Mother always said I should write down important days so I'd remember them when I'm old. Today was one.
Master Therin sent me to deliver cloth to Lady Ashford this morning. Three bolts of silk - the expensive kind we only stock for nobility- packed in the good woven basket,folded carefully the way she insisted. 'A noble inspects with their eyes first', she always said. 'If it looks careless, they'll assume you are too..'
I know the routes through the upper district well enough by now. Been making deliveries for two years, know which alleys cut time, which streets to avoid when the guard changes shift.
I was close to Lady Ashford's residence when I saw her on the street. She was talking with other nobles-three of them, all in those fancy clothes.
I hesitated. You're not supposed to interrupt nobles when they're conversing. Master Therin drilled that into me first day: wait until acknowledged, keep your eyes down, speak only when spoken to.
But Lady Ashford prefers to inspect her orders herself. Says she won't pay for cloth she hasn't touched with her own hands. I had to approach.
My hands were shaking. Nobles make me nervous. One wrong word and Master Therin could lose a client. One mistake and I would lose my apprenticeship.
I shuffled forward, hoping Lady Ashford would notice me without me having to actually speak.
One of the nobles saw me first. A man, older, with kind eyes. He smiled - actually smiled at me.
"Come here, child," he said, gesturing me closer. "No need to hover like a ghost. Lady Ashford, I believe this young woman has something for you?"
I could have knelt and thanked him. Instead I presented the basket, stammering about the silk Lady Ashford had ordered. She inspected it right there on the street, running her fingers over the fabric, checking the weave. She nodded, satisfied, and dismissed me.
I would have left then. Would have gone straight back to the shop. But the kind - eyed noble called me back.
"Girl- what's your name?"
"Len, my lord."
"Well, Len, would you do me a service? There's a fruit vendor three streets over. Bring me some apples- the red ones, not the green - and I'll give you a silver for your trouble."
A silver! I agreed so fast I almost tripped over my own feet.
The other nobles laughed, but not meanly. The kind-eyed one- told me to take my time, that they'd wait.
They'd wait. For me. Nobles, waiting for a seamstress apprentice.
I felt important. Proud.
I ran to the vendor, got the apples, choosing the least blemished ones like I'd been taught.Ran back. They were still there, still talking, and when I returned the kind-eyed noble actually thanked me. Gave me the silver like he'd promised.
I turned to leave, basket under my arm, head full of thoughts about what I'd spend the silver on -
And then the street erupted in noise.
"THE KING! THE KING RETURNS!"
People flooded from buildings, from alleys, crowding the street. I got pushed to the front somehow, right at the edge of the thoroughfare.
The royal caravan was magnificent. Carriages that sparkled in the sunlight, polished until they reflected the sky. Guards in armor so clean it glittered. Banners flying, horses stepping in perfect formation.
At the head rode two figures.
One was a warrior - tall, regal, in full armor that caught the light and threw it back in brilliant flashes.
And beside her rode a man in mage's robes.
He had dark hair, a stern look on his face, eyes scanning the crowd like he was searching for threats. His robes were deep blue - almost black - with silver embroidery that marked him as important. Powerful. His whole bearing had authority.
"That's the High Archmage, Leon of Pelenna," someone whispered close to my ear.
I stared.
This was him. The man from the stories. The one who'd won the battle at the gate, who'd saved the kingdom with his magic, who'd stood against monsters that would have overwhelmed them all.
The Hero of the First Clear, they called him in the taverns. The Greatest Mage of Our Age.
He looked... stern. Serious. Like he was carrying the weight of the world on his shoulders. Like he saw threats everywhere and was prepared to deal with them all.
He was magnificent.
And then - just for a moment - his eyes swept over the crowd and found mine.
It couldn't have been more than a heartbeat. Less. His gaze moving across faces, assessing. But for that brief instant,his eyes passed over me, over the basket, hands, face, our eyes met.
I saw... was that a smile? Just the tiniest quirk at the corner of his mouth? Or did I imagine it?
Then he looked away, continuing his scan of the crowd.
The caravan passed. The crowd dispersed. I stood there, still holding my basket, still trying to process what had just happened.
I'd seen the High Archmage. More than that - he'd looked at me and smiled, maybe.
I skipped back to the shop. My head was so full of the encounter that I forgot about everything else.
Master Therin was going to be so impressed. I'd seen the High Archmage! On the day of his arrival! From this close!
I burst through the shop door, already talking -
Master Therin looked up from his workbench. "Where's my basket?"
I stopped. Looked down at my empty hands.
The basket. The good woven basket. The expensive one we used for noble deliveries.
I'd left it on the street somewhere when the caravan passed.
Master Therin was not impressed.
He lectured me a long time about responsibility and attention to duty and how apprentices who lose equipment don't become journeymen.
But I don't care.
I saw the High Archmage. The Hero of the First Clear. The man who saved the kingdom.
I'm going to remember this day forever.
-Len, apprentice seamstress, age 16.