Mayen slept through a night of comfort on a rich bed with pillows and blankets; for peasant farmers, Soren and Eliadoriss sure had the luxurious lifestyle. The room he had been given was separated from his father, which was also nice: no more snoring.

The following day went fast and was filled with wonders for him. Never in his whole life, so he thought, had he ever been into a marketplace; years later, he would recall with amusement how ignorant he had been to say such a thing as “in my whole life” when having been only sixteen. Still, for that Tuesday the 25^th of the summer month of Windor, in the year 3’405, it was true most certainly then. The worst he had ever lived had been the time when the bear threatened to kill him at the age of eight, followed immediately after by the dreadful night less than a week ago. To see all those stands with artisans bellowing like wolves had mesmerized him.

-“Why not a merlot-coloured kirtle?” Said a mistress of a clothier’s workshop. “That would marry well your light brown eyes. Most simple, yet a wonderful shade of red for a young aspiring handsome man. Plus, it allows you to show the ladies the firm grasp you have unto fashion.” She gestured at the end with a fist to emphasize the manliness attribute she wanted to subtly infuse her statement.

-“What do you say laddie!?” Soren was excited enough for the entire group. “Do think about it! Och… Whyot go yorself in front of a mirror? Mistress! Any changing cabins?”