As they strolled through the bustling fair, Malin's eyes sparkled when he spotted a carpentry stall. Without hesitation, he tugged at Rhaegal's sleeve, pulling him toward it.
The stall overflowed with wooden wonders — delicate and bold, large and small, each piece carved with exquisite detail.
Sensing potential customers, the stall owner hurried forward. His gaze flicked between the two men, noting the older one's formal attire and drawing his conclusion.
"Welcome, my lord," he greeted, directing his words solely to Rhaegal. "Our sculptures are crafted from the finest woods. You won't find better prices anywhere."
Rhaegal barely spared the man a glance, turning to Malin instead. "Did something catch your eye?"
Malin grinned and stepped closer. He picked up a beautiful lamp, carved in the shape of a lotus flower. Then, with youthful eagerness, he selected several more items — some intricate, others simple — and laid them before the stall owner. "Pack these," he instructed.
The owner beamed. "These are our most expensive carvings. They will—"
Before he could finish, Rhaegal produced a pouch and handed him two gold coins. The man's eyes widened. Bowing repeatedly, he scrambled to fetch a box for the items.
But before Rhaegal could blink, Malin's gaze had caught something else — a stall selling skewered meat. With childlike glee, he darted off, leaving Rhaegal standing beside the box of carvings.
"Malin—" Rhaegal called after him, but it was useless. The boy was already munching happily on a stick of roasted meat.
Rhaegal sighed. He glanced around, regretting his earlier decision to leave Alfred behind. Lifting the box, he carried it over to where Malin stood, beaming and chewing with delight.
"My lord, these are delicious! You should try one," Malin said between bites.
Rhaegal shook his head, watching the boy's bright grin. "You can have them all."
Once Malin was satisfied, Rhaegal paid the vendor. They continued through the fair, Malin flitting from stall to stall — buying trinkets, sampling treats — while Rhaegal followed, quietly settling the bills.
Though Rhaegal hadn't intended to accompany him — and had little love for crowded places — watching Malin's carefree joy felt… strangely rewarding.
After a while, Malin's pace slowed. He looked up, eyes still sparkling but tired. "I didn't think the fair would be this big, my lord. I tried sneaking in once. A guard almost caught me — I ran, and he tripped over a stone!" Malin giggled at the memory.
Rhaegal glanced at him, saying nothing.
Malin's smile faded slightly. "It's a shame that only the wealthy can afford to come here. If you hadn't brought me today… I would never have known what it's like."
Rhaegal studied him for a moment. Then, in a low voice, he said, "Malin… I can't pretend to understand what that feels like. I've never known such struggles. And I won't claim the world is fair — it isn't. Not to those without power. But I do believe this—" he paused, voice steady, "—everyone deserves a chance to change their fate. Whether the world agrees or not."
Malin looked at him, thoughtful. A small smile returned to his lips, softer now, less carefree, touched by something deeper.
"Thank you," he murmured. "For today… and for saying that."
Rhaegal gave a small nod, not trusting himself to say more. The boy's gratitude stirred something in him — a feeling he couldn't quite name..
"Come," Rhaegal said at last, voice gentler. "We still have time."
They walked on.
Malin, though more subdued, still found delight in every corner. A juggler tossed flaming torches into the air, earning a wide-eyed gasp. A painter captured portraits in quick, clever strokes. Musicians played lilting tunes that floated through the fair.
At one stall, Malin paused to admire a set of simple leather-bound diaries.
"You like them?" Rhaegal asked.
Malin hesitated. "They're beautiful. But… I don't know what I'd write."
"You will," Rhaegal said. Without waiting for protest, he purchased one and handed it to Malin.
Malin held it reverently, as if it were made of gold. "I'll… try," he promised.
They continued on, Malin now hugging the diary close.
Then — a puppet show caught his eye.
Children clustered around, laughing and clapping as colorful figures danced across the small stage. Malin slowed, drawn in. Without thinking, he moved to the edge of the crowd and crouched to watch.
Rhaegal stood a short distance away, holding the box, eyes fixed not on the puppets but on Malin. The boy's face was alight with joy, utterly unguarded. For that moment, the worries and weight Malin usually carried had vanished.
Something tightened in Rhaegal's chest.
He didn't belong here, among the crowds and noise. He hadn't set foot in a fair since forever . And yet — if this was the price to see that smile… perhaps it was worth it.
A voice interrupted his thoughts.
"My lord, would you care for a drink?" a vendor called.
Rhaegal shook his head. "No."
But his gaze never left the boy.
When the puppet show ended, Malin ran back, eyes shining. "That was amazing!" he said breathlessly.
Rhaegal raised a brow. "You enjoyed yourself."
"I did," Malin grinned.
Rhaegal's expression softened. "I'm glad."
They resumed walking, slower now.
Malin glanced sideways, voice light but curious."My lord… do you come here often?"
Rhaegal was quiet for a moment, gaze lingering on the crowd. Then, softly, "No. I'm too busy working to waste time on leisure."
Malin smiled, eyes warm. "But you did — today."
Rhaegal met his gaze, momentarily unsure how to reply.
Malin pressed on, his tone gentler now. "Do you ever take time off… to do things just for yourself? Not for work. Not for duty."
Rhaegal gave a faint shake of his head.
"Sometimes, living for centuries brings a kind of… emptiness. You stay busy to keep the boredom at bay."
Malin chuckled, the sound light as the breeze.
"Then I hope to become that remedy one day."
Rhaegal turned to him fully this time, startled by the soft earnestness in those words.
Malin hesitated, voice dropping. "I want you to be happy, my lord. You deserve that."
For a heartbeat, Rhaegal said nothing — only studied the boy beside him.
Such simple words. And yet they landed like a blade against stone, chipping away at walls he'd long forgotten he'd built.
By noon, Malin had seen nearly every corner of the fair. His steps grew slower, his eyes half-lidded with fatigue. He let out a long yawn.
"Are you tired?" Rhaegal asked, glancing his way.
Malin nodded. "I am… but I wish I could go somewhere else. There's a place I miss very much."
Rhaegal's gaze softened. "And where is that?"
"Pearl Harbor," Malin replied, his voice growing wistful. "It's not far from the settlement. There's a lake there — where everyone used to wash and swim. My parents found me by that lake." He paused, eyes distant with memory. "Whenever I had to face something hard, I'd sit there. It always felt like… home."
Rhaegal studied him, then nodded. "It sounds peaceful." A faint smile touched his lips. "Come — I'll take you there."
Malin's eyes lit up, but then he caught sight of the box and the other parcels in Rhaegal's arms. His face fell in guilt.
"My apologies, my lord — please, let me carry those," he said quickly.
Rhaegal let out a soft chuckle. "I've been carrying them all day. I don't mind." He turned, already walking ahead. "Come. Let's go."
Malin gave himself a light knock on the head.
"You're so silly, Malin," he muttered, before hurrying after him.
When they reached the carriage, Eugene, who had been lounging nearby, sprang to attention. He jumped down and opened the door with a bow.
"Welcome back, my lord."
Rhaegal and Malin settled into their seats. Without missing a beat, Rhaegal gave the next order.
"To Pearl Harbor," he instructed calmly.