The afternoon gave way slowly.
Aarav and the others moved through the roads of Carrath, taking work where they found it — the kind of labour that didn't ask questions and paid without ceremony. Two jobs filled the remaining hours. The first paid eighteen Drel. The second, sixteen. By the time the sun finished setting and the sky had shifted to a deep, settled grey, their feet ached and their shoulders carried the particular heaviness of an honest day's effort.
Sixty-four Drel in total. Enough for dinner and one night in the cheapest lodging Carrath offered. Not enough for anything to go wrong.
"Ugh, I'm tired after all that work." Veer stretched his arms above his head as they walked, vertebrae cracking audibly. "Time to get our bags back. We hid them in the sewers, right?"
"I can't believe we only got 64 Drel in total after doing all that work," Aarav said, with the flat composure of a man cataloguing a disaster, "and we had to hide our bags in the sewer." He exhaled. "Life is definitely not smooth." A beat. "But before we get the bags — Mr. Leo first. Carrying them now might raise suspicion."
"Aarav is right," Rajan agreed. "Let's get the news on the house first. Bags after."
---
Dunsby Blacksmith sat at 19 RR Street,
its sign worn but legible, the kind of shop that had been in the same place long enough that the street had adjusted itself around it. Through the entrance, the interior opened into organised display — swords along one wall, breastplates and helmets arranged with the quiet pride of a craftsman who cared about presentation. Daggers caught the lamplight from their hooks. The smell of metal and oil hung in the air, not unpleasantly.
Leo was with customers when they entered, but he spotted them immediately. His expression shifted into something easy and welcoming.
"Raja, Arlan, Van — welcome to my shop," he said, with a smile that came naturally. "I have some news on the house. Just wait a bit — after I'm done with my customers, we can talk."
Aarav and Rajan nodded and stepped to the side, making themselves unobtrusive among the displays. The shop moved around them — the quiet commerce of a working evening, transactions completed, customers departing one by one.
After some time, Leo came to them. He folded his hands and looked at all three with the expression of a man who was about to deliver news that was not entirely straightforward.
"Sorry for the delay," he said. "I have got news on the house and it's available. But there is a small problem..."From the way Leo said it — the slight pause before problem, the careful arrangement of his words — Aarav had already begun revising his expectations downward. Not a disaster. Not even a serious complication. The kind of problem that required a conversation rather than a solution.
He asked anyway. "What kind of problem?"
"You see, the old friend I was talking about is actually the biggest landlord in the entire Carrath City," Leo said, settling into the explanation with the ease of someone delivering news they had already processed on the other person's behalf. "Mr. Jamie Faulkner. He has many houses and buildings. A pretty well-known landlord."
Aarav waited.
"Yeah, and what's the problem?" he asked, mostly for the sake of hearing it stated plainly. "He will definitely have a vacant house or room if he has that many buildings, right?"
"Yeah, he has." Leo's expression carried a trace of unease, the kind that sat on a person's face when they were about to deliver terms they hadn't negotiated themselves. "But that's not the problem. The problem is that I have already talked with him about your conditions for the rent. He has agreed — but he has asked that you would do some free cleaning work for him. Only then would he give you the rent at a discount. A month of rent would cost around 2 Venn."
He said it the way people say things they expect to be argued with.
Do some work and get that much of a discount? Aarav looked at Leo's carefully neutral expression and felt something close to relief settle quietly behind his ribs. Mr. Leo, are you genuinely sure this is a problem? Because from where I'm standing, this sounds like the least terrible thing that has happened to us since we arrived in this world.
"I don't think that would be an issue," Veer said, his tone carrying the particular assertiveness of someone who wanted it on record that they were absolutely fine with the condition. "If we are getting rent at a cheaper price, that's fine."
Exactly. Aarav glanced at him briefly. Goodjob, Veer.
Leo looked between the three of them, reassessing. The unease in his expression gave way to something more straightforward. "Well then, if you three are fine with it, I have no problem meeting you with Jamie."
---
Leo closed his shop with the unhurried efficiency of a man who had done it countless times — latches secured, lamp extinguished. He came to Aarav and the others as the last of the evening light dissolved into the blue-grey of early night.
"Jamie is in a nearby restaurant," he said, pulling on his coat. "Talking with some government officials. After he is done, we can meet with him."
"Alright, that's fine by us," Aarav said.
He said it easily and meant it. Somewhere beneath the exhaustion of the day — the labour, the sixty-four Drel, the sewer where their bags had been waiting — a quiet satisfaction had taken up residence. They were going to have a house. A rental, earned through work they hadn't been told the details of yet. But a house. Four walls, a roof, an address in a city that had given them no reason to expect any of it.
He followed Leo into the evening and said none of this aloud.
---
The restaurant appeared after a few minutes of walking.
It presented itself with the quiet confidence of a place that had nothing to prove. Tall sash windows rose along its face, glowing warmly with candlelight arranged at every table. Through the glass, patrons sat at well-laid tables, silverware catching the light at precise angles. A waiter moved between them with calm precision. Whenever the door opened, the low murmur of conversation and the occasional clink of glass drifted briefly into the street.
A polished wooden sign hung above the entrance. Wilton Restaurant. Modest lettering. The kind that didn't need to say much because the building said it already.
Fancy. Aarav looked at it from the pavement. Must be for rich people. Then the smell reached him — something warm and layered drifting from the kitchen, the kind that bypassed rational thought entirely. The smell of the food is so heavenly. He clicked his tongue quietly to himself. But I don't have enough money to eat here. What a sad life.
He looked away from the windows.
They waited.
---
After some time, a man came through the restaurant door.
He was in his late forties and moved with the easy, practiced authority of someone accustomed to being the most comfortable person in any room. His coat sat neatly over a noticeable potbelly — the kind that spoke of long dinners and easy living rather than neglect. A richly embroidered waistcoat stretched slightly across his middle, and his fingers moved with idle habit along a watch chain, toying with it the way people do when their hands want something to occupy them.
He saw Leo. Leo saw him.
"Leo, you really came." His eyes moved immediately to the three behind him, assessing without being impolite about it. "Are these the boys you were talking about?"
"Yes." Leo gestured. "He is Arlan." A nod toward Aarav. "And they are Raj and Van."
"Good evening, Mr. Faulkner," Aarav said.
"Good evening." The man straightened slightly. "I'm Jamie Faulkner." He looked at all three once more, then moved directly to business. "I have heard your conditions. I have an apartment available in the North-West Borough. I won't pretend I have nothing elsewhere — I have houses in other boroughs as well. But I don't think you would be able to afford them." A pause that carried no judgment, just arithmetic. "The rent is 2 Venn."
North-West Borough. Aarav cross-referenced it against what Ysolde had shown them earlier — a rough map of Carrath, its five boroughs laid out with matter-of-fact clarity. Central Borough: government offices, wealthy addresses. West and East Borough: regular people, working commerce. South Borough: higher rents, better streets. And North-West Borough — relatively poor, older buildings, the Pavani River running nearby, separating Central from West before curving south and out of the city.
Not the best location. He filed it without complaint. But a location.
"I heard, Mr. Faulkner, that you have some work for us," Aarav said, keeping his tone respectful and direct. "And in exchange we would receive the discount. We're ready for it — as long as it's not impossible for us."
Jamie waved a hand. "Yes, yes. You will be completely cleaning my home in South Borough. Your lunch is on us."
Cleaning. Something loosened in Aarav's chest. "Oh, that won't be a problem for us. We would like to confirm the apartment rent, then."
Beside him, Rajan had drifted slightly toward Leo. "Mr. Leo," he murmured, low enough not to carry, "why were you worrying so much about the free work? It's just a house cleaning job."
Leo glanced at him sideways. "Wait till you go to his house," he whispered back.
Rajan opened his mouth. Then closed it.
Jamie reached into his coat and produced a key, holding it out with the straightforward efficiency of a man completing a transaction. "Since you're all fine with the conditions, I have no issue giving you the rent. I'm not taking any security deposit or advance payment. The apartment is in an old building in the North-West Borough — I hope that's not a problem." He placed the key in Aarav's hand. "Apartment number 21C, 19 Rust Street. Just beside the 142 Union Yard building. The rent was originally 4 Venn, but I'm giving it to you at 2 Venn. The apartment is not cleaned — you'll have to do that yourselves. Water bill is included. For light, get candles or a magic lamp." He reached into his coat again and produced a small card. "Come to my house tomorrow for the work and document verification."
He handed the card over and turned toward the waiting carriage in almost the same motion.
"Sorry, Leo." A pause at the carriage door, something genuine in it. "I'm a bit busy this time. We can spend some time together later."
"Of course," Leo said easily. "Go."
The carriage door closed. The horses found their rhythm and moved off into the lamplit street, the sound of hooves fading gradually into the general noise of the evening.
---
Leo looked at the three of them with the settled expression of a man who had done what he came to do.
"Well, now you've got your house," he said simply. "I'll be going home. Have a safe journey — just book a carriage and go to the North-West Borough. If you need any help, you can contact me later."
"Ah — Mr. Leo, your house is in the West Borough, right?" Aarav asked.
"Yes. Just past the bridge." He gestured in the direction of the river. "A bit farther after crossing the Pavani River."
Aarav looked at him for a moment. Not the measuring, cataloguing look he used when filing information away. Something quieter.
"Thank you for the help, Mr. Leo," he said. "You really saved us."
He meant it in a way that didn't fully fit inside the words. Leo had not done anything extraordinary by his own accounting — a conversation with a friend, a direction pointed, an introduction made. The kind of thing that costs a person very little and means everything to the one receiving it.
For the rest of his life, he would remember the name Leo Dunsby. The man who had helped them survive in a world that had given them no reason to expect kindness.
Leo received the thanks with a small nod — the way people do when they are not comfortable being made much of — and left.