Page 25 of The Orc Chief's Baker
“It’s true,” Headman Gerald said with a quick nod. “I just received the bird from Chief Ergoth a few moments ago with this offer. They are bringing the elk to the trade as we speak. Before they only made assurances of our safety, but they must have realized that some of our members might be put off and well...” He looked out over the group readying to trade with a long sigh. “Hopefully, this means that more will participate. I am thankful that you are here, at least. Your goods will be well received.”
“I want to participate, but Victir decided not to come. He can’t pull my cart for me.”
The headman blinked his gray eyes wide. “Ah. That is a problem. Let’s see...” He glanced around, obviously seeing what she did. A complete lack of anyone who could help.
“Tobbis can pull for you, Trinia.”
Trinia turned around to find Ronhold, the best and most profitable cobbler in Oakwall, approaching with his teenage son. The young Tobbis looked about as grumpy as a sheep on sheering day, but his father’s burly hand was so tight on his shoulder there was no way to escape.
Ronhold and his family were well-known in the village, both for their outgoing personalitiesandtheir extremely successful footwear business. They were the only cobblers in Oakwall with the skill of making boots large enough for the orcs’ feet.
And it earned themmanysuccessful trades.
“Tobbis would be happy to pull for you today, wouldn’t you, Tobbis?” Ronhold looked to his young son, daring him to argue. The boy looked at the ground and grumbled something Trinia couldn’t hear.
“Are you sure, Tobbis?” Headman Gerald obviously saw the same hesitation that Trinia did.
“Course he’s sure!” Ronhold slapped his son’s back. “Now go on son. Follow Trinia back to her cart.”
Trinia wanted to argue, but she didn’t have any room to do so. The only other option was to have the headman himself pull for her. So, she waved Tobbis toward the path to her bakery and examined his scrawny arms. She wondered if he even had the strength to pull all her goods.
“It’s just this way,” she told him.
“I know where the bakery is,” he grumbled indignantly.
She rose her brows.
“Tobbis. Get along,” Ronhold said sternly.
The way it was worded had Trinia wondering if he meant get alongon your wayor get alongwith her.
Didn’t matter regardless. He was just pulling the cart for her. If she did a good enough trade, the load would be lightened, and she’d be able to pull it back on her own. The awkward walk would only last for a small portion of the morning.
She glanced at Tobbis from the corner of her eye. The boy was about as gangly as a wet noodle with stringy brown hair to match. His mother and father had lush waves of auburn hair and she wondered how their son had gotten the color but lost the texture. Or perhaps it was just unwashed?
The silence was deadly uncomfortable, and she ventured to break it.
“You... just turned nineteen, didn’t you? A few days ago at that,” Trinia asked casually. She only remembered because his mother had commissioned a cake. “Congratulations on becoming an adult.”
He blinked at her and then scratched the back of his neck. There was a noticeable sweat stain under his arm. One that was dry. There were old oil and food stains marring the cream-colored cotton too. How many days in a row had he worn this shirt? Trinia edged away, grateful she wasn’t downwind.
“It was. You and your sister didn’t show.” His voice was rather flat and Trinia’s brow pinched with confusion. Being the only child of the best cobbler in town, the man who madeallthe orcs’ shoes, Tobbis was well renowned. Their meeting hall had been used to host his coming of age party and the entire village had been invited.
But he’d noticedherlack of attendance?
“I’m sorry. I was too busy with the bakery.” A pang of guilt twinged in her chest.
The boy just shrugged.
“Figured. Baking’s about all you ever do.”
The flat disinterest in the boy’s tone made her feel a little slighted. “People do like bread,” she remarked with narrowed eyes. Her goods were considered more of a luxury than a staple in their village, but she still had regular customers.
“I guess.” He started to pick at his teeth with his pinky finger. “The cake was dry.”
Trinia’s mouth fell open, but before she could quell her urge to trip him, he said, “How come Yerina didn’t attend, then?”
That question had a mite more emotion behind it. Emotion akin to a toddler whining about a toy. “I don’t know. I’m not my sister’s keeper.”
