7 What Lies Beyond
The market was a complete chaos.
It roared with commotion from different sorts of activities: large tattered wagons being pushed in every direction carrying the goods that will be placed on the counters, common laborers carrying sacks of rice and vegetables in who knows where, etcetera.
Messy counters and floors were even wet with blood from sliced meat and the smell was unpleasant, a mix of smoke, fish and other wet goods, and sweat. Not the kind of thing you would want to go to for a visit.
But everyone was busy enough doing their own errands to care—some negotiating with shopkeepers to lower their prices, others calling out to customers as they showed the provisions they were selling displayed on each of their stalls.
He walked careful enough not to step on anyone's feet while holding on to his little brother tightly.
While he was trying to avoid the crowd, several ladies carrying food baskets tried to get his attention and batted their eyelashes at him, hoping to at least get noticed. But he didn't come there to flirt. So, just like always, he ignored them and proceeded to his laborious task.
When they were finally back at the usual stall, he visits once in a week to buy staple foods, he placed his little brother to the ground.
"Just stay there," he instructed.
"Miss Borodin," he greeted, "I'm sorry for leaving earlier. I had to find this little rascal." He pointed to his little brother, who was just staring gullibly at the passersby.
Miss Borodin, the food merchant who was probably in her sixties, turned to him, her mouth curved into a considerate smile, "No worries. Where, by the way, has your brother gone off to again?"
"People's Park," he answered, "Told he's met one of the princesses."
Her forehead creased at what she just heard.
"Princess?" she asked while placing the goods he purchased in a sack.
Even some shopkeepers never really liked the Aleshkovskys. They didn't have to uncover the truth to know how corrupt and debauched they were and their way of ruling.
"Yes," he replied and helped her in packing.
"Have you also seen her? What did she look like?" she asked.
No one has ever come across the young royal bloods in the villages of the kingdom, so they didn't really know what they looked like. Also, only the wealthy families had the benefit to see them in person and learn their history, while those in the lower classes had to be contented with the hearsays of who they actually were.
"No," he simply answered. He saw her but not enough to see her face clearly, so he just denied it.
It took them almost half an hour to finish packing.
When they were done, they placed the sacks of bread, legumes and other cheap goods to the horse-drawn cart just positioned outside the stall.
It wasn't much, but enough to provide for everyone. For a man of his station, it was difficult to acquire a number of these but with the common effort of his people and his double workload—a carpenter, hunter, and butcher, name it—, they were able to feed all the families.
"Thank you, Miss Borodin. I'll come back next week. See if I can buy more from your stall," he said and then went to get Adrik who was already close to falling asleep.
"Let's go," he carried his little brother and walked to the lot where he posited the cart.
He helped his little brother climb onto the horse first before he could and finally left that noisy, crowded street market.
***
It was a long travel. The scorching heat made his sweat drench and his forehead sting with the burning sensation, even with the embossed corsair hat he wore. Leading the horse was difficult in the humid air as it barely felt alive. The food-filled cart even made them slower since it was too heavy and galloping would be a bad idea.
It took them almost two hours to get to their destination. It was still in Vervali although it was a far-flung area. No one would even bother to think someone had actually lived there.
The thick lush trees that came into view indicated they were already near. They entered a narrow road covered by bushes that hid its secret passage.
When they were in the village, the individuals doing their usual chores stopped to see them approaching, pleased as the stocks of food they expected have finally arrived.
"Mr. Federova," he addressed the man in charge of the Food and Maintenance after getting off his horse and carried his little brother down.
The community they built from scratch had four distinct divisions: Food and Maintenance, Security, Health, and Education led by the people he knew best in order to thrive.
"Hello lad," Federova greeted him and turned to see the food-filled cart that he will distribute later in each house along with his men. "No meat?" he asked as he flipped the fabric that covered it.
He shook his head.
Before, men like him could still hunt—rabbits, hare, birds, etc.—but as time went on, hunting became limited to the nobility and commoners could only eat meat they raised, typically pork.
Though they had a considerable number of livestock in the community, it still wasn't enough for each family to have their fair rations of food so provisions such as that were only reserved for special occasions.
"We didn't have much today. Please inform your men we have to do twice as much if we want to get good food," he ordered.
"It will be difficult to ask some men to–"
He cut him off before Federova could utter another word, "It's an order. If they don't want to do it, ask the Security Division to throw them out. There's no room for negligent people in my camp."
He was about to leave for his wooden cabin when he turned back and faced the old man, "And please don't call me lad. You know better than to call me one. Just do your job."
Federova bent his head down in humiliation, "Yes, sir."
It was the last thing he heard, and then he went to his cottage.
