[Solo] Back in the Saddle

[Cardon Ludocus]

11th Day of Autumn, 515 AV Cardon watched as the sun slid slowly behind the towering walls of the Mithryn Outpost, sending the sky into a cascade of pinks, reds and oranges before fading into the deep purple of twilight. It was now that the shops were finally closing their doors, letting the owners return to their families and their apprentices to do what they would after their chores were finally done. It was just this time of day, though, that his work began. He sat in the Fool's Errand, staring west through the scratched but clean windows of the inn and tavern. Nearly all the families that had half a wit or care to know of the towns happenings knew that Cardon investigated people, things and occurrences of all sorts. Mostly it was jealous wives wondering where their husbands went after their late visits to the inn and other petty town politics, but occasionally something truly interesting came along. Indeed, since the end of Summer he'd refused to take a single case, still mourning the loss of his mother. But after the third day without food he knew he could not survive on grief and kindness alone. The people had provided in his time of need, but charitable attitudes only lasted for so long. The last thing Cardon wanted to do was create bitterness amongst those that merely wished him well with his selfishness. It was for this reason that he found himself at the Errand at sunset, in his favorite chair at his favorite table, where anyone who needed him knew he could be found.

[Cardon Ludocus]

"I need to talk to you." The sudden, flat-toned voice made Cardon jump from his stupor, turning from the beautiful sunset to an equally beautiful young woman. Her hair was a fiery red, her nose pointed and spattered with a mess of freckles that bled into her cheeks and across the rest of her face. She had one of her eyebrows quirked curiously, perhaps mildly surprised, but it did little to cut the girls near-constant deadpan. She pulled out the chair across the table out for herself, sitting in it with her back straight and her sharp green eyes focused on him. "Didn't mean to tear you away from your pleasant daydream, but I have a problem I would have you solve." Cardon chuckled nervously as he composed himself, straightening his shirt and licking his lips before straining to meet the confidant Inarta's gaze. "What, uh, heh, wh-what seems to be the problem?" He swallowed as her hard eyes narrowed and broke eye contact pretending to survey the room. Odessa had always made him nervous, as she did so many other men, and he had to remind himself that even though she was hard she was not here to harm him. In fact, she came inquiring for his aid. "Someone's been breaking into my home, into my room during my working hours. I need to know who." Cardon opened his mouth, sputtering for a moment before he found his tongue. "Whatever for, I wonder? Have they stolen anything?" She shook her head sternly, closing her eyes and rubbing her temples as she rest her elbows on the table. "No, not that I've noticed, anyway. They've just been reading my journal." His brow furrowed. "How would you know if they had been? Unless they've been incredibly sloppy..." "I put a hair from my brow on the cover in the center of the 'O' and stow it in my dresser drawer. No wind to blow it over. Someone opens it without knowing what I put there, and the hair is disturbed. I trick I learned when my brothers used to read my diary when I was younger. Now someone is breaking into my home, reading my journal, and leaving without taking anything. I'll pay you an appropriate sum once you've caught the bastard. I value my privacy." Cardon nodded, doing little to hide his appreciation of her cleverness, and committing the trick to memory should he need it sometime in the future for himself. Even so, one question still plagued his mind. "Err...why haven't you brought this to the attention to any of the knights here? There hasn't been any excitement in a fortnight. And I'm sure they'd be happy to help..." She scoffed and rolled her eyes, waving him off dismissively. "You think I want to trouble the noble Knights of Syliras with a girl who can't look after her own dresser drawers? No, that's far too embarrassing. Plus I doubt they'd let me beat the prick after I find him." Her jaw set such that Cardon could imagine her snarling, but found the image too undignified for her. "You want the job or not?" Cardon wasted no time nodding. If nothing else it gave him something other than his mothers too-recent funeral to focus on, and he still needed to eat. Put that off for too long and he wouldn't have the strength to do his work. No matter how odd the task, he had to take the job. "I swear to be as discreet as I can. We'll find whoever's doing this, then you can do as you will." "YOU will find who is doing this, and I will pay you for it." She stood from her chair, pushing it in behind her. "You know where I live and where to find me during the day. Let me know if there's anything you need to help bring this scoundrel to justice. I'll provide what I can...within reason." Cardon let out a slow exhale as she began walking away across the tavern floor, letting his shoulders relax from the stiff posture he hadn't realized she'd imposed upon him. He looked after her, only to avert his eyes as she looked over her shoulder. "Oh, Cardon?" She asked of him, a small smile playing at the corner of her mouth. "Don't read my petching journal."

[Cardon Ludocus]

Cardon walked out into the evening moments later, making his way along the rough cobblestone streets towards the western quarter of the farming town. Dusk made the sky a deep purple, Syna a slowly fading memory from the dyed textiles of the heavens, and Cardon nearly lost his purpose admiring it, only to be startled from his daze by a stationary cart as he collided with it, tumbling backwards onto the cold stones. "Shyke," he muttered to himself as he got to his feet, dusting himself off. "How are you supposed to do your job if you're so petching distracted?" Long hours alone even before his mother's death had fashioned a habit of thinking aloud and talking to onesself in the young man, and he could carry conversations and occasionally arguments when he was in the proper mood or mulling over particularly difficult or complex thoughts. "Well, Odessa said the break-ins happen during the day, at her home. She lives just around the corner from the Market, perhaps one of the shop owners near there saw something?" He scratched his chin as he set himself to walking once again. "Oma's Bread and Pastries is right there, as is The Footright Cobbler Company. I'll have to hurry if I want to catch them before they head home, if they haven't left already." Indeed, sunset marked the closing of many of the businesses in the Mithryn Marketplace, and those that came with carts and stalls instead of brick and mortar businesses tended to leave even earlier. Cardon picked up his steady pace and broke into a jog, navigating the streets he knew so well from his many days skulking as a young boy. Even at just a light jog he was winded upon arriving at the corner, and leaned against a vacant stall to catch his breath as he surveyed his surroundings. The candles at The Footright Cobbler Company had already been extinguished in favor of those on the second floor, where Simon Footright and his family stayed when the store on the lower level closed for the night. There was a cart outside of Oma's Bread and Pastries, however, loaded with sacks of flower. Furthermore, Cardon could see light from within, and the familiar shape of the kindly old woman and splendid baker Oma moving about inside. Cardon took a deep breath, straightening himself and wiping the sweat from his brow, before making his way to the door that hung open on its hinges.

[Cardon Ludocus]

The room he entered smelled of fresh bread of perhaps a dozen different sorts, all commingled and faded over the course of the day. The titanic stone oven at the rear of the shop operated from an hour before the official opening of the shop to well past lunch, filling the air of the Mithryn Market with the alluring scent. The oven now functioned only as a fireplace, lighting the quarried stone floors and packed clay walls in flickering golden light. "Oma?" Cardon called out as he pushed the wooden door aside, searching for the silhouette he'd seen through the window. "Pantry!" called a sweet yet powerful voice from further into the shop, somewhere out of sight. Cardon made his way past the front counter, through the small maze of workstations sprinkled with flour and ash, and to the rear of the shop to the sound of something being hefted onto the floor. From the shadows stepped a woman of perhaps 60 years of age, her figure round and perhaps even plump. She was without the bakers apron that accompanied her most of the day, leaving her with a plain white dress that fell just to the middle of her shins, the sleeves short to display her massively muscled arms, covered with burn scars of all shapes and ages. For all her mismatched appearance, the smile on her face was sweet, the most prominent lines on her face caused by smiling well and often. She clapped her hands together as she saw him, waddling slowly past him to the counter as she spoke. "Cardon, sweet boy, I was wondering when I'd see you again. Haven't been buying your ten-day sugarbreads! I saved it for you, just in case you came by." Cardon let out a soft chuckle as she passed him, following her navigate the layout of her shop. "I haven't come for sugarbread, Oma, though if you have some on hand I'll buy it before I leave. I was actually hoping to talk to you about some happenings in the neighborhood. I'm working tonight." "Oooh, oooh," she cooed knowingly. "Wanting to know what these old hawks-eyes have seen, eh? Heh." She pushed the door to the outside open once more, stepping into the falling night with Cardon in tow. "Tell you what, you look like a robust young fellow. You help me bring these sacks of flour inside, I'll tell you whatever you'd like and give you your sugarbread for your work. Deal?" Cardon looked to the cart stacked with flour sacks, slowly counting them on his fingers until he came to a sum of 12. He nodded hesitantly. "O-okay." "Great!" the old woman cheered, hefting one of the sacks into his arms seemingly without effort, though the weight of it caused his legs to buckle beneath him and his eyes to bulge. Oma chuckled to herself, lifting another sack into her own arms. "Come now, don't look so troubled. It's not so far." Cardon groaned as he tried to straighten his back, pulling the sack into his arms and stumbling after her as she led him back into the bakery. By the time they reached the pantry he could feel himself already beginning to sweat, and he lugged it into one of the neat piles she'd been setting them into. "So," she said, setting her sack beside the one he'd just put down. "What's all this about?" "Ho-hold on," Cardon gasped, catching his breath for the second time tonight. "You put bricks in these?" Her smile was wry and teasing. "Just in the ones you're carrying. I knew you'd be coming. Got the gift of Avalis, I do." He gave a short chuckle as he caught his breath, following her as she made her way back out to the cart. "Actually, I was wondering if you've seen anyone skulking around Odessa's place, just around the corner. Sometime during the day, maybe around midday?" "Valerie's apprentice? Oh, no, just the Knights on patrol and such as that. Although..." she seemed to drift off into thought as she grabbed another sack, tossing it over her shoulder and waddling back towards the bakery. Cardon sputtered for a moment before grabbing one of the bags and attempting to lift it himself, grunting loudly with the effort. Without turning around, Oma called out "Lift with you knees, not your back. It's easier that way, honey." Cardon narrowed his eyes, squatting slightly and wrapping his arms around his chosen sack, keeping his back straight as he lifted with his knees. Much to his surprise, it came up much easier than when he had tried the other way, and he waddled after her as quickly as he could. "Although what?" he asked as he dropped the sack into the pile and wiped his brow of the beading sweat that had begun collecting there. "You were about to say-" "Yes, yes..." she interrupted, waving him off. "I did see a young boy down by there the other day. About your age, blond hair. Burly sort, eh? Looked out of place. Thought it was a tad strange, but didn't think on it too much. Was just a bit past my usual midday rush. Does that help you at all, boy?" Cardon smiled widely, nodding with certainty. "Yes, thank you, Oma. It gives me something to go on, which is more than I had before." "Good, good. Well, you've earned your information. Now it's time to earn your bread. Those flour sacks aren't going to lift themselves!" Nearly half an hour later Cardon strolled out of Oma's Bread and Pastries, a bundle of sugarbread in his arms, covered in sweat and flour. Tomorrow was going to be a work day, and he had to get up early if he was going to catch the proverbial worm. There was a thief of secrets to catch, and he was going to be the one to catch him.

[Cardon Ludocus]

Continued in "Conduct Unbecoming"

[Dravite]

Let me know if you return and I will grade this.

Warning: You'll need to update your seasonal expenses first on your ledger first.