Paien had a special talent. He won almost every skill-based game he played. Maybe it was the sharp eyesight of a harpy, but he couldn’t remember ever losing unless it was down to luck. While it would make him the king of bets in the future, right now, it made him extremely popular during festivals like these. Norman didn’t know whether to be concerned or proud when he spotted his son hunched over a game of spinning tops, surrounded by other children.
“If ya want me to win ya the prize, ya gotta give me half of your honey cake!” Paien told the girl next to him, pointing at the honey-covered pancake in her hands. When she obliged, he knocked over the vendor’s spinning top with ease, earning the girl her cheap beaded bracelet and himself a tasty honey cake.
“So that’s why you haven’t asked me for anything yet.” Norman patted the boy’s head when he returned, triumphantly holding the pancake in his hands. He would have chided him if he had asked for something more substantial than half of her treat, but as long as he kept asking for small things like that, it would both teach him about business and save Norman some money. “Don’t run off too far, okay? You know what to do if you can’t find me or Shimri, right?” He would have mentioned Rowboat, but she was currently off drinking somewhere. It was her day off, after all.
“I whistle real loud! If ya don’t come then, I’ll go sit with one of the grannies in the booths ‘til ya find me!” Paien and Primrose had gotten so many safety rules drilled into them that any Silvae parent would scoff. Norman was a modern-day man, though, and he had seen too many children on the news to take any chances. He cringed a bit at all the unaccompanied children running around, but he wasn’t the type to meddle.
[YOU’VE BECOME A REALLY DOTING PARENT, HUH?]
Norman conveniently ignored his parasite’s astute observation in favor of looking at the spectacle in front of him. An illusion mage was telling the story of the unification of the two empires. While she spoke, small figures of light played out the scenes, amazing the children watching… and Norman. If he had to liken it to something, it’d be a stage play but scaled down to fit on dinner table.
The legend she told was a simple one, dumbed down enough for children to understand. Thousands of years ago, the empress of humankind, Gloria, welcomed the emperor of demons, Hark, with open arms. They held a feast, signed a peace treaty, and all was well. No war happened, as the people in this world are rational adults who wouldn’t label a foreign king evil just because his skin is blue. AHEM.
This story has been stolen from Royal Road. If you read it on Amazon, please report it
Silvae had barely had any wars. They only had one religion with a very much provable god, so there were no crusades or divine wars. Famine was rare because of the mana rich soil, making resource based wars really pointless. The last war was a civil one in the farming empire of Frux. Two noble factions duked it out for a few months, but when harvest season came around, they decided that ensuring good crops was more important than killing each other. The people of Silvae were reasonable like that.
After listening to stories, playing games, and buying trinkets for an hour, Norman was exhausted. He took refuge on a park bench and Shimri walked around with the younger kids in his stead. Norman paid him, of course. Shimri had managed to negotiate himself into getting 3 whole Lapis for the favor. It wasn’t much, but a passerby would think he won the lottery by the way he celebrated when his Uncle relented.
Just as Shimri had said, the town square was indeed filled with raw meat. It didn’t look nearly as ceremonial as Norman expected, though. Farmers, butchers, and small village representatives stood at booths filled to the brim with the product they wanted blessed. They could only have their stock blessed once, or else the mana would be displeased and ruin the whole lot. They also had to give their best cut to whichever child blessed them, which made for some weird competition.
Eager parents ushered their children towards the meat market in hopes of getting a premium cut of meat for free. The vendors had to be extremely picky as the quality between blessings varied greatly. The best ones were from well fed, well dressed, and cheerful children. One had to be very lucky to be born into such circumstances in this world, and those with good luck were considered to be loved by mana.
It wasn’t much of a surprise when the Persson children got hollered at by almost every booth they passed. They were practically dripping in luck. Not only were they dressed in clothes fit for nobles, they were also covered with talismans and fortune symbols. The thing that made them walking symbols of luck wasn’t any of that, though. It was the fact that they were hybrids.
Three different kinds with completely different appearances, suggesting there wasn’t an ounce of common blood between them despite their familiarity. Scars from slavery could be seen on their hands and necks, yet they walked around like royalty. They didn’t look scared or forced into being here, they were just happily eating expensive treats and laughing together. Every vendor who had seen them walk by came to the same conclusion.
They were slaves adopted into nobility. Luck incarnate, one in a million, good omens, fortune itself. Wouldn’t having them bless their products be the opportunity of a lifetime? No, it would be stupid to waste their blessings on some dead pigs. Wouldn’t it be better to have them bless their living livestock? Their houses? Their wives and children? Before anyone could act, one of the men rushed over and bowed as deeply as possible in front of the boy in green.
“PLEAAAAASE MARRY MY DAUGHTEEEEEER!”
