Back to the Roots

Cheapter 4: Silent Threat

The young man froze me in place when he shouted from behind. My heart started pounding rapidly. Slowly, I turned around, and several men beside him quickly closed in, surrounding me. My eyes locked onto the tall, brown-haired young man with a few strands of hair falling over his face. His gaze was hard, challenging me. The men with him didn’t take their eyes off me either.

“Who are you?” the young man demanded.

I turned my face toward him and replied defiantly, “Who are you?”

One of the men beside me grabbed my arm roughly and snapped, “Show some respect! Do you even know who you’re talking to?”

I took a deep breath. I didn’t want to cause trouble for my cousin and uncle. I slowly pulled my arm back, looked the young man in the eye, and bowed respectfully.

He nodded slightly and asked, “What’s your name?”

“Elia,” I answered.

“Where are you from?”

“I’m from Trenia. I don’t live here—I’m just visiting my family,” I said.

“Be careful, Elia. You’re drawing too much attention,” he warned, then gestured to his men.

They walked away. I quickly returned to my cousin at the stall.

Mary, protective as always, asked, “What did you say to them?”

“Nothing,” I said. “I just gave them their money.”

“They seemed a bit strange,” she said.

“Yes, I felt the same. I think they were from the palace,” I replied.

“You know, I thought the same thing. I wish I hadn’t spoken to them at all,” she said.

I smiled at her. I really appreciated how much she cared and worried about me.

Then I asked, “Where’s uncle?”

“He went to sell in some nearby villages,” my cousin answered. “I’m a bit alone today.”

“Don’t you have anyone with you?” I asked.

“Well, you’re here,” she said. That made me feel good.

After a while, uncle returned and asked about the letter.

“I thought about it,” I said. “Instead of sending a letter to my father, I want to go to the port and give it to someone I know there. It’ll be safer that way.”

Uncle nodded. “Good idea.”

We continued selling. At the end of the day, Mary and I packed up. We were tired but happy. We cooked and ate together. During dinner, uncle shared stories about my father, how he met my mother, their wedding, and old memories from Trenia. Even though I had never heard these before, they felt very close to me. My heart both ached and warmed.

After dinner, we washed up and went to bed early. The next morning, uncle and I planned to go to the port to give the letter to someone he knew. That was our plan.

We had a simple breakfast. When Mary said she was going to the market, I said, “I’ll come later.” We decided to go our separate ways that morning. Mary stayed at the stall, but I had something to do first: write a new letter. For that, I needed paper and a pen.

After looking through a few shops in the bazaar, a small store on the corner caught my eye. Its shelves held parchment rolls, writing pens, and ink bottles. I went inside. I noticed someone else enter behind me but didn’t look back; I only heard footsteps.

The man behind the counter was old with curious eyes. While browsing the shelves, I felt the parchment rolls and picked a nice one. Then I grabbed a writing pen. The man approached me and asked, “Are you going to write something, young lady?”

I nodded slightly.

“Let’s see whose daughter you are,” he continued.

Without hesitation, I answered, “My name is Elia. I’m Kian’s daughter.”

His face changed instantly. “Kian? The hero of Trenia, Kian?” His eyes seemed to fill with tears. “You’re his daughter?”

I swallowed hard and only smiled.

“Your father was a man who risked everything for Trenia,” he said sadly. “Knowing you’re his child... it means a lot.”

While I was paying, the boy who had followed me into the shop stayed busy near the shelves, seemingly occupied with something. After finishing, I said goodbye to the old man and left. The man called after the boy, “Hey! Still can’t decide? What are you looking for there?”

The boy replied nervously, “I haven’t found what I’m looking for.”

He followed me out. The man shook his head and said, “Hmm... He’s been staring around for an hour.”

I smiled slightly and returned to Mary. The stall was still busy. We worked together for a while. Then Mary got up early, ready to head home.

“I’ll prepare dinner,” she said.

I nodded. “Okay, you go. I’ll stay a bit longer.”

“Oh, and before you go,” she said, “Set aside those two crates of eggs. Their owners will come soon. The others are sold already. You don’t have to keep selling.”

“Got it,” I said. “I’ll give them when they arrive.”

Left alone at the stall, I took out the paper and pen. I started a new letter. The letter had to be short and have one purpose: to convince my father to set out with whoever would bring this letter.

My letter said:

Father,

I am fine. I found my uncle and cousin. I am staying at their home.

You can trust the person who brings you this letter. He will bring you to me.

I love you. Take care.

– Elia

After finishing the last line, I looked up and locked eyes with a boy who seemed to be shopping at the stalls across from me. He quickly looked away. I instinctively looked back down at my letter. I tried to act calm and measured, but something stirred inside me.

That boy was the same one who followed me into the shop where I bought the paper earlier that morning.

He was there then, and he was here now. In both places, we had made eye contact, and in both, he had looked away. This coincidence was starting to feel like more than chance.

My old warrior instincts kicked in. Could this boy be following me?

I wondered if he was a spy sent from Solvenia.

I lifted my head and looked around. As I took a few steps, I checked behind me.

At that moment, the egg owners arrived. I handed over the crates and exchanged brief greetings, then packed up my stall and left.

As I walked, I checked my surroundings several more times. The market wasn’t just a place for shopping anymore — it was a place to hide.

I walked home cautiously, each step more alert than the last. My eyes scanned the surroundings, and my ears tried to catch every little sound. There was an uneasiness inside me; I didn’t feel safe. But I couldn’t run away. My uncle and cousin were here — I had to be strong for them.

Before entering through the garden gate, I scanned the area one last time. No one was there. Feeling a little relieved, I opened the door quietly and stepped inside. My uncle was in the kitchen and smiled faintly when he saw me.

“You arrived safely. That’s good,” he said.

“Yes, thank God,” I replied.

We had plans for the day; we would meet the person to whom we would deliver the letter. Uncle said we would meet a man named Alex, someone he knew. Alex was a merchant who transported goods to the Solvenia port. I’d heard he was familiar with the city and trustworthy. A small spark of hope stirred within me.

After a while, we all set off together. The streets were quiet, but activity increased as we neared the port. The sound of wooden crates, seagulls’ cries, and the salty sea air filled my nose. My uncle greeted Alex in the crowd.

Alex was tall, lightly tanned from the sun, with watchful yet friendly eyes. He nodded and smiled as he approached us. In that moment, I felt a sense of trust. Maybe I wasn’t alone anymore.

Uncle asked, “Is she your niece?”

Alex nodded. “Yes.”

I took out the letter. My fingers trembled slightly, but Alex gave me confidence. I extended my hand; our hands briefly touched. A strange warmth spread in my heart.

Alex said, “I promise the letter will reach its destination. If necessary, I’ll go through even the narrowest alleys of Solvenia.”

I nodded. “Thank you.”

Despite the dangers in the city that day, a small hope blossomed inside me. Maybe I had finally found someone to help.