Of course, Oliver hadn''t bought any of those yet. He was feeling the cold, though less so than the rest. The padded jacket that he wore was good enough for his purposes, at least for now. It didn''t seem to get quite as cold within the Stormfront centre as it was back in Solgrim, amongst the ck Mountains.


    He''d arranged this particr afternoon for the inspection of the Academy''s Marketce, a ce that he still had yet to check out personally, despite the many times that his retainer and ckthorn had told him that he should.


    Unfortunately, despite having agreed to show him around, Verdant had been quickly upied on the afternoon that they''dmitted. He''d been searching for a way to make Oliver''s nned expedition that weekend a reality – and the faculty had reacted even more harshly than they''d anticipated. He''d been forced into a meeting, and despite Oliver''s questions, the man hadn''t told him who it was with.


    Instead, he''d say. "Do not worry, my Lord. I will see thispleted, as I told you I would. Enjoy your afternoon."


    He''d delivered that line behind a false smile, like a soldier going off to war, trying to convince his family that he''d be fine.


    What Oliver had not anticipated was that Verdant had already found a recement for him. The priest waspetent in ways that were almost unfair. Not only did he have the power and position that came with being the heir to the Idris house, but he was also impossibly diligent.


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    Intelligent in some ways, but oblivious in others. Sort of like Oliver himself. Though, he supposed it was likely his own fault. How could he expect others to understand how he felt if he didn''t voice such feelings out loud?


    "Hm," ckthorn said, frozen and unsure, yet she was the one meant to be guiding him.


    Yes, the recement that Verdant had organized was none other than ckthorn herself, and that had stalled the whole process by an enormous amount. He needed someone that would show him around, and exin things to him… could there have been anyone worse than ckthorn for that ask?


    He''d known it would be terribly awkward the moment that Verdant had told him about it, but given that the priest clearly had a weightier problem that he needed to tackle, Oliver had said nothing but his thanks, telling himself that he would take the opportunity for what it was worse, and that surely it wouldn''t be so bad.


    "I can''t believe you don''t know where the stuff in the Market is," Amelia said. "I mean, it''s so obvious…"


    The little angry blonde pixie of a girl that ckthorn called a retainer didn''t do much to make matters better. Ever sinceing back from the Grand Forest, she had seemed to decide that she needed to make up for her temporary meekness by being doubly as hostile.


    Oliver sighed. Going on his own would have likely been better. After all, Amelia wasn''t wrong. It wasn''t exactly aplicated ce to navigate. It was like a tiny town centre, with several streets of open stalls protected by canvas on several roads, and then some more permanent andrger stalls mixed in with them.


    This was the only ce on the campus where the impermanent stalls were allowed to pitch their tents, and do business, but the permanent stalls – providing they had nning permission – could be built nearly anywhere, as long as they were done so out of wood, so that they could be easily torn down once their owner''s graduated.


    Operating the stalls were yellow-shirted students. That was about what Oliver had expected. It was hard to imagine a noble personally attending the stall. But he''d thought – from his time amongst the soldiers, after seeing the way that they interacted with vigers – that the Serving ss students would have a simr sort of shame.


    But here they were, running stalls with all kinds of goods – from fruit sticks, to steaming pies, to hot drinks, to clothes of all sorts – without a hint of shame. In truth, it was more the food that Oliver was surprised about. He just hadn''t expected it to be somon.


    He''d thought that the stalls would be more rted to the different courses that the students took – though there was indeed a culinary course – but it seemed even here, profit was the primary incentive, and these food stalls had no shortage of visitors.


    "Here you are, my Lady," Pauline returned, carrying three fruit sticks, topped with apples, and strawberries, and grapes – a fruit that he only recognized by description. He''d never seen it in person before.


    Oliver hadn''t even noticed that Pauline had disappeared until the moment that she returned. ckthorn epted the fruit stick eagerly, and then daintily began to nibble on the end of it, as happy as a rabbit given a carrot.@@novelbin@@


    They''d been walking together since the Red Castle –the market was situated between the Green and Yellow Castles -  but he hadn''t heard ckthorn express for even a moment that she''d wanted a fruit stick. In fact, she''d barely said anything at all.


    "You do a good job reading her mind…" Oliver noted, as the girl also handed off a fruit stick to Amelia who epted it with a grateful thanks. Pauline blushed at thepliment.


    "We''ve been together for a few years now… It''s only natural, isn''t it? Also… for you," she said, offering him the third fruit stick.


    "For me? What about you?" Oliver asked.


    The girl shook her head, going even redder. "I''ve already eaten, and uhm… It''s not my favourite," she said.


    "Hm… Well, thanks, then," Oliver said, taking it off her. He took a bite – delicious. He wondered how they managed to keep the fruit so fresh despite it now being well into winter. That seemed to be a mystery worth solving, should he ever decide to open a food stall himself.


    As they walked further down the cobblestone path, he noted a fruit stick stall, where he assumed that Pauline had likely gotten them from. He nced at the sign, checking the prices. 3 coppers for a fruit stick…