Veyla turned away from the wall mirror for a second to answer his mother's call. "Yes, Mother, I will go to the market, can you just wait a moment?"
"Child, I need those soup ingredients now! Get away from that mirror and get down to the market. Your father will be home soon!" His mother yelled up from the kitchen.
Veyla was never sure how his mother always knew what he was doing, but then again fixing his robes in the mirror was something he did often. Veyla put the last fold of his long, luxurious robe into place, just under the string of black pearls he had woven into a belt in the most intricate weave. He slowly backed away from the mirror towards the wardrobe without taking his eyes off it, trying to make sure everything was just right."Hmm, what hat to wear?" he muttered to himself.
For the next hour, Veyla tried on several hats and caps. Nothing seemed to feel just right for his trip to the market. They were all either too drab or too colorful. His mother had called up several more times from the kitchen, each yell getting more exasperated. Veyla waved it off with a, "In a moment, Mother!" and then tried on a different hat. Finally Veyla settled on a red silk wizard hat with pure gold thread woven in flowing patterns throughout and put it on. The gown shimmered as he moved towards the mirror.
"Perfect!" he exclaimed. "The pearls, the hat... Oh! And..." he reached for a silver and gold headband with a large red, pink, purple and maroon opal hanging down in the shape of a large tear. He admired how dapper he was in his robe and accessories, and truly he was. His mother muttered something about "being beautiful, but perhaps too much so for a market trip" as Veyla walked out the door.
As he approached the dusty market filled with the usual clamoring shoppers and stalls, blood stained fighters, robed wizards and lurking thieves, it fell silent wherever he passed. Every stall he approached gathered dozens of female and male admirers. He reveled in the attention. Three hours later, as he approached the potato stall, he noticed the sun was completely below the horizon.
"Oh my!" he exclaimed. "My parents are going to kill me!" He had so enjoyed the stares, gawking and compliments, he dared not leave and lost track of time. He left quickly after buying the two stones of potatoes his mother asked for, pushing his way through the crowd. Running down the street approaching his house, he noticed a crowd growing in front of his home. As he approached, several of his neighbors gave him looks of pity and stepped aside. Two Moorgate guards stood at the door.
"What happened?" he exclaimed as he noticed the door was bashed in.
"Are you the son of the house?" the first, taller guard asked. He was almost as handsome as himself, Veyla noticed.
"Yes I am, what happened? Please!" Veyla made for the door when the shorter guard held him back.
"Sorry, you shouldn't go in there just yet. We are investigating."
"Investigating what?"
The guard pulled Veyla aside and explained to him that about an hour before, slavers from the docks had burst into his home and taken his father, mother and two younger twin sisters. From the looks of it, the slaver ship had already set sail and his family was off to be sold. Veyla burst into tears and fell to the ground in grief.
A few moments later, lulling himself back up and straightening his robe, Veyla finally spoke. "Why? Why would they take my family? I thought the slavers did not take Moorgate citizens any longer! Why?" New tears streamed down Veyla's face. "Well, sir, the neighbors are speaking something about unpaid debts your father owed a slaver loan shark, something about your father buying too many robes..." The guard looked perplexed.
At that, Veyla burst through the door and ran up to his room. His worst fears were confirmed. All his robes, silk, wool, evening, ball suits, fur, all of them were gone. His jewelry box was lying empty on the floor. His family was taken away into slavery because of some silly debt and he had nothing left of even his robes.
He remained in his empty home for days, refusing to leave to let people see him in the same robe he wore the day before. He nibbled on potatoes and whatever else he could find in his ransacked home, pining for his family and lamenting the loss of his robes and jewelry. Finally running out of food, he stepped outside and wandered to the market. No one would give him anything. Even the beautiful fighters that had admired his handsome face earlier seemed not to notice him in his now soiled and torn robe.
Veyla thought of resorting to theft and illegal activities, but realized that gaol time would make him age too fast. He made his way back to his home, hungry. A neighbor was sitting on her front step when he arrived. "Dear, I noticed you might be a bit hungry. I've prepared this basket for you," she said, and handed Veyla a basket of fruit and vegetables and a warm loaf of bread.
Veyla took them and nodded his head in shame. The sweet smell made him realize how hungry he really was. "Also, dear, you might want to go to the Mages' Guild. I hear they are in need of some help in one of their shops, selling robes or something." Veyla thought on this a moment as he walked into his home. His father was a mage and taught him some of the wizardry he had learned. He was hungry and needed new clothes. Perhaps he could do this a while, till he got back on his feet.
Veyla went to the Mages' Guild the next day. It was a bustle of activity. Some dwarves were busy painting the entry hall and wizards, sorcerers and shamans were running to and fro. He gathered from those who would stop long enough that the guild was newly built and that the first guildmaster was just elected, a shaman. Everyone seemed bursting with energy.
It was infectious. Just as Veyla was giving up on finding someone to hire him, a tall man came up to him. "May I help you, sir?" he asked.
"Well, you might as well," he replied, trying to show some dignity. "I hear you are in need of some help with robes. I am quite well acquainted with clothing and have some time on my hands. My father is a wizard, quite good. I know something of magic."
"Hmm," the tall guildmaster said. "We do, in fact. Doesn't pay very well, but you can have the pick of robes as part of your pay."
"Well, I don't really need the gold," he lied, "but I could offer you help."
With that, the shaman guildmaster hired Veyla as shopkeeper selling robes. Noticing his beauty, the guildmaster decided it best to put him behind a higher portal so as not to distract any of the young mages in their studies. For decades since, the beautifully aging Veyla has sold cat robes for the Mages' Guild. Of course, he was always wears the most beautiful and well made of the bunch and never has a hair out of place. He just never seems to have enough jewelry!
Alley back to the library foyer.
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