Night falls over the capital as I trudge on. I pass several lanterns and street-side fire pits as they're lit—sometimes with a flame and sometimes with an incantation. Both magical and non-magical lanterns turn the busy streets into competing puddles of light and dark, but both are equally alive with passersby.
Everyone seems to be with others; groups of friends are laughing at their inside jokes and couples are bundled arm-in-arm. The capital is always bustling day and night with locals, traders, and adventurers passing through. No matter the season or time of day, Lastonia is a messy, wonderful, thriving place.
Since moving here from the countryside three months ago, I thought I was finally figuring things out—albeit slowly. Tonight has been a cold and cruel wake-up call.
I sigh, pressing my cloak-turned-satchel closer against my neck. The temperature is dropping quickly and my soggy and chilled feet are starting to protest.
I need somewhere to go.
Going back to Elsie was impossible, and it's not like I could crash at work; the bakery that had hired me had closed just a few weeks after I started. I had spent days at the nearby tavern, haunting the job board to find something new, but most of the work posted was meant for adventurers. I didn't have flashy sword techniques nor sparkly magic, but it wasn't all a waste. That's where I met Elsie. A few nights of shared drinks and we had fallen in love—or so I had thought.
So much for that. I clench my teeth together, digging my boots into the trampled snow as I hike up a hill. Above the road on both sides, lights twinkle from the windows of homes and apartments. I can't help but feel like they're mocking me—the one person in Lastonia who can't figure it out: unable to find a job, loveless, and bad in bed, apparently.
No matter how hard I've tried to fit in, I just can't find my place or my people. And it's never felt more so like that than tonight.
Tears sting in the corners of my eyes again. I blink rapidly, trying to get them to stop. I'd do anything to stop feeling like this right now.
No more love, no more sex, and no more women—I'm done. If they make me feel like this, I don't need them.
Clinging onto that bitter determination and all of my belongings, I crest the hill. The road splits ahead. I glance back and forth and few times before veering left.
"There must be an inn around here somewhere," I mumble, scanning the rows of houses for any that could be a business.
Buried in one of the deep pockets of my cloak is my wallet—I'm lucky Elsie didn't stop to check in her fury. It's not much, but the remains of my life savings brought from the countryside would be enough for one month of expenses. Two, if I eked it out and lived roughly.
If only there was an inn to spend it at. In my misery, it looks like I've wandered deep into an unfamiliar residential area. The inns and taverns are clustered around the central roads toward the heart of town or by the marketplace to the west.
Just my luck, I think with a growing sense of hopelessness. Am I going to die out here in the cold?
I tuck my chin down, wondering why I'm still fighting back the tears. Everything hurts and I forget what it's like to be warm.
I'm so lost in my misery that I nearly bump into someone.
"Oh, sorry," I force out as I step out of their way.
The person—a shriveled old orc woman missing one of her tusks—has stopped in front of me. She blinks at me from beneath her patchwork hood. There's a thick wooden bowl in her bandaged hands. Steam and a wonderful smell rise from the bowl.
My gut twists painfully. I haven't eaten since this morning.
"Excuse me," I apologize again, tearing my gaze from her bowl and stepping back. Look at me, I've become so wretched that I'm jealous of people living on the streets. Although I guess I'm in a similar situation now.
I duck my head and step around her—determined to walk until I find an inn or fall over and die, I guess—when a firm hand clasps my shivering arm.
I glance back at the orc woman in surprise. For such a small and elderly woman, she sure has a grip; or maybe I've just gotten weak.
She pulls back her hand and jerks her head toward the thin alleyway I assume she came out of.
"Oh, uh," I say, "no thank you."
She lifts her bowl and gives it a small shake, then pulls it back toward herself. A waft of delicious steam tickles my nose. I'm sure my mouth is watering.
The alleyway looks kind of creepy, but desperation is pretty convincing.
Why not? Maybe a quick death will be the first mercy I get today.
I thank the orc lady and, with a deep breath, head down the tight path.