Claire followed the usual routine: fishing in normal waters for thirty minutes before crossing to Driswen. She braced herself for chaos at the beach like what had happened yesterday. But this time, silence greeted her. No shouting, no desperate hands clawing for goods, nobody jumping into the water mindlessly.
Instead, a neat line of knights and guards stood waiting, armor gleaming, mounts stamping impatiently. Behind them, carriages waited. It was like they were awaiting a royal guest.
Claire was not sure what to make of the situation. She remained on her boat, one hand on her cattle prod and another on Paddy’s leash.
"It might be time to buy a gun," she muttered.
The young knight who had offered help yesterday was the first to step forward. He waved at her, smiling brightly, as though they were friends. "Hey miss, over here! Do you remember me?"
Claire nodded. How could she forget that accent and the name Diggy?
"The prince ordered your safe passage," he shouted. "He was not too happy about the way things went yesterday. Do you need my help again?"
She nodded. Claire thought he would be the only one to climb onto the boat, but six of them moved forward. They started lifting drums and boxes of goods, loading them onto the carriages. None of them could hide their joy at the sight of the bags of rice.
Paddy barked at the mounts of the knights, offering a greeting. Some responded with enthusiasm, others ignored him. The dog, and Claire were ushered into a carriage draped in the prince’s crest. Its velvet cushions were so lush she nearly sank into them.
The ride into the city felt like a dream. Claire spent half the journey pondering the prince’s intentions and the other half looking out of the window. She saw the clean streets, the absence of the foul odors that clung to most of the people she met on her last two trips. The people were still thin, their cheeks hollow, but their clothes were washed, their hair combed. They looked starved, yet dignified, as if they had scrubbed away shame but not hunger.
The carriage came to a halt at the market place. A stall had been prepared for her, its wooden counter polished. It was big enough to fit all of the things she had brought. The men arranged those things neatly and formed a protective circle as people approached cautiously. Some people had brought seafood to trade, others had brought curiosity.
"Alright," Claire announced through a megaphone. "seafood for goods. No chaos. No rotten goods. No bargaining. Prices are set and clear."
While she announced the prices, the knights monitored the crowd.
"Can you show us how to cook the noodles first?" A woman at the front of the line requested. "I came for noodles."
Claire nodded firmly. She wore the serious face that she used in the kitchen when teaching other chefs how to prepare her recipes. This time, she had come with a stainless steel saucepan. When she pulled it out of her bag, the crowd gasped.
Their shock made Claire wonder what they used for cooking in this world. She rolled up her sleeves, lit the gas and boiled water. Then she dropped in noodles, added spices and stirred.
"It smells better than my wife’s cooking," a fisherman clutched his stomach as the aroma drifted to his nose. His wife elbowed him so hard he nearly toppled into a crab basket.
When Claire handed out samples, one old man slurped loudly, then declared, "If this is what noodles taste like, I’m divorcing rice."
The crowd roared with laughter.
Next came the powdered fruit juice. Claire mixed it into a glass, the liquid glowing orange. Some people were fascinated by the glass, and others gulped, hoping to be chosen as volunteers, to taste the orange liquid.
Claire asked the knights to fetch some cups. Within less than a minute, six cups had been collected and filled with juice. She handed the cups to children, who squealed at the sweetness.
One boy shouted, "It tastes like sunshine!"
Claire laughed loudly. "Kid, I think the sun would disagree."
A second boy gave his review seriously, "It tastes like not-fish!"
The crowd laughed again, as did Claire. To these people, anything that tasted like not fish was a miracle.
Then Claire unveiled the milk powder. She mixed it carefully, showing how it thickened. "This," she declared firmly, "is for children. Only parents with children or young ones looking to trade can exchange for it. No exceptions."
A burly man stepped out of the crowd, puffing out his chest. "I am a child at heart," he argued.
The crowd erupted, and the knights gently pushed him back, chuckling.
Claire explained how to cook lentils and answered their questions. After an hour and a half, she opened for real business. For three hours, she traded for seafood. Paddy wagged his tail by her side, playing with the children.
Even though she said no haggling, people still tried to bargain.
A fisherman tried to haggle with a crab that kept pinching his fingers. "See? He’s stronger than other sea monsters. That should earn me extra noodles!"
Claire shook her head, grinning. "Nice try. But there is no proof of what you say."
By the end, everything she had brought had been sold off. Her coolers and buckets overflowed with shrimp, crabs, and abalones.
Claire was about to wrap up when one of the knights stepped forward with a small wooden bucket. "Miss, do you take this?"
Claire raised her brows. Given the fact that the market was filled with seafood and people were starving, she had always assumed that they didn’t have anything else to sell. She took the somewhat vibrant greens and looked at them with narrowed eyes. It looked like spinach to her.
She sniffed it and looked at the greens again. Then, she broke off a little piece from one leaf and chewed it. The crowd leaned in, studying her expression.
"It’s wild spinach!" Claire plucked a whole leaf and chewed it at a slower pace. Instead of bitterness, a burst of sweetness and earthy depth filled her mouth. She laughed aloud. Better than what they sell at the grocery stores on earth, she thought, savoring the flavor.
She could already see how many porridge recipes could be improved with this spinach. Her parents could sell it at their breakfast shop!
"Yes," she turned to the knight, agreeing eagerly. "I will take it."
Suddenly, a crowd surged forward, screaming for her. And because they didn’t know her name, all Claire could hear was "miss" and "noodle lady!"