Chapter 2: Spontaneity

From one branch to another, Stefan descended down the hill in an impressive display of gymnastics. He propelled himself by swinging between the branches and using tree trunks to leap forward. Gravity was his friend as it allowed his movements to be mainly reactive.

I don’t even need to use my Salac! Dad did say I was free to use it, but what if I didn’t?

Stefan hummed to himself as he moved onward, as content as a Frogadier could be. Spontaneously, an idea popped into his head. Using his tongue, he gathered a modest amount of frubble from his neck and coated his hands with them between jumps. As a result Stefan lost less momentum whenever he grabbed onto a new branch, upping his pace.

This is incredible! I’m moving so fast dad won’t see me coming!

At his hastened pace, Stefan arrived at the base of the hill. He scanned his immediate surroundings in search of his father’s carriage. Before long, he caught the outline of the carriage as it merged into a well-kept cobble road around a mile away. Despite exposure to the elements, one could hardly tell the roads were subject to erosion and passive decay. It certainly gave an excellent impression of the crown city before they’d even entered.

Now on flat ground, Stefan rushed forward through lush grasses. Feeling entirely energized, he made as wide strides as he could with each leap forward. Within a few minutes he made contact with the same road and Stefan grinned, priming himself for one last dash. A streak of white light surrounded his body as he prepared a Quick Attack, then launched himself forwards.

It didn’t even take more than a minute. With a final leap, Stefan angled himself perfectly to enter the carriage through its open window. He braced himself as he got close, and his compact body turned out to be perfectly capable of fitting through.

“Woah!” Finn’s head jerked to his side as he heard the sounds of an impact against his wooden carriage. The two Rapidash neighed and attempted to run on reflex, but the Politoed’s reaction was swift enough to rein them in before they could speed up too much. Once he was sure he had a solid hold on his steeds, he cast a stern frown at Stefan.

Stefan sheepishly shrunk into his spot. “Um, I made it back?”

The Politoed’s single antenna-like hair twitched as he bit the side of his cheek. “Congratulations on making it back safely but I can’t say I approve of such a stunt. We’re transporting very delicate goods, son. You could’ve easily damaged my merchandise and that allowance of yours would be in a wee bit of danger.”

Stefan postured in defiance. “Fine, I overdid it on my entrance, but threatening my allowance? What allowance? 500 poke a week barely gets me a handful of orans, apples, and elixirs! You wouldn’t want me to starve, would you?”

Despite his sternness, a twinkle appeared in Finn’s eyes. “Ah, perhaps I did go too far. Targeting my discipline there would be quite unfair given how responsible you are with it. I suppose that’s another lesson on why one should endeavor to think their words through.”

Stefan’s mood dampened as he turned and looked out the window he came from. Perhaps the wonderful grasslands could serve as an antidote to his fickle mood. One would think he’d be overjoyed at the concession his father made. Yet, his response was clearly a sour one.

The sound of a lithe foot tapping the wooden floor broke the silence. Stefan’s frubbles whitened beyond their usual state as he stewed to himself. When he next spoke, a heavy breath served as the precursor. “I know why I should, but I don’t want to play a charade. Being upfront with how I’m feeling and making sure others know I’m genuine, that’s more important to me. I don’t care if I’m inviting ire or being judged. We’ve had this talk before dad. You know where I stand.”

Finn kept his eyes on the road ahead and the encroaching cityscape. A tense silence once more took hold as neither father or son wished to utter the next word. Though finally, Finn did. “Understood, I’ll not press you any further. Let’s change the topic. Anything special going on with your training? It took a while to convince you to take a break and go on this trip after all.”

Initially, Stefan appraised his father with suspicion. Was this yet another ploy? He hated that he had no way of telling. He knew any merchant worth their salt could hide or distract from their true intentions when necessary, and Finn was a fine merchant indeed. 

Still, halfheartedly lying to his face would go against his personal heartfelt beliefs, wouldn’t it?

“Training is going well, but you know me. I always want to do better.” Stefan’s voice lacked its previous defiance, now sounding much more casual. “It can’t be helped though. If there’s anything you had to have passed down to me for sure, it’s liking to see a job well done. I don’t like to half ass anything, and I don’t wanna see anyone else half assing anything.”

Finn laughed loudly as he patted Stefan’s back a handful of times. “That’s my boy! Training can’t be going badly at all with an attitude like that! I’m sure you’ll surprise me someday. Don’t expect that day to come anytime soon though! No rushing.”

Coming from anyone else, Stefan would’ve felt a touch insulted. He was stronger than he looked and matched a handful of braggarts who thought they could knock him down a peg or two. Not his father though. He knew that merchants used to be seen as easy targets for bandits and thugs not too many decades ago. And yet, had he not chanced upon such knowledge, he’d have thought it was simply common sense that merchants are not to be trifled with.

He idly wondered of the magnitude his father played in establishing such a shift. There was no doubt in Stefan’s mind that his father contributed. The only question was, how much?”

Well, maybe the answer to that can wait. Stefan just came up with a quip he was particularly proud of. That takes priority.

“I’ll make an impact on the world, dad. Just like you did. How? I’ll get back to you later, I may need to consult with my business partners first,” answered Stefan, his voice seasoned with a hint of mockery.

Finn snorted. “Consult is a strong word. I value dissenting opinions. That said, I rarely change my mind unless I’m surprised with a facet I haven’t already considered. Of course, I had to pretend otherwise when I was kowtowing to a superior. But not anymore! Bwahaha!” A hearty croak followed his laughter.

“You don’t have a superior?” questioned Stefan with a raised eye. “I’d say the king counts as one of those, right?”

The Politoed chuckled. “By technicality, yes. But the less trouble you cause him, the more free reign he gives you. My record? Squeaky clean. It should go without saying where that leaves me.”

“Huh. You never told me the king thinks so highly of you. It’s not uncommon for guild workers to gossip about how their superiors curse all the documentation they have to present to the king’s men, you know,” remarked Stefan.

Finn smirked. “Apples and Orans, son. Most of what I do is send wares through paths already traveled. So long as my clients don’t complain, there’s really not much the castle is interested in hearing from me. Now, what responsibilities are the guilds straddled with?”

“Exploring what’s left of Cavall’s untamed lands,” Stefan immediately answered. He took a few seconds of deep thought before continuing. “Doing everyday work for the populace, minimizing conflict between the different territories, and,” Stefan bit his lip, “everything about mystery dungeons. Gathering resources, performing rescues, reporting anomalies, finding treasure, all of it.”

“And wouldn’t you agree all of that sounds way more interesting than whatever little old me is up to?” remarked Finn.

“I can believe it. You’re boring yourself when you insist you’re on the clock,” replied Stefan.

“I’m on the clock now, aren’t I?”

“You’d be boring if it wasn’t just you and me,”

“Can’t argue with that,” agreed Finn. “It’s gonna be the busy time of the year, and the busier it gets the more I gotta whip everyone into shape. Can’t be caught slacking when the king’s ordeal with the prime vassals will be taking place soon.”

“So you just wanted a vacation before all that nonsense starts. Don’t worry, I won’t hold it against you,” chuckled Stefan. 

The Politoed threw his hands up. “Not just a vacation! I can have multiple motives, can’t I? I can check up on my farms, have a vacation, and spend some quality time with my son all at once.” 

Before Stefan could utter a reply, a distant clang broke him from his thoughts. 

His focus freed up, Stefan could tell Evelum’s gate wasn’t very far now. The species of the guards were identifiable as they inspected a less grand carriage, the entrance to the city being obstructed by a X-patterned grate. One of the guards was a Thwackey who tapped a heel whilst asking questions to the carriage driver, scribbling words onto a pad of paper in the process. The other guard, a Torracat, was sniffing around the rear end of the carriage. The fire type would occasionally raise its head upwards then stand on its hind legs for a short while, clearly inspecting.

Little changed about the situation as father and son neared the gate. At least, until they heard a shout from the Torracat.

“Everything else, clear! Now it’s all as he says, nothing more and nothing less. Let him pass.”

Without so much as a second passing, the grate rose back into the gate and the carriage ahead of them began to move into the city. The gazes of the guards shifted back towards the roads. Towards yet another vehicle seeking passage.

Stefan closed his eyes and leaned back. His dad would handle all that boring documentation crap and they’d be on their merry way. A short nap would do him some good. A few days away from home always reinvigorated him and he liked making use of that energy. So now he’d just sit tight and-. 

“By the way, you’ll be taking charge for a bit. Converse and update those guards on our current status, will you?”

Stefan’s eyes shot open. He turned his head towards his father, who wore a much too serene smile. Before he could make a response, Finn continued. “No, I’m not playing a game with you right now, nor am I pulling your leg. I will hand over documents when prompted and will answer questions I believe you cannot answer. The rest however, simply must be in your hands.”  Finn promptly loosened his grip on the reins he was holding and they fell to the ground.

“What’s this about?” Stefan demanded, clenching his fists. “I already told you, I don’t plan on using all those merchant techniques and tricks you want me to learn so badly. Why this?”

Finn’s smile didn’t budge as he relaxed into his seat. He conjured a single bubble above him and watched it float down before poking it back up. He repeated the motion a few times before making his response. “Who said I was testing you on your skill at merchantry? Wielding a sharp wit and being ready to improvise at a moment’s notice are vital skills for any explorer. As is making reports to the guards of any territory. Can you deny that?”

Stefan opened his mouth, closed it, and opened it again with a sigh. He leaned forward to pick up the reins. “No, I can’t. Still, couldn’t you have given me a bit more of a heads up?”

“If you want that much of an advanced warning all the time, you might’ve chosen the wrong line of work. Have you considered being a secretary or squire?” snarked Finn. 

“Of course not, you know I think jobs like that have to be the most boring thing in the world,” grumbled Stefan.

“Sounds to me like you’re searching for something with a bit more excitement then,” mused Finn. He gave his son a passing sideways glance. From his perspective, the Frogadier appeared quite agitated. “Well, then you just gotta live with it. Surprises can be good or bad. Trying to have one without the other in the context of what you’re pursuing is a fool’s errand. Surely you didn’t need me to remind you of that, right?”

Stefan took deep breaths. Trying to push back against his father was pointless now. His father may have a jovial and agreeable disposition, but that didn’t just serve the purpose of making him generally likeable. It also made it so when that veil of pleasantries faded, Finn was making it clear he was barking orders and expected to be followed. One way or another, Stefan knew his mettle would be tested.

Stefan pulled the reins, signaling the two Rapidash to slow down. “I understand. I will do as you ask, father. As unexpected as this test may be, I will meet your expectations of me.”

“Very good!” replied Finn in delight. He was still toying with the bubble. “And since you didn’t protest too much I’ll remind you once more. Composure is key!”

The carriage halted to a full stop. Stefan immediately felt a wave of unease at the encroaching silence. The sound of hooves hitting the ground. The rattling of their goods in the back trunk. Even the sound of conversation. They all died down too quickly. What replaced them was the slight rhythmic boing of his father lightly pushing against a bubble. For some reason, that sound just irritated Stefan. His efforts to take two and clear his head were simply in vain. There really was no time for him to sort out a general plan of action either. Deciding to heed his father’s words, he relaxed into his seat. Dad did say acting like faking it till you make it can get you surprisingly far after all.

Stefan’s internal self assurance was quickly cut off by the sound of an impact followed by the shaking of the carriage. The carriage shifted from side-to-side a few times before returning to its default state. A couple of expletives slipped past Stefan’s tongue, but Finn seemed unbothered. Finn’s hands did miss the bubble on one pass due to the shaking, but he quickly improvised and used his antenna to hoist the bubble back up.

A voice rang out from Stefan’s side. “Whoops, sorry about that! I expected this cart of yours to be a lot heavier!”

Stefan turned towards the voice to see the Thwackey hanging from a handlebar installed above a carriage door. She casually waved at him with one hand while hanging from the other. “Can’t help it, y’know? All those hours just standing and sitting on guard duty really get me antsy. A gal my age really should get to stretch these limbs more.”

Stefan stared at her incredulously. “That’s what you have to say? This carriage is not your playground, ma’am,” he replied, almost spitting out the last word. “We’re transporting delicate goods! I’ve even got proof, here!”

Stefan outstretched his hand behind him and the texture of parchment reached it with minimal delay. He straightened it out and handed it to the Thwackey, who held it with her free hand.

Thwackey whistled as she read the document. “Listen to this Henry! We’ve got the honor of inspecting one of Redwose’s shipments!”

“Hold on a moment, Roseanne. You know we have to verify first before we get excited,” replied the Torracat, Henry, in monotone.

“Don’t be such a spoilsport. I can tell these fine folk are the real deal,” retorted Roseanne.

The Torracat lept upwards, hoisting his front paws over the ledge above the carriage’s door, leaving him hanging. To Stefan, his face was obscured by the document. “Right, well, don’t move. I can’t read the details and fine print if you’re making that flop around. The seal and signature passed the first test- hey!”

The document fluttered in the air momentarily before Henry snatched it up. “My bad, my hand fell asleep,” said Roseanne, with a snicker barely suppressed. 

“That’s bull, and you know it,” retorted Henry. A single paw of his hung over the carriage’s door as he continued inspecting the parchment.

What remained of Stefan’s patience was quickly being expended, his features showing signs of reddening. “Get off the carriage! I shouldn’t have to entertain your squabbles! Was it wrong of me to expect more decorum from the crown city’s guards?” he reprimanded.

“Don’t see what’s wrong with it. We were gonna need to take a peep at that driver’s seat anyway. It’s protocol and all,” shrugged Roseanne. But, short of your passenger performing bubble tricks, there really isn’t that much of note here.”

Stefan cast a glare at her. “That’s beside the point and you know it! I know what the training for you guards looks like. If this carriage was any less sturdy, you’d be in a real bind y’know. Sometimes, the principle of the matter is more important too.”

Those words caused clear apprehension to form on the Thwackey’s face. “Huh? but wasn’t it-.” She turned towards Henry and frowned. “What gives? You told me I should heckle this one a bit, didn’t you?”

Henry’s whiskers twitched and his ears flicked irritably. “Giving away our strategy before we even start asking questions is quite the blunder Roseanne. You’re lucky your misstep doesn’t really matter in this situation. Use that mouth of yours less impulsively next time, please?”

As Roseanne muttered a halfhearted apology, Stefan’s indignation shifted towards the Torracat. “Well? Go on. Tell me more about those so-called orders. You’d better have a damn good explanation for thinking you could try to pull a fast one on me!”

Henry raised a brow at Stefan, as if questioning him. He returned the document to Stefan and began hanging from the ledge with both front paws once more. “Given that you’re a bona fide Redwose courier, shouldn’t you know? There’s been quite some trouble brewing. Enough that the castle has given me explicit permission to get a little intrusive at times. You catch my drift?”

“Trouble,” murmured Stefan. He took the document from Henry and returned it the same backhanded way, though his movements were entirely automatic as he was buried in thought. “You mean counterfeiters? Or black market types who try to appear authentic on inspection? Perhaps they are hoping to take advantage of all the bustle the prime vassals will be bringing with them.”

Henry nodded, pleased. “Correct, on an adequate level at least. I hope you understand my vigilance. In any case, there is no doubt about your authenticity, so I need only confirm two things. From whence have you traveled, and what is your stock?”

Stefan cooled down as he was given the guard’s perspective. Is that why his father didn’t object to the roughhousing? He took a quick glance back, and Finn was now using his antenna to flick the bubble and keep it afloat. If he didn’t know better, he’d have assumed the Politoed was completely oblivious. 

“Alright, those I can easily answer,” replied Stefan composedly. “We’ve come from the Southwest, Forestridge Farms. Our stock boils down a portion of the most recent harvest. It’s all that and personal goods.”

“Forestridge….. Southwest….,” hummed Roseanne. “That does line up, it is harvest season. Spelon, qualot, and magost should make up the bulk of their shipment. It lines up with the mishmash of scents I can smell. No wonder their carriage felt so light!”

Stefan beamed at her. “You’re right! I’m impressed you knew what exactly we had! Feel free to double check if you feel the need.”

“Nah, I don’t need to. You’re legit, no way around it,” dismissed Roseanne. “I’ll just have to give the markets a go early tomorrow morning. Magosts are a favorite of mine. Unless you folk would be fine handling a transaction now?” she winked.

“Ah, I don’t have the authority to decide that,” replied Stefan as he scratched the back of his head. “I can promise you they’ll definitely make their way around the city tomorrow though!”

Roseanne gave him a thumbs up, “Looking forward to it! Now, I think that’s everything so I can signal the gatekeepers-,”

“Hold it,” interrupted Henry. He sniffed the air a few times, then his expression morphed to be somewhat disgruntled. “There’s some weird scent in here. A bit minty, which is rather out of place.” He raised an eye at Stefan. “You carrying any other berries which could explain that?”

Stefan sniffed the air. His sense of smell wasn’t the sharpest, but he caught a vaguely minty scent. That was odd. He definitely didn’t smell anything like it for most of the trip. But now there was an undercurrent of an aroma around him. It almost seemed to be originating from himself- ah.

Stefan sheepishly took out the salac out of his frubbles via its stem. “We’re carrying salacs too, though I believe that shouldn’t be too much of a problem.”

“Salacs, hmm? Ordinarily they’re not too troublesome, but well, these aren’t ordinary times. I’m afraid I’ll have to confiscate a portion of your salac shipment, as per regulations. You understand, don’t you?” replied Henry, somewhat apologetic.

“Confiscate? What for?” demanded Stefan. He was about to say he’d never heard of a regulation like that, but bit his tongue. Saying as much would betray his inexperience. He needed to segue somewhere else. “Is this about the festival? Minimizing the possibility of salac inebriation for safety purposes?”

“Close. Our goal is safety and that is certainly an aspect of it,” nodded Roseanne. “More pressingly though, it’s times like these where more ruffians try to sneak in extreme variants of goods.” She craned her neck and cast appraising looks, studying the carriage once more.

Stefan was taken aback. “More extreme variants? You mean contraband?”

“She was trying to be a bit less on the nose, but yes. I shouldn’t have to explain why more potent variants of salac are a popular item to try and smuggle into Evelum during times of celebration and gathering,” haughtily replied Henry.  “Now, will you continue to let time slip away or will you surrender a portion of your goods?”

Stefan bit his cheek. He was unsure of himself. What the Torracat was saying made sense, but Henry’s orders were grating at him. If he conceded to every demand the Torracat made, wouldn’t that just make him a doormat? Should he perhaps question him more? Or perhaps somehow, he could try and gain a second opinion?

A knock against the carriage door broke Stefan out of his thoughts. It came from Henry, who looked at him in exasperation. “Look, you can stop hiding it. I know you’re a greenhorn and aren’t entirely used to protocols like these. I’m not singling you out here, this is business as usual. Fact of the matter is, you can’t get into the city without our approval anyway. You don’t have to overthink. So Roseanne, would you kindly look for that crate of salacs?”

“Sure can do!” replied Roseanne cheerfully.

“CAREFULLY,” emphasized Henry. “Now this we can get into trouble for, if you’re careless.”

Stefan could do nothing as Roseanne entered the rear wagon, muttering to herself that she was no brute. He took a glance at his father, who still appeared as if he was in his own little world. If his dad was indifferent, he shouldn’t think this was going too badly, right?

A rattling could be heard coming from the rear. “Where even is the lock on this crate? I swear this is confusing on purpose,” griped Roseanne,

“One crate to your right! I don’t think you’re too interested in my dad’s toolbox,” yelled Stefan irritably.

A bit of shuffling could be heard, followed by the sound of a crate opening. “Jackpot! I found it, Henry!” celebrated Roseanne.

“How much do you think is in there?” asked Henry.

“At least a hundred! Woah, I’ve never seen so many in one place! The minty smell sure is potent!” replied Roseanne.

Henry seemed delighted. “Perfect, you can take around a dozen-”

All of a sudden, a popping sound reverberated. “I think you mean eight. Isn’t that the more reasonable number?’ replied Finn, now sitting properly postured. The Politoed cast a jovial smile at the Torracat.

“Eight…. I believe the guidelines stated that’s the minimum to seize for shipments over a hundred,” said Henry. “Still, given the increased level of security we’ve been told to upheld-”

“The minimum is more than enough, given how tightly packed my shipment is. If there was contamination of sorts, testing 8 at random should give all the evidence you need,” interrupted Finn. “In addition, Roseanne was it? You said the scent was potent, correct?”

“Huh, yeah? Why do you need to know?” she replied.

“It proves that crate hasn’t been opened since we left Forestridge. Salac aroma does take quite a while to accumulate after all. You lose so much if you give it but a moment to leak out,” explained Finn. “Does that satisfy you, Henry?”

Stefan watched as Henry’s expression became unreadable. For some reason that expression irritated him. Henry opened his mouth as if to make a reply, but his mouth quickly shut. Henry sniffed at the air once more. Seconds passed as he processed his senses. “Yes, I suppose you’re right. Eight is more than enough given these circumstances. Roseanne, pick seven! And don’t just get seven from the top!”

“Seven? Didn’t you just say eight?” wondered Stefan out loud.

“You heard me right,” confirmed Henry. “I will be seizing the eighth myself. So, Frogadier, would you kindly hand over that salac you have on your person?”

Stefan instinctively guarded the berry barely sticking out of his frubbles. “Wait, my salac? But why?” 

“It’s simple, that salac wasn’t sealed with the rest, right? Therefore, it has a greater chance of being meddled with,” explained Henry. He reached a paw out, “Now, if you would?”

Stefan grit his teeth as he plucked the salac out of his frubbles, handing it to Henry. The Torracat gave him a polite smile and a thanks as he jumped off, but Stefan was positive a surge of triumph stood behind Henry’s casual visage. There just had to be.

“I’ve got the goods!” proclaimed Roseanne, seven salacs held between intertwined arms. “You done on your end, Henry?”

Henry placed his salac into a burlap sack, and motioned Roseanne closer. “Yes, I am. The rest of the shipment has been cleared. It consists entirely of the 10 core berries. Our work here is done.”

“You hear that? All clear!” shouted Roseanne as she stored her salacs.

As the sound of rising metal reverberated, Stefan shifted in his seat uncomfortably. Did he do a good enough job? He was glad his father took over, but did that mean he faltered in some manner? Stefan’s head grew heavy as he mentally replayed his interactions with the guards to the best of his ability. 

I think I handled that part well. Could’ve been less prickly here, a tad more forceful there. Actually wait a minute,-

The snap of flicking reins broke Stefan out of his thoughts. When did his dad get those back? 

As the Rapidash began trotting forward, Stefan stuck his head towards the window and looked back at the two guards, chatting with each other. By chance, Henry too turned his head and met Stefan’s gaze. The Torracat merely snickered at him, before returning to his impassive chatter.

Bastard.

With another flick of the reins, the two Rapidash sped up a bit more. Stefan slumped into his seat with a sigh. “He tried to pull a fast one on us, didn’t he? Would’ve gotten away with it too if not for you.”

“That he did, that he did,” replied Finn, oddly cheerful. “What clued you in?”

“I didn’t suspect anything at first, but that Torracat got too greedy. Which is also why you intervened, right?” grumbled Stefan.

“Such an interpretation of events is not incorrect,” affirmed Finn. He leaned towards his son and nudged him with an elbow, “Though I can already tell you have an inkling that’s not the whole story, eh?”

Stefan tilted his head and began rhymically tapping his temple. “Course not. There’s the matter of how you let him off the hook if he was trying to mess with us. Then there’s you saying that the salac crate wasn’t opened, which was a blatant lie and I’m sure that Torracat was at least likewise suspicious. In which case, why would he let us through without further questioning?”

“Great questions! Why did that Torracat and I act in that manner? Tell me what you think!” pressed Finn.

Stefan crossed his arms. “This is still part of the test, huh? Fine. You had that guard caught in a lie, and he knew it. So you forced him to lie on your behalf with the leverage you had. I know for a fact the rest of our stock isn’t just the 10 core berries. I put some rindos in there myself after all.”

“Astute observations!” praised Finn. “I have to say, not bad for an improv. I told you you’ve got that spark in you!” He patted his son’s backside as he laughed.

Stefan shifted away from Finn and dusted off his shoulder. “Nah, I’m good. I already feel a bit too grimy knowing we got into the city improperly.”

“Is that really so bad?” mused Finn. “I only retorted with what was already used against us. Turnabout is fair play, unless you’re one of those honorable knightly dweebs.”

Ignoring his father’s attempt at humor, Stefan shifted a bit further away. “Maybe it is fair. Still, I don’t have it in me to play devious so often. I admit it’s a skill that has its use, but a career that drives me to use it too often is not my calling.”

“Geez, you’re really painting me as some master of deception, huh?” snorted Finn. “Well, I’ll not deny I’m at least capable. Regardless!” Finn held back the reins as the Rapidash began to slow down once more. “One last stop before we head home, alright? This’ll be quick.”

“Huh? What’s up this time?” muttered Stefan. A Passimian walked up by Finn’s side of the carriage. Before he even had the chance to speak, Finn telekinetically lifted a small box from under his seat and hovered it before the Passimian’s hands. 

The Passimian nodded, took the box, and gave Finn a salute. “Our thanks, Mr. Redwose. I appreciate how easy you make things for us. Enjoy the upcoming festivities.”

Finn reciprocated the salute, albeit much more casually. “No problem my good man! I endeavor to be a model citizen as always!”

It was times like these where Stefan really couldn’t tell if his father was being facetious or not.

After whipping the reins, the carriage began moving once more. Stefan expected his father to speak up with some sort of explanation, but remained quiet as the carriage moved through the cobbled streets.

“So…. what was that about?” Stefan spoke up.

Finn turned to Stefan with a smirk on his face. “Ah, so you didn’t figure it out. What a shame, to falter at the last stretch of the test. Still, you actually did pretty well. If I had to grade your performance…. 3 stars, but alas, 4 slipped through your grasp.”

“Wait, the test wasn’t over?” said an alarmed Stefan. “I thought after we went through the gate-”

Finn waved a finger at his son, “Tsk tsk. It’s only over when I say it’s over. That little stop was part of it and for good reason. After all, what I gave the good courier was the salac shipment to be sent to the castle. It’s a pretty urgent thing after all.”

Stefan’s heart sank. “You mean-”

“Ayup,” Finn confirmed. Stefan balled his fists in response. “That Torracat got ya real good.”