Viktor came awake with an abrupt start, yanked from the depths of slumber by a firm, insistent shake. "Wake up," Arelos urged, his voice a muted command not easily ignored. Viktor blinked rapidly, disoriented in the dim-light of the attic, the world blurring until gradually crystallizing into focus.

The familiar attic emerged around him, shadowed and still unfamiliar to his senses, which yearned for the comforting sights of his family home. But life had steered his course here, and he hastily dismissed the sensation of homesickness that always gnawed at him upon waking.

"Ugh... what time is it?" Viktor mumbled groggily, his voice thick with sleep as he tried to clear the lingering fog clouding his thoughts.

Arelos, already poised and fully awake, stood by the window, the faint glow of early dawn barely whispering against the horizon. His expression was set in a mask of practicality, his words ticking with urgency. "It's time to move," Arelos replied brusquely, casting Viktor a glance that cut through the lingering vestiges of sleep.

Viktor pushed himself into a sitting position, groaning softly as his back protested—a dull, persistent ache that reminded him of the hard attic floors. They were a far cry from the comforts he'd once known, and his body was slow to adapt to this new mode of living.

Rubbing aching muscles, he noticed Arelos had already gathered his few belongings, clearly intent on getting them moving as soon as possible. "What’s the rush?" Viktor asked, forcing himself to shake off the lethargy, even as a heavy tiredness clung to his limbs.

Arelos crossed his arms over his chest, his gaze steady as he explained. "Time to learn the first rule of the streets," Arelos said. "You stay ahead of the crowd. The early bird gets the worm, right? It's no good lounging about. If you're not moving, you're losing."

Viktor opened his mouth to respond but instead released a resigned sigh, accepting the practicality of Arelos’ logic. "Alright," Viktor relented, standing up albeit reluctantly.

His legs felt like lead as he moved, and his stomach grumbled loudly—a reminder of the necessity of sustenance. Arelos’ gaze flickered to Viktor’s half-eaten loaf of bread, now sitting beside the blanket. "Finish it off," Arelos instructed, his voice tinged with a hint of impatience. "No sense leaving it now."

Viktor took up the remainder of yesterday’s stale bread, more out of compliance than necessity, though as he chewed, he felt a gratitude traced over each mouthful that nourished his want. The crust was tough and dry, but it dulled the edge of hunger.

Arelos observed the scene in silence, patiently waiting and offering no conversation until Viktor had eaten his fill. When Viktor had finished, reluctantly leaving crumbs behind, Arelos addressed him. "Alright, good. We need to head out and scout for leads."

Once Viktor had dutifully cleared the last bits of sleep from his eyes, the two of them quietly made their way towards the attic window, where Arelos had already opened the latter upon his initial waking. Fresh morning air touched Viktor’s skin as they both climbed down the ladder, the scent crisp and invigorating.

Their exit was quiet, slipping into pre-dawn stillness as early light promised a new beginning. Arelos led the way, navigating the familiar route with ease, while Viktor followed closely, steadying himself with each step until his stride matched Arelos’ pacing.

The roads were deserted at this hour, the silence wrapping around them like a comforting blanket—a city at rest, brimming with potential before the hustle of day began. Viktor noted the stark transformation, the absence of throngs adding an unfamiliar calm to the environment.

As they passed through the more decrepit quarter, once alive with vibrant commerce now shadowed by neglect, Arelos cast a quick glance over his shoulder at Viktor. "We’re heading to the markets," he said decisively, leaving no room for debate. "Best to catch the sellers as they set up. Someone's bound to need help."

Viktor nodded silently, trusting Arelos’ lead. The logic was sound, and Viktor had no better ideas, not yet anyway. He followed closely, his steps quickening to keep up as Arelos navigated the labyrinth of narrow streets with practiced ease.

----------------------------------------

The morning air was crisp and invigorating as Viktor and Arelos continued their journey towards the market, taking a brief detour to relieve themselves and replenish their thirst at a nearby well. Viktor splashed the cool water on his face, feeling it rush over his skin and awaken his senses, preparing him for the day ahead.

The market was coming to life as the sun peeked above the horizon, casting golden rays over the cobblestone streets. Vendors were beginning to set up their stalls, their colorful awnings fluttering in the gentle morning breeze. A sense of purpose drove Viktor and Arelos as they approached the heart of the bustling square.

Arelos paused at the edge of the market, scanning the scene with a practiced eye. "Let's not waste any time," he instructed, the efficiency of his words mirrored in his sharp movements. "We need to cover as many stalls as possible before everyone else comes."

Viktor nodded, following Arelos into the throng. The younger boy's approach was systematic, moving swiftly from one vendor to the next, inquiring about work in a brisk, straightforward manner that left little room for pleasantries.

They met more refusals than opportunities as they navigated the maze of stalls—a multitude of quick, polite rebuffs from vendors too busy or uninterested to offer work so early. The pace was relentless, Arelos' focus on speed and strategy rather than conversation.

After several unsuccessful attempts, Viktor observed something he hadn’t initially noticed: Arelos’ approach, though fast, was lacking a personal touch. He could see the vendors’ eyes glaze over, their attention slipping away as Arelos’ words came and went like the breeze.

This novel's true home is a different platform. Support the author by finding it there.

“Arelos,” Viktor ventured, catching up with him as they paused briefly near a fruit stand, “do you mind if I take the lead on the next one? Just a thought I had. Maybe... I could try a different approach?”

Arelos considered Viktor’s request. His eyes sparkled with curiosity tempered by practicality. “Sure. Can’t hurt,” he replied, stepping back slightly to let Viktor at the forefront of their next venture.

Stepping up to the next stall, Viktor summoned a warm, approachable smile as he addressed the vendor. The man, a rugged, middle-aged fruit seller, paused in his setup, instinctively responding to Viktor’s demeanor.

“Morning, sir,” Viktor greeted, his voice upbeat and engaging. “Your apples look fabulous today. I’ve got quite the appetite for work and wouldn’t mind giving you a hand if you need it.”

The vendor eyed Viktor with interest, the hint of a smile pulling at the corners of his lips. His gaze flitted to Arelos, observing the two boys with an appraising glance.

“You boys from around here?” the vendor inquired, his tone softened by Viktor’s friendly approach.

“Sort of,” Viktor replied smoothly, his charm unyielding. “We’re looking to earn our keep and wouldn’t mind trading some labor for a meal. Mind if we lend you a hand?”

The vendor scratched his chin thoughtfully, weighing Viktor’s enthusiastic offer against the potential help he needed. Finally, he nodded, a broad smile breaking across his face.

“Alright then. I could use some assistance stacking these,” he said, gesturing to several crates of apples waiting to be organized. “Get it done, and you’ve got yourself a handful of these fine fruits each.”

Gratitude swelled within Viktor as he turned to Arelos, nodding in encouragement. The two boys set to work quickly, hands moving deftly as they helped the vendor prepare his stall for the day's commerce. Viktor found a rhythm in the labor, the act of stacking apples a simple yet rewarding task when accompanied by a tangible reward.

As they finished their task, the vendor handed them a small bundle of apples each, the fruit glistening invitingly in the morning light. The boys thanked him earnestly, their eyes filled with unspoken relief.

Moving away from the stall, Viktor bit into an apple, savoring the sweet, crisp taste that filled his mouth. He sighed with satisfaction, the simple pleasure of eating serving as a reminder of their success.

Beside him, Arelos seemed contemplative, turning an apple in his hand as if studying both it and the method by which they had earned it. “I don’t get it,” Arelos admitted after a moment, his voice tinged with a puzzled curiosity. “You did the same thing I did, just... slower. Why’d it work this time?”

Viktor chuckled lightly, recognizing a moment to impart one of his own lessons. “It’s about how you approach people,” Viktor explained. “Sometimes, being quick isn’t enough. You need charm, a bit of warmth in your voice—it helps to make a connection.”

Arelos tilted his head, absorbing the new perspective. “So, charm versus speed,” Arelos remarked thoughtfully, contemplating the dichotomy Viktor presented. “Interesting,” he acknowledged, though uncertainty remained in his tone.

“Charm isn’t something you can rush,” Viktor added, offering Arelos an understanding smile. “It’s all about finding that balance between getting things done and doing them in a way that makes people want to help us.”

Arelos nodded slowly, still deliberating Viktor’s words. Yet, in the acknowledgment and shared success, Viktor saw the beginnings of an understanding—a gentle shift in the dynamic that hinted at lessons yet to be learned through the pull of shared experience.

----------------------------------------

Viktor and Arelos relished the success at the apple stall, the sweet, tart fruit a small but satisfying reward for their efforts. As they moved away from the bustling square, Arelos cast a thoughtful glance back toward the vendors who were now settled into their routines.

"Looks like most of 'em are already set up," Arelos remarked, tossing an apple core to the side. His tone was thoughtful, assessing their next move with characteristic pragmatism. "Doubt they'll have any more work, but we can't linger too long with just fruit in our bellies and nothing else planned."

Viktor nodded, polishing off his second apple. The morning had taken a positive turn, and he was eager to keep the momentum going. "What do you suggest?"

"We finish these apples," Arelos continued, pointing at the fruit with a practical nod toward Viktor's remaining apple. "No point in carrying them around all day. I know a couple of taverns that sometimes have work, especially when things get busy."

The village morning air was cool and crisp, as Viktor savored the last bites of his apple, the sweet juice lingering on his tongue. He was aware that he needed to pace himself in their endeavors, understanding that hasty movements wouldn’t secure their survival.

"Taverns?" Viktor asked with genuine curiosity, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand and tucking the apple core beside Arelos’ to dispose of later. "Do they usually have extra work available?"

Arelos nodded, his expression unwavering and a glimmer of shared opportunity sparking between them. "Yeah. Early morn, lots of guests mean more hands needed for prep. Especially before breakfast, when folks are bound to pile in."

"Alright then," Viktor agreed, the notion of potential employment spurring him on. "Where do we start? With the one that's likeliest to have guests?"

"Exactly," Arelos confirmed, his tone cutting through the mid-morning bustle with optimism. "There's a place in particular—a decent enough spot. I've had some luck there almost every time they’ve been full up."

They weaved through the thinning crowd, Arelos leading them with purpose and confidence through the network of cobbled streets. Viktor followed closely, his stride matching the lightness in his spirit, buoyed by relief that Arelos’ luck might hold fast.

As they navigated the winding lanes, the clamor of the market gradually faded. The familiar chatter, the clinking of pots and pans, and the scattered laughter wove a tapestry of city sounds, guiding them like a siren’s call toward potential work.

Arelos paused at the intersection of a bustling street, checking the flow of passersby before nodding decisively and setting their course. Viktor dutifully followed, their path illuminated by the clarity of companionship underpinned by determination.

"Is it far?" Viktor queried, his discipline keeping pace, attuned to the charged energy of ambition that propelled them both.

Arelos shook his head. "Not much further," he replied, gesturing toward a corner where the road bent beneath a canopy of interlaced branches. "We're heading to the Outrider's Den, the best-paced of the lot. Folks pack in early. With luck, we'll catch a break or two."

Viktor nodded, taking note of the tavern’s name and appreciating Arelos’ familiarity with the lay of the land. "Outrider's Den," Viktor murmured, testing the name on his lips as though practicing a spell.

The bustling alleys gave way to a broader street, the morning sunlight casting long shadows that waltzed lazily across exposed stones. They encountered a few other early risers, each engaged in their own business, but peaceful enough to navigate easily.

Viktor caught the smell of sizzling meats and bready warmth mingling with the morning air as they approached, an olfactory beacon that beckoned them closer. His stomach gave an involuntary rumble of approval, a reminder that breakfast awaited just beyond the door.

The Outrider’s Den came into view with little fanfare—a modest establishment with sturdy wooden beams and a perimeter of iron lanterns anchored outside its framed windows. Viktor assessed the building’s exterior, his gaze flicking momentarily to Arelos, receiving a nod of encouragement in return.

Stepping inside the Outrider’s Den, he felt the welcoming wash of heat immediately suffuse him, a stark contrast to the brisk air from outside. The interior throbbed with the quiet energy of early-morning patrons reacquainting themselves with daylight.

Viktor observed the hive of activity, their presence briefly unnoticed by those immersed in the space’s warmth. He turned purposefully to Arelos, sharing a glance loaded with tentative resolve and steady camaraderie.