Ennui. XVI

"So Chloe,' Warren asked, 'not to toot my own horn but the village has been pretty impressive so far hasn't it? Four magicians borne from here and a tight-knit community. I'm not sure many other villages are like this."

Warren had brought Chloe through the bustling streets where the vendors shout their promotions in an effort to entice the people. Chloe's ears had not been accustomed to the loud shouts that the streets offered.

In the manor where she lived, it was silent most of the time. She rarely ever heard anyone say something above the noise level of a gentle admonishment. Her father never screams at the servants nor maids.

In contrast, the streets always had somebody shouting their discounts or squealing at the discounts. It was like having her ears being penetrated by a sharp rod; she was afraid her ears might bleed.

She cupped her ears and closed her eyes. Warren was not oblivious to this and ushered her to a more silent place. The orchard on the west end of the village. The apple orchard to be exact.

It was manned by a very old man, a farmer. The reason why it was silent was because the old man refused to let someone handle the pickings of the apple tree which to the villagers sounded more like an unapproachable old man rather than a picky and stubborn farmer.