Guardians of Tisdonia

A Village Boy

In world of white and grey, a little girl in a red cloak wandered. This world was wild, but not in a choatic sort of way. Rather, it was wild in its absolute stillness. Like the legendary snow leopards of the Arvid fjords, this land was poised in tranquil tension. But Safia thought about none of this. She thought only of the fact that she was lost. 

She was but a wandering dot of red amidst a forest of white and grey, zigzagging between the thin, grey birches. She knew not how she had come to this spot and knew not how to return. The fresh snow here was littered with her own wandering footsteps, erasing any of her original tracks and eliminating that way of escape. 

Arvid girls did not cry—not even the ones as young as Safia. No, they were strong. They were hardy. They survived. 

Yet, she was lost - hopelessly lost in this labyrinth of vertical lines and trodden snow - and she wanted to cry. Her red lips puckered between pink cheeks and her blue eyes sparkled with tears. Just before those tears cascaded down her cheeks, however, she heard something. Something amid the stillness. A rumbling.

"The falls!" she exclaimed to herself, overjoyed. She knew the falls. She knew she could find her way back if only she found the falls. Hope ignited within her and she ran in the direction of the rumbling . . . but something followed.

***

Everyone knows that there are city boys and there are country boys. Everyone knows that both of these believe the other is ignorant, foolish, and simple-minded. But Ashton was a village boy, and that meant something.

Village boys don't look down their noses at country boys, nor do they laugh at city boys. Doing such things never got anyone anywhere in the world. No, Ashton was a clever boy (as village boys usually are) and he knew pretty well how the world worked. He knew that when a city-slicker came into the village with his father on business, with his colorful robes and expensive-looking smile, the best thing to do was to treat him like royalty. He would pay the boy many compliments, offer to shine his boots, groom his horse, and then point him and his father in the direction of the old Venerable Inn - the finest establishment in town. In return, he got a whole ten Coppers, which was far more than such work deserved.

On the other hand, when a farmer's son came into the village, Ashton first insulted him. He would comment on the softness of the boy's tomatoes or on how small his carrots were. Once the boy was sufficiently insulted, Ashton would offer to take the "inferior" produce off the boy's hands for eight Coppers.

"Bah!" the boy would surely say, "These are worth eight and a half at least!" 

To which Ashton would happily reply, "Sold!" 

Then he would drop not eight but nine Coppers into the farmer-boy's hands. Now, the farmer - an honest bloke - would argue that he oughtn't pay more than eight and a half - the amount they had agreed upon - but Ashton would insist and point out that the boy had had a long journey ahead of him and ought to use the extra half-Copper for some refreshment in the pub at the good old Venerable Inn - the finest establishment in town.

A smile and a handshake later, Ashton was off renting a booth in the marketplace at a half-Copper a day, at which he would stand and sell his new wares for as long as it took to sell them all. More often than not, he would have sold his last tomato and would be on his way home by the end of the very first afternoon. Most days, this would earn him twenty or twenty-five Coppers, and he would head home feeling quite satisfied with his day's work. Not a bad for a little bit of manners and a quick shoe-shine, he would think to himself as he entered the old Venerable Inn—the finest establishment in town. 

As he pushed his way through the inevitable throng that crowded inside the pub occupying the lowest level of the Inn, he may smile and nod to the city-slicker whose boots he shined or wave to the farm-boy who was now enjoying his cheap mug of ale. Then, with a contented grin, Ashton would climb the steps to the second and then the third level, unlock the door, and enter his family's living room. For you see, Ashton's parents were the proud proprietors of the Venerable Inn and occupied the entire third level of the establishment with young Ashton and his even younger sister Lina.