Theo had imagined the town for years before he ever saw it.
In his mind, he imagined it to be a loud place with many people bartering, trading, and discussing.
Like in the way kitchens were, full of overlapping sounds that somehow made sense together. The scrape of chairs. The knock of wood on stone. The low murmur of voices rising and falling like breath.
The reality was… much quieter.
Hollis and Theo left just after sunrise.
Hollis walked ahead with a worn satchel slung over one shoulder, his stride steady, however it was slower than it used to be. Theo followed half a step behind, careful not to get in the way, eyes darting everywhere at once. His father watched from the gate until they disappeared down the road, one hand resting on the weathered wood as if holding the mansion in place by force alone.
The road itself was narrow and rutted, its stones smoothed by years of cart wheels and boots. Theo felt each one through the soles of his shoes. The air smelled different, less polished wood and old dust, and more damp earth and something faintly metallic.
"Make sure not to ]wander," Hollis said without looking back.
"I won't," Theo replied quickly.
Hollis grunted. That was as close to reassurance as he ever gave.
The mansion vanished behind a bend in the road, a little sooner than Theo expected. One moment there the next... Just… gone. Swallowed by trees in the distance.
After some time had passed the town started to appear slowly, like it was unsure whether it wanted to be seen.
First came fields that looked patchy, like poorly kept, and some clearly abandoned. Then fences missing slats. A collapsed shed leaning at an angle that suggested no one had bothered fixing it for years. By the time the first proper buildings appeared, Theo's excitement had shifted into something little closer to disappointment.
The town smelled like peoples sweat, smoke, old oil, wet wool, and animal dung. A dozen different scents layered over each other, none strong enough to dominate. The smell made it hard to breath, but Theo breathed it in anyway.
Buildings clustered close together, their upper floors leaning inward like conspirators sharing the newest secret. The streets were stone, but uneven and stained dark in places, Theo mentally avoided thinking about the potential causes. The shops were already open despite the early hour, though "open" was used loosely, as it meant little more than a shutter pushed aside and a table dragged out front.
People noticed them.
They weren't rude, but they didn't go out of their way to approach. Even so Theo felt eyes slide toward him and then away again, measuring, and then dismissing.
Hollis drew more looks than Theo, recognition flickering across a few faces.
"Morning, Hollis," someone called.
Hollis lifted a hand. "Morning."
No smiles. No warmth. Just polite acknowledgment.
Theo filed that away.
They stopped first at a grain seller's stall. The man behind it was broad and red-faced, his beard tied off with a bit of twine. His smile faded the moment he saw Hollis's satchel.
"Small order again?" the man asked.
Hollis nodded. "Smaller."
The man clicked his tongue. "Can't keep delivering for scraps, you know that."
"I know," Hollis said calmly. "That's why I came myself."
The man's gaze flicked to Theo. Lingered. "Boy's yours?"
"No," Hollis said. "He's the house's."
That answer seemed to satisfy him. The man scooped grain into a sack with less enthusiasm than care required, weighing it carefully.
Theo watched the exchange with intense focus.
This wasn't like lessons. There were no right answers to memorize. No rules written down. Just… people negotiating survival one conversation at a time.
As they moved on, Theo whispered, "Why didn't he smile?"
Hollis snorted. "Because smiling doesn't make flour cheaper."
They passed a butcher next. The shop smelled sharp and coppery, the scent of raw meat clinging to the air even from the street. The butcher shook his head before Hollis even spoke.
"Can't spare any this week," he said. "Maybe next."
Hollis didn't argue. He never did. He just nodded and moved on.
Theo's hands curled into fists.
It wasn't fair. He didn't know who to be angry at, the butcher, the town, the house itself. Probably all of it, what was done to cause everything to be in such a dismal state.
They stopped at a baker's stall next.
Theo's breath caught... the bread.... was different.
Not better, exactly, but... definitely louder. Crusts darker, scored deep. Loaves stacked carelessly, some misshapen, some cracked open along their sides. The smell was intoxicating: yeast and heat and something almost bitter.
Theo leaned closer without realizing it.
The baker, a woman with flour-streaked arms and tired eyes, noticed him immediately.
"Careful," she said. "It bites if you stare too hard."
Theo flushed and stepped back.
Hollis huffed a quiet laugh. "Boy's got the itch."
"That so?" the baker said, glancing between them. "House teaching him?"
"Not yet," Hollis replied.
The baker nodded, understanding passing between them without words. "Good. Bread taught too early grows arrogant."
Theo didn't know what that meant, but it felt important.
They bought two loaves. Smaller than the ones Hollis made, but denser. Heftier.
As they walked, Theo finally asked the question that had been building in his chest since they'd entered the town.
"Is it always like this?"
Hollis didn't answer right away.
"Used to be louder," he said finally. "Used to be fuller. Town fed the house. House fed the town. Now…" He shrugged. "Now everyone's careful."
Theo nodded slowly.
Careful. That word again.
They passed children his age playing with a hoop and stick in the street. One of them glanced at Theo, curious, then went back to the game. No one invited him over. No one chased him away either.
Theo felt oddly relieved.
As they walked deeper into town, the buildings grew older. Cracks ran through stone. Signs hung crooked. A fountain sat dry in a small square, its basin filled with rainwater and leaves.
Hollis stopped there to rest.
Theo sat on the fountain's edge, legs dangling, and listened.
A woman arguing over prices. A man coughing behind a shuttered window. The clink of metal somewhere distant. No grand speeches. No drama. Just life grinding forward.
"Do you miss it?" Theo asked suddenly.
Hollis raised an eyebrow. "Miss what?"
"The mansion," Theo clarified. "When it was… bigger."
Hollis looked at the dry fountain, at the cracked stone.
"I miss having room to make mistakes, not having to be so cautious of everything" he said.
Theo absorbed that in silence.
They finished their errands by midday. The satchel was heavier now, though still not full. On the walk back, Theo's feet ached, his head buzzing with impressions.
The mansion reappeared slowly, its silhouette familiar and yet altered by comparison.
Smaller.
Hungrier.
But still standing.
As they passed through the gates, Theo felt something settle in his chest. Not disappointment. Not fear.
Understanding.
The house wasn't just poor. They where choosing what to keep functioning and working to stay alive.
That night, Theo stood in the kitchen doorway as Hollis unpacked their purchases.
The loaves from town sat on the counter beside Hollis's own bread. Different shapes. Different smells. Same purpose.
Theo watched Hollis's hands as he worked—steady, practiced, scarred.
The itch returned.
Stronger than ever.
But now, it wasn't just about baking.
It was about feeding something that was still alive.
Theo clenched his hands together and waited.