Bookshop visit with Gareth (Patreon)

You sit on the edge of the fountain, tracing your fingers along its mosaic, an explosion of color sprawling onto the pavement, unfurling patterns of flowers and swirling vines under pedestrians’ feet. Every now and then stray droplets spray your back, sliding cool down your back. You welcome the refreshing sensation; it’s a surprisingly warm day for autumn, which paired with the cloudless sky makes up the perfect conditions for a grand harvest festival.

The town square has been decked in flowers and streamers, brightening the monotone brick and stone of the buildings; window-shops have been decorated with aesthetically placed acorns, strings of rusty leaves and vases spilling with wildflowers, their painted ceramic sporting intricate motives. You take it all in as you wait for Gareth, one hand splayed on the fountain ledge to save him a spot – not that it was necessary when you’re given such a wide berth. It bothers you still, even though you’ve grown accustomed to this distant treatment in the couple years since arriving in Lothia. You’ve tried your best to counter it with a smile, in the hopes that it'd encourage people to bridge this gap – and while there were the few who did, most did not take the chance. Not with you, not when so many shadows loom over you.

You sigh and shift, closing your eyes for a moment. The bright, silver susurrus of the fountain coalesces with the babble of conversation, to the point that you can barely disentangle them. It’s as if the water itself murmurs, enjoying the festival as much as the humans and dragons roaming about, playing games, gawking at booths, munching on oil-fried goods.

“Falling asleep?” The playful remark snaps your eyes open. Whatever gloom may have descended upon you is dispelled by Gareth’s arrival like smoke in the wind. That’s not all that changes, though; previously wary, guarded looks sent your way bloom into smiles. A smile blossoms on your lips, too, but yours shines the most genuine.

“You were taking too long,” you tease right back. You peer at the two paper bags he’s brought, mouth watering at the mere tasty promise of what’s within. “What did you bring?”

“All sort of things,” Gareth says, hoisting himself up next to you.

You open yours and pop a caramel in your mouth. It’s sweet and buttery as it melts on your tongue. Gareth chews on a walnut cookie with a far more pensive expression, eyes scanning the bedecked facades.

“There’s a bookshop nearby,” he says. You know it’s not just him sharing some random piece of knowledge; he has a plan already well-formed in mind. “Mother took me there a couple times. And, as it turns out, it’s going to be open for another hour today before they close early. What with the festival,” he gestures around you at the celebrations.

You jump to your feet and smooth down your clothes. “What are we waiting for then?”

Gareth gives you a wry grin as you set off through the crowd, trailed by a retinue of knights – which includes Accolon, who keeps an eye on you less as a guard and more like a worried father. You make your way down a street lined with sundry little businesses: bakeries, tailors, butchers, printers, but none are the shop you’re looking for. You’ve visited before, but it’s easy to get lost now in the sea of fair-goers. Fortunately, Gareth navigates the chaos with confident ease and eager step, arms looped with yours so you may steer each other away from any distracted or drunk passersby. As you move through increasingly narrow and quiet streets, Gareth tugs you down a side alley you almost missed; you were engrossed in the glimpse of an intense yet ridiculous quarrel of two small dragons, hanging about the roof of a seedy tavern. This is where the bookshop is tucked away, easy to miss for anyone not looking for it, on this street – if it can barely be called that, this unassuming, forsaken passage extending between two buildings that tower on both sides like stately mountains of beige stone, casting the space in shadows even in early noon – that feels like a completely other world, a secret place away from the bustle of the fair.

A bell chimes weakly as you step inside, almost drowned out by the clang of Accolon’s armor. Gareth kindly asked the other guards to wait outside, lest they crowded the bookshop with their bulky frames. Besides,Gareth told them with a smile, the worst that can happen to me inside is a papercut.

Adina’s bookshop is by no means large, which makes it utterly impressive how many books have managed to be stuffed inside. Walking through the cases of tomes and scrolls fills like walking through the crammed alleyways outside; one wrong step and you might upend a poor book whose corner sticks out of the shelf. You’re sure one of the knights could have toppled the cabinets over like dominos if they spun around too quickly.

With the door closed behind you, it really does feel as if you’ve stepped into another world, suspended in a bubble away from all of the loud, rowdy chaos outside. A haven of quiet, yet filled with so many words – words of ink on paper, whose scents hang heavy and heady in the air.

Accolon posts himself by the door while the two of you lose yourself among the books. There are no other customers, which comes as no surprise. What’s of note is that the business is even open at this time, though that shouldn’t be all that shocking either. Adina, the owner, hunched over her book at the desk, doesn’t strike as someone very fond of the hubbub outside. Gareth himself, who was so excited by the prospect of the fair – with its enticing games and sweets and performers – brightens up as he ventures between the tightly packed cabinets, tracing his index over the spines of the books, some brand new with shiny letters, others worn and creased to the point you can barely read the titles. He halts and you almost collide into him, peering over his shoulder to see what has him so transfixed. An opened chest, filled to the brim with books.

“Miss Adina,” Gareth calls. “Can we take a look?”

She peers from above her glasses at the chest, surveying it with a critical eye. “Yes, my lord. They’re all for sale, came in this morning. I haven’t had the time to put them on the shelves.” She gestures around at the shelves that are already chockfull of books, leaving you to wonder wherever she was planning on stuffing these new ones. “Look at your leisure.”

Gareth takes that invitation to heart, dropping to his knees in front of the chest. He eyes the books with gleaming hunger in his brown eyes, reminding you of Morgana whenever she received a new batch of rare ingredients for her potions.

“Oh,” he sounds pleasantly surprised as he picks up the tome at the top, then another and another, peeping with even more curiosity. “These all seem to be books on magic.”

Your own attention is piqued as you help Gareth sift through the tomes. None of them are new, but most seem well-taken care of. As you both thumb through different titles, ranging from treaties on faerie power to pocketbooks about everyday, handy potions, you remark out loud:

“You always get so excited over texts on magic.”

“I always get excited over books,” he smoothly replies, running his palm over a leather cover.

“That’s true,” you allow, setting aside the well-used copy of Magical recipes! Ten dishes to sweep you off your feet and cure your ailments! So good it’s magic! With a cheeky Because it is magic added by its previous owner. “It’s just…”

“Surprising that I take such an interest in the subject when I’m magicless?” Gareth says the thing you were tactfully skirting around. “Well, why wouldn’t I be? It’s interesting, the theory especially. And even if I find a book that is no use to me because I can’t actually practice what it teaches, well – it might be helpful for you, or mother might like it as a gift.”

You smile softly. Magic is indeed something you managed to bond over, though you did not expect it, what with his lack of it. You thought he might not be too eager to discuss it with you, and there were times in the beginning where you feared your use of magic may come off as bragging. Yet Gareth has always been curious and enthusiastic about it, and read up enough on the subject of magic theory to rival your own knowledge.

As you continue leafing through the books, raising dust and snickering over ridiculous titles, the turning of pages resounding sharp and piercing in the silence, you slowly pick up on a strange sound, growing louder and nearer. A low, guttural growl drawing closer and closer to you.

You inch forward carefully, till you’ve placed yourself between Gareth and the ominous sound and steel yourself to face the beast that produces it, its sharp nails clinking against the floorboards. It charges at you from around the bookcase, wheezing and croaking, its mere sight enough for Gareth to succumb to hysterics. That is, hysterical laughter.

Waddling towards you is a barrel-shaped creature, reaching no taller than your knees, its features squashed into its face. It stutters to a halt before you and raises its beady black eyes to meet yours, gamely fixing you as it puffs out its chest, drawing a long, rattling intake as it works itself up to a fit of coughing – no, you realize as you stare, stunned – barking. Behind you, Gareth laughs even harder.

“I am so grateful,” he says with difficulty between peals of laughter, “that I have you to defend me from such a scary monster.”

You look down at the so-called scary monster. Its dedication to intimidate you is admirable and quite endearing, though you do worry the poor pouch is going to end up with an actual cough attack.

A head pops out from behind the bookcase. “Did Max sniff out a pair of thieves?”

“We were just looking,” you say with a sheepish smile.

“Daria!” Adina shouts from the front desk, admonishing the woman whose features perfectly mirrors hers; their expressions, though, are night and day. “That’s no way to –”

“It was a joke!” Daria shouts back with a smirk, hands raised placatingly. “I recognize Lady Morgana’s children.” She winks down at the both of you. “Striking resemblance.”

Adina huffs and puffs from her desk, prompting Gareth to step in with a charming smile, made all the more beaming by the amusement still lingering on his lips. “It’s no trouble.”

As Adina returns to books and ledgers, Daria scoops up the beast known as Max and effectively neutralizes the foe with scratches behind the ear. The dog relaxes almost instantly, leaning eagerly into the touch. “Excuse Max over here,” she says. “Protective, this one.” Gareth glances at you pointedly.

Daria peers into the chest, then at you. “I see. Looking for some extra lessons, perhaps?”

You smile, delighted to see no trace of wariness or disdain in her friendly face. “We were just browsing. Gareth was very eager to see the new arrivals.”

“Oh, it’s a good batch,” she assures you. Her eyes glint playfully. “I had to fight pirates to get them here, you know.”

“You didn’t fight pirates,” Adina grunts.

“I did. I hit one with a book, it counts. How else would the guards on board have fended, without my help?”

“Were the pirates there for the books?” Gareth inquires, utterly captivated now.

“No,” Adina replies. “There was jewelry onboard.”

Daria shakes her head. “She’s no fun. Anyway, I’ll let you two look.”

You stop her just as she’s about to leave with the now pacified Max cradled in her arms. “Wait. Would you say there’s anything of particular interest here? Something interesting on magic theory, maybe?”

The woman leans against a bookcase, drumming her fingers against the wood as she think. Then she snaps her fingers and drops next to you, rummaging with her free hand within. “There’s this unassuming book the seller said is worth more than it looks like. Ah,” she wrenches it free from between two thick tomes. “There it is.”

Gareth takes the book and appraises it thoughtfully, like a jeweler gauging the value of a pendant. Then he breaks into a smile. “We’ll take it.”

You leave the shop content and victorious with your purchase. “Time to go back to the fair,” Gareth says, “so you can trash me at throwing darts.”