INKTOBER '20 #7 - Fancy

Rattifer had a hard time adapting to the city life. Not for lack of trying! It is simply prejudice, as his people – the Rousians – are looked down upon by nearly all other folks and kin across the face of Posterra. The reasons for the loathing are manifold, most of them utterly groundless. Sure, his people are having their own unique culture, they do travel in eclectic caravans filled with what an untrained eye can call heaps of trash, but they aren’t all stealing, filthy, disease-ridden, conniving miscreants. Sure, some are, of course, but that could be say of any people! It was an unfair struggle, but he did as his Pater told him – hone a skill, be good at it, be honest with it and don’t overcharge, and sooner or later you’ll melt into the society so hard, they won’t be even able to imagine that you weren’t there from the beginning. And Rattifier did exactly that – it is not unusual for his people to find a rare, unique skill and master it with unshakeable focus and endless practice. And it was the same with him. Now the sight of him walking the streets, illuminated by his own handiwork is both welcomed and looked for! While candlemaking might not be the most niche of professions and there are of course competitors, in city as big as Wharf Town, there need for light is nearly impossible to exhaust. And he prides himself for making the cleanest, brightest and most enchanted of candles, being able to infuse a chamber with a beloved scent, grant soothing phantasm or cleanse a room of ill miasma. If one looks for a candle, be it for light or some special effect, all they have to do is follow the path of wax drippings around the city to finally meet the hunched figure of the well beloved candlemaker…