The Art of Imagination

Chapter 2

Back in town, Ingrid was hit with an overwhelming aroma of sea salt but the sensation was different this time. The wharf wasn’t the same.

There were significantly less men and those that remained were old and unfit, some looking quite withered too. Others were young, scrawny and lanky adolescents. Men’s wives had taken over the fishermen’s businesses but the haul of fish was less than usual, now that ships were without their main source of labour. All the men must have been conscripted over the past fortnight since she was last in town.

“Half a kilo of salmon, please,” Ingrid told the woman quietly, her expression as forlorn as the vendor before her. She received the fish silently and paid the woman without needing to be told. “Thank you.”

“Welcome,” the woman replied monotonously.

Ingrid trudged around the corner and into the empty town square. Melancholy hung thick in the air. The fountain was still, the cobblestones were bare and the whole air was forlorn. War had stricken the beloved town of Montgomery, a town she rarely got to visit. And now the life had left. Even the children were devoid of cheer.

The familiar rumble of vehicles passed her by down the roads. Ingrid ignored it and walked into Baker Fred’s Bread. The usual plump man named Fred that served behind the counter was gone. In his place was a sniffling young woman with puffy red eyes. She took pity on the girl and pain on her own face; she obviously missed the men in her life and judging by her youth and resemblance, Fred must have been her father. Hopefully for the bakery girl’s sake, Fred was serving as a cook, not a soldier.

“Three large jars of jam and five loaves of bread,” Ingrid ordered, pulling out a pouch of coins and started adding it up in her head.

There was no need as the red headed girl returned with the order and droned out the price. “Twenty-five silver pieces.”

The silver coin almost dropped from her fingertips. “W-What? But my usual order –”

“We raised our prices when the men left. You probably didn’t know.” The redhead pointed to the large poster plastered to the glass pane which advertised new pricing for Fred’s bakery. “Twenty-five silver pieces, exact.”

It wasn’t that Ingrid had a problem with paying. Her father had built up an enormous amount of wealth which only Tabitha and herself had access to. There was plenty of money but the sudden change was what caught her off guard. “Why?”

“No men, scarce products.” She shrugged, wiping at her eyes and waited at the counter by the baked goods protectively. “If you can’t pay –”

“I can!” Ingrid interrupted and fished out a gold coin instead. “Do you have change?”

The girl’s eyes widened at the sight. Ingrid suddenly felt foolish for doing so; it wasn’t common to see many gold coins around this little town. Silver pieces were already expensive as it was. “S-Sure.”

Once Ingrid was done with her bakery business, she stepped back outside and heard the little bell ding behind her as the door swung shut. She’d have to alert the cooking staff of the raised prices now. At least there were less mouths to feed.

At the very thought, pain sliced at her chest.

Don’t, Ingrid, she thought to herself firmly. She leaned against a wooden pillar and breathed deeply through her nose. After several long breaths, she managed to swallow back the tearful lump in her throat. Better. Control, Ingrid. You are in control.

When she finally lifted her head, she was met with the vacancy of the courtyard which only reminded her of the emptiness awaiting her back home. Turning away, Ingrid slipped between the bakery and a neighbouring building, drawing herself further away from the yard. She couldn’t handle it much longer before she’d burst again. She certainly didn’t want to make a spectacle of herself.