The city of Thorn

 They did not enter the city walls, common goods such as grain and cloth were located in the outer districts, which was supposedly Orin’s point of interest for the day.

It was almost rural when compared to the markets of the inner districts, but the streets were still filled to the brim with merchants and vendors, thousands of coins being exchanged with each second as craftsmen of various trades dropped by after a day of hard work.

Orin and Hugo were the only ones present from their troupe, the rest having stayed outside the city boundary to avoid taxes and find cheaper accommodations.

It had only been thirty minutes since the pair's arrival at the city, and Hugo was already exhausted.

“Hello my good man! How do you do on this fine evening? I hope the summer heat is treating you well?” Orin certainly had a theatrical presence, even if it fell short of his father’s.

The man—a carpenter judging from the splinters of wood on his clothes—gave Hugo a confused glance, he could only shrug in response.

“I’m doing fine, business as usual.” The craftsman awkwardly responded. Orin threw an arm around his shoulder in a friendly manner.

“Don’t be so stiff now, I was simply thinking about moving to Thorn and wanted to know the locals better. Miss! An apple for me and this gentleman please.” The vendor was more than happy to comply, Orin must’ve bought at least twenty by now.

Reluctant as the craftsman was, free fruit was free fruit, and he left several minutes later after having answered at least a dozen questions from the merchant, mostly about hearsay and where he did his groceries.

“Are we done yet Sir Orin? I’m getting tired just from watching this.” It was difficult enough meeting strangers, doing so ten times in the span of half an hour?

Hell on earth, even if he wasn’t actually doing anything.

“Drop the ‘Sir’, my boy, I’m no noble. Besides, the term ‘mister’ has been in fashion lately, I’d much prefer you call me that.” In spite of his non answer, it appeared as though they were, in fact, done. Or were at least moving locations.

“What do you think of the markets? Do you see any irregularities in pricing?” Orin asked as they began to walk towards the outer edges of the city where they left the others.

“Well, food and firewood in Thorn is exorbitantly expensive as usual.”

The merchant smirked. “Yes, they’re overpriced when compared to the villages aren they not? Yet the people of the city pay with no complaint, nor are they starving.”

A quick glance would prove his point, every person within sight appeared well fed and healthy in body. 

Those who couldn’t afford to live here moved to the countryside, and those who didn’t starved, leaving no room for slums or beggars.

Hugo placed a hand on his chin in thought.

“Basic necessities are overpriced, and could be brought in much cheaper from surrounding villages.” He mused.

The grin on Orin’s face stretched even further. “It could be cheaper, yet it's not. Why do you think basic necessities are so expensive here?”

“...Perhaps transport taxes? Most vendors here are locally sourced, and I remember father complaining about how costly it is to enter and leave the city with cargo. That inflates the price of...”

Hugo’s eyes widened in realization at that moment.

“You said there will probably be tax reforms soon, and if it results in freer trade local prices will plummet, allowing people to spend more on luxury goods, like high quality clothes. Not to mention the fact that those luxury goods will also benefit from tax cuts.”

His companion chuckled for a few moments before laughing out loud, roughly placing a hand upon his head and ruffling his hair.

“You’re certainly something alright! I can see how you managed to design that silo with no prior experience. One lecture and the kid figures all that out by himself!” People passing by looked at the two of them strangely, though Orin hardly seemed to care, he spoke excitedly.

“You’re precisely right, or at least I believe you are. That’s why I’ve been buying up high quality fibers from surrounding villages. The markets will be booming soon enough, and I’ll be the first to have my foot through the door! I almost pity the competition.” The man continued to rant about his master plan, though Hugo had a single concern throughout it all.

“...But what if the reforms don't happen? What then?” He asked.

The man shrugged. “You can’t reach success without a little gambling. I spoke extensively with Old Bram about it, and we’ve both agreed it's worth the risk.” Orin waved his worry away, a casual smirk and an easy posture betraying his confidence.

“Besides, it wouldn’t be the first time. We’ll just build it all up from the ground again, we always do.” His voice softened at the last few words, though Hugo didn't notice it.

‘Hugo, be quick with the supports, we’re heading down after you in ten minutes.’ the man said in a strict tone, Hugo nodded before descending down the tunnel. Ten minutes, that’s all the time he had to check the integrity of the walls and reinforce where necessary. Perhaps the cave-in wouldn’t have happened if he hadn’t gotten distracted that day, if he had simply stuck to the familiar.

“...How can you be so sure you’ll be able to recover?” His voice was strained, even quieter than it usually was, uncomfortable memories unearthed.

Orin let out a confused hum as he glanced at him with questioning eyes, Hugo had no explanation to offer.

 The merchant answered nevertheless.

“So long as you’re still breathing you’ve always got a second chance. And if you aren’t, well, then you don’t have much to worry about.” He chuckled at his morbid joke for a moment.

“Besides, life is too short to waste away in fear. If you see a leap worth taking, then take it. That’s what I think.”

The irony of Orin’s words stopped him dead in his tracks, to be lectured on the brevity of existence was… frustrating, to say the least.

He knew better than any other, just how short life can be. The feeling of looking back in one’s final moments and seeing nothing within the past, all forgotten under the mountain of repetition. That’s why—

“What’s wrong kid?” Eyes holding confusion and concern stared at him, Hugo cleared his throat, shifting his weight in nervousness.

“N-Nothing, mister Orin, just pondering on your words about second chances.” The man clearly didn’t believe his words, though he chuckled the moment off nevertheless.

“Keep pondering then, there is much wisdom to be found in the words of a seasoned merchant.” Hugo wished to offer a cutting response, though he kept quiet, no longer comfortable with the conversation.

Silence reigned as the city waned into rural landscape, and over the distance they could see the rest of the caravan beginning to unsaddle the horses in preparation for the night, a small camp of a dozen tents set up nearby.

“How’s the city?” Asked Old Bram as he approached, a pencil and a journal clenched to his chest.

“Just as we expected, inflated prices and rich townsfolk. The nobles will have nothing to wear with every other craftsman walking around in silk and cashmere.”

“Good, good.” The old man whispered to himself as he began to aggressively jot things down in his journal.

“The specific price range?” Bram continued to question.

A snake's smirk spread across Orin’s face.

“Better than we expected, high enough that we’ll be making bank even if we don't contract a tailor. We’ll be in the green just selling the raw materials.”

The old man’s smirk mirrored Orin's with those words.

“Then we’ll be swimming in profits if we do hire one. Excellent.” Bram snickered to himself as he turned to leave, continuing to write in his journal. Hugo could practically smell the greed with each stroke.

Avarice truly knew no bounds, he could only imagine what the guilds were like.

“I think I’ll be heading back home now, it’ll be turning dark soon.” He announced as he mounted Clover.

“You’re not staying for the night?” Hugo shook his head.

“I left on short notice, mother will be worried if I stay. Thank you for all you have taught me today, mister Orin.” The merchant waved his thanks away.

“Save your appreciation for later, I’m confident we’ll be seeing each other often from now on. I still have to work out a few deals with your father.” The boy nodded, and with that goodbye Hugo began to canter away with a small prod for Clover.

The sound of tapping hooves were his only companion as the city began to recede behind him, left in the distance, far far away; the sight in front of him turning into familiar fields of green.

“A second chance huh.” Was the whisper that left his mouth, even if it he hadn’t intended so.