“Yes… No, I’m okay.” Elysian immediately corrected himself. He thought that if he wanted to be candid with someone, who better than Osric. “Has this place always been like this?”
“What do you mean?” Osric asked, carefully looking at him, confused by his question.
Elysian’s eyes widened, his gaze darting from one bleak sight to another. “Has this area always been so… dilapidated?” His voice barely above a whisper. “I can’t fathom how people survive here. They’re teetering on the edge of ruin.” Though he’d witnessed poverty in his past life, seeing his own people suffer pierced his heart in a way he hadn’t expected.
Osric nodded solemnly. “As far back as I can remember, young master. Is this your first time in this part of the city?”
Elysian’s shoulders sagged slightly. “I… I’ve never ventured this far before. My outings were always closer to the mansion, and our travels took different routes.” His voice grew quieter, tinged with shame. “The Armored Mug was the roughest place I’d seen. I foolishly thought that was as bad as it got in Ironspire.”
“The Armored Mug?” Osric’s lips twisted in a mirthless smile. “That’s practically upscale compared to here. Soldiers and merchants drink there. This…” He gestures at their surroundings. “This is a different world entirely. It only gets worse as the day wears on. At night, we even avoid patrolling here. It’s far too dangerous.”
Elysian’s breath caught as he spotted children—some even younger than himself—begging on the streets. He halted abruptly, his eyes clouding with a mixture of compassion and deep sorrow.
Osric fell silent, recognizing the weight of the moment. Bran, usually naive but oddly perceptive in matters of emotion, stood quietly by Elysian’s side, offering silent support.
Sybil’s voice cut through the heavy silence. “It’s even worse near the western mines,” he stated flatly. “With the war driving up prices, most here are lucky to eat once a day. This is the reality for the poor and unfortunate, young master. They endure this misery just to survive, even if it means crawling through the dirt.”
“True, their fate seems hopeless, but do you really need to put it that way?” Osric frowned at Sybi’s blunt words. “You were fortunate enough to be born into a middle class family. Someone who did not need to worry about food or being sold to slavery.”
Sybil just glanced at the other boy, without taking offense at his reproach. “I’m one of these people. My old man was a miner, while my mother died giving birth to me—no money for healers. My old man followed soon after.” His gaze drifted to the begging children. “I ate from trash heaps, crawled through these streets. I was dying when a soldier found me—the man who became my father.
Elysian listened intently to Sybil’s story.
“He adopted me, gave him his name.” His voice thick with emotion. “When he fell in the previous war, I vowed to become a soldier, to honor the name Sterling. It’s all I can do to repay him for saving my life.” He turned to Osric, a sad smile on his face. “You’re the fortunate one. You still have family.”
Osric lowered his head, words failing him.
“My lord, is everything okay?” Nina asked as she glanced at everyone’s faces, noticing their dour mood.
“Yeah,” Elysian replied, smiling at her. “Could you wait for a moment? I have something to do first.”
“Of course, my lord,” Nina responded respectfully, nodding. “Take your time. If you need something, you can always tell me. I will gladly help you with anything.”
Elysian considered her offer for a bit. “Well, it seems I might need a small favor from you then.”
When she agreed, Elysian told her what he wanted. At first, she looked at him, confused by the young noble’s instructions before nodding her head, not asking any questions as she obeyed them exactly as instructed.
Elysian watched as Nina talked to the vendors selling food on the side. From there, things happened quickly as the children were told about the free food. At first, it was chaotic as children rushed like a tide of hungry wolves, fearing that they wouldn't find any food. There were also adults who wanted to join in, pushing children out of the way. As Elysian was about to step in to help, Sybil stepped forward first, bringing order to chaos. With the armor he wore and his authoritative voice, order was quickly established. The shameless adults were driven away while the children lined up, getting their food.
“You are doing good, but you know that this will not be enough, right?” Osric muttered, watching the ravenous children devour their food in no time.
“I know this will just be a blip that will not change anything.”
“Then why?”
“I just want to be selfish for once and soothe this battered conscience of mine,” Elysian answered, watching the children with melancholic eyes. On the far right, he saw a boy who was observing him silently before vanishing into the crowd when he realized he’d been noticed. “Interesting.”
“What?”
“Huh? Ah, nothing,” Elysian smiled before looking in front. There, he saw Nina walking back towards them. Nodding to the woman in gratitude, he said, “Thank you for this.”
Stolen from Royal Road, this story should be reported if encountered on Amazon.
“I’m happy to serve, my lord,” Nina responded, nodding back. “By the way, this is what’s left of the coins you’ve given me.”
Looking at the money, Elysian glanced back at the woman. “Can you do me another favor? Can you use the remaining coins to do this again tomorrow and the day after that?”
“Of course, my lord. No problem.”
“Good. Thank you.” Elysian noticed the young soldier was walking towards them.
“Young master, you can go first. This might take a while.” Sybil’s eyes glanced back and forth towards the food stalls. “I will follow you after I’m done with this.”
“Are you sure?”
“Yeah,” Sybil chuckled. “I need to stay here or this will turn into a riot.”
“Okay,” Elysian nodded. Thinking for a moment, he turned to the woman. “Nina, if you need help for tomorrow, you can…”
“Don’t worry about it, young master,” Nina smiled at his consideration. “I know some people. This won’t be a problem.” She turned to Sybil. “If you intend to follow us, I believe you already know where Silver Feast is?”
Sybil nodded and didn’t stay long as he went back to maintain order.
Elysian’s gaze lingered on the children, their faces now alight with joy as they eagerly devoured the food. A warmth spread through his chest, melting away some of the heaviness that had settled there earlier.
“Let’s go,” he said softly, his voice carrying a new note of resolve. As they prepared to move on, Elysian cast one last glance at the children. Their laughter echoed in his ears, a reminder of why his efforts mattered. It wasn’t much, but it was a start—and for now, that had to be enough.
After that, the journey to the Silver Feast was uneventful. Everything they passed through was the same—full of dilapidated buildings and poor, hungry people. Yet, amidst the hardship, life pulsed through the crowded streets. Laughter mingled with the day’s gossip, a testament to the human spirit’s resilience. Some were selling their wares while others just passed by as they went about their business. There were also plenty of merchants—those that were too poor to afford the luxuries of the plushier district. Elysian knew it all too well, because he had lived it.
Elysian’s gaze swept over the throngs of people, a furrow deepening between his brows. “I’m astounded by Ironspire’s population,” he mused quietly. “For a small, struggling barony on the fringes of civilization, we rival the numbers of much larger territories. It’s perplexing, given the constant dangers we face.”
Osric’s response was tinged with a grim understanding. “It’s not surprising, young master,” he said, his eyes tracking the gaunt faces in the crowd. “Many here lack the means to leave, even if they wish to. And truthfully, other nobles might be… hesitant to welcome such an influx.”
Elysian nodded slowly, processing Osric’s words. The reality of their situation settled heavily on his shoulders. He’d known poverty intimately in his past life, but seeing it on this scale, in a place he called home, stirred something deep within him.
“The reality is harsh, young master,” Osric began, his voice loose and tinged with a mixture of compassion and resignation. “Most here have nowhere else to go. War widows and orphans make up a significant portion—leaving might mean facing slavery elsewhere. Then there are the exiles, sent here as punishment, and the dreamers who see this as a chance for a fresh start.” He paused, his gaze sweeping across the bustling street. “And yes, even criminals fleeing justice find refuge in these crowded alleys.”
Osric’s eyes met Elysian’s, a flicker of apology passing through them. “Forgive my bluntness, but Ironspire has become a haven for those the rest of the world has cast aside. Your land, young master, is a melting pot of the unwanted and the desperate.”
Elysian absorbed the words, his expression thoughtful rather than offended. “No need for apologies. I asked for honesty, and I appreciate you providing it.” He was quiet for a moment, then curiosity flickered in his eyes. “Among those groups you mentioned, where do you place yourself?”
Osric’s lips quivered with a sad smile. “I suppose we started as one of the dreamers—the deluded ones, as I called them. Then fate had other plants, and we found ourselves among the widows and children.” The words carried the weight of unspoken loss.
“Ah,” Elysian responded softly. The simple exchange spoke volumes, hinting at the complex tapestry of lives that made up Ironspire’s population.
As they continued their walk, Elysian’s mind raced. The challenges facing his people were immense, but in their diversity and resilience, he began to see potential. These were not just the cast-offs of society, but a wellspring of untapped strength and potential. With the right leadership and opportunities, perhaps Ironspire could transform its reputation from a land of outcasts to a beacon of second chances.
“My lord, we have arrived. This is the Silver Feast,” Nina announced, gesturing towards a building that stood out like a jewel amidst the squalor. A middle-aged woman approached, bowing gracefully. “May I present Madam Helene Grey, proprietor of this establishment.”
“Madam,” Elysian nodded, his eyes widening as he took in the scene before him.
The Silver Feast was an oasis of refinement in a desert of decay. Its facade, though not ostentatious, boasted clean lines and fresh paint—a stark contrast to the crumbling structures surrounding it. Large windows, sparkling clean, offered glimpses of a warm, inviting interior. The aroma of savory dishes wafted through the air, a tantalizing counterpoint to the less pleasant scents of the street.
“By the way, my lord, that is the Velvet Chamber,” Nina added, directing Elysian’s attention behind him.
Turning, Elysian felt his jaw drop slightly. The Velvet Chamber was a vision of unexpected luxury. Its exterior was adorned with rich fabrics in deep purples and reds, creating an air of mystery and allure. Ornate lanterns cast a soft, inviting glow even in the daylight. The building’s architecture spoke of craftsmanship far beyond anything else in this part of the city, rivaling or even surpassing some establishments in Ironspire’s wealthiest districts.
The contrast between these two buildings and their surroundings was jarring. They stood as beacons of opulence amid a sea of poverty, their very existence seeming to defy the grim reality of their location.
Nina smiled at Elysian’s evident amazement. “My lord, Madam Helene will guide you inside the Silver Feast. I’ll inform Lady Amara of your arrival at the Velvet Chamber.”
“Okay,” Elysian murmured, still captivated by the unexpected sight. As Nina departed, he continued to study the buildings, noting the subtle yet exquisite details in their construction and the well-dressed patrons entering and exiting.
“It’s quite a sight, isn’t it?” Helene asked, a knowing smile playing on her lips. “I can see you’re wondering why such establishments exist here.”
“Yes,” Elysian admitted, his curiosity evident in his voice.
Helene’s eyes twinkled with amusement. “Men and their boundless appetites,” she said with a grin, before letting out a hearty laugh that echoed down the street.