And also i can write. Maybe that's my chance, being rich and not being broke anymore." He muttered the thought aloud amused at first, but then his grin turned serious. "No, I really need that job."
He quickened his walking pace, still careful not to draw attention. His heart beat faster now not from fear, but from opportunity he heard.
"So far, so good," he whispered under his breath. "They don't even notice me. Maybe I'm just that good at playing as a normal citizen." He chuckled softly.
The road slowly opened into a massive market square, and Evan's eyes widened.
The stalls stretched as far as the eyes could could see, spilling over with food, fabrics, tools, trinkets, far more better than the small market where he'd first bartered for his pen for a twenty five copper coin.
People surged through the space, man woman elderly people, haggling, shouting, laughing.
The architecture too, was grander here, tall houses with pointed arches and curved arches, painted shutters, and sloped roofs loomed above the stalls like a guardians.
"So this… this is the central marketplace," Evan breathed. "That shabby one I started at… is just a side market."
The sun light climbed more higher, baking the square in heat. Sweat soaked Evan's white shirt until it clung to his back.
He wiped his brow, muttering, "It's afternoon already…"
Up ahead, the soldiers turned down a side right street.
Evan followed their movement with his eyes and caught sight of them carrying together the sacks, sixteen men in total, with the executioner at the head. Slowly they enter the entrance of the church and vanished through the iron gates.
Evan froze.
It was too dangerous to follow them any deeper. If he pressed on he would risked exposing himself, and that could mean a disaster for him.
Better to live now he thought, and plan carefully for what comes next.
His mind lingered on the words he had overheard from the soldiers the mention of work a opportunity, for Evan it was his only chance. He needs to prepare himself.
With a frustrated sigh, he turned back toward the market, weaving into the crowd. His next step was already forming in his mind, clothes. If he was to survive here, he needed to blend in better.
He entered the first clothing store he found a clean one, well-kept shop with painted walls hanging lanterns, and a neat rows of folded garments.
White sleeves, leather coats, trousers all displayed with care. The floor was laid with polished brick, the air scented faintly of oil and wood.
But the prices. Twenty copper for a single shirt? His stomach sank. I could buy it… but then I'd starve to death.
A woman in her late twenties approached with a practiced smile. "Welcome young man. Do you need help choosing? I can assist you."
Evan forced a polite grin. "I'm just looking for now, weighing my options." He smiled awkwardly.
She nodded, stepping aside. "Let me know if you need help or anything."
"Thank you." Evan replied.
He lingered a moment longer, running his fingers over the fabric, then shook his head. "It was a beautiful clothes, for sure… but I can't afford this. Not yet."
Maybe i can afford it in the future, if i can have that work, that the soldiers are talking about.
He slipped out of the store door, bowing slightly as he left.
Back in the sweltering street, he sighed heavily. "Why don't they ever have a discounts labels in their prices?" Maybe the don't have any discounts in the medieval times Evan complain in his thoughts.
And so Evan pressed deeper into the bustling market sweat dripping down his forehead and face, searching for another store.