*Geoffrey*
I cough as dust swirls up from sweeping the front step of the bakery. The smell of bread wafts out through the door, and my stomach grumbles. But I will only get a stale crust of three-day-old bread if I do a good job today.
Yesterday, I did not get any bread.
It wasn’t my fault. A merchant’s daughter scuffed mud on the steps just as I finished cleaning them. The baker came out, saw the mud, beat me, and sent me away.
I’ve promised to do a better job today.
I scrub the broom around the edges of the steps and in the cracks with all my might.
It’s cold in Lycan’s Howl, a town very far to the north in the Rallegrad Kingdom. It’s colder still because it’s winter, and I have only the threadbare shirt and pants I’m wearing now. I have no jacket. I have no shoes. Both of these ar
