There were markets all over the port, like parks in a rich neighborhood. Every few blocks an open plaza would emerge and there would be tables and wagons, hawkers and moneychangers, and you never knew what you'd find. But it was mostly food. And there were shops as well that looked far nicer, but Jon and Fuss avoided those places, even the more humble merchants eyed them suspiciously, but they had a mission:

"You have some cabbage that you can't sell?" Jon asked a pot bellied merchant who turned to him in surprise, "That's gone bad?"

"Aye, I keep the scraps for the hogs at days end, how'd you know?"

Jon pulled out an iron bit and held it up, worth one fifth of a copper, each a random shape that weighed as much as a heavy nail.

"We could smell it - and I'll take all I can off your hands for a bit, if you'll sell it?"

"Take it all, if it stinks that bad...I must be getting use to it." The merchant said with a worried sniff, a concerned look at his perfectly arranged stall of cabbages; probably afraid a bad odor was scaring off customers. Jon smiled as he moved behind the stall to a wagon filled with scraps of torn cabbage leaves, mostly wilted but perfectly edible.

Jon began to stuff them into his three empty potato sacks until they couldn't hold anymore.

"Thank you, sir." Jon said as he waved, the merchant nodding back with a humored expression, "Potatoes. Cabbage. A few bones and a couple onions. We've had worse, Fuss. All we need now is some bread. Stale bread should be cheap enough, and it's the same as fresh bread if you dunk it in the broth."

"You're kinda getting snobby, you know that? I think being around Eli has got you spoiled."

Jon carried his load of cabbage scraps back to the alley where he'd first begun working, and where Whistler now waited. The man practically jumping up to greet Jon as he approached.

"Oh, finally. Whiskey." Whistler said, smacking his lips, "I knew it the moment I saw you, you wouldn't let me down."

Jon sighed, dropping his sacks next to his other ingredients and a big clay cook pot. Whistler had already put some stones under it to make room for a fire beneath, and he'd filled the cavity with a mix of sticks and...

"Why is there poo beneath the pot, Whistler?" Jon asked, scrunching up his face.

"To cook with!" Whistler chortled, "You really are a rich snot if you didn't know that!"

Jon stared in horror as Whistler extended a filthy finger with a flame burning at the end, "No cheaper way to cook! And no use wasting good coin that could go toward a dram of something tasty, now get pouring!"

Jon watched as the dried poo and tinder began to catch fire. He reached into his pocket and produced a small flagon of whiskey he'd also purchased, pouring a cap of it out and passing it to Whistler. And he didn't feel guilty doing so because of how much better Whistler was since getting a drink.

His shakes had subsided, his yellowed eyes were no longer darting, and he was more able to focus. Beyond that, he had been incredibly helpful, a man of the streets that seemed to know everything and everyone.

"I'm going to go get some water." Jon said, "Where's the closest fountain? And can you start tearing up the cabbage leaves while I'm gone?"

Jon grimaced at the idea of Whistlers filthy hands touching the food, but if it was already being cooked with poo?

"I'm going to eat some, Fuss. It wouldn't be right to give them something I wouldn't eat. We'll just burn it a bit, make sure all the germs are dead."

"I've already got water." Whistler said cheerfully, and Jon watched as he produced a dried gourd from a pocket and twisted the top off. Turning it over he started to pour a stream of water into the pot.

"We're going to need more than that." Jon said, shaking his head. The clay pot was huge, and it should hold more then enough food for everyone that was helping him, but he'd offered them soup, not stew. Water was the cheapest ingredient, after all.

But Whistler just hummed, ignoring Jon, as the gourd continued to disgorge water. Way more than it could possibly hold, "How are you doing that?" Jon asked.

"Just another Ability." Whistler gloated, finally closing the gourd and putting it away when the pot was three quarters full, "With a Class like Survivor, you don't need a magic canister, well - unless you need to carry something besides water."

Jon nodded as he tore cabbage leaves into smaller pieces, tossing them in with the other ingredients as Whistler chewed on a bit of bread, occasionally stirring the pot with an old wooden spoon.

"Done yet? I'm hungry." Jon turned to the new voice and saw it was the Vet from earlier, the one with the scar bisecting his face, and a single thumb.

"Hey, TwoFace." Jon nodded, "You're back already? You got five?"

The man nodded, unslinging a bulging bag from his shoulder.

"Where ya want them?"

"You can just put the tails in that jar." Jon said, gesturing at the container he'd set out toward the back of the alley. Then he watched as TwoFace approached it, pulled out a small knife, then put each nasty rat under his armpit as he sliced off their tails, tossing them into the jar and letting the carcasses fall to the ground.

Jon stared at the five dead rats and thought maybe it wasn't the best idea - to have food, and...that, so close. Where he'd have to look at it.

"Hey, TwoFace. I just need the tails, you know. If you don't mind?"

----------------------------------------

Elijah was a mix of emotion, there was no way Jon could understand how it made him feel to see him begging.

Revulsion warred with the loyalty he had to Jon, and of course the loyalty won easily, but still - was Jon trying to mess with him? Was this like the Lion King thing all over? Because he'd told Jon what to do to change back to normal, it was easy, the push of a button and a healing potion or spell, but Jon refused because it would also change Fuss as well.

You might be reading a pirated copy. Look for the official release to support the author.

Fuss loves being a lion, Eli. Ridiculous.

Jon would rather be a hideous deformity and spend his time begging than to burst Fuss's bubble.

"Jon, Jon, Jon." Elijah muttered, shaking his head and trying to push the mounting frustration away, but he couldn't help it. His trip to the Library had been perfect, relaxing - and his research had revealed much, a way forward. He was ready to ask Jon if he wanted a Mountain Kingdom, or an Island Nation - because there was more then hope, there were options...They could do this, maybe even soon - in a few weeks they could mount an expedition, do a land survey, get estimates from guilds, order building supplies.

Except seeing Jon begging? Elijah pushed that timeline back, and was hesitant to even think about a date before Jon showed some real maturity and progress.

Fuss would be King. Not Jon. And for once, Elijah began to think of that as a net positive, the silver lining. Fuss was competent, wasn't he? Dog's were...logical, and Elijah could work with that, maybe he should focus more of his strategy around Fuss, for everyone's sake. Perhaps he should try talking to the dog more, just the two of them? He knew Fuss understood what he was saying.

But a shop window suddenly stole all of Elijah's attention. because displayed on a long wooden table was an absolute mountain of gems.

Not real ones. Obviously glass.

They were so massive they couldn't be real: rubies the size of his thumb, pearls as big as marbles, and diamonds cut to every shape and style a person could imagine. It was a massive selection made to showcase the jeweler's Skill in way that wouldn't be stolen, or if it was - it could be cheaply replaced. Elijah didn't care, he wanted them and was already at the counter with purse in hand.

Because wouldn't it be great? If Jon had a crown?

Because he was struggling, and Elijah knew he'd be sad at the end of the week, when he pulled out his empty coin pouch. And wouldn't he feel terrible?

And he'd look up at Elijah and make that stupid smile, then maybe bite his lip, 'I didn't know, Eli, that it would be this hard...' He'd probably even level from it.

But then Elijah would pull out a crown, so gaudy, so fake - yet this was Jon. He'd think it was real! And of course he'd love it! Only Elijah would know it was fake, and absolutely everybody else that had a brain and saw him wearing it.

Wouldn't that be funny?

Jon, all blue in the face, smiling and wearing a ridiculous crown, he'd probably start dancing or singing, and of course Elijah would tell him it wasn't real. Eventually. And wouldn't that make it even funnier?

They'd laugh. Oh, how'd they laugh.

And wouldn't Elijah level, just from that?

Which was why he bought the gems, paying four silver for a large pouch full, then hurried back to the Inn to plan, to sketch out some designs, which improved Elijah's mood tremendously. By dinner time, Elijah was sitting at their table waiting for Jon to walk through the door with relaxed expression and a glass of wine.

"Tough day?" Elijah asked as he saw Jon's bedraggled appearance. Turning, he waved down a server to bring them their meals, "You look beat, Jon, did you find something to get into?"

Elijah watched as Jon looked at him strangely, then turned to Fuss, who barked. The waitress arrived, delivering their plates along with milk for Fuss, Elijah's glass of Port Red got a refill, and Jon accepted a tall beer.

"I was at a brothel." Jon said once the waitress left in a low voice.

"Really, Jon?" Elijah almost shook his head, but didn't, "You know what, I'm not even mad. I could use a bit of relief myself, you know, a book isn't the only thing I like to stick my head in. Though with how you look, I'm surprised they even let you in."

"I had to wear a bag over my head."

"Did you?" Elijah laughed, pounding the table before raising his glass to a toast, "And I bet they still cleaned your purse out; to money well spent!"

"I went there to make money, not spend it."

Two minutes later - after the sprayed wine had been mostly wiped up, and Elijah had stopped coughing long enough to breath.

"Jon, Why?" The words came out in a terrible moan, "Why would you do that?"

"Eli, because you Advised me to. It was your idea."

"What? No. No, I didn't." Elijah said, but -

"See, your nose grew. You said whores get useful skills and abilities, and they can use them to sell more than just their bodies."

"I may have said that, Jon. But I didn't intend for you to go there."

"Why not? It was great advice, look." Jon said, shaking his purse that rang with the sound of copper, "And you just said you were going to go yourself."

"Why not? Why not? Because, Jon - you're not applying yourself, you're not looking at the opportunities that are available, instead you're taking the easy way out, how do you not see the obvious and just - just make the worst possible decision?"

"I thought I was doing what you wanted." Jon said, "I thought I was doing good."

"Damn it." Elijah heard the hurt in Jon's voice, and he was biting his lip, half-furious at himself, but there was only so much blame he was willing to accept for Jon's stupidity, "Do what you want, Jon. Just make sure you use protection."

"What? Why?"

"Because of the birds and the bees, Jon. The Birds and the Bees. Haven't you seen Game of Thrones? You are a Prince, and the last thing we need is a bunch of bastards running around trying to kill you."

"Oh." Jon said, "I didn't know -"

"Where babies come from? Because the Real(m) is real. And in real life, babies don't pop out of cabbages or get delivered by storks. Which isn't to say that can't happen here, because of magic. It would be in addition to the way things naturally work. You can't just change the fundamental method of the proliferation of life and motivating force of society, without everything else collapsing around it. Do you understand? You can't just throw out common sense because your dog can suddenly talk to you."

"Ruff!"

A silence fell over their table - and there was notable absence of other patrons eating as a silence filled the room, they'd kept their voices civil, but - they had caused a scene.

Elijah cleared his throat and sat back in his chair. He also attempted to order another glass of wine, however he was ignored.

"The point is, you need to use your eyes." Elijah said, his voice softer, exhausted, "Look at the world around you and ask, what else could I be doing?"

Jon had a strange expression on his face, as though Elijah had given him some profound revelation he just needed time to unpack. When he finally spoke it was a whisper.

"I leveled."

"So did I." Elijah admitted, shaking his head. He couldn't meet Jon's eyes, couldn't believe his friend turning tricks for coppers.

"I have to go back to work, Eli." Jon said as he stood up, walking around the table to give a brief hug before he left.

Elijah stared at the vacant seats and pushed his plate away. Even as he did it, an action no more mature than slamming a door, or stomping his feet, he knew something was wrong.

Why was he so upset?

He stood up, approaching the bar and paying for a full carafe of wine, something distracting to fit his mood, he settled on the green plum.

It was Jon's body...And he was earning money, had even followed Elijah's advice to do it. Was that why his Destiny had leveled? The irony of it? That Elijah's advice had pushed Jon into a life of prostitution when he was only trying to help his friend excel?

And Jon had done it, he'd ran off and whored himself out at the drop of a hat, just to help Elijah get a better Class? It was ridiculous - and terrible, but also incredibly selfless to the level of stupidity, and yet? Wasn't that Jon in a nutshell?

Then Elijah had lambasted Jon over it. Shamed him.

Was that ironic? Was that worth a level in his Destiny?

Elijah shook his head, sipping his wine until he was staring at an empty vessel before stumbling up to bed. He undressed, crawled in, shut his eyes only to not be able to sleep. He tossed and turned over their conversation, and the growing realization that he'd been wrong. And the reason was simple.

Jon didn't belong to him. Jon's body was his, and Elijah had no right to be upset at how Jon used it, no right to condemn Jon's choices. And so he decided to apologize, to explain, and to ask for Jon's forgiveness.

But when Jon finally did return, fresh from the shower, the smell of soap accompanying him - Elijah suddenly felt anxious, he kept his eyes closed and pretended to be asleep until Jon and Fuss settled in.

Then before he could open his mouth, he heard Jon's voice, quiet but clear:

"Goodnight Fuss. I love you."

"Ruff."

"Goodnight Eli. I love you."

And a moment later Jon began to snore. Almost immediately. His breathing untroubled.

And Elijah realized something else, that he had planned to apologize to make himself feel better, not Jon. Jon didn't need his apology, Jon loved him. Even after those poor words, Elijah's rants - his frustrations.

Jon loved him.

No, Elijah was not going to apologize to make himself feel better, he was going to try harder. To be more patient. And to lead Jon out of his life of prostitution, if Jon chose - or to support his particular path if Jon didn't.

Elijah would even find ways of giving him advice, no matter how hard difficult, it would be.

He'd be the friend Jon needed and the one Jon deserved.

"I love you, too. Both of you." Elijah whispered before finally falling asleep.