CHAPTER 2

"Excuse me, Madame?"

Sandra said to attempt to raise the cost if possible, however, to accept whatever was offered for it.

"Are you sure?"

Sandra gazed reflectively at the image of the young woman in the painting. She remembered how, in those days, she had been a naive, trusting girl, relying on her father to protect her from all harm. But that was no longer possible; her father had passed away.

Sandra declared affirmative gratitude to Vivienne as she left her chamber and went back to the kitchen. She was averse to observing the housekeeper take away the painting from her room.

"As yet another Viva patrol squad went by the market," Sandra observed, "it feels like their patrols are happening more often."

"Madame" Lucia, who had volunteered to be a market-stall-minder and was an Belcastle lady's maid, said, "Perhaps they are."

"But why?" Sandra queried as the troops receded into the bazaar. "Lucia?" she continued when the maid did not respond. Most of Sandra's attendants were unwilling to converse with her informally. Nevertheless, Lucia, a notorious blabbermouth, was usually less reticent than the other domestics.

Lucia pretended to survey the produce stall, but she and Sandra were the only ones from Belcastle there. "I heard that someone broke into the Royal Rioux Library," Lucia murmured.

"Ah," Sandra uttered, "that's nothing out of the ordinary. Those occurrences have been going on for more than a year now."

"Lucia asserted that the authorities were nearly successful in apprehending the criminal,".

"Ouch!" Sandra uttered, her expression one of pain. "I understand," she said.

As the customer drew nearer to Lucia's stall, she recalled her manners and gave a polite curtsy. Waving her arm in a welcoming gesture, she called out in a friendly voice, "Fresh summer wheat, potatoes, and carrots! Sweet as winter!" Her words echoed those of the other sellers in the marketplace.

While Lucia was bargaining with patrons, Sandra completed stocking the stall. She made sure the chicken eggs wouldn't topple over, propped up a basket filled with goat-milk soaps, and organized the vegetables.

"You're all ready," Sandra declared in the midst of a pause in trading. "A stable hand will be here at midday to take away any baskets that are empty."

"Lucia curtsied to Sandra, expressing her gratitude, "Thank you, Madame."

Sandra wiped the perspiration from her brow using the reverse of her hand. "Naturally," she uttered. "I shall be..."

"Lucia," said Sandra, "What I was about to say is..."

Sandra nodded her head in acknowledgement as a group of Viva soldiers strolled into the market. There were too many to be on patrol, yet they were all wearing their burgundy and charcoal-gray uniforms, complete with chest armor, gloves, boots, and helms. It was clear that they were still on duty.

At the head of the procession stood a man wearing the uniform of a high-ranking officer. His long, burgundy coat flowed down past his knees and had a slit in the back like a swallow's tail. Adorning his chest were several medals, while his undershirt, the hem of the jacket, and his breeches were all a shade of Viva grey. The most prominent feature was the black patch over his right eye, held firmly in place by two black bands that ran through his disheveled, dark brown hair, which could be seen peeking out from beneath his military hat. The hat had a wide and drooped brim, and, in accordance with Viva tradition, the left side of the crown was pinned to the side. All the decorations on his chest showed that he must have been at least a captain, if not a major.

Sandra tightly gripped her clammy palms together, her eyes widening in surprise. An esteemed ranking officer, particularly one so young, was an uncommon sight. He looked to be no more than twenty years old.

A hush descended on the market as the lawman and his crew made their way along the path, halting at Sandra's stall.

"Assistance do you require?" Sandra inquired, keeping her voice courteous yet aloof as Lucia moved away to the rear of the booth.

The officer scrutinized Sandra as some of his subordinates poked the fruits and vegetables. He was silent as his gaze roamed over Sandra's figure.

Sandra took a deep breath and forced herself to remain composed despite the disgust churning in her gut. "Yes?" she asked cautiously.

The officer refocused his gaze on Sandra's countenance, noticing her cropped locks.

"Did you get into a fight with someone?" a soldier standing to the right of the officer inquired, nodding towards Sandra's disheveled hair.

Sandra gazed at him for an instant before forming a false grin. "How could I not, with all of you noble gentlemen guarding this town and ensuring our security?"

Some of the soldiers laughed loudly.

Reaching into a pouch on his black belt, the officer spoke in a low-pitched voice, resembling that of a growling cat, "How much are the carrots?"

"For a bundle of five copper coins," Sandra declared, "I'll charge you two more than the market price, making it ten for a basket."

The officer tossed ten copper coins onto the stand, his gaze fixed upon Sandra. "One basket," he declared.

Sandra sensed his eyes on her as she put the coins into her pocket, filled a bag with carrots from her basket, and presented it to the lawman. "I appreciate the custom," she said.

The officer gave a wry smile as he saw the vegetables in her hands. "Until tomorrow," he said, before lightly tapping the top of his hat.

Sandra tucked her trembling hands behind the stall as the officer snatched the carrots away. She forced her mouth into a tight line, her eyes following the soldiers as they departed.

Lucia muttered "animals" to herself as she was busy folding burlap sacks in the back corner.

"Yes," Sandra acquiesced grimly.

Sandra shivered, as if attempting to rid herself of the sensation of the policeman's gaze upon her. "I must be going," she uttered, picking up a basket and a worn-out cloak. "Let Leticia's home know if you require my presence," she added.

"Yes, Ma'am," Lucia replied, bowing his head in respect as the bustle of the marketplace recommenced.

Sandra departed the market with its plethora of wares and commodities, forsaking the large buyers and sellers—the government-sanctioned merchants. Rather than displaying their goods in outdoor markets and stalls, the merchants ran stabilized brick-and-mortar stores. After Viva obtained control, a few were forced to close up shop, and a couple more abandoned their businesses when faced with Viva's oppressive taxes, yet a majority of the merchant families were still present.

When Sandra stepped outside the shop, she saw a woman standing near a tall tree.

The bell jingled as Sandra entered the shop, alerting the shopkeeper of her presence. "The lady is in the backyard," he informed her. Going out the back, Sandra spotted a female figure standing beside a towering tree.

"Thank you," uttered Sandra, as she quickly entered a back room. She weaved her way through a long corridor cluttered with shipping containers and merchandise and scurried beyond a small office, filled to the brim with documents and books. "Leticia?" she called out, peeking her head out of the back of the shop.

There was a tiny plot of turf, with two horses tied up there. A young woman, wearing a dress that was both comfortable and costly, was standing in front of the horses, giving them some grass stalks to eat. "Sandra! What have you done to your hair?" the woman exclaimed, as she let go of the grass and threw her arms around Sandra.

"I chopped it off. A wigmaker gave me a good price for it," Sandra said, brushing the slanted fringe of her bangs out of her eyes.

"Dreadful it appears,"Leticia declared.

Sandra rolled her eyes and said, "I'm really thankful I can rely on you to cheer me up, Leticia."

Leticia uttered an apology as she tilted Sandra's head to get a better look at her drastically shortened hair. "Did you really have to snip it so short?" she asked in disbelief.

"So it is," he replied fearfully.

"Ah, yes. The hue remains quite beautiful."

"Merci," Sandra said. "I despise Viva fashion trends, yet I am starting to believe I should imitate them and shield my head with a scarf or something similar."

Leticia inquired, "Why? You indeed look sorrowful, but you are not alone in having sold your hair in the recent few months."

"Yes," Sandra exclaimed, running her fingers through her cropped tresses, "but just before I departed the market, a troop of Viva warriors stared at me!"

Leticia tutted disdainfully. "Ruffians," she uttered, shaking her head in disapproval. "A true gentleman would surely behave with more decorum."

Sandra leaned against the hitching post and inquired, "How is business?"

"Lucia remarked that, seemingly, Aria had been able to return home at a reasonable hour in recent days and he had not spoken of relocating to Aube for the past four weeks,"