章 18: Securing his daily food
The girls were listening attentively as their father boasted about how he defeated the demon and sent it away.
"Yaaay! Daddy is the best!" Both raised their hands in excitement and clapped.
"But Dad, today I saw that demon that wears white walking on the streets," the older girl said, her curiosity piqued.
The father's smile faltered slightly as he quickly crafted an explanation. "Oh, ah, yes. The demon was controlling that man, but now he is free. Remember this: he is a good man now and even said he doesn't want to be disturbed, so don't talk to him. Are we clear about this?"
If they somehow get the attention of that man, I don't know what he might do, the farmer thought, his worry evident in the more serious tone he had adopted.
"Yes," the girls responded, a bit puzzled by the sudden change in their father's voice. Just then, the door opened, and a woman entered, holding a small basket. "I'm so tired. I'm not used to harvesting."
"Mommy!" The girls exclaimed in unison, running to her with joyful smiles.
"Hello, my angels. I'll make dinner for us," she said, smiling at them. The basket she carried contained some grains, green leaves, legumes, and fruits. As she moved toward the kitchen, Eadgar called his daughters back over.
"There's one more thing. Promise me that you two won't tell anyone about what happened today or what I told you," he said, his voice taking on a serious edge once more.
"I promise," they said together, their little faces earnest.
"Who are my angels?" he asked, his smile returning as he opened his arms wide.
"I am! Hahaha!" The girls giggled, running to hug their father.
Back at Cenric's house, they had reached a deal with Richar. "For now, you'll make another set of these tools and keep the process to yourself. Understood?" Cenric said, fixing him with a stern look.
"I understand," Richar replied, nodding.
They sat around the table, examining the paper that was almost dry. It was a rough, light brown square with imperfections along its edges.
"As you can see, the color isn't ideal, and the paper feels rough, but these issues can be fixed. The wood needs to be ground into a finer pulp to produce smoother and whiter paper," Rafael explained, rubbing his chin thoughtfully. "Hmm, this gives me an idea."
"We could make two types of paper. One like this, and another, better-made, but of course, the latter would be more expensive."
"That's a good idea," Cenric agreed. "The only problem is that we'll need more people to do this work. I estimate we'll need at least five or six workers—three or four just to grind the wood and the others to handle the rest. But it will have to wait until we finish the harvest."
"When will they arrive to collect it?" Richar asked.
"Tomorrow at midday," Cenric replied. Then he turned to Rafael. "Maybe they'll bring the answer about that metal you asked me for."
"That would be really good," Rafael said, nodding.
"Alright, now that we've settled everything, please excuse me. I need to eat something and get some sleep. Goodnight," Cenric said, standing up and heading out the door.
Richar also stood, heading towards his workshop to call his wife. Returning to the room, he found Rafael still there.
"What are you doing? Why haven't you left yet?" Richar asked, puzzled.
"I have another deal to offer you," Rafael said, his expression serious.
What is this? What schemes is he trying to pull? Richar thought, suspicion creeping into his mind.
"Go on," the old man said, approaching the table as his wife lit a fire in the fireplace.
Rafael looked him straight in the eyes and said, "Let me have lunch and dinner here every day."
"... What the hell, no!" Richar responded, his voice firm.
"I will pay you 25 coppers every day!" Rafael offered, raising the stakes.
"You're not going to buy me this time. Get out," Richar insisted, pointing to the door.
"Wait! What about 30? 35?" Rafael countered, his desperation growing.
"No and no! Go make your own food," Richar said angrily, frustrated by Rafael's persistence. At that moment, his wife, Maria, who had just lit the fire, walked over to them.
"Richar, I don't mind cooking a bit more if we are paid for it. Receiving more money every day would be really good for us," she said, her voice calm and practical.
Richar looked at her for a moment, then sighed. "Fine. You'll pay 35 coppers every day."
Yes!... Wait, nooooo! Rafael's triumph quickly turned to regret. "Wait, 35 is too much for me right now. Can we agree on, like… 20 coppers?"
After a minute of back-and-forth haggling, Richar finally agreed to 20 coppers per day, but Rafael wouldn't eat with them. Instead, he would take the food and eat elsewhere.
"Thank you, Maria! If it wasn't for you, I'd be broke and starving in just a week," Rafael said gratefully, acknowledging her intervention that had saved him some money.
Rafael went back to his house to fetch a small ceramic bowl while Maria began preparing soup. There was another brief argument with Richar, who wanted payment for that meal, but Rafael insisted he had already paid 20 coppers when he had lunch with them. In the end, the old man gave up, not wanting to deal with the headache.
After thanking them and saying goodbye, Rafael returned to his place carrying a bowl of hot soup and the sheet of paper. I can't wait to eat this!
The night was getting cooler. The bad smell on the streets still made him nauseous, but not as intensely as the first time. The moon hung high in the sky, surrounded by a blanket of stars. When was the first telescope created? he wondered absently, his thoughts drifting as he walked.
He could hear families and children talking in each house he passed. As he entered his own home, he noticed the window was still open, and there was no light. Crap! I'll have to ask for fire again, he thought, irritated.
After placing the bowl and the sheet of paper on the table, he gathered the remaining wood from the wardrobe and stacked it in the fireplace. Then, he walked over to the house across from his, holding a candle in hand, and knocked on the door.
This time, the woman who opened the door didn't just take the candle. Instead, she looked at Rafael and asked, "Don't you have fire stones?"
"The what?" Rafael asked, confused.
"You don't know what fire stones are?" she asked, astonished. "Hold on."
She disappeared briefly, then returned holding two stones. "With these, you can easily start a fire," she said, demonstrating by striking one rock against the other, producing sparks. Rafael facepalmed in realization.
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