Down in the sprawling city of the capitol, citizens and merchants went about their day, enjoying the sunshine and pleasant weather.
Sol, the tailor's apprentice wished he could be doing the same. The shop he worked in wasn't the largest or the fanciest, but of all the tailors in the city, Master Carpe had the best reputation, all thanks to the fine quality of Sol's work.
The slender brunette sighed he finished the stitching on a dress ordered by some noblewoman. He really wanted to get outside, walk in the sunshine. He had an appointment tonight with a client and some fresh air would help clear his mind.
"Hey King Solomon, I require your majesties services," a loud, country accent floated in through the door. Sol groaned.
"What did you do this time Baker?" the brunette walked away from his workstation to confront the baker's troublesome ward. The tall, broad auburn-haired man was grinning, despite having a split lip and bruised cheek.
"You should see the other guy," Zee chuckled darkly, his two-tone eyes glinting. Sol ignored him and examined his clothes, the right sleeve of his shirt was almost completely torn off.
"Give it here," he held out his hand, rocking on the balls of his bare feet impatiently. Zee complied, showing no shame at removing his shirt in public. Sol went back to his workstation, shirt in hand, grabbing a needle and thread. He was finished in a matter of minutes, shaking his head as he handed the repaired shirt back to its owner.
"You could have at least given me a challenge," his light hazel eyes rolled. Zee smirked.
"I'll try harder to lose next time my liege," he bowed mockingly.
"I'm charging you next time,"
"With what? You know I haven't got a penny to my name," Zee reached up to play with the golden locket around his neck.
"Just get out of here, before I make you my indentured servant,"
"Bastard, see if I ever come to you again," Zee stuck out his tongue but promptly left, hopefully back to the bakery instead of to another fight or night in jail. Sol knew he'd be back, Zee came in for clothing repairs at least once a week. Sol could almost consider him a friend, if he wasn't so annoying.
The tailor sighed again and went over his mental checklist of all he had to do that day. His eyes widened in surprise, actually with the dress finished and only a jacket that needed mending by tomorrow, he could afford to take a break. Sol smiled and quickly checked his clothes, black breeches and a blue shirt, both in good condition. He briefly considered shoes before just walking out the door. Shoes were for soft-footed princes. Sol grinned and headed for the market, following the wafting scent of baked apples.