Of a truth, Oakwyn was not alone in receiving the Lord's modest gift.
Thirteen merchants still lingered in Brindlemark, and Darien had seen fit to send each a small portion of the finest white salt, a treasure in these parts.
Though these merchants had never dealt in salt themselves, the clear opportunity it presented stirred both awe and ambition.
The messengers were but young male attendants, trained scarcely a day, yet sufficient for the task.
Each merchant, upon receiving the crystal morsel, could scarce contain his excitement, perceiving the profit that might be won.
The servants returned with word: each merchant vowed to attend on the morrow.
None could refuse the Lord's bidding—or the allure of such prized salt.
Preparations for the auction now fell to Darien.
Though he had never arranged such a thing, tales and scrolls had acquainted him with the necessary matters: the hall, the cataloging of goods, the call to bidders, and the arrangement of watchmen. Yet this was but a humble auction; many formalities could be set aside.
The Town Hall, seat of Brindlemark's daily governance, was chosen.
Its offices managed trade, roads, and provisions for the town. Nearly all the officials had departed, save for Isolde, who labored with care. Darien, with Celeste and Thorin, would assist where they might.
The building rose two stories high, the upper for the reeve's chambers, the lower for official matters. To Darien, the design felt cramped; hall and lodging combined, a poor arrangement for hosting guests.
Outside, a long line of townsfolk and petitioners stretched down the street.
Upon arrival, the guards made way, and Darien soon spied Isolde, frantically organizing the throng.
"Lord! Lady!" she cried, bowing deeply.
Celeste's cheeks flushed at the address.
Darien inclined his head. "A busy day, Isolde?"
She glanced toward the crowd. "…Not too burdensome," she replied cautiously.
Darien noted the superfluity of the question, a novice yet in the ways of leadership.
Celeste suppressed a soft laugh at the awkwardness.
"Ahem. Prepare a larger hall. A small auction shall be held on the morrow," he commanded.
"Immediately, my lord," Isolde answered, setting aside her papers. She alone knew the workings of Brindlemark well enough to execute his wishes.
With the hall secured and the auction goods prepared, Darien's final concern was staffing.
This proved a simple matter—the young female slaves from the previous day could serve.
Their task would be humble: to pour tea, water, and offer simple refreshments.
Upon leaving the bustling Town Hall and arriving at the training courtyard, Darien was pleased with what he saw.
Arlette had done well.
In but a single day, the girls had been transformed. Clean, neatly combed, and free of foul odors, they now stood in plain homespun gowns.
Though not adorned with silks or jewels, they bore themselves with the dignity of townsfolk rather than slaves.
Arlette had spent the day instructing them in noble comportment.
Though their bearing was not yet perfect, their energy and self-assurance were markedly improved.
They no longer trembled at every command.
When Darien entered, they all knelt in respect—even Arlette, despite her previous station.
"Rise," he said, offering his hand to lift her. Surprise and gratitude shone in her eyes.
"Well done. Should you train them to bear even half the grace of true ladies, I shall grant your freedom," he promised.
Arlette's eyes brightened.
The prospect of liberation strengthened her resolve to instruct the others diligently.
"Select ten whose bearing is finest. They shall serve at the auction," he commanded.
Arlette chose ten from the group—tall, graceful, and composed. Darien approved.
He led the ten into a chamber and instructed them personally:
"Greet all warmly. Smile sincerely. Show respect, yet speak with confidence, not with servility."
He demonstrated posture: head held high, shoulders set, back straight, abdomen firm, and feet properly aligned.
Though his directions were blunt, Darien spoke with authority, having studied etiquette long ago in his world.
The women, accustomed to the stricter mores of this world, were at first puzzled, yet soon began to comprehend his lessons.
With careful practice, they moved with a dignity and poise previously unseen.
"Not bad," Darien nodded. "A trial, yet most promising. Still, something is lacking."
"Celeste," he asked thoughtfully, "who oversees the clothing for the Barony?"
It was then he realized—without proper garments, even the finest posture and manners would falter. They would require attire befitting their station.
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📜 HISTORY
🏘️ TOWN HALLS
- In medieval Europe, a town hall was the central building where local government conducted business—managing trade, taxes, and legal matters. It was often the hub for public announcements and community gatherings.
👷♂️ REEVE
- A reeve was a local official or overseer, appointed to enforce laws, collect taxes, and supervise the day-to-day running of a town or manor. The position was crucial for maintaining order in medieval communities.