A quiet Exchange

The morning sun had just begun to warm the orphanage when a loud crash startled Lera awake. She sat up abruptly, heart pounding, as the sounds of chaos echoed from below. Groaning softly, she rubbed her temples and glanced at Greaves, who stirred beside her.

"What now?" he muttered, his voice heavy with sleep.

"Trouble, obviously," Lera replied, throwing on her robe and heading for the stairs. As she descended, the commotion became clearer—raised voices, scattered laughter, and the unmistakable sound of Tomas shouting orders.

Lera stopped at the doorway to the main hall and took in the scene. The table lay in two jagged pieces on the floor, surrounded by the remains of two broken chairs. Ellie and Finn stood a few feet away, red-faced and glaring at each other, while Tomas loomed nearby, hands on his hips like an exasperated parent. Mira lingered behind them, clutching her doll with a guilty expression.

"What happened here?" Lera asked, her tone calm but firm.

Ellie pointed an accusing finger at Finn. "It was his fault!"

"Was not!" Finn shot back, crossing his arms. "She pushed me!"

"I didn't push you that hard!" Ellie retorted, stomping her foot.

Tomas sighed dramatically, rubbing his temples. "They were arguing over who got to sit where. Ellie pushed Finn, Finn fell into the table, and... well, this happened."

Mira nodded solemnly. "The chairs broke after that."

Lera pinched the bridge of her nose. "Unbelievable. You four are impossible sometimes." Greaves appeared behind her, taking in the scene with a tired groan.

"The table and chairs are done for," he muttered. "We'll have to get them repaired."

Lera shooed the older children toward the kitchen. "Go eat your breakfast, and stay out of trouble." She turned to Greaves. "We'll need to take the wagon. It's not like we can carry everything back by hand."

Greaves nodded. "Let's bring everyone. No point leaving the babies behind."

After a quick preparation, the group set out with the old wooden wagon. Greaves pulled it along the path, its creaking frame cushioned with blankets and hay for the five infants nestled inside. Sparks was wide-eyed and curious, her small fingers twitching toward the edge of the wagon as if testing the movement. Cross, lying beside her, shifted occasionally, letting out soft whimpers before settling back into the blankets. Ox gurgled delightedly, his chubby fists grasping at the air, while Alistair and Zara lay quietly, Zara's golden eyes lazily taking in the scenery before fluttering closed.

The older orphans walked ahead, their chatter filling the air. Ellie darted off the path to chase a butterfly, only to trip and land in a pile of leaves. Tomas sighed and helped her up, muttering under his breath about how they'd never make it to the village at this rate.

Lera glanced down at the babies in the wagon as she walked beside it. "They're calmer than the older ones," she remarked.

Greaves chuckled. "They'll grow out of it. Just wait."

When they reached the village, the bustling market square greeted them with its usual mix of merchants, villagers, and the rhythmic clang of the blacksmith's hammer. At the forge, the blacksmith greeted them with a hearty laugh and a wave of his soot-streaked hand.

"What've you done this time?" he asked, his tone warm and teasing.

"Kids got into a scuffle," Greaves replied, jerking his thumb toward Tomas and the others. "The table and chairs didn't survive."

The blacksmith chuckled and shook his head. "Sounds about right. Well, I'm up to my ears in work, but Sam can handle it. Sam!" A wiry young man emerged from the back, wiping soot from his face.

"Yes, sir?" the apprentice asked.

"Fix up their furniture," the blacksmith ordered. "Take your tools and head out with them."

As Sam began gathering his supplies, the blacksmith called over a nearby guard. "Darnel, escort the boy to the orphanage. Don't want him running into trouble."

The guard, a tall man with a slightly cocky grin, gave a sharp nod. "Babysitting duty, huh? Fine. Just don't blame me if he takes longer than usual."

The group returned to the orphanage, the wagon now carrying additional supplies—sacks of flour, dried goods, and tools the blacksmith had loaned them for repairs. Sam immediately got to work, kneeling by the broken table as he measured the jagged edges and prepared to start repairs. Sparks, nestled in Greaves' arms, watched intently as the apprentice wielded his tools, her small hands twitching toward the shiny hammer he used.

Darnel leaned casually against the doorframe, his sharp eyes scanning the surrounding area. "You know," he drawled, "if all your kids are this rowdy, I don't envy you two. Fixing tables every other day?"

"It's not every other day," Greaves replied dryly. "Just... often."

"Lucky me, huh?" Darnel said with a grin. "At least you'll have a sturdy table after this."

As the night deepened, Sam hammered the last nail into place and stepped back to admire his work. "That should hold up well enough for a while," he said, wiping his brow.

"Thank you," Lera said warmly, handing him a small pouch of coins. "We're grateful."

"Well," Darnel interrupted, "before we head back to the village, how about a hot drink? I could use something to keep me awake. Watching a kid hammer wood is exhausting."

Lera chuckled softly. "We have some tea. I'll bring it out."

Darnel winked at Sam. "See? Perks of being the escort."

As they settled on the repaired chairs with steaming mugs of tea, the quiet of the orphanage surrounded them. Sparks let out a soft gurgle, her tiny hand reaching out as if to grab the rim of Sam's cup. He grinned and moved it just out of reach. "Not yet, little one. You've got time."

Deep in the forest, a figure in fine but slightly worn clothing stood under the cover of the trees, speaking with a group of rough-looking men. "Ten children," he said, his voice low and measured. "Including an elf. You'd fetch a fortune for that alone."

The leader of the group leaned forward, his scarred face twisted into a cruel grin. "An elf? That's rare. What about the others?"

The stranger shrugged. "No idea what the rest are, but they look healthy enough. Could fetch decent prices if you find the right buyers. The elf, though—that's your prize."

The leader's grin widened. "Healthy or not, ten kids are worth a good haul. When's the best time to move?"

"Tonight," the stranger said smoothly. "The orphanage is isolated, far enough from the village that no one will hear a thing. They've got a guard and some apprentice hanging around, but they're nothing to worry about. A quick strike, in and out."

"And the caretakers?" another man asked, his voice gruff.

"A man and a woman, both harmless," the stranger replied with a dismissive wave. "Just don't leave too much of a mess. I need to keep my position in the village intact."

The leader chuckled darkly. "Relax. By the time anyone notices, we'll be long gone. No one's going to come looking for orphans, especially in a place like this."

His men murmured their agreement, the air thick with cruel anticipation. The leader's gaze lingered on the stranger. "The elf. Make sure it's unharmed. That alone will make this whole job worthwhile."

The stranger gave a small, cold smile. "Do what you need to. Just don't bring trouble back to me."

The group faded into the shadows, their low whispers disappearing with them. The orphanage stood unaware of the danger creeping closer, the light of the lanterns inside a stark contrast to the darkness gathering around it.