Morning sunlight streamed through the attic window, casting warm golden patterns across the floor and anointing Viktor's face with a gentle glow. As Viktor stirred awake, he felt an unusual sense of optimism, like a promising whisper cutting through the lingering chill of winter. Next to him, Arelos blinked his eyes open, taking in the warm sunlight that painted the room.
"Morning," Viktor mumbled, rubbing his eyes and stretching his limbs contentedly. The events of the previous day had eased a burden from his shoulders, allowing for a more rested sleep than he had felt in some time.
Arelos yawned, shaking off the remnants of slumber before offering Viktor a faint smile. "Morning," he replied, blinking the sleep from his eyes as he sat up, folding his blanket.
For a few moments, they basked in the quiet tranquility of the morning, the attic embracing them in its familiarity and shared warmth.
Finally, Viktor broke the serene silence, his tone filled with a relaxed certainty. "I’ve been thinking," he said, the weight of contemplation slipping from his words, "it’s a foregone conclusion that we'll use some of those coins to keep your lessons going. It’s worth every bit. But as for the rest… well, I'm not sure yet."
Arelos nodded thoughtfully, reflecting on Viktor’s words as the sunlight filtered into the space. "I'd like to continue with the temple studies," he agreed, choosing his words carefully. "But we need to think long-term, too, about how to make it last. We’re through the worst of this winter," he noted, a hint of relief in his voice, "but for next winter, I’d prefer it if we could manage to build up a bit more of a reserve. That means we really need to figure out how to make these coins last."
Viktor leaned back against the wall, visibly wrestling with the complexities of their situation. "Right, agreed, but how do we go about that?" he mused aloud, more to himself than anyone. "Work hasn't exactly been reliable for us lately."
Arelos fell into contemplative silence, his mind sifting through the remnants of what they'd uncovered in the notebook from the previous day.
Noticing his friend's thoughtful demeanor, Viktor gently broke the quiet, curiosity lacing his words. "Anything in there of use?" Viktor inquired, referring to the dealings described in the notebook.
Arelos’s eyes met Viktor’s, the hesitation present in their depths. "Perhaps," he acknowledged, the word carrying a mix of hope and caution. "But it's risky."
Viktor weighed this for a moment, his eyes meeting Arelos’s with a spark of determination. "Risky though it may be," he said with a grin that hinted at adventure, "it might be worth a shot at least. Let's head to the Den and discuss it over breakfast."
The idea of breakfast made Viktor’s stomach growl as if on cue, prompting both young men to share a knowing smile. The thought of shared meals at their trusted haunt promised familiar comforts, intertwining sustenance with assurance.
Gathering their cloaks, they rolled up their blankets and stowed their few belongings. Viktor went to retrieve the rings, while Arelos grabbed the notebook. Together, they prepared for another day traversing the paths of Lycona.
"Let's go," Viktor declared, sounding invigorated as they embraced the city’s wintry chill armed with opportunity.
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Viktor and Arelos made their way to the Outrider's Den, the familiar warmth and the smell of roasting meat heralding their arrival. Their spirits lifted as they stepped into the inviting interior, welcomed by the cheerful hustle of morning patrons.
Bryna, ever-present and bustling with her usual energy, spotted them immediately. A smile lit up her features as she approached. "Morning, boys," she greeted them warmly, already anticipating their inquiry about work. "I'm afraid I don't have any extra hands needed today." She offered an apologetic grimace.
Viktor and Arelos exchanged a knowing glance. They had learned to take things in stride, especially when it came to work opportunities during this slow winter season. Viktor flashed Bryna a reassuring smile.
"No worries, Bryna," he said with a hint of mischief in his voice. "We're here to fill our own bellies today—had a stroke of good luck yesterday!"
Bryna laughed, clearly relieved by their easygoing demeanor. "Well, in that case, you boys know your way around the menu," she replied, waving them to a table by the hearth. "Sit, relax, and I’ll make sure you get the normal 'employee' discount."
The boys settled into their usual spot, a warm corner near the crackling fire, the table small but cozy, offering a welcome respite from the chill that lingered beyond the tavern's wooden door. Soon enough, Bryna appeared with two steaming plates—eggs, sausage, and a generous pile of toasted bread.
As they dug into the meal, their earlier conversation drifted back into focus. Viktor glanced around the bustling tavern, the murmur of conversations forming a comforting backdrop as he turned his attention back to Arelos.
"We should start by selling the rings," Viktor said between bites, his voice bringing the matter to the forefront. "We can hold onto the dagger for now. No rush to sell unless we decide what exactly we’ll put the extra coin towards."
Arelos nodded in agreement, pausing to swallow before speaking. "The rings are straightforward enough. I figure hitting up a pawnshop should work. They’d pay a decent price for pure silver—probably three or four silvers each."
Viktor rubbed his chin thoughtfully, letting the idea settle. "You're right," he said after a moment's consideration. "With that and the silvers we still have, we've got your lessons covered for several months ahead."
Arelos's brow furrowed, his expression shifting to one of deeper contemplation. "That leaves us what, around nine silvers if we haggle well?" he calculated, a hint of practicality coloring his voice. "It's not a fortune, but it'll stretch way longer than we had before."
They both fell silent, the possibilities weighing heavily upon them. Nine silvers offered security in the short term, but a hopeful venture could expand their horizons if handled wisely.
Reaching into his shirt, Arelos produced the leather notebook they had discovered, flipping through its pages with a mix of interest and uncertainty. He muttered to himself, eyes skimming over each suggestion, weighing the pros and cons before dismissing most of them. His brow furrowed and relaxed in turns as he evaluated each entry, the process slow and deliberate, caution guiding his every thought.
Every so often, he'd pause on a line, considering its merit before shaking his head and moving on. Ideas of varied investments passed under his scrutiny, murmured thoughts discarded or tabled as his fingers flipped past.
Eventually, his gaze settled on a particular entry that seemed to linger longer than the others, his eyes lighting up as understanding dawned. He presented it to Viktor, a touch of quiet enthusiasm breaking through his earlier hesitation.
"Candle tallow," Arelos announced, his voice carrying a mix of satisfaction and cautious excitement. "We've got a contact here who operates a slaughterhouse and can supply raw tallow at below-market rates." He looked up, meeting Viktor's eyes with a burgeoning sense of possibility.
He continued, his tone weaving details together. "We could buy the raw tallow, have a chandler make simple candles, and sell them right here in the Burrows."
An idea crystallized between them—a spark igniting amid the layered elements of the plan.
"We could even try selling them in the Velvet District," Viktor suggested, his eyes reflecting his burgeoning enthusiasm. "That might fetch us a higher premium. But without a stall or license, we might need to partner up with someone."
Arelos nodded, leaning into the possibilities they could explore. "We could approach a vendor at one of the stalls, either sell the candles to them for a discounted rate or ask them to sell them on our behalf in exchange for a percentage of the profit."
Thoughts swirled in Viktor's mind, ideas spinning faster with each turn. "We’ll need a few days for the chandler to make the candles," Arelos reminded, returning to his practical nature. "But we can start small—see if the margins from the numbers here hold up. Even incremental profits can surpass what we’d make working here regularly at the tavern."
They each leaned back in their seats, the anticipated path they had laid out glistening with potential. It carried challenges aplenty, yet it also offered the promise of boundless opportunity—a chance to escape the limitations currently entrapping them.
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Viktor took a deep breath, determination firming the lines of his face. "Looks like we've got ourselves a plan," he declared, conviction humming within his voice. "But first things first—we need to hit up a pawnshop to sell those rings. Can't start on any venture without the initial coin, right?" His eyes glinted with a mixture of practicality and excitement. "Once that's sorted, the road ahead is ours to take."
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Arelos led Viktor through the winding alleys of Lycona, their purposeful strides contrasting sharply against the bustle of the city around them. The crowds parted, allowing them to weave their way toward their intended destination—a small pawnshop tucked neatly between an apothecary and an old bookshop, a remnant from another era that seemed to blend seamlessly into the vibrant fabric of the city.
As they approached, Viktor glanced at Arelos, a glint of curiosity tempered with caution in his eyes. Arelos had taken the initiative, steering them toward this pawnshop as their first stop on their journey to sell the rings hidden deep within their pockets. Viktor had little experience in bartering such goods, leaving a palpable excitement tempered by quiet trepidation.
Pushing open the creaky wooden door, they stepped inside, the smell of varnished wood and aged leather greeting them. The shop was small, dimly lit by the afternoon sun filtering through a dusty window, casting long shadows that danced across the cluttered interior. Rows of items lined the edges of the room: brass trinkets, mismatched porcelain, a rusted clock, and bits of worn furniture.
At the counter stood a middle-aged man, his appearance betraying a life seasoned by commerce and negotiation. He looked up from the ledger resting on the counter, eyeing the two boys with a hint of bemusement. They were, after all, an unusual sight within the walls of a pawnshop. Viktor stepped forward confidently.
"Good day, sir," Viktor greeted amicably, relying on the familiar warmth of his voice to ease the situation and cast a favorable impression. "We're interested in selling an item or two, and we heard you might be able to help."
The shopkeeper raised an eyebrow, sizing up the young duo before him with a flicker of interest tempered by skepticism. "And what is it you're looking to move?" he inquired, his voice holding a practiced veneer of cautious curiosity.
Viktor slipped his hand into his pocket, retrieving the two well-crafted silver rings. He placed them gently on the counter, their understated elegance catching the shopkeeper’s eye. The man picked up one of the rings, turning it over between his fingers, examining it with the practiced eye of someone who knew the pulse of the city’s market intimately.
"These are fine details," he commented, a hint of professional admiration lacing his voice. "Odd to find craftsmanship like this being sold by young lads. Where did you come by them?"
Viktor hesitated, Arelos offering no assistance, allowing Viktor to steer the conversation. "Ah, they were passed down to me," Viktor replied smoothly, knowing full well that full disclosure would harm rather than aid their endeavor. "An inheritance, if you will."
The shopkeeper narrowed his gaze, skepticism sharpening as he studied Viktor. "Down through the family, you say?" he echoed, his voice expressionless.
"That’s right," Viktor confirmed, maintaining eye contact and exuding an air of confidence.
The man hesitated for a beat before placing the rings back on the counter. "Hard to believe, frankly," he observed, voice carefully neutral. "And I can't very well buy something without knowing its clean provenance. Especially not jewelry like this. It’s too risky, considering how the guild operates around here—and I have no interest in falling afoul of their dealings."
Viktor frowned, understanding the shopkeeper's implications—the fear of inadvertently crossing paths with the thieves' guilds that trafficked in stolen goods and more.
"You suspect they might be stolen, then?" Viktor asked, his tone carrying a sharp edge of indignation, feeling slightly affronted by the implication despite his efforts to remain composed.
The shopkeeper spread his hands apologetically. "I'm afraid I can't take the risk," he said firmly. "I don't know either of you, and without knowing the full history, it's simply too great a liability. Better to steer clear of potential trouble before it finds you."
With a nod of understanding, Viktor picked up the rings and tucked them back into his pocket. He turned and gestured toward Arelos, signaling their intention to leave. Arelos quietly acknowledged the plan.
Exiting the shop, the door swinging shut behind them, Viktor let out a sigh of frustration. "So," he said, directing his voice toward Arelos, "what now? We still need to sell these, and they're not much good to us as trinkets."
Arelos tugged thoughtfully at his lip, the movement a reflexive one, signaling a mix of contemplation and uncertainty. Eventually, he broke his silence, albeit reluctantly. "We might need to deal with one of the guilds' fences," he conceded, the prospect clearly leaving him uneasy. "I know where one is. But it's not exactly without risk. They could try to swindle us, or it could lead to other trouble."
The unease in Arelos' voice was palpable, an acknowledgment of the potential hazards they might invite. Yet they both recognized the reality—they needed coins, not sentimental mementos, to keep moving forward.
Catching Viktor's apprehensive expression, Arelos continued, "The smith would offer a sure, though possibly low, price for the raw silver. Yet if we’re to get their proper value, the rings must stay intact."
A moment of silence hung between them, filled only by the subdued hum of the city’s rhythm. The implications hung heavy, a shadow of uncertainty cast against the walls of practicality.
"Alright," Viktor agreed finally, his voice imbued with cautious resolve. "Let's give it a try. Risks aside—we need to sell these rings for what they're truly worth."
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Following Arelos' lead, Viktor ventured into a quieter section of Lycona, the bustling life of the marketplace swiftly giving way to the more subdued rhythm of the residential neighborhoods. The cobblestones beneath them echoed softly with each step, and the crisp air carried a faint hint of wood smoke as they ventured further from the bustling heart of the city.
Arelos moved with purpose, his gaze scanning the mostly residential neighborhood until he found what he was looking for—a small, unassuming house nestled between two larger buildings, its entrance partially obscured by a cluster of overgrown ivy.
"That’s the place," Arelos declared, nodding subtly towards the modest abode.
Viktor shot Arelos a curious glance, eyebrows slightly raised. "And you're sure about that? How do you know this is where the fence operates?" he asked, his voice a mixture of curiosity and skepticism.
Arelos shrugged, his demeanor a blend of confidence and cautious optimism. "You learn things," he replied cryptically, keeping his gaze forward. His nonchalant demeanor conveyed an assurance that put Viktor somewhat at ease, despite the unease simmering beneath the surface.
With a shared glance of determination, they made their way to the door, the wooden frame creaking slightly as they opened it and stepped into the shadowed interior.
Inside, the atmosphere was dimly lit and thick with the smell of pipe smoke and strong spirits. The low murmur of voices was punctuated by the occasional clink of dice rolling across a table. Viktor's gaze traveled to the source of the sound, where two men sat engrossed in a game, cups of strong drink at their sides—a fact Viktor noted with wry amusement, given the early hour.
The larger of the two, a hulking figure with a rugged face and a weathered complexion, glanced up, his gaze assessing the newcomers with a flicker of suspicion. "What do you boys want?" he asked gruffly, his eyes narrowing slightly.
Viktor exchanged a quick look with Arelos before offering a carefully composed smile. "We've got some items we’d like to sell," he explained, his tone measured and respectful.
The man eyed them both for a moment longer before hollering over his shoulder, "Faros! Business out here!"
A pause, followed by the faintest scuffle from the rear of the house, then a figure appeared in the doorway—a man of middling height and slender build, dressed in a finely embroidered waistcoat that seemed at odds with the dingy environment.
Faros, an individual who immediately exuded a blend of charm and cunning, surveyed Viktor and Arelos with a smile that was both welcoming and unsettling. There was a smoothness to his demeanor, a charisma that masked the underlying danger that seemed to cling to him like a shadow.
"Ah, new friends," Faros greeted them, his voice honeyed with affable smoothness. "Please, do step inside." He gestured for them to follow him further into the house, leading them down a narrow hallway that opened up into a parlor covered in rich tapestries that clashed with the austere array of the rest of the house.
Glimpsing every nook and cranny with quick, assessing eyes, Viktor and Arelos stepped further into the shaded depths of the room, though neither missed the impression that this was not a place built for ease of retreat.
Faros circled a worn oak table, motioning for them to present their wares. Viktor withdrew the two rings, both shining faintly in the dim light of the room.
As Faros examined the rings, his eyes narrowed perceptibly, though his smile remained fixed in place. "Fine craftsmanship," he remarked softly, turning the rings over between lean fingers, "and these etchings... quite exquisite." His gaze lingered on the rings with an almost appreciative intentness.
A pregnant pause stretched between them, during which Viktor and Arelos found themselves holding their breath, waiting for Faros to continue. At last, he nodded, a curt, satisfied tilt of his chin. "I can offer you five silver for each," Faros declared, his voice now a cool, precise instrument.
The boys exchanged a quick look of astonishment, surprised by the generosity of the offer—an amount that belied their expectations and possibly their apprehensions.
"You have a deal," Viktor replied swiftly, catching Arelos glance of approval as alignment settled between them; they agreed with the arrangement without further dispute.
Faros’s smile widened slightly, though it carried an edge of calculative satisfaction. "Should you come across more items of this caliber," he suggested, leaning subtly closer to them, "do remember to seek me out." His eyes danced with a hint of mischief and something inscrutable—a dangerous promise clinging beneath the silk of his words.
Viktor held his gaze, crafting a response that diplomatically rode the balance between perceived acquiescence and a desire to uphold their discernment. "We’ll bear that in mind," he said lightly, offering a soft nod.
With the exchange completed, Faros placed the silver coins into Viktor’s palm. The weight of newfound abundance settled between Viktor and Arelos, the moment charged with unspoken plans. Arelos cast a fleeting glance at Viktor, already calculating their next steps.
As the boys turned to leave, Faros made one final remark from where he stood, his voice carrying an alluring hint of temptation. "If ever you’re looking for other opportunities, my association frequently seeks those with... agile talents."
The implication hung in the air, and Viktor hesitated, choosing his words with care. "Appreciate the offer," he replied diplomatically, eyes steady, "we'll keep it in mind."
With a final nod to Faros, Viktor and Arelos stepped back into the corridor leading toward the exit.
As they emerged from the house back into the daylight, a sense of relief washed over them, mingling with a current of excitement fueled by the newfound potential of their acquisition.
"That was... unnervingly smooth," Viktor mused as he and Arelos ventured a few blocks away from the house, casting a sidelong grin towards his friend.
Arelos nodded, his expression thoughtful with a hint of urgency rather than humor. "We got what we needed—it was surprisingly fair, all things considered," he admitted as they navigated through the winding streets. "But let's not linger here longer than necessary." Together, they moved toward a future brimming with possibilities, prepared to seize the opportunities that awaited them.