Lear walked along with the steady stream of people, his head held low. He hadn't thought about what to do since he was completely lost and without purpose now. Though there was nothing really serious about what had been done to him, he felt his pride and worth shattered into pieces. He tried his best to repress the tears and the disappointment in himself, but the more he thought about it, the more his lower lip quivered, and it led to a few tears being shed.

"That's twice now," he said to himself. "Now what?"

He thought long and hard, not minding the people he bumped with as they simply cursed his recklessness under their breaths, then moved along. As far as he knew, his path was aimless. He allowed his legs and feet to keep moving, not caring where they would take him. Having lost the motivation to do anything, he was at the mercy of the unseen forces. But he had one idea, an idea he immediately dismissed for it was too much.

Going back without having gained any ground would just be plain embarrassing. He didn't want to show Alice how low he had fallen, not that she would mind, he thought. She would most likely welcome him back as if he had never left. But he wouldn't be the same even after that fact. It would forever haunt him, and with things being the way they were when he left, it wasn't an option to go back, no matter how badly he wanted to.

The kindness could kill him on the inside, and that's the last thing he would want, to be pitied for something that he gave up on just because of some coincidence. Inside he knows that he wants to continue, but it might just end up like that again. And with both having been disastrous, he was afraid of that third chance being something that he would never ever recover from.

He clutched the necklace Alice had given him. He thought long and hard, breathing in and out, letting the negative emotions flow out of him. Slowly but surely, the sorrow within his heart began to stagnate, and he was able to think clearly.

It'll be hard, but I'm sure you're ready for it, whatever may come. You'll do good, I know you will.

He remembered the words the Duncan gave him as a piece of advice. Though they were few and concise, the meaning and the way that it struck him was memorable and fond. Though never having met his father, he thought that if his father were right in front of him, would he say the same thing?

He knew that Duncan isn't his father, but he was close as it could get. Through him, he realized a lot of things and learned. He grew up as someone that he never thought he'd be after the way his childhood went. He was grateful for that, and the reason for him being where he was now was so that he could repay them for allowing him a second life.

"I'm sorry to disappoint you, Duncan, Alice, but this looks like it's the end of the road for me," he muttered to himself hopelessly. He laughed awkwardly drifted away in his thoughts as if the memories that resurfaced didn't help with his recovery.

As he continued to walk, the sky began to dim, and the clouds started forming. A loud rumbling noise echoed throughout, signaling the coming of rain.

People started moving out of the way in hopes of finding shelter while some ran home in a hurry to avoid being soaked, but Lear stayed on path, not realizing that fact. Soon, he was alone in the middle of the street, taking the full effects of the wind. His body was being swayed back and forth, at the mercy of nature.

But suddenly, a strong gust of wind came blowing towards Lear, and along with it was a piece of paper that was carried by it. The paper had hit Lear's face, covering him and waking him from his daze. Soon he realized what was happening from outside his bubble of thought right after prying the paper away from his face.

Instead of moving aside or heading back to his lodgings, he read the piece of paper that had disturbed him, curious as to what it was about.

"The Eveningtide, now welcoming members!" it said. He immediately recognized the name after searching the confines of his memory. The entire thing was written with a messy handwriting, looking to be cursive, but in another form. A poor picture of what seemed to be a large guild house with a flag on top was drawn on the bottom-left corner, and next to it was the crude face of someone giving a thumb's up, winking, most likely Riga himself, said Lear. He awkwardly laughed to himself, finding the entire thing quite amusing.

But in that instant, he got an idea of what he should do next. A light flashed in his head, and it lit up his eyes with hope.

If by any chance that he had lost his way, that shouldn't signal the end, rather a stepping stone for something much grander...

He clenched his hand and looked at the piece of paper on his hand, then ran to the place he had been living in, trying his best to look stoic under the rain that started drizzling, then pouring.

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The sadness in his eyes was still there, but much of it had already gone away. In his eyes were hope, a small glint relying on one last chance to make things right. He was sure, and even if he wasn't, there was nothing left for him to do even when there were other things to try.

Going the easy route by going through with another guild just wasn't the way, nor was it going to cheer him up, he thought. Instead. he placed his bets on the man that saved him, Riga, as he recalled his name once more. He had offered Lear a chance to join him with his newfound guild if he ever found the time or felt the need to. He didn't want to waste time, so he hurried and prepared to leave at once.

"If I am lost, will you really help me?" he asked in hopes of an answer.

The next morning, he packed up his belongings and bought a ride for a small town called Furahm, located on the far, north-western border of the empire.

He was anxious to find out what would be waiting for him once more, but this time, this was his last bastion of hope.

This man who saved him one eventful night, offered him a chance if he ever wanted it, and now was the time to see what kind of promise it would hold for him, not that he had any grand expectations.

He had already seen how strong he was though, so the only thing he wanted was to at least get as strong as him, maybe just enough for him to be satisfied with. But maybe to find a purpose along the way. If his aspirations would end once he got what he wanted, it felt that it would have been short-lived for him.

"Food, check. A map, check. A potion of healing, antidote, drowse-away, Shock-begone, check.... Hmm, where'd I put that- there it is, a scroll of fire lance! That one was just too expensive," he said, mulling over what he had bought along for the journey just in case things went awry.

Lear did a last minute check of his belongings, making sure to say his farewells to the man in the inn, the one who gave him the job there.

"I'm sorry it didn't quite work out as you expected, my boy. It's all just rotten luck, I say."

"Don't worry about it. There's no use complaining about it. I might as well try my luck somewhere else, and I've got a feeling that this one will be it."

"Well, if you say so. You've been a hard worker for this inn, and since you came along, business' gotten better. If you're ever in need of a place to work at, then don't hesitate to ask. I'll be glad to give you a spot here."

"I appreciate the gesture, but I don't think that'll be for a while. I'll try not to let my resolve be stepped on that easily. My dream of being an adventurer has even yet to begin, so I need to give my all for it."

"But the offer still stands. Now go, you might miss the carriage," said the man of the inn, patting Lear on the back, prompting him to run off to the stables where the caravan of carriages awaited him.

The carriage he rode on was a cheap one. An old farmer was offering a ride back to Furahm, his home, after selling all the crops he and his wife had grown and tended all throughout the season.

He was not the only one though. There was a peculiar hooded figure riding along with him, and he  sat silently to himself, resting on the hay that served as a cushion for the carriage. He didn't look that old though be riding by himself, so Lear found it odd that they were the only two passengers. He thought that it'd be rude to pry, so he reserved his questions.

Lear relaxed his back on the hay as well, covering his face from the sun using the crumpled flier he got of the Eveningtide yesterday.

"If you don't mind humoring an old man, what are you heading to Furahm for, young man?" asked the farmer as they rode through the quiet roads drenched with rain.

"Hmm, maybe to try and see if adventuring's my calling."

"Ah, an adventurer, are ye? I've seen lots of your kind. You're all over the place. Being one must be tough, isn't it? You're out there helping people no matter the danger."

"Well, I'm not really one yet. I haven't joined a guild, but that's why I'm heading to Furahm. Know any good guilds over there, gramps?"

"Ah, Furahm's not a very rich place. It's a small farming town, as they call it. Nothing much happens there, except it's quiet for the most part. Not a lot of people go there though."

"Why is that?"

"Well, were bordering a hostile kingdom. 'Course people wouldn't want to deal with the dangers of an army. But it's not that dangerous. We've rarely been attacked, oddly enough. But to answer your question, no, I haven't an idea of any guilds there, you sure you're going to the right place?"

At that moment, Lear hesitated thinking that his trip had been wasted. He brought up the flier and showed the old man.

"Hmm, forgive me, but I have poor eyesight. Let me see here..." The old man examined it with a puzzled look and gave it back to Lear.

"Are you sure you're not getting scammed? It's all handwritten, and not even well, not that I can write to save myself, haha."

Lear's shoulders drooped. He laid down on the hay bed and closed his eyes, thinking of whether he should turn back or not.

He hadn't even proved it yet, and the words of one person shouldn't mean your last decision. It's more up on the person more than anything, he thought.

He heaved a heavy sigh. "There's no point turning back now, gramps. I guess I'll just go there and see what happens."

"If you say so, then that's fine by me. It'll take a little longer though, maybe a day or so till we get to Furahm. I'll tell you when we get there."

"Thanks a lot, gramps."

"Don't mind at all. Say, what's it called again? I didn't quite get a good look at it."

"It's called the Eveningtide. Does it ring any bells?"

"Not at all, sorry."

"That's fine, thanks anyway."

Lear closed his eyes again and went to sleep, going along the path to Furahm with a wavering, eager heart. But with a quick glance before closing his eyes, he swore that he saw the other passengers' eyes pointed at him. They had the feeling of daggers, sharp and deadly, backing them up. What stuck to Lear as his eyes closed were those near-golden eyes that were sharp enough to be called a weapon.

However, his constant worrying of what he should do in the event that he was scammed made him tired enough to sleep soundly.