It had been three months since the family had learned of Kaf’s demise. Due to it, grief descended upon the Blake family, suffocating them day by day.
Things had changed so much that the family now struggled to get food. The river that crossed near the village had stopped flowing. It was a natural occurrence because of the temperature drop but it meant that no fish would swim on that riverbed for a while.
After the news of Kaf’s death erupted among the villagers, there was some expectation of help and courtesy from the village by the family but it never came. Elder Faren sometimes dropped by with a basket of fruit and bread but just a single person helping wasn’t enough.
“Are you sure I can’t go?” Ben pouted. His brown eyes glimmered as they started to tear up a bit.
Erik on the other hand just laughed a bit and patted his younger brother’s hair. “Don’t worry, as the older brother I’ll get us in a better situation,” he slightly bent his knees to get on eye level with his brother and held his shoulders, “make sure to look out for Mom and Anna while I’m away okay? I should be back in a few days.”
“You don’t have to do this for us Erik, we’re fine,” Anna interjected and held his arm. The family was struggling but didn’t want Erik to go to town—alone especially.
Erik smiled at Anna and hugged her–he too wanted things to be like before, but it wasn’t possible anymore.
“I'll just go say goodbye to Mom,” he said weakly before leaving his siblings in the living room and moving to her room.
Each step as he got closer to the closed door at the end of the hall felt heavier. He stopped in front of the door, a dry gulp slowly made its way down his throat, and gently knocked twice on the door before he could second guess himself.
“May I enter, Mom?” he asked respectfully.
“Yes..” she weakly responded from the other side.
Upon entering the damp room, Erik shivered slightly, a chill running down his spine. He forced a smile, but his eyes betrayed the sadness lurking beneath. His lips trembled as he tried to maintain his composure, the weight of their reality pressing heavily on his young shoulders.
“I’ll be going to the town today Mom, I’ll be away for a few days so take care.”
“Really? Good luck my son,” she coldly said, barely even looking at him from the side of her eye as she lay down in bed.
Alice, once the pillar of strength that held them together, couldn’t accept Kaf’s death and fell into a depression. Days turned into weeks, weeks into months and now she would barely leave her room–leaving Erik and his siblings unattended for most of the day.
Sometimes she would pick up an order or two from the villagers but because of her lack of energy, it wasn’t rare for her to give up on it or take too long to complete it. The money she earned just wasn’t enough anymore.
He couldn’t believe this had happened to her. She was the prettiest woman in the village, to him the prettiest in the world, the most cheerful, hardworking person.
Erik sighed and left her to her own devices, a tear ran down his cheek. It was hard to think that the once gentle and beautiful mother he had wouldn’t look him in the eyes, wouldn’t smile as she used to, and say that his red eyes and hair were the most beautiful she had ever seen – even more so than his father’s. She wasn’t the kind soul that connected them through their differences anymore.
“Goodbye Erik, we will do our best while you’re away!” Anna and Ben waved from the house entrance and watched their older brother slowly disappear on the horizon.
----------------------------------------
It took him around two to three hours to reach the town by simply walking–such was the distance between it and the village. During the arduous journey, Erik had plenty of time to think about his life and wonder how everything had changed so quickly.
Now Erik worked at a tavern, downtown. The pay wasn’t that good, but it was one of the few jobs that would accept a child–and any job was needed in these times of crisis.
The passage of time showed itself through the dead grass around his path. The cold white breaths he had, the almost frozen ground. It was getting frozen day by day. In this region of Draac, snow that could reach one’s knee was common during the coldest months–Erik couldn’t imagine how hard it would be by then.
Even now, he needed a thick, padded tunic and a hooded cloak to protect himself.
Eventually, Erik arrived at his destination–the town of Ashford.
Erik pulled his scarf tighter around his neck as he entered the town of Ashford. The cobblestone streets were uneven beneath his worn boots, and he kept his eyes down to avoid tripping. The sky was perpetually cloudy, casting a somber feeling over Erik–It felt as though the sun had forgotten this place existed.
The town was eerily quiet, with only the occasional sound of hushed walking or the wind passing through crevices alerting Erik. As he walked, Erik passed by women hanging laundry, their faces lined with worry and fatigue. Children played quietly in the alleys, their games subdued and lacking the usual joyous laughter he’d see in the village. Many of the boys were not much older than Erik himself, yet their eyes held a depth of sorrow far beyond their years.
Beggars sat on the steps of homes, their hands outstretched and voices hoarse from pleading. Seeing them, Erik quickened his pace to avoid being bothered to give what he couldn't.
This tale has been unlawfully lifted from Royal Road; report any instances of this story if found elsewhere.
Men with disfigured faces or missing limbs wandered the streets like ghosts. They were the forgotten soldiers, who returned from the frontline only to find their families gone or unwilling to care for them. One man, his left leg replaced by a crude wooden peg, stared blankly into the distance, rocking slightly as if to an unseen rhythm.
‘What a poor old man,’ Erik could only lament. This was the cost of war, the fate that Kaf protected the village from–and yet inadvertently cost his family’s future. His fist trembled a bit and his jaw clenched tight. His father, at least, was spared from such fate.
Erik then slapped himself weakly, choosing to change focus.
‘Come on now, I can’t be thinking of this right before work,’ feeling angry–or any strong emotion before going to work–would make his day deplorable, so Erik did his best to avoid such.
The pub where Erik worked was a small, dilapidated building at the end of the main street. Its sign, The Weary Traveler, swung creakily in the cold breeze. He pushed open the heavy door. The warmth and dim light contrasted with the harsh world outside.
Erik’s entrance was greeted by the familiar sights and sounds of The Weary Traveler. The low murmur of conversations, the clinking of mugs, and the occasional laughter filled the air. The people inside didn’t have the same dead eyes as those on the streets. The scent of ale and cooking meat was a welcome change from the cold, bitter wind outside.
"Erik! You're late!" Lars, the tavern’s owner, called out from behind the bar. He was a big, muscular man, with a no-nonsense attitude. His gray hair tied with the scars from battles that blinded his left eye from once he was in the military told everyone to not mess with him.
“I’m sorry,” he screamed back and hung his brown cloak on a peg near the door before rushing to him, “Today I took longer to get here because the roads are starting to fill with snow.”
The man shook his head while his arms were crossed, a slight smile peered through. “It's okay son, but we have clients already. Go wash the dishes and then start bringing food to the tables,” despite his stern looks and personality, he had a soft spot for a child whose life had been turned upside down by war.
Erik swiftly completed his chores and grabbed a few glasses of beer from the kitchen, delivering them to the appropriate tables.
"Here you go, gentlemen," he said, placing two plates of food alongside the drinks.
"Alright, thanks, kiddo," one of the men replied dismissively before resuming his conversation with his companion.
The two young men had a buff build, their bodies marked with scars that told tales of their adventures. Each had a sword strapped to their side—they were unmistakably adventurers. Adventurers were a common sight at the tavern and Erik would see many more coming by during the day. Sometimes he’d catch glimpses of their conversation.
Many of these adventurers were ex-soldiers, dismissed from duty but now that they tasted the pain of battle, the only thing keeping them sane was the idea of facing monsters and putting their life on the line—or so they said.
After the day was over, Erik sat down in a chair. His erratic breathing and cold sweat were the signs of his hard work. After all, the tavern only had a cook, so besides that owner who helped around, Erik was responsible for cleaning, taking orders, and every other thing there was to do.
He sighed as he felt the small copper coins in his hands that he had gained through tips. They only amounted to 10 crowns, however—which at most could get one a dozen eggs or perhaps a few small baked breads.
“You did a good job today,” Lars rested his hand on Erik’s shoulder and swirled his mustache. “You may rest for the day,” he said before leaving upstairs as the second floor of the building was where he lived.
“Th-thank you,” Erik managed to say through coughs as the man disappeared on the steps.
Erik himself had been sleeping in a small room on the first floor that was used to store cleaning equipment. It wasn’t the best due to the leakage of smells and crampiness, but he had a roof over his head and a small mattress to lay on for the six days a week he spent in town so it was enough.
‘I hope she gets better soon,’ Erik thought concerning his mother’s situation.
Nearly a month had passed since Erik found himself in town, seeking any means to support his family. His days were now consumed by the relentless work within the restaurant. He was assigned to tasks that ranged from scrubbing pots to mopping floors and sometimes even filling in a waiter’s job. Six days a week, he surrendered himself to the grueling demands of the kitchen, only going back to his humble village on Sundays. Despite the harshness of his reality, Erik persisted, driven by the solemn promise he made to his father before his departure.
----------------------------------------
At the end of another Saturday, Erik walked down the cold streets of Ashford. He counted the money he had gotten through tips plus his monthly salary. It was 108 crowns in total. Of those, 68 were copper coins and 4 were big copper coins—each copper coin was worth 1 crown while a big copper coin was worth 10, above such were silver coins that were valued at 100 but Erik never saw any of those. A crown served as the unit of value for everything in this town, however, it wasn't useful at all back in the village.
His stomach grumbled. He was getting hungry. During the workdays, he would eat leftovers from the restaurant. They weren’t bad per se although it was disgusting to eat half-eaten food sometimes. He couldn’t afford to be picky, however, as not spending his money on trivial things meant his family support his family for another week.
First on his list were oats. They weren’t too costly and made hunger go away for a good while, so Erik always made sure to get some. Right ahead, he considered barley, another essential grain that could be used in stews or as a base for bread.
Turnips, cabbages, carrots, lentils, and any other cheap produce that was grown in the cold temperatures of northern Draac were great options as well.
Sometimes, Erik would buy a smoked fish since it was important for his siblings to grow strong but any kind of meat was costly so he would try to scavenge it some other way when he could—be it by hunting in the wilderness or fishing in ponds/lakes but that proved itself harder than usual as the water froze and animals hibernated or migrated because of the temperature shift.
As Erik approached the market stalls, he quickly started looking for the prices of everything he wanted. He bit his lip upon seeing them. Most things were costlier than a few weeks ago. It wasn’t by that much but the prices going up were a scary thought still.
Erik clutched his coin pouch, promising himself to haggle the best prices with the merchants.
Just as he went to do so, however, he noticed a commotion up ahead.
Two men, their faces grim and eyes wild with hunger and desperation, were struggling over a sack of grain. Their movements were sharp and frantic. Finally, after a while, the struggle ended as one of the men pulled a knife from his pants and struck the other in the chest. The thief ran away as the vendor of the stall lay on the ground, gritting in pain.
Erik gulped, watching the horrifying situation. He left the scene as people went to help the man and decided to just get what he needed quickly and leave the place before something could happen to him.
The city, with its growing air of desperation and lawlessness, seemed to be fostering an ever-deepening cycle of crime.