Over the weeks that followed their first shared breakfast at the Outrider’s Den, Viktor and Arelos settled into a comfortable routine. Bryna and Soros quickly came to appreciate the boys’ diligence and reliability. Many mornings found them in the bustling kitchen, completing tasks assigned with a nod of Bryna’s head or a sharp word from Soros. The routine labor turned into something familiar and even enjoyable—there was a certain satisfaction in knowing where they were needed, and performing their place within the tavern’s bustling choreography.

Patrons at the Outrider’s Den were used to seeing Arelos’ wiry frame and Viktor’s earnest demeanor moving seamlessly through the busy floor during mealtimes. From scrubbing dishes to sweeping the floors, they worked in concert, tackling each task with the perfected rhythm developed over countless shared shifts.

On the days when the Den found fewer guests and thus leaner opportunities, Viktor and Arelos would try their luck elsewhere in the bustling city of Lycona. Viktor’s charm proved to be an invaluable asset; his easygoing personality and genuine words endeared him to vendors in various establishments throughout the city. Despite moments of uncertainty, Viktor often turned potential refusals into invitations for light work or the occasional meal.

For Arelos, Viktor was an eye-opener—a portal to a world where possibilities unfolded with a smile or a kind word. Together, they sidestepped desperation, avoiding the darkness of begging or stealing, thriving instead through hard work, strategy, and an unspoken partnership. Almost naturally, they began pooling their scant copper earnings without debate, ensuring neither went without, bound by a trust far more valuable than anything they had gained.

Viktor’s grief still lingered. There were moments when reminders of his family would surface—a turn of phrase or a familiar tune, simple things that tugged at the buried threads of his past. Yet, like the ocean’s calming tide, the jagged edges of loss slowly smoothed over time. Being around Arelos, so direct and practical, had grounded Viktor. Arelos provided a sense of reliable companionship, a tether in the turbulence of Viktor’s emotions.

Lessons with Arelos flourished with surprising speed. The earnest boy was quick to absorb the knowledge Viktor shared—each word, each number captured and puzzled over until they made perfect sense in Arelos’ sharp mind. Despite himself, Viktor felt pride bloom as Arelos occasionally read a sign aloud as they wandered through the city, his fluency growing with each passing day.

Their lessons extended beyond reading; they indulged in mathematics—theory and practice interwoven into their daily discourse. Concepts Viktor hadn’t truly understood until explaining them to someone else blossomed into mutual revelations. Arelos, with his calculated logic and innate understanding of patterns, absorbed these concepts with eagerness.

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Weeks eventually turned into months, carrying with them the subtle shift of seasons—the fiery hues of autumn fading as a biting chill crept steadily into the air, heralding winter’s approach.

Despite the chill, the two boys pressed on with their lessons, a routine that had long integrated into the rhythm of their days. Arelos, a remarkable quick study, achieved fluency in reading with almost absurd speed. His newfound skill unlocked a voracious appetite for knowledge, and the city became his teacher, a repository of forgotten wisdom at every turn.

Arelos often stumbled upon chance opportunities to explore the remnants of knowledge scattered across Lycona. Open tomes displayed by shopkeepers, torn pages from discarded account books, and occasional scraps salvaged from the refuse of scribes became his unexpected sources. Though he could rarely keep what he found, his sharp mind absorbed each fragment, weaving together pieces of understanding with astonishing speed.

Viktor, who had once prided himself on his own intellect, found himself struggling to match Arelos' swift mastery of mathematics. It became clear to him that Arelos' brilliance was not merely diligence but a rare gift for scholarly pursuits—a gift that might have flourished in another life of greater opportunity.

At the Outrider's Den, shifts carried on with comforting regularity. Bryna had developed a fondness for the boys, often exchanging teasing remarks with Arelos, who despite his aloof nature, seemed to find a second home in the bustling warmth of the tavern. His eccentricities were fondly tolerated, his sharp mind accepted as part and parcel of his character.

One busy evening, the tavern was filled with the lively hum of patrons exchanging stories and laughter—a stark contrast to the biting wind outside.

Viktor moved cautiously, feeling out the still unfamiliar rhythms of the place as he wove through the tables, trying to clear mugs and wipe surfaces without getting in anyone’s way.

Nearby, Arelos moved with a purposeful efficiency, his sharp gaze assessing the needs of each table as he progressed methodically through his duties. Despite the abrupt nature that sometimes marked his interactions, Arelos became an unexpectedly dependable figure amid the tavern's whirl.

As Viktor moved to another section with a pile of empty plates stacked neatly on his arm, he caught sight of Arelos pausing at a table where a particularly large patron sat, loudly finishing what might have been his third or fourth pie—his words interrupted by indulgent grunts as he devoured each morsel with gusto.

Seeing an opportunity, the man beckoned Arelos over. "Hey, boy," he called, his voice carrying a hint of impatience beneath its deep timbre. "How about fetching me another pie, eh? Can't leave me half-starved like this."

Arelos, pausing as if considering the request in all its complexities, locked eyes with the patron in his typically piercing gaze. "You are fat," Arelos stated matter-of-factly, before continuing his cleaning duties, seemingly dismissing the request as ill-advised.

The patron's expression shifted from jovial expectation to bristling indignation, his round face flushing beet-red with mounting outrage. He reared back in his chair, protesting sharply with a harumph that threatened to echo throughout the Den.

This tale has been unlawfully lifted from Royal Road; report any instances of this story if found elsewhere.

Before the situation could erupt further and draw the attention of Bryna, Viktor intervened smoothly, stepping in with a disarming smile and a placating hand gesture.

"Apologies, sir," Viktor began, exuding the charm only he could manage—even amidst minor chaos. "What my friend meant to say was that the Den serves hearty portions and we’d be happy to suggest another selection for you, perhaps our famous stew, which pairs excellently with the pies."

The man's ire seemed to dissipate under Viktor’s calming influence, his tertiary gaze flicking between Arelos and the promised stew. The notion piqued his interest against his own earlier affront.

Reluctantly placated, he leaned back and offered a resigned shrug. "Alright then, bring me one of those stews."

"Right away," Viktor replied with a deferential nod, hoping to pivot the man's displeasure into something salvageable. He shot Arelos a glance, catching his friend’s typically impassive expression.

As they retreated from the table to retrieve the stew, Viktor shook his head with a bemused chuckle. "Arelos," he began under his breath, already having resigned to manage whatever honest explanation awaited. "You can’t just tell people things like that. You could really offend someone."

Arelos looked at him, baffled by Viktor’s consternation, his tone impossibly straightforward. "How was it offensive?" he questioned, innocence marked upon his face. "I merely stated a fact—a helpful fact. He might not realize the effects of his excess consumption."

Viktor sighed, nudging his friend toward the kitchen as they fetched the stew. "The problem is,“ Viktor explained patiently, "that he probably knows he’s overweight, but people don’t like to be reminded of it, especially not when they’re enjoying themselves. And for the Den, serving customers is in our best interest, so we let them decide."

Arelos paused, considering Viktor’s point in earnest. "But if eating more is bad for him," Arelos countered with plain logic, "is it not more beneficial to be honest? Especially if it prevents harm?"

Viktor sighed softly as they reached their destination, carefully ladling the rich stew into a bowl. "It’s about tact," Viktor continued, hoping to impart the nuance of social engagements to his earnest friend. "You’re right in caring, but people find directness off-putting, even if it’s true."

This revelation seemed to give Arelos pause. He frowned slightly, yet curiosity flickered in his gaze. "If I’m making their life better, why should it be unwelcome?" he mused aloud as they carried the dish back to the awaiting man.

Viktor thought for a moment, seeking to craft an understanding that resonated with Arelos’ logic-driven lens. "Imagine someone pointed out a flaw of yours," Viktor posed, "even if it was true, wouldn’t that sting at least a little?"

Arelos’ response came after a beat of consideration, his tone touched with musing comprehension. "Perhaps," Arelos conceded. "But it wouldn’t be illogical to acknowledge it if it benefited me ultimately." His lips quirked upward in a reluctant smile when he added, "In fact, he should thank me—maybe even buy me a pie. Just look at me—I could use it."

Viktor laughed softly, relieved as their exchange concluded with the return of their easy camaraderie. They delivered the stew to their patron, his earlier frustration now distracted by the mouthwatering aroma.

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As the evening shift at the Outrider’s Den came to an end, Viktor and Arelos departed the warm confines of the tavern, their spirits high as a pleasant camaraderie settled between them. The copper coins in their pockets jingled softly with each step, a tangible reminder of their hard-earned success throughout the day. Their bellies were contentedly full, satisfied by the hearty meal provided by Bryna's bustling kitchen.

The cobblestones of Lycona’s streets lay before them, bathed in the soft glow of the early moonlight, guiding them towards the quieter corners of the city. Viktor felt buoyed by the events of the day, feeling that ever-elusive sense of optimism as they ventured back towards their attic refuge.

Walking side by side, Viktor couldn’t help but chuckle as he recalled Arelos’ earlier interaction with the tavern patron. "I still can’t believe you said that to him," Viktor said, his voice laced with amusement. "Although, I suppose I shouldn’t be surprised. How in the world have you managed to survive in Lycona this long with your... let’s call it, lack of tact?"

Arelos glanced at Viktor, his expression thoughtful rather than offended by the jest. "Surviving on the streets doesn’t leave much room for niceties," he said plainly. "Out there, words are tools—sharp, blunt, whatever gets the job done. If I didn’t speak plainly, I might’ve gone unnoticed or worse—taken advantage of. I guess I never learned to waste time dressing things up." His tone softened, but a wry smirk tugged at his lips as he added, "Honestly, I didn’t see the value in it—until I met you. Turns out, you’re surprisingly good at making people like us."

Viktor managed a laugh, shaking his head gently. "Fair point," Viktor conceded, realizing anew that Arelos was different—unique in his straightforwardness.

As they walked, silence descended between them—a comfortable silence, woven with understanding and mutual respect.

After a while, as the streets grew emptier and their path wound closer to their attic sanctuary, Arelos spoke, breaking the silence with a rare moment of earnestness. "Today was... a good day," Arelos stated, his voice ground in contemplation and an unmistakable hint of warmth. "Probably the best one I can remember in a long time. And I suppose you played no small part in that, Viktor. So... thanks."

Viktor was momentarily taken aback by Arelos' candid appreciation. It wasn’t something he encountered often and certainly not from someone as reticent as Arelos. The acknowledgment struck a chord with Viktor, his heart swelling with a deep sense of fulfillment over their growing friendship.

Knowing the value Arelos placed on such expressions, Viktor responded with sincerity. "You’ve helped me a lot too," Viktor admitted, his voice sincere and steady. "I don’t know what I would have done without your help, Arelos."

Arelos offered Viktor a brief, genuine smile, a rare display of emotion that spoke volumes more than words ever could. Both boys understood the significance built into their exchange, an acknowledgment of trust and the strength found in shared adversity.

The boys walked on in silence, the sound of their footsteps on the cobblestones filling the quiet. Neither felt the need to speak, comfortable in the unspoken understanding between them.

Suddenly, Viktor paused, his hand lightly tapping Arelos’ arm for attention. “Look,” he stated softly, pointing skyward.

Arelos lifted his gaze to where flurries of snow, delicate as lace and cold as the dawning breeze, drifted from the skies above. Soft flakes landed on clothing and skin, melting with the warmth they touched. Viktor couldn’t help but smile, the sight evoking memories of cozy fireplaces and warm laughter.

“It’s beautiful, isn’t it?” Viktor mused, a genuine joy infusing his words.

Arelos, however, did not share the sentiment. His expression grew somber, and he cast a sidelong glance at Viktor, his voice tinged with an underlying heaviness. “Snow might be beautiful, but winters test many souls,” he remarked, his tone somber and contemplative. “We’ll have to adapt—it won’t be as easy as it's been.”

The weight of Arelos' words settled heavy on the evening’s tranquility. Viktor met Arelos' eyes, understanding reflected in his own. “You’re right,” Viktor conceded, acknowledging the truth in Arelos' tone. “We’ve made it work so far, but the cold brings with it new challenges.”

The reality of the seasons’ change prompted a period of reflection. Viktor silently pondered the trials yet to come, the ever-present knowledge that their resilience, tested against the warmth of summer, would now meet the chill of winter.