With a slight warmth and smile Oscar left the tavern behind, walking further into the great city. Before leaving he had asked for some guidance to know the lay of the land, and now with a filled belly and guidance he made his way through the winding maze of streets.

His path led him deep, from maintained roads, cobbled with stone and pavement to dirt tracks. Buildings slowly turned from venerable masonry to more, dilapidated structures.

As the neighborhoods changed so did the populace. Decay and stagnation was ascendant in both in structures and people as the slums' muddy streets splattered underneath his feet staining the feet wraps muddy.

Empty eyes followed him from the alleys and hollowed people scuffled with him among the streets. Even the occasional life and cheer in these despairing streets were weathered and quiet, devoured by the smog in the air like affliction consuming its victim.

His feet stopped upon a building left separate from the rest among the densely packed shacks and shanties. It stood, hollow among its empty courtyard of dried vegetation. A temple with a cresting sun painting above its entrance. Weathered and bleached was its color, oddly fitting to the neighborhood.

The temple was slowly rotting, with makeshift repairs of new wood added to its structure, yet it stood out among the shacks as a structure of quality. The original wood had the quality of wood craftsmanship that the hastily raised shacks did not.

It had a presence of stoutness and stability befitting of the stalwart radiance of the sun.

Oscar walked through the mossy but dead courtyard and entered the open doors in quiet contemplation.

The insides held no opulence beyond a quiet, sacred ambiance among its wooden pews and altar in front.

A massive sun-shaped stained window in yellow coloring at the end of the temple that faced the midday sun brought no light to the dark hall of worship. Only the hundreds of candles surrounding the window radiated a hollow light to the darkness around the altar leaving the rest in soltidue darkness.

Oscar stopped before the rows of pews, covering his eyes with his right hand and bowing towards the icon of worship, the stained glass window.

He stood and sat upon the last row of pews and cast his gaze towards the candlelight and the flickering light before the shadows.

Slow gentle even paced steps sounded out behind him upon the softened wood before they stopped next to him, slightly behind him.

“I’m ashamed of my place of worship.” The owner of the steps said in a calm morose voice. “To shame the sun with this dark and wretched temple.”

“I find it apt,” Oscar said as he continued to watch the flames. “One can truly appreciate the light only in darkness..” He turned around upon saying so and looked at the priest of the sun. A middle-aged man with a weathered and coarse face from hard life with plain grey robes and a thin white veil covering his eyes that still allowed him to see through it. Strapped leather was attached to his robes around the joints of his arms and tightened to allow freedom of movement and tighter fit of the loose robe.

The waist had a similar but far thicker strap of leather acting as a belt to keep the upper part separate from the free flowing open robe at the bottom that showed the priest's coarse brown trousers and wrapped sandals around his linen-wrapped feet.

Just like Oscar, he was facing the altar in quiet veneration.

“I have always found that the radiant temples fail to do the light justice.” Oscar continued as he turned back towards the altar. “But here in the dark, watching the flickering candlelight I can’t help but find it hallow.”

“After a night the sun shines brightest.” The priest hummed in agreement before sitting down next to Oscar who nodded and added, “And a spark in darkness blinding.”

The priest sighed and turned towards Oscar who did the same. “Alas, it is not by choice these halls venerate the light as such... But I find your view interesting.”

Oscar said nothing and smiled before glancing at the illuminated altar once more. ‘Would we venerate the light giver if we had no lightless nights filled with terror’ He mused to himself.

“I must confess I came seeking, holy one,” Oscar said as he directed his focus back to the priest. “Advice and direction.”

The priest nodded and motioned him to continue with a slight smile.

“I just arrived from the mainland, holy one, and I seek employment and a place to rest after a day of labor under the sun,” Oscar explained.

“A rare thing to seek from a place of worship.” The priest mused. “And alas not for me to give.”

“But I can illuminate a path towards your goal.” He continued as he stood up, eliciting Oscar to do the same. “A family head a few houses from here injured himself upon working, an accident.”

“They have been seeking to rent their attic room to gain a few lindols extra and a helping hand around the house to offset the loss.” The priest explained as he guided Oscar out. “They have been the cornerstone of the followers of this hall of worship for a long time and deserve respite from their worries.”

If you spot this story on Amazon, know that it has been stolen. Report the violation.

Oscar nodded gratefully as he followed the priest to the doorsteps of the temple, where the priest gave directions toward his goal.

He bowed to the priest in gratitude for his guidance and left the temple behind, following the paths as per guidance.

He arrived shortly in front of a house of opulence compared to the surrounding shacks. Straight walls and two stories of maintained wood and lacquer squeezed in between large hovels. A triangular roof on top and a stone foundation on the bottom, it stood among the slums in defiance.

No signs of.. malignancy upon the house was visible, showing the standing of the household among the community was venerable. It told of tales of finding meager wealth and giving back to the community. Its habitants likely lifelong inhabitants of these slums, and upon success had not haughtily forsaken their roots but proudly remained.

Oscar walked to the simple sturdy door with a dark clasp for knocking and gathered himself for what was to become. Armed with only an unofficial recommendation of the priest and his meager savings he had.

He grasped the clasp and knocked once, twice, before standing slightly back.

Moments later the door creaked outwards and revealed a greying man with a cane. A grizzled short beard of pepper and salt and short cropped hair was neatly maintained and fit well with his black simple suit. A bronze chain hung from his breast pocket and jingled from the act of opening the door. Greyish-green eyes measured the boy in front of him. The gaze neither wary nor hostile, but one of confidence and experience.

There was a bracer of wires of bronze clasping the man's left leg, and despite the confidence of the gaze, the mouth revealed hints of pain from the clenched jaw as he winced upon setting the leg down.

“Yes?” The man asked simply at the unexpected visitor.

“Good evening, I am Oscar Schwarzenmüller.” Oscar introduced himself and smiled politely. “I received word from the priest of the temple of the sun that you are seeking a tenant.”

“Aye, we are. I am Theodore Small” The man nodded, “Come in then.”

The man guided Oscar to a lounge with a sofa and a lounging chair around a coffee table. He gestured for Oscar to sit on the sofa before turning behind him.

“Sofia, visitor. Wants to rent the attic room.” He called out before sitting in the lounge chair with a sigh.

“Someone wanting to rent it?” Came a voice that moved closer as it spoke before a matron of dark brown hair and brown dress appeared from the hallway they came from. The dress was simple and easy to move in within the house and her hair was tied up in a ponytail.

“Good evening Mistress Small, I am indeed interested in the room. Oscar Schwarzenmüller.” Oscar greeted with a smile.

“Sent by Augustus apparently.” The man added.

“By Augustus, eh?” The matron mused before walking over to her husband, “ We do have a room available and unused now that the oldest has left the house.”

Oscar nodded, “I just arrived from the mainland and am seeking a place to stay, I confided in the priest of my plight and he gave me guidance to your doorstep. He told me you are seeking someone to help around the house and I’m very willing on that front.”

The matron and the husband exchanged a look before the wife continued after a moment, “ We are glad we have someone interested in it. With my husband unable to continue working, for now, it would be a blessing to have the room filled.”

The husband nodded along and patted the wife’s hand slightly who smiled encouragingly.

“Before continuing on that front, we hope you won’t mind asking us to tell a bit about yourself.” The matron asked.

“But of course” Oscar smiled, “As said, I am from the mainland, The League, Holmstein to be specific. Lived there since I came of age, working as a laborer early in my life, before gaining apprenticeship as a scribe.”

“So, you are a scribe by trade then?” The husband asked with interest.

“Alas, no.” Oscar shook his head with a forlorn look, “ Sadly I was not able to finish my apprenticeship.”

“May we ask what for?” The matron inquired, “If this is not personal.” She added quickly.

Oscar reminisced the years in the church and brought his hand upon his pocket medallion and caressed it. His father’s sermons in the great hall. His strict teaching contrasting with his benevolent visage around the followers during his lectures. Himself in the darkness watching the radiant hall and his brother in the light with his father. His beloved brilliant brother. The illuminate brother and he the envious shadow. The heir and the spare.

“I had a falling out with my mentor.” He smiled slightly coming up from his musings. “I never could live up to his expectations despite my efforts and he clearly did not want me around anymore. So, I left that life behind and took my savings and moved around the mainland a bit before coming here to continue my life.”

The couple was quiet for a bit musing over his tale before exchanging glances once more and nodding to each other. The matron continued the conversation.

“You sound like a fine fit for us.” She stated while the husband nodded. “As for rent.” She continued, “Should you be interested in helping out in the house and around would be one Lindhol a week. With meals included.”

Oscar nodded in consideration, a lindhol a week was one mark and 70 penns, a reasonable price. But not maintainable forever with his meager savings of 8 Lindhols and 20 pence without work.

He turned towards the couple and smiled, “I find it most agreeable.”

The matron smiled and the husband nodded before standing up with a slight wince and offering a hand to shake to Oscar.

They shook hands and the matron guided his husband to sit down again before addressing Oscar, “Come, I’ll show you your housing.” She said and made way to the hallway Oscar in tow.

“We’ll discuss the specifics on a later date,” The matron said, “With helping out and whatnot, Monday is the day rent is paid and is to be paid in advance. The room is furnished with the basic necessities, you can furnish it further as needed.”

They climbed the stairs up and the matron motioned to the left at the end of the hallway, “The lavatory is that door without any carvings, the other rooms are personal rooms of me, my husband, and our two daughters.”

They turned left and turned a corner revealing a second, steeper stairway.

“The attic was our sons when he was older and wanted a personal space, now that he’s come of age the attic stayed empty.” She said glancing over at Oscar who diligently followed and listened, “I’m sure you’ll meet him in the coming days as he’s been visiting constantly due to my husband’s injury.”

“The girls are still in evening school but should arrive in a few hours home, we’ll inform them of the occupancy of the attic.” The matron narrated as she quickly climbed the stairs up while holding the hem of the dress slightly up. She opened the door separating the attic from the rest of the hallway and they entered a cozy small attic room with an inclined ceiling with a bed next to a small rectangular window and next to it a simple writing table with a chair along with some shelf space and a mirror hung from one of the shelves.

There was a small iron fireplace slightly separate from the rest of the furnishing with iron sheets around it to keep the fire in check should embers fly out.

The matron turned to Oscar who was looking at his new dwelling, he was content with the housing provided but it did not yet feel like home. He fished out his pouch and fished out a silver coin with a ‘1’ on it and handed it to the matron with a grateful smile.

“Thank you.” He said.

The matron smiled and took the lindhol from him and nodded to him, “I’ll let you acquaint yourself with your new home, we’ll call you once dinner is served and you can meet the girls.” She said before leaving.

As he was left alone, his façade crumbled, and he winced from smiling so much. He walked to the mirror and looked at the face partly hidden by the shadows cast by the slowly descending sun.

A frowning face looked back at him with blue eyes peering from the shadows, judgmental.

His father’s eyes measured him, his inadequacy before Oscar closed his eyes and shook his head.

He flipped over the mirror and walked over to his bed and sat down with a sigh before fishing out his medallion and taking out the weathered letter with illegible text beyond the first words.

‘Dear brother,’ It read in smudged cursive, despite it being almost as ruined as the rest of the ink.

Oscar looked at the letter he never left behind in a daze.

Slowly with a trembling finger, he touched the words.

Before smudging those two last words remaining on the letter to oblivion.

The tired man remained in silence with his thoughts, till it was time to once more don the mask of radiance.