The 'End of the World Orphanage', so nicknamed because kids who are brought there often think that was where everything ends. The people at the orphanage though, made sure to prove everyone wrong. They came out in the alley behind the three storey house that was in slight disrepair. Copper plated shingles hung lopsided at angles on the roof and steam pipes running the walls were oxidised brown. A window on the third floor had its grill left hanging. A teddy bear dangled from a clothes hangar on the bar.

“Are you sure you don't recognize me?” The Watcher asked, staring at the man that have introduced himself as Milton Jones.

The man who ran the orphanage had red hair messier than a bed in the morning. It was as if he had decided to stick his head down the plumbings of a toilet and flushed. His eyes were a faint sky teal and held an airy glassiness to them that shone brightly in the light. With an evening stubble on his chin and slight bags under his eyes, Milton showed the weary signs of having to take care of as many children as he did. But his smile was sincere, almost as if his heart was light on his conviction. He wore a patched white shirt and string-tied brown cotton pants. Simple, rural garb.

“You're The Watcher, right?” Milton replied with a laugh. He held out an opened letter. “It was in the instructions Nadier sent us.”

“That's not what I–”

“We can talk more inside,” Nadier approached the two men. The dark elf scanned the neighbouring buildings packed too tightly for his comfort to escape. “It's not as safe out here.”

The group marched into the orphanage behind Milton. In a file, they entered through the single wooden back door, half repaired with patchwork planks of wood over holes.

“Did you get burgled?” Adelaide asked, pointing to the damage.

Milton laughed, “No, no. It's the kids. They like playing inside the house.”

They walked through the orphanage. The sound of scampering feet knocked through the ceiling with flecks of dust falling. Eager little eyes poked out from doors and around the corners of the stairs. Some of the kids waved to Tinarya as she passed, and she puffed her chest out proudly, leading the guests of honour through the orphanage.

They turned into the living room. Lacquered wooden floor gave of smirked sheen from the flickering incandescent lamp that hung from the ceiling. The couches were set in a circle, the middle of which filled was with scattered toys of dolls and bronze figurines. A woman stood from a lone sofa at the sight of the group. In denim shorts, a clean dirt stained white shirt, Joan Jones's onyx hair sifted with the light as she approached Nadier.

“Wanderer!” she greeted the dark elf happily.

She hugged him, and his body stiffened straight, hands at his side at the uncomfortable display of affection.

Nadier coughed out, “Um... it's nice um... it's nice to see you too, Joan.” Milton, Watcher, Adelaide, and even Tinarya, all held back scoffs of laughter. As Joan let away from the embrace, Nadier asked, “I would like to stay, but it's important that we get to The Tower as soon as possible.”

“We understand,” Joan said, gesturing them to the seats. “But the steam tunnels are depressurizing right now. We can't open them even if we wanted to.”

Milton took a seat on a two seater couch and Joan followed. The Watcher patted Nadier on the back, taking the single seater to the left of the couple. Adelaide relaxed by leaning against the wall and Tinarya ran off to parts unknown. With a final sigh, the dark elf relented and took the last chair.

“So,” Milton began. “Honestly, we don't want to know too much about what's happening, only that it is happening. But we owe Nadier here quite a bit, and if he says it's important enough to risk his life for, we'll help however we can.”

Adelaide chimed, “How did this stickler ended up in the graces of an orphanage?”

“The Wanderer is our primary patron,” Joan said. “Most of our funding comes out of his pocket. And he helps with making medicine for the children, for a small trade fee, of course.”

The Watcher smiled at Nadier. “I didn't know you liked kids.”

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The dark elf looked to the wall off side with a scoff. “I don't hate them.”

The Watcher laughed and turned back to Milton and Joan. “By the way, how are we getting to The Tower from here?”

Milton explained, “The orphanage was built on an old junction between the steam pipes' maintenance tunnels and the sewers. I don't know much about the underground myself, but the little rats like to run around down there, and they say it connects to practically anywhere in Everwind.”

Nadier continued, “We'll take the steam pipe tunnels straight through the middle and upper district towards The Tower.”

The Watcher nodded, only to have his eyes dart to the corner as he caught sight of Adelaide's ears picking up. “Adelle, what is it?” he asked.

“Someone's coming,” Adelaide replied. “I can hear the metallic boots clanking. Where are we?”

Nadier answered, “We're at the outskirts of the Antipods.” His statement raised a confused glance from The Watcher, to which he continued to explain, “The Antipods are the slums. It's where the Everwines throw elves and half elves to. It's where they keep us outsiders. Any elves that steps outside of the Antipods without protection or official recognition are arrested.”

“That's racist,” The Watcher noted.

“That's life.”

“Quiet!” Adelaide raised. “I hear something else.... wood... clanking on stone?”

“Spears,” Nadier deduced. “Used as walking sticks.”

Milton got to his feet. “It's the guards. Why are they patrolling now?” He turned his attention to the seemingly empty hallway. “Tinarya?” he called.

The girl popped her head out from the side walls as if she had been waiting all along for her summons. “Yes?” she answered.

“Take everyone down to the steam tunnels.” The girl nodded, but the man added a last minute instruction. “And do not go into The Tower, you. Stay safe, and don't get in trouble.”

Tinarya stuck her tongue out playfully and showed a crossed finger. She gestured for Nadier to follow and the dark elf got off his seat in response. Adelaide stepped out of the room while The Watcher and Nadier hung back.

“Sorry about this,” Nadier told the Jones. “I didn't mean to cause too much trouble.”

“Nonsense,” Joan gently rubbed his shoulder. Despite the hundreds of years of age difference, Joan seemingly held a motherly grace throughout her existence. “You stay safe, and come back in one piece. It's not the end of the world yet.”

A small smile tilted Nadier's lip. “I'm not one of your kids.”

“Neither are my kids.”

With a final thankful nod, Nadier stepped out after the two girls, leaving The Watcher alone with the couple.

Milton asked, “Is something wrong, Watcher?”

Joan gave a slight bow and left the room, noting she needed to see to the children. Upstairs, the thundering of pattering footsteps were like drops of rain, the children scrambling to hide the elven amongst them as the news of guards spread.

The Watcher asked Milton, “You really don't remember me?”

Milton looked quizzical, his face scrunched in an attempt. “No, I don't think so. Should I?”

With a sigh and a smile, The Watcher replied, “No. It's fine. Have a good life, Milton Jones.”

“You too, Watcher.” The man smiled, to which The Watcher gave a hearty laugh.

With an understanding nod between them, The Watcher turned and followed the rest of his party out into the hallway. Tinarya waited at the end, waving the man over, before disappearing left through an archway. He followed and found an opened trapdoor with a stairwell that led down into the basement. Making sure to close the door behind him, he walked down into the dimly lid underground, where a faint orange glow below lit the way.

“Is everyone here?” Tinarya asked as he rejoined the three in a small tight chamber.

Copper cannisters of hot water and barrels of stored food littered the the cramp storeroom. A single lamp hung above their heads.

“Yup,” he replied. “Let's go.”

“Not yet,” the girl said.

They stood above a steel manhole cover. From the gaps, hot steam rose with the nose scorching stench of burning sewage. Sounds of pipes clanking and whirring whistles from bellowing steam shouted below them.

Nadier said, “We'll have to wait a few minutes more while the pipes depressurize. We go in now and we'll just be hit by boiling steam.”

From above, they could hear the knocks on the front door from the guards and Joan's greeting as she answered.

“Ma'am, we need to perform a check to see if you are housing any illegals.”

“Of course,” Joan replied. The Watcher could sense a slight sarcasm and hidden pride under her tone. “Would you like to start with upstairs?”

“If possible, we'd prefer to check your basement, if you have one.”

The four collectively held their breaths at the notion. Somehow, keeping a beautific level of calm, Joan replied, “I won't recommend that. The pipes are depressurizing right now. We're next to the sewer, so the smell...”

“Say no more!” A guard quickly added. “We'll check upstairs.”

They listened as the guards' clanking boots echoed with each steps from the stairs above. A long hiss from below signalled the end of the depressurisation process. Tinarya took a crowbar from the corner of the room and with Nadier's help, opened the cover to a burst of hot smelly steam.