School of Tieflings (#scofti)

III, Going to School

After walking to the other end of the town, he found out it's name was Regagne. And also he felt that he wasn't welcome here. He knew it by looking at the behaviour of street cats. Any place must be judged by cats. If they are angry and anxious, then the place is bad, and if they are not afraid of you and come near to let you pet them, then it is obvious the neighbourhood was friendly.

There, cats were easy to be scared off, and mostly were sitting away from everyone and even each other.

Tief was looking at the singboards while wandering through the marketplace. He hid his money in several places, the golden galleons he had in a small pocket on the inside of his pants, half the others he had in his pouch and the rest was wrapped in the letter.

There was a weaponsmith, some old woman was selling metallic jewelry, a shoemaker, a butcher... In the distance Tief saw a familiar face...

It was the old man with the cart of hay! It was all empty now, and he was talking to some good dressed man. Tief decided not to bother them.

The young tiefling bard walked to the shoemaker and into his little shop. It smelled of leather, dust, and a little bit of oils and iron. All aroung the place, on the floor, on the walls, hanging from the ceiling there were boots, shoes, low shoes, snow-boots, riding-boots, farmer-boots, sandals...

An elderly man with no hair on his head was sitting in the corner by the window, working on some nice pair of boots: black leather, colorful laces... His back facing the entrance of the shop, he spoke in a gentle and tired voice:

— Rodrick, are you there? Go see who just came...

Tief looked around the shoemaker's shop once more. It was comfortable. Several chairs were around, every shoe was clean and smelled of oils. His head felt dizzy from so much freshness. He inhaled the air and sighed in surprising relaxation.

From behind the corner, from another room there came a curly headed peasant boy. He looked at Tief and suddenly shouted, scared. Tief covered his ears.

— I'm sorry, I'm sorry...

— Rodrick, what in the hell are you- oh... — The man was now looking towards Tief. He had no eyebrows, a very wrinkly face and deep blue eyes. Rodrick already hid in the other room which seemed to be a storage.

— I'm sorry sir, I didn't want to scare anyone I'm just-

— You should never, ever, ever apologise for being what you are, young man. — He spoke in a solid Brotteonian accent, saying words whole and having a strong note of something in his voice. This was something very difficult to explain in words... As if this man has seen a lot in his life, as if he had some discipline in him.

— I-

— Pardon Rodrick, he never saw someone like you but I did. My name is Ayaan Cempbill, how can I help you young man? Are you looking forward to buy some shoes?

— Yes mister Cempbill, I am. But I am now uncertain you will have any that will fit me...

— Why so? Take a seat young man, let's see what's the case. How can I address you?

— You... You can call me Tief.

— Tief? Do you know how degrading it is? Is this a nickname you got from your locals?

— I... Yeah, it is.

— Well, let's see then, Tief. Sit there, please, — He took a chair and offered it to Tief, who was fairly shocked and confused on how to behave. Mister Cempbill was walking as if he was bent in half, and now was coming to see Tief's bare feet.