"Oh," Cid said. "Well, that sounds nice, Lyle. Thanks for letting me know. I’ll come next week and check it out."

  But the lad was already shaking his head. "My grandpa saved you a spot— and a good one, too. Right by the road. That’s one of the places everyone always wants. He’ll be upset if you don’t show up, and so will everyone else who sees the space is empty."

  Cid sighed. He’d been looking forward to a slow morning, but it didn’t sound like he had much choice but to go. And it could be good for the future of Oak Tree Farm. If people liked his vegetables, they’d come back. Even if he could only provide a sample of what they’d get later, once the plants were finished growing, it would be worth it.

  "Anyways," Lyle said. "If you want to sell anything, you need to have your stuff in town in an hour. The market doesn’t last that long. Haven’s not that big."

  "Noted," Cid said. "And thanks, Lyle. It was really nice of you to let me know. And it was nice of your grandpa to save me a spot."

  The lad beamed up at him. "We want you to like it here!"

  He’s a good kid.

  "I owe you a favor," Cid said. "I’ll pay you back. Promise."

  "Cool!" Lyle said. "I’ll remember that!"

  And he was off running down the road toward town, his red hair flashing in the growing light. Cid watched him go, waiting until he was out of sight around the corner before closing the window.

  He’s a good kid, but I wonder what he’s going to ask me to do as payback for the favor.

  If there was one thing he’d learned about Lyle, it was that the lad often had some creative ideas— and ‘creative’ was a mild way of putting it.

  He’d worry about that later. For now, he needed to get ready and figure out what he could sell at the market. It would take him about twenty minutes to walk into town. Ten more, maybe, to get his booth ready. That meant he had about half an hour to get dressed and gather whatever vegetables might be ready.

  There’s no way anything will be ripe yet. The zucchinis have only been in the ground for a couple of days.

  Hopefully the Mana Cavern had done its work. If not, he’d have to improvise.

  He got dressed in a rush, washed his face in the sink— he was pleased to see the water came out so hot it was steaming— pulled his boots on, and headed downstairs. The sun was peeking over the horizon by the time he reached the field, and he knew he didn’t have much time.

  Why did Daryl spring this on me?

  Well, there was no knowing what the old man’s motives were. For all he knew, he was doing it because he thought it was funny to see Cid scramble.

  When he got close enough to see his crops, though, he was stunned. They weren’t all fully ripe yet— not by a long shot— but to his surprise, several of the zucchini plants had produced vegetables. They were small still, but they’d be good for samples at his first outing to the farmers’ market. He could take a few and leave the rest to grow.

  Even more surprising was an unfamiliar shock of leaves sprouting in one corner of the field. They weren’t tomatoes or zucchini, and they definitely weren’t any of the weeds he’d seen yesterday. Cid bent down to take a look, trying not to get his pants dirty. He was going into town today, and he wanted to look presentable.

  He dug up one of the strange plants and held it up in front of his face.

  Turnips.

  But he hadn’t planted turnips. Where had they come from? They must have gotten mixed in with the other seeds Daryl had given him when he planted them. Well, however they’d gotten here, they were ready to harvest. He could take them along with the zucchinis and hopefully sell at least some of them.

  Whistling and in good spirits, he headed back to the farmhouse and retrieved the empty seed bag Daryl had given him. The old man had told him he’d want to use it again someday, and he was right. He could carry his wares in it when he traveled to the market. It wasn’t large— but then again, he didn’t have that many crops. It would do for today.

  Back in the field, he cut five small zucchinis from their plants, dropped them in the bag, then pulled up almost all the turnips, leaving just a few to keep growing in the corner of the field.

  They grow quickly. They’ll come back.

  By the time he was done, his sack was almost full. He wouldn’t be able to fill his stand at the market, but he’d have enough vegetables there that he wouldn’t embarrass himself. That was progress, at least.

  Enough dew had collected on his plants overnight that Cid probably wouldn’t need to water them until the afternoon, so once he had his sack ready, he slung it over his back and headed toward town. Some mist was still rising off the damp road when he set out, but the rising sun was burning it away. It was going to be a hot day.

  "Hey!" said a voice behind him. "Cid Dawnshield!"

  It was Mary, one of the women who’d helped clean up the farm two days earlier. She was carrying a bag twice the size of Cid’s with no apparent difficulty.

  "You going to the farmers’ market?" he asked, eyeing her bag. This was his competition.

  "Yep! Got some fresh corn that just came in. People always love the corn from my farm— although I wish I had a little more space for it."

  "Yeah?"

  "Yeah. I’m working a tiny holding. It’s my family’s— passed down through the generations— but there are times I wish that my great-grandfather had thought to buy a little more land for us when he put it together. You know how it is."

  Cid didn’t, but he nodded as if he did.

  "Oak Tree Farm, though," she said. "That’s a gorgeous piece of land you have, Cid. Plenty of room for corn there. You planted any yet?"

  "Not yet," he said, sighing. "I’ve got zucchini and turnips in this bag. There’s a field I’ve got my eye on for corn, but it’s in rough shape."

  "I can imagine. That farm’s been dead for years."

  "So they tell me."

  "We’re all glad you came, Cid Dawnshield," she said, her expression softening. "Everyone in Haven. Your story last night was spectacular. And we’re glad to see that farm being worked again. It was time."

  "I really appreciated your help," Cid said earnestly. Then, he shifted his sack to the other shoulder. It was getting heavy, and he didn’t have much time before he needed to be at the market.

  She clocked him looking down the road toward Haven and grinned. "Aye. We both need to get going, don’t we?"

  "It’s my first farmers’ market. I don’t want to be late."

  "Nor do I. I’ll race you there, Dawnshield."

  "I think you’d win that race," he admitted.

  "Maybe," she said. "Maybe not. But seriously, we’re here for you. All of Haven wants this farm to succeed. And I think you’ll find that we’re a stubborn lot."

  He grinned. "I’ve already figured that one out."

  Before he could say anything else, Mary was walking down the road away from him at high speed with her sack of corn strapped to her back, bound for the market. Cid couldn’t match her pace, but he walked a little faster just the same. It would be rude to show up late after Daryl had saved him a spot.

  Chapter 35: Boots on the Ground

  Cid was breathing hard by the time he got to town. He’d tried to keep up with Mary, with no luck. She’d quickly pulled away from him and vanished into the distance.

  How did she do that?

  Maybe Haven’s Mana-infused water gave its residents unnatural powers of strength and speed. It would be unusual but not unheard of.

  He could hear the sound of hammering coming from around the corner. They must still be setting up the booths for the market. Cid looked down at his sack of vegetables, feeling a bit sheepish. He’d felt good about his wares when he’d set out that morning, but now, his bag felt small and a little pitiful. Hopefully he wouldn’t embarrass himself in front of the townspeople today.

  "Hey!"

  He looked up. Daryl was striding toward him, beaming. The old man had clearly dressed up for the special day. He was wearing a long green coat with matching shoes and hat, and his hair was neatly combed, slicked back, and parted.

  "Was I supposed to wear something nice?" Cid asked. His clothes were clean, at least, and free of dirt stains. But they weren’t exactly fancy.

  "No, no, lad, don’t worry about it. We’re just glad you’re here. How was your journey in?"

  "Not bad. Thanks for the invite. Hope this is enough."

  Daryl glanced at Cid’s bag, face neutral.

  "Aye," he said finally. "I think that’ll do. Truth be told, I wasn’t expecting you to have even that. Things grow fast up where you are."

  "They sure do," Cid said, looking down at his feet. He still didn’t want to tell Daryl about the Mana Cavern.

  I’ll do it soon once I’ve had a little more time to explore it.

  "Well, come with me, lad," the old man said, grinning again. "I’ll show you around the market. You can see what everyone else is selling. Then, I’ll help get you set up at your booth."

  "About that," Cid said. "Lyle told me you got me a nice spot by the road. I don’t— I don’t have enough stuff to make much use of a really nice booth—"

  But Daryl was already shaking his head. "Did he tell you that? Well, I suppose he was doing his best to get you to come. We can excuse the lad a little white lie. I got you a spot, lad. Can’t promise it’s a nice one. There are a lot of rules about these market booths, I’m sure you can imagine. Everyone’s always fighting over the best ones. And people here have long memories."

  "Oh," Cid said, relieved. Daryl had his back. At least he wasn’t accidentally taking someone’s spot and stepping into a minefield.

  "Here," the old man said, leading him toward Main Street. The road had been blocked off with wooden sawhorses at either end, and it was a flurry of activity as everyone tried to get their booths set up in time for the market to start. "Now, Maggie’s got a spot at the end. You can see she got in early and made sure she was all ready. She’s selling a pumpkin ale this week, I think. Not my taste, but some people like it."

  "Sounds good," Cid said. Pumpkin ale wasn’t really his taste either, but a new brew from Miss Maggie was surely worth a try.

  "We’ve got a baking section on the other side," Daryl went on. "Roger’s got the main stall, of course. But a lot of people in town do a little baking as a side business and bring things to sell here for extra money. And he’s a good sport about it. Always tries everyone else’s recipes, and sometimes even suggests some improvements."

  "That’s nice of him."

  "He’s a kind man, Roger. A bit lonely but kind."

  "Aye?"

  "Aye. His wife left him for a rival baker one town over a few years ago. She’s still there, but he was never really the same after that."

  "Oh," Cid said, taking a closer look at Roger. He was smiling as always, but there was something sad behind his eyes. "Poor guy."

  "Ah well. We all have our hardships to bear. Anyways, over there’s the butcher’s. Not much there right now— mostly cured meats, chicken, and what’s left of the spring lamb. Fall’s the best season at his booth. Cheeses here. We don’t really have a good cheese seller in town. Everyone just brings in what they were able to make from their own milk. And then finally, fruits and vegetables. It being summer, as you can see, there’s a lot of fresh fruit set out."

  Daryl looked at him as if he expected a response.

  "It’s very nice," Cid said. "The fruit looks good."

  Hopefully people wanted zucchini.

  He saw Mary setting up her booth next to an apple seller. She unloaded her bag onto the table, and a heaping pile of corn came out of it. It was impressive— and a little intimidating.

  Hm.

  He looked at his own sack and shrugged. He was never going to be able to compete with that. He’d just have to do his best and sell what he could with a smile.

  "Let’s go to your booth, lad," Daryl said. "I can help you get set up. Lyle and I built it this morning, so you won’t have to worry about construction, at least. I’ll take a look at what you’ve got to sell and see if I can arrange it so it looks appealing."

  "It’s mostly zucchini," Cid said. "And some turnips. They were a surprise."

  The old man smiled. "Then you’re doing well! The zucchini will be a hit this time of year. Turnips— well, we’re a little early for them. But I’m sure they’ll sell too. There’s a lot you can do with a turnip."

  "I’ll take your word for it.”

  He followed Daryl to his booth, clocking his competition as he went. Everything looked delicious. It was clear Haven had a lively farming culture already.

  "It’s not much, lad," Daryl admitted. "But it’ll do for a start."

  The stall wasn’t exactly in a plum spot for attracting customers. It was situated toward the back of the market where it wouldn’t get much foot traffic, and it was small and dark. It didn’t match Lyle’s description at all.

  "He said it would be near the road," Cid said. "I mean! I’m not complaining! I just—"

  "I’ll have to have a talk with young Lyle," Daryl said. "I know he meant well. Just wanted to make sure you came out. But it’s not right to mislead people like that."

  "Oh. Well. It’s really not that big a deal."

  He didn’t want the lad to get in trouble on his account.

  "But look," the old man said. "I know it’s plain and doesn’t have much to draw the eye, but if you keep coming back to the market, we can fix it up. Decorate it."

  Daryl looked so hopeful that Cid had to grin. "It’s perfect. Honestly, my crops aren’t that great yet either. The booth and I can improve together."

  "That’s the spirit, lad. Now, put your wares on the table, and we’ll sort it out."

  Cid did as he was asked, and to his relief Daryl nodded approvingly.

  "Zucchinis are small but good quality," he said. "In a few weeks, they’ll be looking nice. And the turnips are turnips. You can’t mess up a turnip, lad. You’ll do well today!"

  "Thanks," Cid said. "Let’s hope so."

  "Now, where’s that boy?"

  Right on cue, Lyle appeared, pushing his way through the crowd. His hair showed up first. It was so red, it almost glowed in the bright morning light.

  "There you are," Daryl said when he got to the booth. "Now, can you help arrange these vegetables on the table while I go get something for Cid? And don’t tell him what it is. I want it to be a surprise."

  Without waiting for a response, he vanished into the market. Lyle looked up at the table.

  "Nice wares," he said.

  Cid crossed his arms. The lad crossed his arms right back.

  "Nicest booth in the market?" Cid asked.

  Lyle looked a little abashed. "I wanted you to come."

  "You shouldn’t have lied. That might get you into trouble someday."

  "It wasn’t a lie. Not really. It could be the nicest booth in the market if we all fixed it up a little bit. And I think it will be. Grandpa’s got something nice for you, and I’m sure he’ll have more stuff next week."

  "Okay," Cid said. "I’ll give you that. But— close to the road? We’re way in the back. There are three rows of stalls ahead of us."

  "That’s still close to the road," Lyle said stubbornly. "It’s closer to the road than my house. Or Oak Tree Farm. It’s technically true."

  He had to laugh. "Alright. You’ll be a lawyer someday, mark my words."

  The lad made a face. "A lawyer? Boring. All they do is sit around all day. I told you, I want to be an adventurer. Or a Magic Knight."

  "Stick to being an adventurer. The Corps isn’t an easy life."

  Lyle looked like he was about to protest, but Daryl showed up again before he could say anything. Cid quickly rearranged the turnips on the table to make it look like they’d been doing something while the old man was gone.

  "Looks good, lad," he said when he got to the booth, fixing his piercing gaze on the pile of vegetables. "The arrangement makes it seem like you have more wares than you actually do."

  "That was definitely intentional," Cid said.

  "Here. look at this."

  Daryl was carrying an old wooden sign under one arm, and he set it gently on the table. The paint was peeling a little, but it looked nice. A little bit vintage.

  "Oak Tree Farm," Cid read. "What’s this? You’ve clearly had it for a while."

 

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