Early in the morning, Darien, clad in neat raiment, opened the chamber door and chanced upon Celeste.
"Good morrow!" he greeted.
"Ah… g-good morrow, Darien!" she stammered, still unpracticed in such salutations.
"Darien… what are you holding there?" Celeste asked, eyeing the cup and the curious implement in his hand.
"I am cleansing my teeth," he replied simply.
"Cleanse thy teeth?" Celeste frowned, perplexed. "What be that?"
"'Tis to rid the mouth of foulness and keep the breath sweet," he explained patiently. "Surely you try this yourself?"
Celeste's cheeks warmed at the gentle question.
"Of course! I… I do cleanse my teeth daily," she declared, producing a small clove and displaying it with a hint of pride.
Darien's eyes widened ever so slightly. One clove! In this world, such spices were rare, valued as highly as gold. To use one merely to freshen the mouth—truly a lavish indulgence. "A fine choice, truly."
"Hmph!" she muttered inwardly, though in truth she seldom used cloves, relying on humble salt and twigs of hazel for daily cleansing.
Darien then withdrew a curious set of instruments she had never seen. They gleamed, clearly effective, yet he held them with gentle care, offering her the first chance.
"Would you care to try?" he asked softly, bowing his head slightly in invitation, not command.
Celeste blinked, taken aback by his kindness. "Y-yes!" she nodded, shy but attentive.
"Very well," he said, producing a fresh set of implements and a small bottle of paste. "Take care: rub thus, rinse, and all shall be well. I shall observe, only to guide you kindly."
Celeste's eyes shone as she mimicked his motions. "It smells most wondrous!" she exclaimed.
"A mint from distant lands," he replied, his smile gentle. "Now, I shall prepare our morning meal. You don't need to hurry."
Though lord of the land, Darien prepared the meal himself, showing care for each detail. He wished her to feel at ease, never rushed, never judged.
After they shared a modest breakfast of fresh focaccia and creamy ricotta, Darien returned to his plans for Brindlemark. His mind was full of purpose: the town must flourish not only in trade and dress, but in comfort and dignity for all.
He considered food first: bread, cheese, cured meats, fresh eggs—all could rival fare from distant lands without excess.
Next, garments and tailoring. Yesterday's lesson had shown him the power of elegant, practical dress.
Then, the inns. No one should endure the winter's chill; the lodgings must serve both gentlefolk and wayfarers.
Finally, the houses. In every era, a roof and hearth are of greatest concern.
Many in Brindlemark longed for dwellings of their own, yet prices were high, and many houses lay empty, hoarded by the former lord rather than granted to the people. To Darien, such waste was folly.
Most of the poor still occupied the town, and to prosper, the folk's comfort must be raised.
Only then could they bring greater wealth and value to Brindlemark and its lord.
Thus Darien knew: the living and the contentment of his people must be tended, that hearths and hearts alike might flourish.
Hours slipped by unnoticed.
"Darien, the hour of the auction draws near," Celeste's gentle voice reminded him.
He set aside his quill and parchment.
Sheets upon sheets bore the fruits of his meditations, plans and calculations for the prosperity of Brindlemark.
"Ah…" Darien murmured, rising to ease the stiffness of his shoulders and neck after long study. But before he could, he felt a small, delicate hand upon his shoulder.
Darien started slightly.
"Darien… you seem weary. Allow me to ease your burden," Celeste said softly.
He inclined his head, a gentle smile touching his lips. "You are too kind, my lady. Your thoughtfulness honors me."
As her nimble hands worked, easing the tension from his shoulders, Darien felt a rare calm settle over him. The simple act of care, gentle and unhurried, brought a quiet peace he had seldom known.
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🔍 Did you know?
The earliest toothbrushes weren't brushes at all. People in ancient civilizations used chew sticks — twigs with frayed ends — to scrub their teeth. In medieval Europe, folks often rubbed their teeth with cloth, salt, or even crushed herbs before the bristle toothbrush (from China, 15th century) spread westward.
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🔍 Did you know?
In medieval times, inns were more than just a place to rest. They served as centers of trade, news, and diplomacy, where merchants, pilgrims, and nobles might all cross paths. Some inns were even run by monasteries to shelter weary travelers on long pilgrimages.
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