‘Trojjan. That's a strange name,’ William thinks,chewing his food. ‘I've never heard anything like it before.’
“I know that look, lad. You're wondering about my name, aren't you?” Trojjan asks with a knowing grin.
William simply nods, focusing on his soup.
“It's a traditional name from my mother's homeland,” Trojjan explains, leaning back slightly.
William ponders the explanation for a second before looking up. “Do you need help with brewing the medicines?”
“Oh, gods, no!” Trojjan scoffs, waving his hands dismissively. “Anyone trying to help me brew would just end up ruining the batches. I just need someone to clean up, arrange the supplies, and take care of Betty while I work.” Trojjan turns to gesture at the immense clutter spilling over every corner of the shop. “But the folks sent over by the recruitment agency were all rejected by Betty. And frankly, I don't think they're going to bother sending anyone else.
“But that's enough about me,” Trojjan says, waving a hand dismissively. “What's your story, lad? What brings you into the city?”
The question instantly changes the mood. The lighthearted atmosphere evaporates as the bleak reality of Ashbrook's destruction rushes back into William's mind. His appetite vanishes, and he slowly sets his spoon down, leaving the rest of the delicious stew untouched.
Noticing the sudden shift, Trojjan leans forward, asking cautiously, “Did something happen?”
William takes a quiet breath and lays it all out, explaining the Baron’s sudden decree and their forced relocation.
Trojjan listens quietly, his expression hardening slightly. “Well, I can't say it's anything new,” he sighs, a cynical edge to his voice. “Nobles don't really care about anyone but themselves.”
A heavy trace of lingering bitterness flashes across the apothecary's face, but William is far too absorbed in his own thoughts to notice it.
“Does this often happen?” William asks.
“It happens less than you think, but far more than you hope for,” Trojjan answers grimly. “So, what are your family's plans regarding the relocation?”
“We still haven't made any final plans, but I don't think we are going to move to Arindale,” William says.
“Well, that's unfortunate. I could have really used your help around here,” Trojjan replies, leaning forward with an expectant look. “How about this? You convince your uncle and auntie to let you work and live here.”
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“I don't think that will work,” William replies, already anticipating their answer. “They won't let me stay alone in the city.”
“Well, you won't know for sure unless you try,” Trojjan counters smoothly. “Besides, you won't be entirely alone. Your blacksmith friend is moving into the city permanently, too.”
As if on cue, panic spikes in William's chest. ‘John! He's probably worried sick looking for me. I hope it hasn't been too long since they started their discussion.’
William quickly thanks Trojjan for the meal and bolts out the door, running back to Mark's shop. Stepping inside, he immediately hears tense voices filtering down from upstairs. He lets out a breath of relief. ‘Looks like they're still discussing their future business.’
William sinks onto the nearest stool to catch his breath, the heavy meal and the waiting causing his eyelids to grow heavy. Just as he begins to drift off, the sudden noise of heavy footsteps jolts him awake. He blinks, watching John walk down the stairs with a deeply burdened expression.
“Did you accept his offer?” William inquires quietly.
“No,” John replies heavily. “I told him to wait until morning for my answer.”
William hesitates for a moment before speaking up. “Do you remember the white mare we saw when I first visited the city?”
The sudden question takes John by surprise. He pauses, thinking back. “What of it?”
“I met her owner today,” William explains, watching John's face closely. “He owns an apothecary just down this street. I told him about our forced relocation, and he offered me a job to clean the shop and take care of Betty while he works.”
John stares at him. “So, what did you say to him?”
“I didn't say anything,” William says, looking down as if trying to convince himself. “I don't think Auntie will let me stay and work for an unknown stranger in the city.”
“Well... that's true,” John replies passively. He looks at William's crestfallen face and softens. “Do you want me to talk to him?”
William gives a small nod, a look of defeated hope in his eyes.
As they enter the apothecary, they find Trojjan in the middle of trying to sort the chaotic mess on his shelves, though he only seems to be creating an even bigger disaster in the process.
John frowns slightly, his nose wrinkling from the pungent, heavy aroma of the dried herbs filling the air. The moment Trojjan notices them, John gives the apothecary a subtle nod before turning to William. “Lad, why don't you head to the back of the store and check on Betty?”
William nods in understanding, though inside, he sighs. It is entirely obvious the adults just want him out of the room so they can speak alone.
He walks to the back, crossing his arms in irritation. “Why do they keep treating me like I don't know anything?” William grumbles, leaning against the wooden stalls. “I can take part in a discussion, too. After all, I'm the one whom this conversation affects the most. Right, Betty?”
Betty lets out a soft, low neigh, nudging his shoulder as if entirely agreeing with him.
After a few more minutes of venting to the horse, William finally calms down. He waits anxiously near the doorway until John finally steps out from the back of the store. William hurries over to him immediately.
“So... how did it go? I mean, what happened?” William asks, his heart hammering.
“Nothing much. We just talked,” John replies, his expression serious.
“And?” William presses, staring directly into the blacksmith's eyes, refusing to let him off the hook.
John holds his gaze for a moment, letting the silence stretch. Then, a warm smile cracks through his stern face. “Hmm. I can't say I completely understand him yet... but he's a good person.”