Samuel’s eyes opened the next morning, and for a few minutes, his mind moved sluggishly, trying to reconcile the events of the previous night. In his sleepy state, they had a faint dream-like quality. One part of his brain told him that it must have been a pleasant dream, as such fantastic coincidences didn’t happen to people like him. Yet his memory, so sharp from all his academic tendencies, along with a faint tinkling sound coming from the kitchen, insisted that it really had happened.

Another sound, like that of a plate being pulled from his pantry, came faintly through his closed door. With a groan, Samuel rolled off of his uncomfortable bed and stumbled to the door, making his way slowly to the kitchen. The noises he’d noticed were more obvious now, as was the delicious aroma of cooking meat and eggs. The mouth-watering scent of coffee overlaid it all, and in spite of his confusion, he felt his mouth begin to water.

As he entered the small cooking and dining area, Samuel noticed that there were two people already moving about the tiny, cramped space. Arthur was instantly recognizable in his fine steward’s robes, and Samuel noticed an elaborate crest stitched into the back of his robes that had escaped his attention the night before. He looked around as Samuel entered, and with a welcoming smile, he spread his arms wide, bowing slightly.

“Good morning, young master. I hope you rested well.?” He hurried to pull out a chair at the small table in the dining area, gesturing for Samuel to sit down.

Samuel took the proffered chair, feeling awkward at the austere efficiency of the service. He shrugged in response to Arthur’s query. “As well as I could on a plank of wood and half an inch of padding, Arthur.”

Arthur nodded seriously, as if in understanding of his plight. “Well, worry not, young master. Once we reach Milagre, you will spend each night in a superbly comfortable bed, fit for a lord.”

Samuel gave a short laugh, not out of scorn, but genuine amusement. He had to admit, the idea that he didn’t have to do his own cooking in the morning was a decidedly attractive one. His spirits couldn’t help but be lifted at the prospect. They were lifted even further as Arthur placed a mug of dark coffee in front of him, accompanied with a small pot of honey that he knew had not come from his own pantry, and a bowl of sugar with which to sweeten the brew.

“You really didn’t have to go through all this trouble, Arthur.” He shifted himself more comfortably in the rickety wooden chair, peering into the kitchen at the other man.

Arthur moved back to the kitchen just as the one cooking began to load a plate. “But of course I did, young master. I am your steward now, and so I must look after all your needs. Were I to leave you to your own devices this morning, you would have nothing but grain porridge, a fact which I can neither accept nor condone.”

Samuel hid a smile as the chef brought the loaded plate over. “Porridge isn’t so bad. But it does get dull after a few servings.”

Arthur offered a small humorous smile. “Quite so, young master. This is Seamus Oriman, your head chef.”

Seamus was a portly man, adorned with a simple white cook’s tunic, with a grease-stained apron over top. While his clothes were simple, they were also very well-kept and in excellent condition, another example of the simple finery typically worn by the staff of nobles. Samuel looked eagerly at the dish that Seamus set before him, curious to see what kind of dishes head chefs were known for. He frowned in slight puzzlement at what he saw, not recognizing it as any dish he’d ever seen

On the plate was something that Samuel could only describe as a circle of mixed cooked eggs, folded in half. A small amount of cheese leaked out of the sides and corners, indicating more to the dish then was visible.

Seamus noticed his quizzical examination of this breakfast, and shuffled closer once again to explain. “It is called an omelet, young master. It is a new dish in Milagre, wildly popular among the noble families.”

Samuel looked up at him, his confusion growing at the strange word. “Omelet? What’s that?”

He saw an eager light enter Seamus’ eyes, the mark of any professional delighted to explain their craft. “Well, it’s actually quite simple once you know how to do it. I scrambled the eggs, and cooked them in the pan in a flat circle. Then I filled it with ham, green onions, mushrooms, and cheese. When it was nearly finished cooking, I folded it in half to seal it.”

Samuel looked back down at his plate, his interest piqued. “That sounds amazing. It just looks like a bunch of eggs.”

Seamus smiled in slight amusement, and gestured to the plate. “Well, young master, I’m sure you will appreciate the delightful surprise inside.”

Samuel nodded eagerly and cut a small portion off with his fork. As he lifted it to the mouth, several strands of melted cheese stretched from the omelet to his fork. Popping the small morsel into his mouth, he gave a short grunt of pleasure at the taste of the ham and the lightly caramelized onions.

Arthur smiled at Samuel’s obvious pleasure. He sat down next to him in the only other chair at the table, seemingly oblivious to it’s haphazardous creaking, and pulled a sheaf of notes out of the bag at his side. “Your father had much the same reaction when he tasted his first omelet.”

Samuel merely grunted again at the mention of his late father, too happy with the food in front of him to tolerate any anger or annoyance. It was too early in the morning for such things, he told himself. He busied himself scooping a few spoonfuls of sugar into his coffee to avoid answering. As he took a sip, his eyebrows went up in suprised appreciation.

“That’s some good coffee!!” He exclaimed, looking towards Seamus. “Where did you get it?”

Seamus gave another little bow of his head, a pleased smile spreading across his face once more. “It comes from a special little tribe in the United Nations of Mitene, known as Adarba. They make a great profit by selling the coffee beans they grow there. They’re still relatively unheard of at the moment, but those who have tasted the brew acclaim that it is the best they’ve ever had.”

Samuel made a small noise of agreement with the sentiment, and took another long draft of the dark liquid. “I have to say, they are quite right. Easily the best I’ve had.”

Arthur pulled his chair in a little closer to the table, clearing his throat apologetically to get Samuel’s attention. “Now, young master, I know you wish to make your farewells tonight before departing, but there are a few other details that require your attention.”

Samuel started with surprise at Arthur’s suddenly brisk tone. “What do you mean?”

“Well, as I’m sure you understand, there is a great deal of time and effort that goes into planning a trip with a caravan, not to mention funds.” Arthur spoke as though this should all be common sense. And for the most part, Samuel did understand what he meant.

“I… see.” he replied slowly. “But where exactly do I come into all of this?”

Arthur looked down to his collection of papers again, rifling through the topmost before responding. “Well, as I said last night, the late Lord Bragg bid me to make this journey to fetch you. He also gave me the administrative right to plan the entirety of the trip, as the highest-ranked remaining member of the household. And so I hired a caravan with guards, and set out to collect you at once.”

Samuel nodded his understanding of this, but his face must have showed his lingering confusion, for Arthur offered a small smile of understanding, and explained further.

“The trip to return, however, will be a little different. As the new master of the house, all decisions of hiring and plans rest with you now.” He pulled three sheets of paper from the stack and placed them down for Samuel to inspect.

The first sheet comprised mostly of names and figures, detailing what he assumed was the roster of his guards and retinue. One of the names caught his attention for a few seconds, but he didn’t have time to dwell on it. Arthur directed his attention to the second sheet, which carried even more figures, distracting him and pushing the name from his mind.

“This is the amount we agreed to pay the guards for transporting us to Harlest.” He indicated the relevant information with his forefinger before continuing. “These men are resting inside the village tavern, waiting to see if they’re to be re-hired. While it is your right to change the fees, I recommend that you keep them in effect until we reach Milagre, so that we can ensure a full guard, as well as their loyalty while employed.”

Samuel nodded his agreement instantly. “Of course. After all, it wouldn’t be fair to pay them less for the same job.”

Arthur nodded in his own turn. “Quite so, young master. Finally, this is the route that we took. The cartographer we spoke to informed us that it was the safest route, and we encountered no trouble on the way here. It is also a fairly direct route, which should take us to Milagre in just under a week.”

Samuel peered at the third page, which he now saw was a map. He frowned slightly in concentration as he deciphered the markings scratched onto the surface. It performed the basic functions of a map, he could see. All the major, well-known landmarks and paths of Gorteau between Milagre and Harlest were noted, but Samuel wasn’t sure he was willing to consider it a proper map.

“Not much of a map.” He said dully. “Was this really the best chart you could find?”

Arthur looked up, vaguely surprised at the change in Samuel’s tone. The young man wasn’t rude or sneering at the map’s quality, merely surprised. “Well, yes. The gentleman who sold us this map is known as the finest cartographer in Milagre.”

His eyes carried an obvious question, but Samuel held up a hand, forestalling him. He rose from his chair and crossed the small room to his desk. Seamus stepped quickly to the side to make room for him, an unnecessary action. It didn’t take Samuel long to find what he was looking for among the stack of parchment on his desk, and he quickly returned, holding his small collection of maps. He plopped them down on the table in front of Arthur, and sat down once again in front of his nearly empty plate and mug.

Seamus, noticing the nearly empty mug, moved to pick up the pot and refill it. Samuel gave him a quiet word of thanks, then gestured towards the papers. He leaned forward and tugged a chart of the countryside surrounding Harlest, one he’d drawn himself. In the very top-left of the map were the plains leading west to Milagre, and even a small mark denoting the great walled city itself.

“This has a lot more details than what he gave you. Also, I’m not sure how you didn’t hear about them, but there are groups of bandits and brigands all throughout the countryside here.”

Arthur reacted with obvious and predictable shock. “Bandits? Are you sure?”

Samuel nodded solemnly. “I suppose Milagre is far enough away not to have heard of them. They don’t attack any of the villages or larger settlements. But they still cause a great deal of trouble and danger to travelers using the roads, particularly at night.”

“But we didn’t see any such people on our way here!” Arthur protested. “And we went through quite a few of the trouble spots that are marked here.”

Samuel could only shrug. “Perhaps you were just lucky. Or maybe they didn’t dare to attack an armed caravan.”How many guards do we have?”

He began to reach for the first sheet to check, but Arthur waved a hand to dismiss the need. “We have six men. They are professional soldiers, hired for this trip while they are in between deployments.”

He looked up at Seamus, and Samuel noticed the look of unease that passed between the two men. Arthur expressed what was on his mind. Perhaps we should hire a few more guards for the return trip. I must admit, the news of these bandits does not fill me with comfort.”

Samuel simply watched the two men consider this for several moments, unsure of his ground. “Is that really necessary? Surely six professional soldiers should be enough.”

Arhtur pursed his lips thoughtfully, deliberating. He obviously wasn’t sure that the number of guards they had would be enough.”If it were just you, Seamus, and myself, I might be inclined to agree.”

That hadn’t occurred to Samuel. “Who else is traveling with us?”

“Two other cooks, under Seamus’ instruction, and my daughter.” Arthur replied.

You brought your daughter along with you?” Samuel wasn’t sure he thought it was a good idea to bring a child on such a long journey.

“She’s of age, and quite able to make her own decisions. She decided to come with us. Apparently, she was eager to meet the new master of the house.”

Samuel mulled that over in his mind for several seconds, then nodded. “Alright then. How many more guards do you think would be enough?”

There was a long pause before Arthur responded. “Three should be enough. Four is best, but three should work.”

The rest of the early morning passed with some amicable conversation between the three of them. Samuel quickly finished the omelet, which, he thought, was easily the tastiest and most fascinating breakfast he’d ever had. After the omelet, and another cup of coffee, he moved quickly about his small house, gathering up the few possessions he would take with him. This consisted primarily of his small collection of maps and charts, but there were also a few tiny keepsakes he’d collected over the years.

Arthur showed great interest in Samuel’s large stack of notes he’d taken on the hundreds of stories shared by traveling bards. Samuel promised to show him the notes once they were on the road, and unceremoniously crammed them into his large rucksack. The leather pack had been by his bed for years, serving as a visual reminder of his dream to travel. Though, regrettably, he’d never had a chance to fill it before now.

Though his possessions were few, packing them up took the rest of the morning, even with Arthur and Seamus’ help. Just before the sun reached the highest point in the sky, Seamus excused himself, stating that he needed to go back to the caravan to supervise buying provisions for the return trip. Shaking Samuel’s hand one more time, he gave a jovial wave and was soon bobbing along the dirt track back to Harlest.

Samuel and Arthur left the house just after mid-day, with Samuel closing the door behind him for what he realized was the final time. He wasn’t exactly heartbroken at leaving, but he did have a few fond memories from living here. Admittedly, they were all of his mother, telling him tales or cooking him the rare excellent dinner, but they were fond memories nonetheless. He twirled the large metal key on its leather loop for several seconds while staring at his worn old business sign, then sighed and slung the key around his neck. It dangled there, just a few inches of it revealed in the neck of his deep blue robes.

The village must have been forewarned of his arrival, for when he entered the center where the communal fountain sat, there was a great roar of sound at the sight of him. Gathered around the cool water flowing into the stone basin was the majority of the village, nearly a hundred people. The elders like the village headman, kind middle-aged faces of the mothers and farm workers smiled broadly at him, and the younger children of the village whooped as they spotted him. Life in a village like Harlest was humdrum and routine, so any strange occurrence or break from routine was cause for celebration.

Samuel started in surprise at the first cheers, but his face quickly relaxed into a shy smile. Even the only two people his age were there, and they moved forward quickly to reach him. James, the blond son of the local blacksmith, still wearing his trademark leather apron, was grinning all over his face as he looked at his old friend. Beside him and slightly behind was the pretty innkeeper’s adopted daughter, Sera, with her long brown hair and hazel eyes glinting in the sunlight. She was also smiling, though perhaps a bit more sadly.

In the past few months, Sera and Samuel had grown quite close, though their chances to speak were limited to Samuel’s infrequent visits to the tavern. About once a week, however, she found enough free time to trek over to his house, where they sat by the desk talking about the stories that Samuel had collected. Sera was a bright, intellectual girl, and she had instantly adopted his enthusiasm for the epic tales shared by traveling spinners.

Their deep friendship had slowly been growing into something more, but it hadn’t exceeded their clandestine meetings and a few shared kisses in the moonlight. Being an essentially awkward person, Samuel had been too slow to take a chance to further strengthen the bonds between them, and now it was too late. But all this awkwardness was pushed to the side as she rushed to throw her arms around Samuel’s neck and embrace him.

“There you are!” She said softly into this ear, then added, so James could hear, “Took you long enough, bookworm!”

Samuel couldn’t help but grin at the use of her oldest nickname for him. Once she’d released him, James clapped him hard on the shoulder, as usual forgetting his own strength and making Samuel wince. He grinned apologetically, but his excitement overcame him almost at once and he too embraced his friend.

“So it sounds like you’re leaving us tomorrow then?” James said, a tinge of regret entering his voice. “I’ll miss you, man.”

“I’ll miss you too, James.” Samuel said with obvious sincerity, rubbing his shoulder.

“What about me?” Sera asked, a coy smile playing around the edges of her mouth. “Will you miss me too?”

Samuel ignored her attempt to confuse him with her charm, merely rolling his eyes as she batted hers. “Of course I’ll miss you, Sera. You two are my oldest friends, after all.”

Sera beamed again at his words. Then the rest of the village residents caught up with them then, refusing to let the two have Samuel to themselves. Hands rained down on his shoulders from all directions, the men embraced him quickly and roughly, and the mothers pinched his cheek. Eventually though, the crowd finished their brief farewells and backed off to a respectable distance. Samuel rubbed the back of his neck, at a loss for what to say, until finally James broke the silence.

“Well, looks like the village hermit has finally left his shell!” Muted laughter rang around the crowd, accompanied by some more cheering and applause.

Samuel gave him a none too gentle dig in the ribs with his elbow, the old sarcastic sparring matches coming back to him. “Like you’re one to talk. I’m surprised all those sparks from the anvil haven’t blinded you yet.”

A ripple of amusement spread around the group again, and finally, those who still had a busy day ahead of them departed, calling their farewells to Samuel. The crowd around them slowly dispersed, though Samuel could still hear the people talking excitedly among themselves. In a remote village like Harlest, strange things are rare, and as such, they were of great interest. He was sure that they would continue to talk of today’s events long after he’d left, without much else to discuss.