Muttering under his breath, the clerk fumbled with the ledger, pretending to check the numbers. Finally, he counted out a few copper coins with trembling fingers and slid them across the counter.
Leon picked them up without a word, tucked them into his pouch, and turned to leave.
Behind him, Clara's voice broke the uneasy quiet. "He hates Mother," she said, her tone flat but knowing. "Because she chose Father instead of him. And his son—he's Harold's friend."
He let out a slow breath, pushing down the flicker of anger that rose in his chest. "So that's how it is," he murmured, more to himself than to Clara.
Outside, the sunlight spilled across the cobbled street, warm and indifferent. Leon stepped out into it, letting the air wash the bitterness off his thoughts. "Come on," he said quietly, glancing back at Clara with a faint smile. "We've got more important things to do than worry about people like him."
Clara nodded, following close beside him, though her eyes still darted back toward the tax office.
"Here," Leon said, pressing a silver coin into her hand. "You and Elise can buy yourselves something."
"What! You need it…" she began, but Leon stopped and turned to face her, a small, reassuring smile softening his expression.
"I'll be fine," he said quietly. "You've both been working hard. Buy something nice — maybe a warm dress for winter, or sweets for Elise. Let her feel like a child for once."
Clara stared down at the coin gleaming in her palm, speechless. To her, a single silver piece was more money than she had ever held at once.
"But, Leon… you really don't have to," she whispered.
"I want to," he said simply.
"Alright," she murmured at last, closing her fingers around the coin. "But when Mother finds out, she'll scold me for taking it."
Leon chuckled softly. "Then tell her I insisted."
They continued walking down the cobbled street, the morning sun warming their backs. When they neared the Silver Pot Inn, they paused. Clara turned to him and hugged him tightly before heading off to work, her steps lighter than before.
Leon watched Clara disappear through the inn's doorway before turning back toward the market street.
He took a deep breath, letting the smell of baked bread, roasted nuts, and smoke fill his lungs. Merchants were shouting prices, cart wheels creaked over the stones, and a group of children darted past him, laughing as they chased a wooden hoop.
Leon adjusted the strap of his pouch and started toward the blacksmith's quarter. He could already hear the rhythmic clang of hammers striking iron echoing between the narrow alleys.
By the time he reached the forge, sweat glistened on his brow from the heat and the walk. The air smelled of soot and metal. The blacksmith, a broad man with arms like tree trunks, looked up from his anvil as Leon approached.
"Good morning," Leon greeted, his voice steady despite the roar of the forge.
The blacksmith grunted in acknowledgment, lowering his hammer and setting the glowing iron aside. Sparks hissed and danced as he plunged the metal into a trough of water, the air filling with steam and the sharp tang of iron.
"Morning to you, lad," the man said, rolling his shoulders as he turned toward Leon. "What can I do for you?"
"I need molds," Leon replied. "I can't quite explain it, but… I can draw it."
The blacksmith raised a thick eyebrow, studying him for a moment before nodding toward a workbench cluttered with charcoal and scraps of parchment. "All right then," he said with a faint grunt. "Let's see what you've got."
Leon nodded and moved toward the bench, his fingers already faintly stained with soot by the time he picked up a stick of charcoal. Then he began to sketch.
The blacksmith leaned over slightly, arms crossed, watching as the lines took shape — a simple, clean design for a candle mold, built for efficiency rather than beauty. Leon didn't stop at one; he drew several sizes — slender tapers, a broader one for inns and temples, each with measured precision.
When he finally set the charcoal down, he exhaled softly. "It should be metal, not clay," he explained, tapping the drawing. "Smooth on the inside, and the base should be detachable."
The blacksmith let out a low whistle. "What are the molds for, if I may ask?"
"Just something I'm experimenting on," Leon replied
"Okay," he didn't push any further. "This will cost you around five copper coins for the slender tapers for each mold and seven for the broader one , how many do you need?"
"Around ten for the slender tapers and five for the broader design."
The blacksmith nodded, scratching his chin thoughtfully as he glanced over the sketches once more. "Fifteen molds, then. That'll come to… let's see — eighty-five copper in total."
Leon hesitated briefly, calculating in his head. It was a significant sum, nearly a full silver piece once converted, but he knew it was a necessary investment. "I can pay half now," he said finally, pulling a small pouch from his belt. The faint jingle of coins filled the air as he counted them onto the table. "The rest when you're done."
The blacksmith gave an approving grunt. "Fair deal. Come by tomorrow evening — I'll have them ready by then."
Leon blinked in surprise. "That soon?"
The man chuckled, wiping sweat from his brow. "Aye. Molds aren't the hardest work, and you've brought clear designs. Once the metal's poured and cooled, it's just a bit of shaping and smoothing. Shouldn't take more than a day."
Leon nodded, impressed by the man's efficiency. "I'll be here tomorrow."
The blacksmith nodded, already gathering a few iron bars from the corner of the forge. "Good. I'll start on them as soon as I finish this order."
Leon stepped out of the forge, the clang of hammer on metal fading behind him as he made his way down the dusty main street.
Honey vendors lined the road, their stalls bright with glass jars glinting gold in the sunlight. The sweet, sticky aroma of honey mixed with the faint buzz of bees that still clung to the combs on display.
He stopped at one of the stalls where a middle-aged woman was arranging chunks of honeycomb on wooden trays. "Do you sell beeswax?" he asked.
The woman looked up, squinting slightly against the sun. "Beeswax, you say?" she asked, brushing her hands on her apron. "Aye, I've got some — not much, though. Most folks only want the honey."
Leon nodded. "I'll take whatever you have."
She tilted her head, studying him with a merchant's practiced eye. "What do you need it for, lad?"
"Just a little experiment," he replied dismissively.
The woman raised an eyebrow, then smiled, clearly amused by his secrecy. "An experiment, hmm? Well, we don't normally sell beeswax on its own," she said, folding her arms. "But how about this — you buy a jar of honey, and I'll add the beeswax for free?"
Leon's lips twitched in a faint smile. "That sounds fair, but if it works I will buy more beeswax from you."
"Good lad." She turned and selected a small jar from her shelf — golden, thick, and catching the sunlight like liquid amber. Then she reached under the stall and produced a bundle of pale wax wrapped in linen. "Fresh from the combs this morning. You'll smell the flowers still in it."
Leon paid with a polite nod and a quiet "thank you." The woman waved him off cheerfully as he tucked the goods into his satchel.
On the walk home, the streets had begun to cool under the lengthening shadows. He stopped by a few food stalls — picking up warm bread, roasted chestnuts, and a bit of dried meat for Kara and Melina. The thought of their smiles waiting at home lightened his steps.
When he reached the house, he spotted Melina and Sandra seated under the old elm tree, their laughter drifting through the evening air. A basket of half-peeled vegetables lay forgotten between them as they gossiped about something that clearly amused them both.
The moment they saw him, the conversation stopped. Both women stood quickly and came toward him, smiling.
"You're back early," Melina said, brushing her hands on her apron as she reached for one of the parcels. "And you brought food?"
Leon smiled. "Aunt Sandra, you're here too. How about you join us today?"
Before either woman could respond, he stepped forward and pulled Sandra into a tight hug—Sandra blushed, not able to meet Melina's judgy eyes even though they had talked about their sex escapades with Leon.
"Okay, I will stay." she answered with a whisper. He spanked her lightly, making her pull away with a red face.
Melina gave Leon a warm but curious glance. "You seem in good spirits today," she said, setting the parcels on the table. "Did something good happen?"
Leon shrugged lightly, trying to keep his tone casual. "Let's just say things are starting to look up."