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When the morning sunlight filtered into the room, illuminating a corner of the bed, Drott was already gone. Freya rarely laid her eyes on her husband sleeping beside her or heard the man eating something in the kitchen.
She expected it; the work as the king's bodyguard kept Drott quite busy. Sometimes he didn't even come home for the night.
Drott had talked to her about it once, when they had the opportunity to have breakfast together:
that day Freya had prepared a hearty breakfast, cooking eggs, toast, and also serving the apple jam her mother had given her.
The young man had eaten everything with great appetite, satisfied at having filled himself properly, then he said, "I'm sorry I'm not home often, Freya."
Embarrassed by that intimate atmosphere, the girl replied, "Um... no, don't worry, I understand you're busy."
The man looked at his plate and continued, "In this period, I'll be particularly busy with work, I have to accompany the king to various places so I won't be home for a few days."
Freya frowned and lowered her gaze, sorry to have to remain alone even at night.
Seeing her sad, Drott consoled her, "I promise we'll spend more time together once I'm free."
Freya raised her gaze and replied resignedly, "Okay," then added, looking straight into her husband's eyes, "take care of yourself," in a tone of voice so worried but full of affection that she was amazed at herself.
Drott felt something tug at his heart, but he acted indifferent, got up, greeted Freya with a smile, and went away.
The young woman felt more at ease when she didn't feel the giant's presence on her, but then her thoughts returned to the duties of a good wife and housewife and to the expectations that Drott placed in her and she therefore worried about tidying up, cleaning, and always doing the housework as best as possible. Yet, every now and then, feelings of nostalgia invaded her soul and in her heart she prayed that nothing bad would happen to her husband.
That morning, Freya had to go to the market and she took the basket she jealously kept in the bedroom in a dark wooden trunk.
She appreciated that the man always left her enough money for shopping, but she always used it diligently, spending the bare minimum.
The memory of one evening came to her mind when Drott came home and said, "Don't you ever buy anything for yourself?" noting that the money he had left her was almost all in its place.
Freya intimidatedly replied, "I don't need anything."
Drott looked at her carefully then added, "I think you need new clothes."
Freya exclaimed, "Huh?!" then kept her gaze down and her voice, "Really, I don't need anything," embarrassed by her husband's impudence.
The man smiled at her, "Tomorrow we will go shopping together."
Freya replied that there was no need, but the man insisted, and in the end, the girl had to give in.
The next morning her husband's good intentions went to waste because he had to go to the king urgently, leaving Freya to fend for herself once again.
It was a beautiful morning, the sky was slightly cloudy.
The girl took a deep breath then closed the door firmly behind her and headed towards the market.
Her basket swung lightly from her arm, a mixture of excitement and determination coursing through her veins. Today, she wasn't just going to buy goods, she had a mission.
Her stomach churned with anxiety, but she had to uphold justice; she had been cheated by the same merchant for the second time and she was not going to stay silent.
Freya didn't dare to imagine what would happen if Drott had eaten that flour. He would have felt sick, or reproached her, or become angry.
Arriving at the bustling market, she moved among the stalls and immediately spotted the merchant who was serving a customer with satisfaction.
Approaching, Freya's heart pounded with nervousness, but she squared her shoulders and gathered her courage.
"Excuse me, sir," she said, "I need to talk to you about a purchase I made from you last time."
The merchant turned to the girl, responding, "And what would that be, miss?" His tone was falsely polite.
"It's about the flour I bought from you last time," said Freya, her voice firm despite the butterflies in her stomach. "I realized it wasn't of the quality you boasted about."
The merchant's facade wavered for a moment, replaced by a fleeting look of irritation, before his features were sculpted into a mask of innocence.
"My dear, I assure you that all my goods are of the highest quality. Perhaps it was a misunderstanding on your part."
The girl replied, "The flour you sold me has a strange taste and doesn't rise well; when cooking, it takes on a strange consistency for wheat flour. Let me show you, I have the bag right here."
The irritated merchant replied, "It can't be, you must have prepared it incorrectly," forcing a laugh.
Freya refused to back down. "Even the color, it's not as white as expected. It's not wheat flour; it seems to be a mix of different flours like corn. I demand to be compensated for the deceptive product you sold me."
The merchant sharply replied, "Listen, little girl, I don't have time to waste with brats like you."
The girl didn't want to give up, and angered by the merchant's lack of kindness, she told him with a determined and fiery gaze, "Then I'll spread the word that you sell poor-quality products."
The merchant was visibly irritated.
Suddenly, Freya felt a weight on her shoulders; a woman casually draped an arm around her shoulder and said jokingly yet decisively, looking at the bag the girl held in her hand, "Interesting. Is it from this man that you bought the flour?" A young man stepped forward, angry, and said, "Yes! He's a swindler!"
The merchant hadn't expected this and felt cornered. The woman continued, "Tell us, what's wrong with the flour you bought?"
The young man began emphatically, "Certainly! The taste and consistency of this flour are completely different from wheat flour, yet you charged me as if it were. It's flour that doesn't work well!" showing the bag to the merchant.
The discussion was attracting onlookers, and the merchant's reputation was at stake. Unable to turn the situation in his favor, he lowered his head and in a tone of surrender said, "Alright, keep your voice down, I'll compensate you."
Freya couldn't have heard better words. She thought, "How wonderful! Drott will be proud of me."
Freya exclaimed, "Wait!" as she followed her.
The woman halted her steps and turned around.
Freya said to her, "Thank you so much, without your help, I wouldn't have been able to change that merchant's mind."
"You're welcome," she replied with a playful smile on her lips, and approaching the young woman confidentially, she said in a suggestive tone, "Helping others can have its advantages, you know."
Freya tensed momentarily, uncertain of the stranger's intentions, but shortly after, the woman said, laughing, "I'm kidding! Don't worry."
She continued, "These kinds of things happen every day here at the market. I'm glad I could help you. When I heard that even my regular customer had problems with that flour, I felt it was right to intervene. I couldn't ignore it."
Introducing herself as Eira, she explained that she managed the stall nearby. Freya realized that Eira had a kind heart and was not a bad person.
"If you need anything, just ask me," the woman concluded, smiling.
Freya returned home satisfied with her trip to the market; not only had she achieved justice for herself, but she had also made an unexpected encounter. Eira had sold her what she needed at a good price.