Revolting Rose

Chapter 4/Part 2 - Exposé

Only half as lost for this outing, Pagne eventually found his way to the markets. A little easier to find than a house in a shroom-stack, the Hereth Marketplace was the most expansive district of the city. It consisted of hundreds of small-capped mushroom shoppes, stalls, hecklers but most of all, pick-pockets.

For that reason Pagne's father would keep his pockets and purse filled with crabs, specially imported from Amphelius. Every time he heard a peep from a victim of their pinchers, he would draw his knife and dispensed his justice then and there. Yet, despite his work, the streets were still teeming with that particular brand of crook. Pagne also kept a crab in his purse as a deterrent, though he had no intention of taking fingers.

Having only dealt with noble merchants before, Pagne was rather surprised by the variety and quality of wares to be found among the stalls as he meandered along. However there were so many vendors that he was sure to get lost if he tried to browse them all, so he settled for the first peddler of paintings he stumbled upon.

"I'll give you three silver pieces for that mushroom painting," Pagne told the artist and opened the clasp on his purse. His crab made a break for freedom, so he poked it back in and quickly plucked out his coins.

"Y'want to pay three silvers for this?" replied the fellow with a disapproving squint at his work. "That price would be criminal, and we've got enough of 'em 'round 'ere that I don't need to be one of 'em meself."

"It looks nice enough for three to me," Pagne insisted. He had seen worse in the palace which would have cost at least thrice the price.

The artist leaned towards him and eyed his lively coin sack. "What kind of vegetable are y'hiding in there, lad? I'll take one potato for me painting and not a spoon of mash more."

"It's an Amphelian—"

"Amphelian, eh? No wonder y'can't tell rubbish when y'see it," the fellow scoffed. "I'll give y'me scribble when y'bring me a potato."

"Can't you just take the silver and buy yourself three bags of potatoes?" Pagne asked, not caring for the fuss over such a small amount.

"Ah, fer three silvers I'd probably get ten and hurt meself tryin' to carry them home. I only want one potato," the artist demanded, leaning back on his toadstool with his arms folded.

"Then only buy one and keep the rest of the silver for yourself."

"Ah, but even with one silver, I'd get into this same predicament with the spud peddler. There's no way he'd take that much fer one spud."

Pagne started to wonder whether this fellow was being deliberately difficult, and decided it would be much easier to give the silver to Vrye and insist it was for a new painting and not anything else.

After he bid the ornery old fellow adieu, he bumped into another customer and dropped his purse. The crab seized the moment and scuttled out, but as Pagne bent down to catch it, he noticed that the other customer's shoes were far too nice for most patrons of the market. His eyes travelled up their smoky gown to the knee but dared go no higher. A silvery shoe slipped from the skirt, stomped down on his escaped purse-protector, and made a crab cake out of it.

Pagne stared at the limb in front of him for an awkwardly long stretch of time. While it would seem to have belonged to a Lady, the high-class Ladies would only return for the three months of the year designated for the Season, and as such, Hereth should still be clear of such legs for another week. While he stared, a hand extended to touch his shoulder ever so lightly, then shoved him sideways.

"You will paint me in that glitzy place over there," the Lady told the painter, pointing in the direction of the centrepiece of the markets, the Crown Jewel Gardens.