Altair stepped out into the busy street, the morning sun warming the stone path beneath his feet. The town was more alive than usual—people scurried between stalls, exchanging goods, bargaining prices, and carrying sacks of whatever essentials they could still afford. The air was thick with a mixture of sweat, smoke, and the scent of earth. Altair clutched the pouch of silver and gold tightly in his hand. It felt strange, having so much money for once.
He wasn't used to this. Back in the village, a single silver coin could buy a week's worth of food. Now, he was walking around with enough money to splurge. He had already begun imagining what to buy for the children—warm clothes, proper shoes, maybe even toys. Things they'd never had before.
His first stop was a general goods store. He picked out five thick blankets, ten pillowcases, cotton, and a mattress. After that, he went to the shop next door to buy shoes for all of them. After some testing, he chose two pairs for each child—made from tough leather but with soft soles. He tried a pair on himself and sighed in relief. They were leagues better than his worn-out ones, which were practically falling apart.
Next, he made his way to a small shop that sold children's items. The shelves were dusty, and the toys looked like they hadn't been touched in weeks. Still, he found small trinkets, a ball stitched from cloth, and a stack of paper and ink. He held them for a moment, imagining the smile on Lero's face—or the other kids'—when he brought them back. Just the thought warmed something in his chest.
He also visited a blacksmith's shop, where he bought more kitchen knives, a few daggers, and even a small bow and arrows fit for the children. He was planning to train the three boys in basic weapon handling. His father had taught him when he was young—how to hold a blade, how to aim true, how to hunt. Now it was his turn to pass down those skills.
Lastly, he arrived at the largest clothing shop in the area. He'd saved this for last, knowing it would take time.
Bolts of fabric were displayed around the store, and rows of neatly folded shirts, pants, and cloaks lined the walls. A woman behind the counter raised an eyebrow when she saw him step in and quickly signaled her fellow workers to assist.
A young woman with a bright smile approached him. "What do you need, sir?"
"I need clothes," Altair said, "for myself and some children."
The woman's demeanor immediately softened. She smiled and guided him through the racks, asking about sizes and preferences. He picked out a cloak for each of them, five shirts, pants, socks, and undergarments. For Verda, he selected ten dresses in varying colors and lengths. He also added coats, mittens, and scarves for the coming cold.
There were so many clothes that the workers had to call for extra hands just to sort and fold them.
While the woman at the counter was tallying up the purchases, Altair glanced around and caught sight of a woman staring at him from across the room. Her eyes were narrowed, as if trying to remember something.
When he turned to look at her directly, recognition dawned on her face. Her gaze flicked toward the counter—toward the pile of goods—and her eyes widened.
Altair stiffened and turned away, ignoring her.
It was Lero's aunt.
She didn't say anything more. She simply turned and walked out of the store.
He paid quickly and stepped out of the shop, arms full of bundled clothes. The midday sun glinted off the windows, casting long shadows across the stone road.
He barely took two steps before he spotted a pair of figures standing just outside the store.
Lero's aunt—and a middle-aged man.
The woman, gaunt with sharp cheekbones and narrowed eyes, smiled wide. It didn't reach her eyes. Her husband, a stocky man with a crooked nose and an oil-stained tunic, stood with his arms crossed, grinning in a way that screamed trouble.
"Hello! We meet again," the woman said, stepping forward like she was greeting an old friend. "Do you remember me? I'm Lero's aunt."
Altair's eyes narrowed as they both looked at his bundles far too intently. Their eyes practically gleamed with greed.
He said nothing, trying to move around them, but the man blocked his path with a fake, too-friendly laugh. "Don't be in such a rush, young man. We just wanted to talk. I'm Garren, and this is my wife—Helda."
The woman's smile tightened. "We've been meaning to ask… where is little Lero? We want to bring him home now."
Altair's heart burned with fury. Shameless. They'd sold Lero off and now they were acting like concerned parents, picking up their child from school.
He tilted his head, feigning confusion. "I don't know what you're talking about."
The woman's smile vanished. "Don't play games with us. Return him to us, or you'll be in trouble. Kidnapping is illegal."
Altair's voice remained calm, but he gripped the sack tighter. "I think you've mistaken me for someone else."
"Oh, come now," Garren scoffed. "You really think you can just take someone else's family and walk away? If you want to keep the kid, fine. But you'll need to pay for him."
The woman stepped closer, her eyes hard. "Yes. Yes. We spent a lot of money and food raising him. That food you gave wasn't enough. Hand over some gold, and we won't report you to the authorities. If you really care for the boy, pay us what he owes."
Altair blinked slowly, stunned by the audacity. "You're blackmailing me over a child you starved and abused?"
"That's slander!" the man growled. "We raised him, fed him—"
"With scraps," Altair snapped, temper fraying. He remembered Lero's bony frame and clenched his jaw.
"You don't know what's good for you," Helda hissed. "If you don't return him, we'll report you for kidnapping."
Altair exhaled slowly, voice chillingly calm. "Do you have any evidence that I kidnapped him?"
The woman smirked. "We still have the sack you gave us. We'll tell the guards you beguiled our children into trading him for food."
Altair's jaw tightened for a moment. Then he stepped forward, meeting her gaze with ice.
"Perfect," he said. "Then I'll also file a report. That food was a reward for services rendered. I'll say my reward was stolen by the two of you and now you're blackmailing me, so that I won't report you."
The woman paled, her lips pressed into a thin line.
"What? How could it be—?"
"Why couldn't it?" Altair replied coolly. "Why don't you try and see who the authorities believe—you or me?"
Garren opened his mouth, but no words came out. The sheer certainty in Altair's voice—and the weight of his stare—left them speechless.
Altair stepped back. "Now, get out of my way."
They parted, stiff with fury, but unwilling to press further.
Altair walked away without looking back, his heart pounding against his ribs. He gritted his teeth.
Shameless to the core, he thought. They never cared about Lero—All they saw was profit.
He was certain they'd try to stir up trouble again. Thankfully, he'd taken Lero straight to the stronghold. Still… he'd have to be careful. He had the guts that they wouldn't give up so easily.