The next day, a plan was put into motion.

Ulfric was told to make a brand new request at the guild; before anyone else could snatch it up, Cynthis would step in and they would do the proper interview process wherein Ulfric accepted her for the job. All to keep things above board, should there be any rumblings at the guild.

“I don’t know when it started, but it’s always been this way for a long time. Supposedly there was a king that believed in workers being fairly compensated and protected and this is why the guild goes after people who try to work around doing odd jobs, unless they are in a specified trade,” Cynthia explained, being the most knowledgeable among them on the topic. “While anyone of any age can make a request, it’s pretty regulated on who can answer them.”

Once again, Penelope got the impression of a very strictly run temp agency.

Why was all of this necessary? Because even though Penelope said art is her passion and hobby, it was still considered work and she should be compensated for it. This was a workaround until she could legally join the guild and work on her own. Until then Cynthia and Minerva were responsible for her.

She also didn’t know what to think of that. It was useful, because being so young in this world was quite the disadvantage. She had no guarantors, no connections to fall back on or true understanding of how everything worked. Honestly, she was grateful they decided she had to stay with them until she figured out something more permanent.

Minerva hugged her tightly, rubbing her cheek against Penelope’s as part of her usual morning ritual. The action was meant to be friendly and to promote a bond, yet the mage had a habit of being pretty aggressive about it. Penelope squirmed and it seemed to spur her on further.

“Waaaah! Come on Minerva!”

“Just a little more. I need my daily dose of cute Penelope!”

“You have your nephew here!”

“But he’s nowhere near as cute as yooooou.”

Another couple of (long) seconds, she was eventually released so she could truly begin her assignment. This time Yule accompanied her, which allowed Cynthia to perform other duties and ongoing requests she had.

While travelling to Ulfric’s shop, he held her hand so they wouldn’t be separated, glaring at anyone who got too close. She couldn't ask for a better bodyguard, his stares were so effective at keeping possible ne'er do wells away. And since they were together, essentially alone, there was a question she had been meaning to ask.

“Hey, Yule?”

“Yes?”

“What do you do when Minerva and I are working at the shop and you disappear?”

She had only noticed it recently; sometimes Yule would disappear for around sixty minutes during shop hours. It wasn’t a long time, yet she did notice it happen enough times to want to mention it.

Yule seemed reluctant to answer though. “There’s…just a lot of things I have to settle.”

“Because you had to leave home, because of what happened in the capital?”

He nodded quietly.

“Yule…are you in big trouble?” Penelope tried, gently.

“...Maybe…I don’t know. I haven’t decided yet.”

Penelope blinked. How did one decide whether or not they were in trouble? If they were in trouble, they would just be, wouldn’t they? Of course, a detail did pop up.

“Say…why were you not travelling with your parents?” she asked.

“Whatever reason you can come up for not going with yours,” he shot back, but regretted it when Penelope winced. “...Sorry. That was kind of nasty of me, huh?”

“It’s okay…” she murmured, looking at the ground.

A silence stretched between them for a bit, before he decided to open up.

“My mom died a few years ago, so there’s definitely no way she could come with me. And my dad…he’s among the victims in the capital.”

Oh. Now she felt like the insensitive one for saying anything. “I’m sorry I asked. You must be so sad…was he a good dad?”

Yule nodded his head. “As good as he could be. He was strong, fair and kind. Many loved him.”

That was an odd way of describing his father. “Did you?”

“Well, we didn’t part on good terms…” Yule scratched the back of his neck, looking uncomfortable. “...the last time I talked to him before everything went wrong…I said I hated him. I wish I didn’t. It was a stupid reason.”

“Sounds like you do love your dad, then. I’m so jealous. The last time I talked to my dad, there was only bad words shouted at me.”

She squeezed his hand and he squeezed back. Looked like the two of them had many regrets in common, even though they came from two completely different backgrounds. 

“What was your mom like?” Penelope asked, moving the conversation along, hopefully to a less painful topic for Yule. His expression softened, though there was still a hint of wistfulness to it.

“My mother was a very gentle woman. She spent every day that she could with me when I was very little and even as I got older and she got busier, she always made time for me when I wanted it. She’s very different from Aunt Minerva, but she was still talented at magic and worked at the castle as a court mage.”

“Wow, that’s actually really impressive. So, you’ve been to the castle before?” Penelope asked, eyes wide in amazement.

“Yeah, I’ve been there, you could say,” he said, with a mischievous smile. There was something suspicious in that and Penelope was about to prod further, but they reached the stationary shop.

The door was locked, so they needed to knock loudly to get Ulfric’s attention, as he said he would be caring for his wife on the second floor. It took a minute, but they saw a head pop out of a window a second before the door was opened and the older man was ushering them inside.

“Hello, Mr Ulfric,” Penelope greeted politely.

“Hello, Miss Penelope,” he returned, almost breathless. Did he run down the stairs to open the door for them or had he been doing something strenuous beforehand?

“This is my friend, Yule, he’s going to be escorting me today,” Penelope explained, gesturing to the boy beside her.

Yule gave a curt bow in greeting at the same awkward moment Ulfric offered his hand for a shake. Laughing, he grasped the boy’s hand regardless and gave a hearty shake, almost knocking Yule unexpectedly off his feet.

“Good lad, keeping an eye on your little friend,” Ulfric said approvingly.

“Y, yeah…”

They were lead to the private part of the shop where Ulfric made it a home with his family. Instead of the kitchen, he took them upstairs to the second floor, opening up a door to a small room.

Penelope could tell that it had been lovingly decorated for the child that once lived there.

A small bed with a little canopy above it, with pink fabric draping it. The mattresses looked quite soft and luxurious, with several stuffed animals sitting on the pillows. More toys littered the floor, which now had a thin layer of dust, as if nobody dared to enter since the girl’s abduction. A small desk was set aside a wall, next to a modest dresser. Looking at the contents of the desk, there were several children’s drawings of a family in various scenarios, the most common being the three of them eating a meal together.

Penelope carefully moved through the room, careful not to disturb anything, not even the dust. “This was Velma’s room, isn’t it?”

“We kept it as it was when we lost her,” Ulfric explained. “The missus insisted we never move anything, so she could return as if nothing changed.” The man stood at the edge of the entrance, looking around as Penelope explored. “It’s been a while since I looked in here…too painful, you see….but I thought you might like to know what kind of girl she was like…and how much we loved her.”

And Penelope agreed, now arriving at the child’s bed, seeing the hand made quilt sitting atop everything. As someone who had to mend her clothes over and over until they were just strings as new clothes for herself were a luxury, she could see the effort put into each stitch. Was this the wife’s work?

The bedroom truly had the feel of a child who was whimsical, probably dreamed of fairy tales and adventures and had no small amount of love poured into her. Being an only child, the couple must have decided to give everything possible for her. And now she was gone…but hopefully not lost. While there was a high chance they would never see Velma again, Penelope sent out a silent prayer that they would be reunited again.

Giving the room one more once over, she took notice of a certain detail…

“Say, do you not keep pictures of the family in your home?” Penelope asked, wondering if things like photos existed. Since he asked her to draw his daughter, she assumed there would be nothing of his daughter, but there was nothing else? Ulfric shook his head.

“Artwork of that magnitude is considered a luxury. Most artists charge a lot.”

“How much?”

Ulfric told her a figure and Penelope’s brain nearly exploded.

I could afford a whole plate of wagyu steak with that much! The girl internally screamed. Those artists must be very good, if people were willing to pay for professional portraits. Well, that answered whether or not photos were a thing in Iraloné, or at least Birain. Who knew what was possible in other lands.

Now she had to think back on her own commission fee, which, after conversion, was the equivalent of a single piece of wagyu steak.

I only know how much it costs because I always had to compare beef prices when buying groceries for the house as Kasumi. But knowing that, I feel a little bad about it. However, everyone was working to let her get compensated fairly, for her level of skill, so perhaps it would be all right in the end. She had fought off the guilt of accepting the one copper coin she got for helping Cynthia the other day, so she would have to do so when she got her payout for this job. Said copper coin had a special spot in her pocket right now; she was not going to spend it and hoped she could maybe frame it or turn it into a pendant to commemorate her first earned Drak…

“All right, I think I have a small sense of who Velma is…could you tell me more about her, Mr Ulfric? Give me as much detail as possible, so I can make the perfect portrait of her!” Penelope was pulling out her own parchment and her second to last piece of charcoal, when Ulfric stopped her a moment.

“Hang on Miss Penelope, you’re going to use that for the portrait?”

Penelope blinked. “Well, yes? It’s what I used for my workbook.”

“Miss Penelope, tell me where we are.”

“Er…your house? Well, I guess your shop, really.”

“And what do I sell?”

“Stuff like stationary?”

Ulfric nodded approvingly before heading downstairs. “If you don’t mind my saying, Miss Penelope, but I want you to do the best work you’re capable of. Charcoal smudges over time, so I think I will gift you a brand new pen as part of your payment.”

“Huh?! N-no! I can’t accept something so expensive!”

“I insist.” The shopkeeper’s words seemed final and Penelope had no choice, but to accept what he gave her when he returned.

The pen was what one would call a standard model, made of black lacquered wood and simple finishings. It was not exactly the most luxurious pen to ever exist, but it was definitely better than anything Penelope had ever owned in two whole lives. It was set within a case with two little capsules filled with dark ink. Ulfric set it in her hands.

Here it was. The dream she had long been looking forward to for nearly forty years. A fountain pen. A luxury she only managed to attain through death and sheer luck. Having it now was almost bittersweet.

It took a few instructions for her to load it up; she held it so reverently in her hands, almost tearful.

“I promise to earn this precious gift,” Penelope promised. She rarely ever used a pen before, so she would need a bit of practice. She still had her charcoal, which she would use for the drafts, putting as much effort as she could to bring Velma’s memory to life on paper! With this in mind, she looked to Ulfric, ready to hear his description of Velma. “All right! Just leave it to me! This will be the best portrait ever!”