Decrepit and old were perfect words to describe the orphanage. The windows were all shuttered, the wooden framework was black and decaying, and the stone foundation was covered in grime and dirt as though it had not been cleaned in years. It was an eyesore and the fact he had to live here only further depressed Xerio. Holding Yimea’s hand in his right, he banged the door with the rusting metal door knocker with his left. A moment later the door opened. A woman answered. She had dark bags under her eyes and her skin was pale. A brunette whose hair was tied in an unruly bun. Old age had yet to fully grasp her, but she looked stressed and at any moment could shatter like glass.
“New arrivals?” the woman, who Xerio assumed was the caretaker, questioned with a sigh.
Xerio nodded. “Yes, I am Xerio and this is my younger sister, Yimea. We have come, because-”
The caretaker waved her hands to stop him from talking. “No, none of that. I have heard enough sob stories from you wretches to fill a book, but no one cares or has the time.” She declared. Xerio squinted, he did not expect a warm reception, a hug, and a meal, but this woman was heartless. He tried to speak again to no success as she spoke over him. “How old are you, boy?”
“I am fourteen.” Xerio responded with an edge to his voice. She clearly heard this as Xerio was struck in the face. He winced and touched his cheek where she had hit him. The sting told him it was going to leave a red print.
“Watch your tone when speaking to your superiors, boy.” the caretaker threatened. The feeling of lashing out incensed Xerio. After all he went through to survive and now to be mistreated at the hands of such a person. He bit his tongue. They needed this foul woman to take them in. “And the girl?”
“Ten.” Xerio answered in a more subdued tone.
The caretaker smirked, clearly pleased with herself for a lesson well taught. “Alright, I can take the girl, you on the other hand, boy. Thirteen is the oldest we accept. We do not need another freeloader taking up precious space.” she hissed.
It was unacceptable, Xerio did not want to be separated. “Yimea needs me. We have to be together.” Xerio pleaded.
The caretaker gave a venomous chuckle. “She can either stay here in the safety of my care or she can live with a wretch like you in the gutter. Your choice.”
It was a hard decision made more unpleasant by the caretaker’s glare. Yimea needed him and she was all the family he had left. The streets would be hard and unforgiving, but Xerio believed he could survive them. Yimea though would not last long in her state, she needed a better caretaker even if the only choice was the putrid hag before him. He bent to speak to Yimea directly. “Yimea, I am going to leave you here, you will be safe under this roof. I love you and will be back to see you soon.” He waited for a response, but as he expected none came. Shaking his head in despair, he dreaded his next action. He brought Yimea’s hand up and offered it to the caretaker. It felt like a betrayal, but he convinced himself this was for her own good.
“You may look stupid, but seems you are pretty smart for a common wretch.” the caretaker said, taking Yimea’s wrist and pulling her inside the orphanage. The door quickly slammed in Xerio’s face as he took a step to enter, he thought he would at least be able to see where Yimea would live. He silently cursed the caretaker.
Xerio stood alone on the stoop. He did not know what to do now, but tried to take solace in the fact Yimea would be cared for. A deep sadness overcame him as he took stock of his own life and situation. All he had were his clothes and nothing more. Questions marred his thoughts. Where would he live? What would he do? He was going to be a baker like his father. Now nothing was certain. He truly had nothing and his stomach growled as a reminder of his state. An idea spawned in his mind. He was the son of a baker, he held knowledge of baking bread, producing flour, and even how to make treats and pastries. An apprenticeship should be easy to obtain. This brightened Xerio’s mood as he descended the steps of the orphanage. He promised himself he would return.
Xerio weaved through the streets and back alleys then arrived at the marketplace. It had a large open space, but was tight with merchant stalls pedaling anything from nails, to furs, to foodstuffs. He recalled coming here with his father as he walked the familiar lanes. Surprisingly, in their trips to Felstrom, they never once visited any of the three baker’s Xerio was aware of. His father had only spoken about them briefly.
In the northeast corner he found the first bakery. His stomach turned and groaned as he stepped inside and was hit with the aroma of the fresh made bread. Shelves were lined with crusty loaves and baskets were filled with golden rolls. A good impression was needed as he forced himself not to grab and devour anything as fast as his mouth could chew. He approached the counter. Behind it was a balding man wearing an apron dusted with flour. Xerio could hear people in the back kitchen making noise. The baker glanced at Xerio out of the corner of his eye. “I do not need any trouble today and you look like trouble.”
Xerio looked down at his dirty clothes. He did look like he was up to no good and that his only intention was to steal. “Me neither.” Xerio replied. “Did you know Namosa?”
The baker stopped and regarded Xerio. “Yes.”
“He was my father.”
The baker grabbed a cloth and dusted off his hands. “I know Namosa. I can only assume the worst since you said ‘was.’”
Xerio explained the recent events and the deaths of his parents. The baker listened with interest to the story. “Regrettable. You have my condolences. My name is Lief. What can I do for you then?” Lief introduced.
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“Allow me to join you as an apprentice.”
Lief clicked his tongue, shaking his head. “I wish I could help you. I really do. Namosa was a civil fellow, but The Baker’s Guild only allows three apprentices per bakery and I already have my three.” Lief said.
Xerio felt his heart sink at the rejection, but this man owed him nothing. He did not even know about a guild for the bakers, but he did know to break a guild’s rules typically incurred fees or at worse expulsion from the organization. “What of the other two bakers?” Xerio asked.
“Do not bother with Paige, the fat old bat hates frokeln and hys even more. You put a toe in her shop and she will be after you with a broom and shouting for the guards.” An apprentice came through the threshold from the kitchen bearing a fresh batch of buttered rolls. He placed it down in front of Lief and returned from where he had come. Xerio stared at the bread, steam rising from them. His mouth salivated and he fought to remain still. Lief continued. “Try Alf, he has his bakery on the opposite side of the market, but I believe he has three apprentices as well. No guarantees.”
Xerio nodded and kept his chest high. Despite the rejection and the pain in his stomach, he had another chance. “Thank you, Lief.” Xerio bowed his head and spun on his heels to leave.
“Hey.” Lief called. Xerio turned as a roll was flung to him which he caught. “I could hear your gut roaring the moment you came in. Best of luck kid, the Spirit be with you.”
Xerio thanked Lief and left. The moment the door closed, Xerio ripped into the roll. It was plain, simple bread, but it was like eating cake. It was warm, fresh and had a satisfying crusty texture. It reminded him of home.
The crowds had grown in the short time Xerio had been in Lief’s bakery. Each lane was filled with folk. Men bartered with merchants over equipment and tools while the woman bought food to bring home and prepare. Children raced between the adults playing and laughing. Xerio with his keen eyes saw not all of them were honest as he saw one steal a coin pouch straight from a man’s pocket. Xerio did not want to be lumped in with such thieves and hastily made his way to the opposite side of the marketplace. There he found Alf’s Fine Bakery.
It appeared to be an upscale establishment as compared to Lief’s. The sign which hung above the door was like new and the bread art was so convincing Xerio grew hungry as soon as his eyes were upon it.
Xerio went inside and the same smells which assaulted him at the other bakery hit here once more, but it had a sugary quality. A short man with brown hair was placing long loaves of bread onto a slanted shelf. He regarded Xerio with a smile. “Hello, welcome to Alf’s Fine Bakery! How may I serve you?” He cheerfully greeted. Xerio thought it sounded rehearsed and did not see how anyone could be joyful in a place as cold and gray as Felstrom.
“Are you Alf?” Xerio questioned.
The man gestured to himself with his free hand. “That is me, in the flesh!”
“Are you in need of an apprentice? I was one in Spellsburg before it was raided.” Xerio questioned.
Alf winced and walked back to the counter. Leaning against the counter was a stocky man with crew cut red hair, a pipe hanging from his mouth, and a few scattered tattoos on his arms which Xerio did not recognize. He was older and had an impassive look to him. A fur coat was bulged against his belly. The man eyed Xerio for a moment then went back to picking his nails. Alf sighed. “I am sorry for what happened in Spellsburg, young master, but I have three apprentices and the Baker’s Guild-”
“Only allows three.” Xerio finished. He exhaled and knocked on the counter. Now he was truly lost. Baking was all he knew and with it no prospects available he feared his next course of action. Would he wind up like the urchins he observed? Stealing what they could. Was this his inevitable fate or would he be forced into a laborer position?
As Xerio turned to leave, the stocky man spoke. “What does this boy want from you, Alf?”
Alf gestured at Xerio. “He wanted to become my apprentice, but I already have two boys and a girl working for me. In fact, here is John now with your hardtack order, Mister Reese.” Emerging from the back was a boy dusted by flour and wearing simple clothes. He hefted a crate onto the counter with an effort.
Mister Reese starred at Xerio for longer than he would like, which irritated him. “You a baker?” Mister Reese asked.
“Yes.” Xerio answered.
“Can you cook?”
“I cooked with my mother. Baking or cooking was always happening in my home.”
Mister Reese tilted his head back and forth examining Xerio. “You got some dark eyes and pointed ears. You a winter elf?”
Xerio remembered what Lief had said regarding the other baker, Paige, and how she despised frokeln. He did not know how deep the hate of elves ran in this city since he or his father rarely spoke to anyone outside of the general stores. However, he did not want to betray who he was, the foolishness and nativity of the youthful. “I am a hys. My father was a frokeln and my mother was shae.” Xerio thought it better to say exactly what his mother was. Humans came in three varieties, but he had only seen the lightest of skinned ones, the shae. The other two were the dark skinned safr and the xioran, who were somewhere in the middle.
“A hys? Interesting. Would not mind having one of you around. Someone who does not constantly complain about the cold. Have you ever been on a ship?” Mister Reese continued his questioning. Xerio realized he was about to be offered a job and perked up. Though he had never been on a ship before and only seen the river a few times.
“No.” Xerio replied, crestfallen. He prayed to the gods that this may be overlooked. Learning how to function on a ship should not prove too difficult.
Mister Reese pulled his pipe from his mouth and used it to point at Xerio. “My cook will be retiring soon. I am going to need a new one. If you can bake, you can cook. How about throwing your lot in with the Orvick Trading Company?”
Xerio felt a wave of relief. The details had not been stated, but merely having an offer filled him with determination. Life was going push and crush him any chance it got. He resolved to push back. “I accept.” Xerio responded.
“Well, we shall see. The company is headquartered in Cromerth down river. If I still like you when we get there. We will do the necessary paperwork.” Mister Reese slapped the crate. “Grab that and we are on our way.” Xerio ran over and picked up the crate filled with hard tack. The two exited the bakery.
Mister Reese lit his pipe and puffed smoke into the air. “I am Captain Reese. You will call me Captain. You will be paid two copper hagens per day upon completion of a delivery. Me and the crew bring goods from Felstrom down river in the north to Cromerth. Sometimes we even go out into the Wailing Sea, but I prefer to keep on the river.”
“Why?” Xerio asked.
“Have you ever heard of river pirates? No? Exactly. Pirates are all over the seas. Hopefully one day someone will rise and squash them all. Another thing is storms. It is called the Wailing Sea for a reason. The storms and winds can rip ships to splinters from schooners to man-o-wars.” the captain wagged a finger to the sky. “One last thing, do not think you will only be a cook and spend all your time below deck peeling potatoes. You will be a sailor, tried and true.”
“I understand.” Xerio said. It was a lot for Xerio to take in and accept. He thought he would never leave Spellsburg and now his job would be to sail the river. Xerio’s one regret was that he would not be in Felstrom all the time to check on Yimea. However, this way, he could save up coin to hopefully bring her nice items from his trips while he worked out a permanent living situation for her. She would not be ten forever.
The two arrived at the docks and the captain led Xerio to his ship. “My girl, my pride.” he proclaimed. It was a sizable trade cog with a single mast. On the left side, written in white letters, was the name of the ship, Primula. She looked in fine condition, her hull clean and undamaged. Sailors moved about the deck as what looked to be an iron ore wagon drove away. “Good, they finished loading her up and on time as well.” the captain said. He looked at Xerio who returned the gaze. “I hope you are prepared, boy.”