A week had come and gone since Velrik and his companions first ventured into the city's labyrinthine streets, and in that time, Dain had found steady employment. The morning sun filtered timidly through the misty air as they made their way toward their agreed meeting spot. Lucien had sent a message the night prior, instructing them to gather at a small courtyard hidden between two aging buildings. It was an unassuming place, shielded from the bustle of the main thoroughfares—just the kind of location Velrik expected from a man who preferred to remain shrouded in discretion.

  Upon their arrival, they found Lucien already waiting, leaning against a weathered stone wall with his arms crossed confidently over his chest. The half-elf lord retained an aura of quiet poise, and today was no exception. He lifted his gaze to meet theirs as they approached, a sly smirk playing on his lips.

  "Right on time," he remarked, a trace of approval in his voice. "I expected nothing less from you lot."

  Mira stepped forward, her voice bubbling with anticipation. "You found us a place?" she inquired, barely able to contain her excitement.

  Lucien nodded, gesturing toward the narrow alley behind him. "Indeed. It's not grand, but it offers shelter and a space to call your own."

  He led them through the alleyway to a modest two-story building nestled between a cozy bakery and a cobbler's shop. The structure bore the marks of age, the wood slightly weathered, yet it stood strong and sturdy. A small stone step led to a wooden door, while a single window overlooked the bustling street. Lucien produced a key from his coat pocket and handed it to Dain. "This is yours now, provided you keep up with the rent. The first month is on Veldoran’s seized assests."

  Dain accepted the key and shared a glance with the others before unlocking the door. Inside, the living space was simple yet functional. The main floor featured a communal area with a fireplace and a compact kitchen tucked in the corner. A narrow staircase spiraled upward to a lofted second floor, where they would arrange their sleeping quarters. The air carried the comforting scent of aged wood mingled with faint traces of flour wafting from the bakery next door.

  Elisa ran her hand over the wooden railing of the staircase. "How much will it cost us?" she asked, her brows knitted together in concern.

  Lucien leaned casually against the doorframe. "Six gold a month. It’s more than what you’d pay for an inn, but when split among you, it’s manageable. The district is decent, and the landlord isn’t one to pry too much into your affairs. If you work hard enough, you may even find yourselves able to own the place one day."

  Mira whistled in surprise. "That’s quite a sum."

  "It is," Lucien conceded. "But given that some of you are employed now, I trust you'll manage. How are your new jobs treating you?"

  Dain grinned, crossing his arms with a sense of accomplishment. "The blacksmithing is excellent work. Steady pay, too; I should be making six gold a month on my own."

  "Courier work is going well for me," Mira chimed in. "Running messages and parcels around the city. Not exactly exhilarating, but it keeps me on my toes."

  Elisa nodded in agreement. "The seamstress took me on without much fuss. The pay is modest, but it's honest work."

  Joren shrugged, an indifferent expression on his face. "Back to mucking stalls for me. It's not glamorous, but it’s work—all the same."

  Lucien chuckled. "I admire your practicality. And what of you, Velrik?" He turned his keen gaze to the young Vulpin.

  Velrik hesitated before answering, frustration bubbling beneath the surface. "I tried," he admitted. "Every time I went to ask for work, they either turned me away or said they wanted someone... ‘normal.’"

  Lucien sighed, shaking his head in understanding. "People fear what they do not comprehend. They see you as a risk, but trust me, that perception will shift with time."

  Velrik's tail flicked restlessly, irritation gnawing at him. "I don't want to just sit around doing nothing."

  Lucien offered a comforting smile. "You’re not doing nothing. You’re learning. That's why I arranged for you to spend time at the library."

  Velrik's interest piqued. "Sure, though it can feel a bit... boring at times."

  Lucien nodded knowingly. "Understandable, but remember, it’s an investment. You’re sharp, Velrik—more so than most your age. If you can't find work at the moment, sharpening your mind is equally valuable. Read, study, and learn about the city and the world. Knowledge can carry more weight than coin if you wield it appropriately."

  Velrik considered Lucien's words. While he yearned for the independence of earning his own way, he could not deny the enjoyment he found among the books; they opened new doors, revealing histories, maps, and knowledge he would never have gained otherwise. Lucien took the effort to acquire Velrik a membership at the library on the nicer side of the city. He told Velrik that he’s investing in his future, but Velrik wouldn’t be surprised if it was because Lucien knew he wouldn’t be able to get a job and wanted him to have something to do to take his mind off of that fact.

  "Alright," he agreed, resolve settling in. "I’ll make the most of it."

  Lucien's approving nod brought him a sense of reassurance. "Good. You'll find that it will pay off in unexpected ways."

  With that, he pushed away from the doorframe and adjusted his coat. "I won't take up any more of your time. You have a home now and tasks to attend to. Just don't fall behind on rent, and you'll be fine."

  Dain clasped Lucien's arm in gratitude. "We appreciate it, Lucien. Truly."

  Lucien smirked playfully. "Just don’t make me regret it."

  With one last glance at the group, he strode away, disappearing into the throng of the city streets. Velrik and his friends stood in their new home, letting the reality of their situation wash over them.

  Mira released a slow breath. "We’ve got our own place," she said, a grin spreading across her face—a profound realization that ignited a flicker of joy. "We actually did it."

  Elisa nodded, her eyes roaming the kitchen space. "It might need a bit of cleaning, but it’s ours."

  Joren stretched his arms above his head. "And at least now I won’t have to endure strangers snoring in the next bed over..."

  Velrik hopped up onto the worn wooden table at the center of the room, a smile stretching across his face. It wasn't much, not yet, but it was their own—an anchor to belong, an opportunity to start anew.

  Dain clapped his hands together, excitement brimming in his voice. "Alright, first order of business—we need to sort out who’s sleeping where."

  Mira groaned with reluctant humor. "This is going to turn into a debate, isn’t it?"

  Joren grinned, the light of mischief dancing in his eyes. "Oh, absolutely."

  Velrik only half-listened as the others began navigating the complexities of their sleeping arrangements. For the first time in what felt like an eternity, he sensed something akin to stability blossoming within him—a home. He still had far to go, but this was a starting point.

  “I call this one,” Dain declared, stepping into a small, sturdy room near the back of the house, positioning himself for access to the kitchen and its bounty. "Close to the provisions."

  Mira smirked, her eyes glinting with playful sarcasm. “Practical, as always.” She wandered further down the hall before poking her head into another room. “This one has the best view; I suppose I’ll take it.”

  Joren claimed the room across from Mira’s, stretching his arms with a satisfied grin. “Fine by me. As long as I’ve got a space to sleep, I’m content.”

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  That left two rooms available. Elisa turned to Velrik with a knowing smile. “I’ll take this one,” she announced, promptly stepping into the second to last room.

  Velrik hesitated for a fleeting moment, then slipped into the final room, adjacent to hers. It felt natural to pick the spot closest to the human who took such good care of him, a well-practiced habit. He had always stayed close to Elisa, even back at the inn. Her presence nearby reassured him, instilling a sense of calm.

  His new room, while small, was comfortable. A simple bed with clean sheets and woolen blankets rested against the wall—a welcome sight after enduring nights in less hospitable places. A small wooden desk stood in the corner, a candle holder perched atop it. Velrik hopped onto the chair then traced his fingers over the desk surface, already imagining himself seated there, reading or practicing his writing.

  His sharp eyes scoured the room for potential hiding spots. Though they were safe for now, old instincts were hard to shake off. His gaze settled on a slightly raised floorboard near the foot of the bed. He crouched, prying at its edge until it loosened, revealing a small, dark space beneath—perfect for stashing any valuables he might acquire in his new life.

  Satisfied with his find, Velrik let out a quiet breath and sat at the edge of his bed. He had a room to call his own, a strange but welcomed concept. It felt odd, in a way, having a personal space that belonged solely to him, but it was a good kind of strange.

  A moment later, he heard footsteps in the hallway. Mira peeked her head inside. “You settling in?”

  Velrik nodded. “Yeah.”

  “Well, don’t get too comfortable yet,” she said, grinning brightly. “We’re heading out to get food. Time to celebrate properly!”

  The prospect of a good meal drew Velrik from his thoughts, and he followed Mira back to the main room where the others awaited. Dain already had a mental list of necessities, while Elisa had assumed responsibility for managing the budget.

  “Keep it simple,” she reminded them as they stepped into the cool evening air and locked the door behind them. “We need to be smart about this.”

  The market buzzed with life, filled with the sounds of merchants hawking their wares and the lively chatter of customers bargaining for better deals. The group dispersed, each taking on an assigned task—Elisa and Joren focused on vegetables, Dain sought out fresh bread, and Mira sparked negotiations with a butcher for a prime cut of meat.

  Velrik drifted through the market, his nose delightfully assaulted by the rich scents of herbs and spices, the freshness of produce, and the tantalizing aroma of roasted foods wafting from nearby stalls. Though he hadn’t taken a set task, he thoroughly enjoyed soaking in the atmosphere. This time, he wasn’t on the lookout for an easy mark; they were here to buy, to create a life for themselves.

  By the time they regrouped, their arms were laden with supplies. “This should be enough for a feast,” Joren declared with a wide grin.

  “A simple feast,” Elisa corrected, but even she appeared pleased with their haul.

  Returning home, they deposited their groceries upon the kitchen table and exchanged glances, deliberating on how best to get started with their meal. The kitchen was modest but functional, boasting a hearth for cooking, a sturdy wooden table, and a few shelves filled with basic cookware.

  “All right,” Dain declared, rolling up his sleeves with enthusiasm. “Let’s get to work.”

  Mira took charge of the meat, skillfully cutting it into manageable chunks before seasoning it with the herbs they’d procured. Joren and Velrik attended to the vegetables, chopping with a careful precision that was at times uneven but filled with intent. Elisa occupied herself with kneading dough for a simple loaf of bread, humming as she worked. Dain, being the most seasoned cook among them, commanded the fire and oversaw the entire process with attentive authority.

  Velrik found himself genuinely enjoying the work, even if his pace lagged behind that of the others. This was a new experience—preparing a meal not out of desperation or necessity, but simply because they could. For once, they weren’t scavenging for scraps or relying on the charity of strangers. This meal was theirs—an embodiment of their collective purpose.

  The mouthwatering scent of cooking meat and rising bread enveloped the room, stimulating Velrik’s hunger. He exchanged a grin with Joren, who had just completed the last of the carrot slices. “You think this will be enough?” Joren asked, tossing a piece into his mouth.

  Dain scoffed. “With the way you lot eat? Barely.”

  Mira erupted into laughter. “You’re simply upset because you won’t claim the biggest portion this time around.”

  Once the meal was prepared, they gathered around the table, placing the food at the center. It was a modest spread—succulent roasted meat, seasoned vegetables, freshly baked bread, and a small bowl of butter—but to them, it felt like a banquet worthy of celebration. Eagerly, they filled their plates, reveling in this—the first real meal they had crafted together in their new home.

  As they ate, conversation seamlessly shifted toward their jobs.

  “I start work at the smithy bright and early tomorrow, as usual,” Dain announced between bites. “It’s decent pay—six gold a month to start, with the potential for a cut on commissioned projects if I prove myself."

  Joren let out a low whistle. "Not bad at all. That's more than most folks earn."

  Dain nodded, a confident gleam in his eyes. "It’ll be hard work, but I don’t mind. The forge master seems like a decent sort. He mentioned that if I put in the effort, there’s room for growth."

  Mira leaned back in her chair, a thoughtful expression on her face. "My courier position isn’t permanent, but it’s something. Two gold a month if I stick with it—not stellar pay, but better than nothing."

  "This could lead to tips, too," Elisa pointed out.

  "True," Mira agreed. "Plus, I hate being confined to one place all day."

  Joren smirked. "Which is why I’ll never see you settling down."

  Mira rolled her eyes but refrained from contesting his point.

  Elisa wiped her hands on a rag before speaking once more. "Working for the seamstress isn’t glamorous, but it’s steady. Four gold a month to begin, and if I can demonstrate a keen eye for detail, I may snatch up some higher-paying commissions."

  Velrik listened quietly, his gaze lingering on his plate as he absently pushed a piece of bread back and forth. When the conversation lulled, he finally spoke up. "I guess I’ll just keep reading at the library."

  The others turned toward him, and he braced himself for disappointment, yet found none on their faces.

  “Lucien has paid for my access, so I might as well take advantage of it,” he continued. “Maybe I can ask the librarian if they need help with anything. If they’re willing to pay, even just a little, well, it would be something.”

  "That's a good idea," Elisa said encouragingly. "You’re already ahead of most just by knowing how to read. That skill alone will open doors."

  “We’ll cover rent together,” Dain assured him firmly. “So don’t stress about it for now. If you can find a position at the library, fantastic. If not, just keep learning. That knowledge is worth far more than coin in the long run. And if you do earn a little, simply hold onto it. You’re still young—we’ll take care of rent for now.”

  Velrik didn’t argue against it, though a part of him felt restless. He wasn’t accustomed to being idle, of not contributing to the collective effort, but the encouragement from his friends made that sensation easier to carry.

  The meal concluded in warm satisfaction, rich laughter and vibrant dialogue filling the air around them, their chatter drifting to lighter, more amusing subjects—hopes for the future, plans, and even inside jokes from their time at the inn. The ambiance felt easy and comfortable—a rare gift for all of them, and one they readily welcomed with open arms.

  Eventually, they cleared the table, each helping wash dishes to return the kitchen to its neat state. The weariness of the day began to coalesce in their bones, and one by one, they retreated to their respective rooms.

  Velrik lingered, allowing his gaze to trail after the others as they vanished behind their doors. He turned toward his own room, feeling an uncommon sense of tranquility blanket him.

  Stepping inside, he closed the door with quiet intent, exhaling a shroud of lingering tension. His bed awaited, the blankets neatly arranged, the candle on his desk untouched. He glanced toward the loose floorboard, reassuring himself that his small hiding place still existed. Since he was brought to the manor, he hasn’t sleep alone once; though, he knows he will need to grow accustomed to it.

  With a stretch, he released the tension in his limbs, rolling his shoulders as his tail flicked lazily behind him. He shed the constraining cloak, tossing it onto the small chair beside his desk. Running his claws gently through the fur on his arms, he shook off the stiffness from the day’s labors. Carefully, he climbed into bed, adjusting the blankets so they wouldn’t constrict his tail. That sensation had always been an irritation, so he curled it over his side, tucking it snugly against his stomach.

  The mattress felt firm beneath him, but the warmth of the blankets and the hushed stillness of the room wrapped him in comfort. He shifted until he found his preferred position, ears attuned to the faint sounds of the house settling around him. For the first time in a long while, he felt a genuine sense of safety enveloping him.

  Sleep came swiftly, and with it, dreams.

  Velrik found himself sprinting through a forest he knew well, the towering trees reminiscent yet distant. Sunlight filtered through the leafy canopy in warm patches, dappling the earth with golden hues. The air reeked of damp leaves, blooming flowers, and the freshness brought by rain. It felt right.

  Laughter echoed like musical notes through the distant trees, a sound so comforting it warmed him from within. He turned toward the noise, but the figures remained blurred, shifting like shadows amid the foliage. Voices called his name, warm and inviting, yet when he attempted to respond, his voice faltered, lost to the wind.

  The forest ahead wound endlessly, paths he recognized fading into unfamiliar twists and turns. He had traversed these trails as a child, kicking up soft earth while his tail swayed behind him in joy. But now, confusion descended upon him as the trees shifted, transforming while his back was turned. Home lingered somewhere within this verdant expanse but remained perpetually beyond reach.

  A flicker of orange—the glimpse of another Vulpin? Velrik chased after it, heart racing, but the figure danced just out of reach, slipping away into the underbrush before he could catch a glimpse of its face. Weary legs dragged behind him as the forest darkened around him, shadows stretching like fingers as the laughter faded to whispers.

  Suddenly, a flash of fire ignited his senses. Smoke filled the air, accompanied by the crushing sensation of loss—deep and suffocating.

  Velrik woke with a sharp inhale, fur bristling, tail twitching at the remnants of unease that lingered after the dream. The room was still, the chill of night air brushing against his fur. He exhaled slowly, allowing his racing heartbeat to settle.

  The vision of his dream slipped away, details scattering like dry leaves caught in a chaotic wind. Yet, one singular truth remained—a profound longing for a home he had once known.