John Laurens, the purebred Petalbasket, walked through the market, his gaze trailing along the stands of plants and other produce.

There were Fruitvines selling fresh vegetables and Leafbloods boating about their sweet scented herbs. He spotted a few Petalbaskets selling bouquets and Woodhearts offering furniture and carvings to any passerby.

I walked past stalls and through the throngs of bustling faeries, each advertising their wears at the top of their lungs, trying to surpass whoever else was selling a similar product.

John has always loved the market, with all its sounds and colors, all the things to see and hear. He came there when he needed a break from being at home.

Now was one of those times; John's father had decided that he needed a personal attendant, which he'd pointedly refused.

John felt that it was stupid that his family had so many servants and wanted no part in the whole thing. He'd been roped into it by his heritage, but John had wanted to at least protest a personal servant, though his father had wanted to hear none of it and ignored his son's demands.

The Petalbasket sighed as he walked past the stalls, smiling warmly at the vendors who cast him a glance.

He was so lost in thought that reaching the very back of the last aisle he stumbled, fairly surprised by the dimmer quoted area. John looked around, gazing at the stalls who'd been given the littlest of credit.

There were two young Fruitvines offering fruit he'd seen never before, and a Woodheart who looked around sixteen advertising very beautiful hand carved wooden charms with different designs on them.

The thing that caught John's attention though, was a boy who wasn't obviously of any tribe. He had a stall selling utensils and other handcrafted non-organic things.

He had shoulder length curly red hair and freckles scattered across his face. The boy had a small, almost feminine, build and beautiful purplish blue eyes, which had dark bags underneath. The boy wore a simple brown coat over a white dress shirt and black pants. He had his elbows resting on the wood of the stall and looked like he hadn't seen a customer since his birth.

John walked over to the boy and his eyes lit up as he lifted his head and tried to appear more formal.

"This is the back of the market, sir." The boy said. "The main stalls are over that way." He pointed the way John had come.

"I'm well aware." The Petalbasket replied. "I seem to have stumbled over to this side but the things here are far more interesting."

The boy looked surprised that anyone wouldn't want to immediately leave this place, but John didn't understand why. He examined the boy's merchandise, it was all very clean and well made.

He looked up and smiled at the boy, reaching for his satchel. John didn't often buy things at the market when he wandered, but the boy and his products intrigued him, so he felt like purchasing a few things.

"Could I have that quill and that knife?" John asked the boy, who immediately complied, grabbing the items and stuffing them in a leather satchel.

"That'll be 2.35 sir." The boy seemed surprised he'd managed to sell something.

John went through his purse to find the money, but noticed how exhausted and hungry the boy seemed and threw in another few coins. It wasn't like he'd die without them, coming from a considerably rich pure blooded family had its perks.

He put the money on the stall and observed the boy, who looked at the coins like they were sons foreign thing. He picked them up and looked through them, then lifted his gaze to John.

"This is too much sir." He held out the extra ten coins on his palm. "You've mistakenly given me 8.35."

John curled the boys fingers around the money. "It was no mistake. Thank you again, now I must be on my way."

He turned around and walked back to the more populated side of the market, the stalls little by little getting more lit up and the crowd of faeries thickening.

John clutched the satchel to his chest and couldn't help thinking about the boy. You could tell what tribe faeries belonged too from their produce, but he sold nothing that showed any signs of being one tribe more than another.

John made his way back through the market, checking his watch to see if he had time to roam a little more.

He did not.

John sped up, heading towards his home. Once out of the market, he broke into a run, racing up the hill.

John made it to the house with ten minutes to spare, which was good because he had to go to his room and get himself emotionally ready for dinner.

John got to his room without alerting anyone and lit a candle, closing the azure curtains to give the room a nice blue hue. He put his new quill in the ink pot, throwing out his worn old one. He hid the knife in his closet, because he didn't want his father walking in and seeing it, knowing that it would be confiscated.

He went over to his bed and fell onto it, letting his breath warm the cloth below him. John didn't usually like partaking in dinner, but this time he felt even more reluctance to head down and share a meal with his family.

John loved his siblings, Martha, Henry, Mary and James, but his father was sometimes so hard to cope with that it stained all the gatherings that involved the man.

This one was to be particularly grueling, seen as Henry Sr., John's father, was going to make him meet his 'personal attendant' and probably make up an excuse as to why it was completely ok for whichever poor soul was chosen to have to do all of John's work for him.

A bell chime sounded throughout the house, the sign that it was time to eat, but John didn't even lift a finger.

A few minutes afterwards a nervous looking servant peeked in his room.

"Lord Laurens requests your attendance at the dining table, sir." She declared.

"Tell him I'm not going anywhere." John grumbled without moving from his spot.

"Okay sir, but I don't know if the lord will be to happy." She closed the door and rushed away.

John rolled over so he could stare at the ceiling, not that the ceiling was particularly interesting to stare at, and waited for his dad to come telling that he needed to partake in the meal.

He was surprised when there was a gentle knock instead, and walked over to the door, opening it a crack.

In the hall stood a boy, face covered on shadow from the dim lighting of the hallway, but John immediately recognized him as the boy from the market.

Unsure what he was doing here, John let him in and the boy walked into his room, then lingered as I'd he wasn't sure what to do.

"Hello..." The boy started after a while of just standing there silently. "My name is Alexander Hamilton, and I have been hired as part of your staff. I am to tend to you and your needs so I guess I can't give you orders, but I must insist that your father really wants you to go downstairs and I'm sure he won't be too kind on me if I tell him you refuse to join your family."

John blinked at the boy, Alexander Hamilton, his red hair now bathed in soft blue light, and thanked him, heading down to confront his father.