Finn’s Tale: The Booklet and the Bargain
The prison’s airing yard stank of sweat and damp stone. Finn sat on a low ledge by the wall, rolling a splinter of wood between his fingers, eyes drifting over the yard. Then he saw them—two figures passing by. A young woman, sharp-eyed, walking with a stiff-backed older woman. The younger one moved like she owned the ground she stepped on, the older one like she was there to make sure no one forgot their place.
Finn smirked.
He shifted slightly, and a soft rustling came from his coat pocket. Roslynn, his ever-loyal cellmate, poked her twitching nose out. Her beady black eyes gleamed up at him. “Would’ve liked her,” Finn murmured. “A lot of people didn’t, but you? You would’ve seen the charm.”
Roslynn wriggled her whiskers.
Finn let his head fall back against the cold stone wall. His fingers absentmindedly brushed over the rat’s fur as he let himself sink into the memory. “It started with an old half-elf,” Finn muttered, voice low. “Quiet type. Lived alone. Then one day, he just… didn’t anymore.” No real family, just some distant relations who wanted his house gone as quickly as possible. Finn had overheard the deal being struck—cheap sale, no interest in what was left inside. It was practically an invitation.
He’d slipped in one night, took his time picking through the place. The best pieces—some furniture, a few old baubles—he passed along to the Slynt family. The kind of goods that could move quick and clean. That left him with the odds and ends. Antiques, dusty books, old scraps of parchment filled with scribbles. No immediate buyers for that kind of junk, so he packed it up and set himself a little corner in the farmers’ market, hoping to turn them into coin.
And that’s when she found him.
She had changed since the last time he’d seen her. The girl he remembered was scrawny, tear-streaked, and furious, standing outside the Free Library after a mixed group of school girls had made her life hell. He’d told her the hard truth, back then: Hide, fight back, or pay someone bigger to fight for you.
Now here she was, years later, standing at his stall, confident and composed.
And, to Finn’s mild surprise, beautiful.
Naturally, he kept his cool.
She moved through his wares with a careful, almost knowing touch. Then she stopped. Her fingers brushed over a small black booklet. She picked it up slowly, as if something about it whispered to her.
‘Where did you get this?’ she asked, voice quiet but urgent. ‘Do you know what these symbols mean?’ Finn had no idea, but he wasn’t about to say that. He shrugged, leaning lazily against the stall.
‘I don’t work for free, lady.’
She studied him. Then, out of nowhere, she sighed—a delicate, forlorn little sound.
‘I’m afraid I don’t have that kind of money, dear sir.’
Finn felt something twist in his chest. He swallowed, resisting the urge to scratch the back of his neck.
Was this… flirting? It felt like flirting. Or maybe just a posh-girl trick. Either way, he wasn’t about to look like a fool in front of her. He crossed his arms, keeping his expression unreadable. ‘Price is fair,’ he said. ‘Rare book, that one.’ She held his gaze. Her lips parted slightly. Finn felt… something. Something he wasn’t prepared for.
And then—then, just for a flicker of a moment, she looked almost pleased with herself.
Finn’s stomach did something strange.
He had no idea what game they were playing, but he sure as hell wasn’t about to be the one to back down first. They haggled. He postured. He acted like he knew exactly what was happening, when in reality, he was just trying to keep his wits about him because she was entirely too pretty and entirely too self-assured.
By the end of it, she still managed to get the damn book for half of what he’d originally asked.
As he handed it over, she gave him a polite little nod. ‘Inez Systemix,’ she said, formal as anything.
Finn raised a brow. ‘I know who you are, gnome lady. Like you said, we’ve met before. Last time your eyes were filled with tears, too. But you seem to smarten up rapidly now that you’ve got your little book.’
Something flickered across her face—something unreadable.
Finn, of course, assumed he had just delivered a particularly smooth line.
‘So, this booklet—important to you, is it?’
She hesitated. Then, softer, more thoughtful, she said, ‘Could be my way out of an arranged marriage to a posh gnome upper-class spouse. Would mean leaving Nook as well.’ Finn had no idea why he said what he said next. Maybe it was bravado. Maybe it was instinct. Maybe it was just the fact that she was beautiful, and he didn’t want to look like some useless market peddler in front of her.
‘Fine,’ he said, grinning. ‘If you ever leave, you take me with you. That’s part of the discount.’
She went red.
Finn had no idea why that pleased him, but it did.
Then her chaperone’s footsteps thundered toward them, and she panicked. She shoved the book into her dress, hissed, ‘I accept that arrangement, master Finn, now I’ve got to hurry!’ and bolted.
Her keeper barely had time to turn before Inez had vanished into the crowd.
Finn had stood there for a moment, blinking.
Then, slowly, he’d grinned.
Finn exhaled, shaking himself back to the present.
Roslynn twitched her whiskers, curling tighter into his coat.
You ever wonder,” he muttered, voice just for her, “if there’s people out there who change the course of your life without even knowing it?”
The rat, naturally, didn’t answer.
Finn smirked to himself, brushing a finger lightly over her fur.
“Yeah,” he murmured. “Me neither.”
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