FSE

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Layton and Clint slowly made their way towards the stall where Layton's father was waiting. As they walked up the road, Layton could hear him talking with his mother.

"I don't care that it's the last day of the festival Hestia. He was instructed to be here the entire day until we closed."

"Hawthorne, maybe he just got restless and wanted to see the-"

"I don't care if he got restless. He had his orders and he should have followed them. He should have been grateful we even allowed him to come to the festival instead of being left at home."

Layton's steps began to slow. He couldn't do this. His heart began to beat faster and faster as Clint began to have to pull him towards his parents. He needed to run. Maybe find a way to survive in the woods. Hunting wasn't that hard right? He knew how to build a fire and the rain wasn't that-

They turned the corner.

Layton saw his father's stern gaze fall onto him. The man was massive, his red scales glistened under the sunset, and his simple smith's outfit was somehow pressed and presented as if it were an officer's uniform. Layton felt as if he were shrinking under that terrifying gaze.

Layton looked to his mother for help, but found little comfort. She only looked at him with an air of disappointment.

Layton hung his head. He was doomed.

Layton's father silently walked over to him and Clint and looked over the two of them, his eyes lingering for a moment on the stuffed bear Layton held in his hands before he spoke.

"Thank you for finding my son, young man. You are dismissed."

Clint began to speak up, "Sir, this isn't-"

"You are. Dismissed. Do I make myself clear?"

Clint withered under the glare of Layton's father. He slowly nodded and slipped out from Layton's grasp.

"Good luck." he whispered to Layton before bolting, leaving Layton completely alone under his father's glare.

His father turned, "We'll discuss your insubordination at home," and began to walk away.

Layton stopped holding his breath, and clutched the stuffed toy close to him. He began to shake and fell to his knees when his legs could no longer support him. Silent tears began to soak into the fabric of the toy. It was so much worse than he thought. He was going to die tonight. He was sure of it.

A gentle hand rested upon his shoulder. Layton looked up into the face of his mother, a gentle woman, with crimson scales like his own and quiet blue eyes, which looked him over, seeing the tears but not seeing why they were there.

She slowly helped him to his feet. "Come help me take down the stall. Using your hands will help calm you. Deep breaths honey, that's it."

She led him slowly over to the cloth tent and helped him pull down the untouched display racks, sorting all of the unsold merchandise into the crates they had been brought to the fair in. Then they took down the racks themselves, pulled out the stakes and supports holding the tent aloft and packed it all into a handcart. Layton began to pull the cart towards home as his mother walked beside him.

"Layton, honey. You promised that you would watch over the stall during the fair."

Layton looked down at the ground, unable to find the words to defend himself.

"If you had just asked, I'm sure we could have make some time for you to go and explore the fair, honey."

Layton took a deep breath, but kept his eyes on the road in front of him. "Dad said I couldn't though. He said I had to stay in the stall all day."

"Well, I'm sure if you had just asked we could have made an exception for a bit, but you know that your father and I need to be able to go out and talk to people about your father's wares. That's how we get most of our sales after all."

"And enjoy the fair without me," Layton muttered.

"What was that honey?"

"Nothing mom. It was nothing." Layton kept walking. It was strange, he knew that leaving the stall was his fault, but all he could feel right now was mad at his mother and father. Mad that they got to go out and experience that wonderful fair while he had to be stuck in the stall all by himself, unable to go out and play games, or enjoy treats, or even make friends.

Layton and his mother continued their trek in silence. Maybe his mom was right. Maybe he had been selfish. It wasn't like manning the stall was very hard. Nobody ever came in and bought anything after all.

But if nobody ever bought anything, what was the point of even having it up each year? Couldn't they all just go out and enjoy the fair together instead of hiding him away from everything?

It took about an hour for Layton and his mother to walk home. They lived near the edge of town, on the opposite side from the fairgrounds. Layton's father liked to claim that it was because the local lord respected them, and while they did live very close to the lord's mansion, Layton sometimes wondered if it was more because his father didn't want to interact with anyone not able to afford his work.

Their house was humble, but not small by any means. It was of a similar size to many of the other estates given to those liked by the local nobility, but nowhere near as decorated. Instead, it was a simple, squat house, with strong walls and small gardens scattered in various places, which Layton's mother often tended to. The majority of the house was taken up by the forge, a large, square building with removable walls to let the air circulate better in the summer. All of it had been built by Layton's father when the land was given to him, using bits and pieces of the old estate as foundation, which could be seen in the rest of the house, bits of gold trim that had flaked away over the years, and murals that had long since faded into being almost invisible.

But, somehow, it was still home.

Layton separated from his mother and pulled the cart into an old shed near the forge. He began taking out all of the unsold merchandise and placing it onto racks which had been worn to fit many of the items perfectly.

After the last blade had been put away, Layton picked up the final item left in the cart. The stuffed toy he had won. He smiled. Maybe today hadn't been all bad. He'd had fun at the fair, hadn't he? Even if he was probably going to get yelled at, he could still pretend like things were going to be ok for now.

Layton held the toy close and walked out of the shed. The sun had almost finished setting and the stars were beginning to show in the sky. Layton sighed in relief. Maybe it was late enough that he could just slip off to bed without his father noticing. He began walking towards his room, a newer portion of the house that he had to enter from the outside. Layton had just reached his door when his mother called out to him.

"Layton, honey. Your father wants to speak with you. He's waiting in the forge."

Layton's heart stopped.

Layton stared at the door of the forge. He didn't want to go in. He wanted to do anything but go in. He wanted to run and hide and never come out. His heart was pounding in his chest and his eyes felt like they'd overflow with tears at any moment. He felt like he would rather will himself to drop dead than open the door.

But he couldn't run. Running would just make the inevitable worse.

Slowly, shakily, he put his hand to the door, and pushed it open.

His father stood in front of the forge, looking into the glowing embers. Layton couldn't tell if he was angry yet. He probably was, but he didn't look it. His father was often completely still until he began to lash out. Layton clung to the small hope that maybe his father would be understanding this time as he walked towards the glowing forge, clutching the small stuffed toy for comfort.

He stopped a few steps away from his father, and stared at the floor, waiting for what was to come.

"Was it worth it?"

Layton's heart stopped as his father spoke, but when the verbal assault he was expecting didn't come, he looked up, confused.

His father's eyes were waiting for him, intense as always.

"Was it worth betraying my trust in order to go and have a little fun?"

Layton stared back at the floor again. He knew what the answer was. Of course it had been worth it. There had never been any trust there in the first place. But he couldn't say that, so he stayed silent, and hoped that this would be the worst thing that happened.

"Answer me boy."

Layton felt like his mouth was full of marbles as he stuttered out an answer he hoped would grant him a measure of mercy.

"N-no sir."

His father gave a self satisfied huff, and then shifted his gaze to the small stuffed toy that Layton held.

"Did that boy you were with give that to you?"

"He- um... it..." Layton stammered.

"Speak clearly boy. I thought you'd learned not to mumble by now."

Layton froze for a moment, then quickly shook his head, "N-no, he didn't. Sir."

His father gave an irritated sigh. "Don't lie to me boy. Do you really expect me to believe you won that thing? Or are you suggesting to me that you stole it?"

Layton shied away slightly from his father at the accusation. He had won it though. It had been a game of strength, and he'd won it without much effort.

His father put forth his hand. "Let me see it."

Layton shied away even more, clutching the toy even tighter.

"Boy, you have already done enough to deserve my ire today, don't make it worse than it already is," his father snarled.

Slowly, reluctantly, Layton gave the toy to his father, who tore it out of his hand before he could let go.

His father inspected the toy for a moment.

Then idly tossed it into the forge.