The Chronicles of Harold the Healer, Chapter 8
The Northlands Traveling Fair was making its summertime visit to Svend which, having the best harbour in the Northlands, was a medium-sized city and the economic and transportation hub of the entire region. This made it their favourite stop because there was money to be made from not just the locals, but the occasional Kingdom transport ship here to collect another load of wool, timber, or especially stone for the incessant road-building projects. If they were really lucky, like they were today, a trader ship from the Argosy Federation would be in port with a load of exotic spices, cloth, and timber to trade for the highly-prized white marble shot through with green veins, and sometimes they ventured out this far from the harbour and brought their money with them.
Lydia Caron was manning one of the ten-by-ten-foot tents that lined both sides of a wide "street" of crushed stone, some of whose operators were locals, and the rest run by fair employees. The tents had shallow pyramidal tops that were supported by a six-foot wooden pole at each corner, all connected by stainless steel joints and designed to be quickly assembled and broken down. Since it was a warm day in the middle of the summer, only the rear panels were rolled down, allowing the salt-tinged breeze off the nearby ocean to keep everyone cool. Today, she'd wound up at one of the concession stands, selling paper bags of roasted nuts and individual candy sticks and pieces of toffee that they'd bought wholesale in the previous town, with a profitable markup. Every so often, someone would show up with another tray of bags of nuts from the kitchen to keep her supplies up, as they sold well.
The job was pleasant enough. There was a good crowd on this, the first day of operation, and the people were pleasant and enjoying themselves. The problem was that Lydia had an itch that only a hot, hard cock could scratch. There was no shortage of male coworkers who were happy to lend their cocks to this service, and had in the past, but this time she wanted someone new, with whom she would not have to work later. She knew from experience that patience was the key. Single men don't usually come to fairs, and many of those who do are perverts or pickpockets. She and her colleagues had helped the local cops nab many of the latter in the act, most of whom had had to be taken for medical care after being very roughly handled after being exposed.
Those whom she decided were worthy of a try were usually pretty easy to reel in. Like maybe this fellow, she mused as she spotted a man, just over six feet tall she judged, wearing a large, heavy-looking backpack festooned with four water canteens, a wide-brimmed, dust-coloured hat and a flap of similarly coloured cloth to cover the back of his neck. Despite the warmth of the day, he was wearing a light-coloured, long-sleeved pullover shirt and beige denim pants, both of which were loose-fitting and clearly made for outdoor use. The pants were tucked into the tops of boots that looked like they were military issue. Most unusual was the staff he was holding in his right hand, as walking staffs had gone out of fashion a long time ago. He was walking slowly, looking around to see the sights, and must have come in off the road that led to town. When he turned to look in her direction, she smiled invitingly and waved at him.
"You look like a man who needs some nourishment," she said as he approached and then stopped. His face was oval in shape, but otherwise would have fit in anywhere. Only his eyes, which were an unusual shade of blue with hints of green, just like the ocean on a sunny day, stood out. Despite his unremarkable appearance, she noted that he had an undefinable presence that made her feel warm and safe. Yes, this is the man who I will be taking to my bed tonight.
"Indeed, I do," he replied in a mellow baritone voice, his smile revealing clean, even teeth. His eyes took her in at a glance, showing him a five-foot-ten woman with the sturdy body build of a farmer. Unlike the majority of the people in the Northlands, her past shoulder-length hair was brown, with many streaks of gray, and her eyes were brown as well. Despite being in her early forties and having had two kids, she still had curves in all the right places that attracted attention. He dug out three pennies from a pocket and said, "I'd like a bag of nuts, please." She stood behind a six-foot folding table with a two-foot gap on either side, and a recently-replenished tray with bags of nuts was on a table to her right, and when she turned to get one, she made sure to give her ass a little shake. When she looked over her shoulder to see his reaction, he had a bemused expression.
"I'm Harold Moser, Healer at Large," he introduced himself with a polite bow, accepting the bag. "I came to the fair to see the sights, and in my sights is the fair."
"Well, that was a little awkward, but appreciated."
"Well, it's hard to think when my brain has been dazzled by the sun for a few hours, then gets even more so when I see you," he countered, crunching a few nuts. "Hmm, these are good!"
"Now that's more like it," she grinned back. "I'm Lydia Caron, originally from a small town in the Westlands that you've never heard of."
"I'm originally from a small town in the northern Eastlands that you've never heard of," he responded around another handful of nuts. "Its main export is an inexhaustible resource, rocks of various sizes, mostly for construction projects. Some of them may have found their way into my cranium." He gave his head a shake while rattling the nuts in the bag and made a silly face, getting a laugh from her. "Is there anything else worth checking out, aside from you?"
