The Back Alleys of Ayer
Ayer looked different when you stopped walking like a lord's son.
Beyond the wide streets and stone façades, past the banners and watch posts, the city folded inward. The buildings leaned closer together, their upper floors nearly touching, turning daylight into thin ribbons that barely reached the ground.
This was where the back alleys began.
The air changed first.
It carried the smell of damp stone, old oil, and something sour that clung to the back of my throat. Water trickled along shallow grooves carved into the ground, cloudy and slow, pooling in places where the stone had sunk with time. People stepped around it without thinking, their boots already accustomed to what couldn't be avoided.
I noticed how often people coughed here.
Not violently. Not loudly. Just enough to remind you their lungs were never truly clear.
Shops still existed, but they were smaller, quieter. A baker working with yesterday's bread. A metalworker hammering dented scraps back into shape. A woman selling boiled roots from a cart whose steam smelled more medicinal than edible.
No one bowed.
No one stared.
Here, I wasn't Lord Ayer's son. I was just another boy walking beside friends who didn't quite belong either.
Valkyrie wrinkled her nose. "Smells worse every time."
"That's because you notice it more now," Nibbo replied flatly.
He was right.
The alleys weren't chaotic. They were compressed. Too many people, too little space, and no room for air to move properly. Windows stayed shut even during the day, not for warmth, but to keep out the noise, the smells, and the sight of neighbors living too close for comfort.
Magic lanterns hung on iron hooks, their light dimmer than those in the main streets. Someone had repaired one with wire and prayer rather than replacement parts.
Healing magic worked here too. I knew that.
But it worked like rain on cracked soiltemporary relief, no lasting change.
A man sat on a crate near a wall, pale and sweating, his breathing shallow. A healer had clearly passed by recently; the man's skin bore the faint shimmer of restored mana. Yet his hands trembled as if the strength had already begun slipping away.
I looked away.
Not because I didn't care.
But because this place wasn't asking for sympathy. It was asking for solutions.
"This is where he lives," Jucelis said quietly, stopping near a narrow passage barely wide enough for two people to walk side by side. "The scholar."
I stared into the shadowed corridor.
Somewhere deeper within, metal clinked softly. Paper rustled. A voice muttered to itselfcomplaining, calculating, alive.
Whoever Eldren Vaelor was, he didn't belong in the polished halls of Ayer.
But the city's problems didn't either.
And maybe that was why we were here.
The passage narrowed until the city felt like it had swallowed us whole.
The walls here weren't built to last. They were layeredold stone beneath patched brick, wood braced against rot, metal plates hammered where something had collapsed years ago and no one bothered fixing it properly. A door at the end of the alley stood half open, its hinges squealing every time the wind nudged it.
That was where the muttering came from.
We stepped inside.
The room was cluttered to the point of defiance. Papers stacked in uneven towers, gears and tools scattered across every flat surface, ledgers wedged beneath tables to stop them from wobbling. A single window let in just enough light to illuminate dust dancing in the air.
At the center of it all sat a man hunched over a workbench, counting coins.
He froze the moment he realized he wasn't alone.
Slowly, he turned.
Sharp eyes. Narrow face. Fingers that moved like they were always measuring something invisible.
I understood him immediately.
This was not a scholar abandoned by knowledge.
This was a man abandoned by trust.
"…customers don't usually knock," he said dryly. "And children don't usually have business here."
I looked him over, then decided honesty would work better than politeness.
"Eldren Vaelor," I said. "Combat ability: none. Magic ability: none. Threat level…"
"To wallets only," Supremo finished with a grin.
Eldren's eye twitched.
"I don't know who taught you little monsters my reputation," he muttered, "but I don't take kindly to…"
"We're not here to mock you," Jucelis cut in, calm as ever. "We're here to hire you."
That earned a laugh.
A real one. Short. Sharp.
"Hire me?" Eldren leaned back in his chair, finally standing. "With what? Allowance coins and promises?"
I stepped forward and placed the pouch on the table.
The sound it made was… persuasive.
His eyes locked onto it instantly.
I didn't open it. I didn't need to.
"We have a problem spreading through the outer districts," I said. "Coughing. Fever. Weakness that lingers even after healing magic."
His expression changednot fear, not concern, but interest.
"That's not my field," he said quickly. Too quickly. "I deal in systems. Logistics. Design. Not…"
"...medicine," I finished. "We know."
Relief flashed across his face.
"Good. Then we're done here."
He reached for the pouch.
I pulled it back.
"But you understand structures," I continued. "Airflow. Density. Waste. Resource movement. You understand how people live piled on top of each other."
His fingers hovered, hesitating.
"And you know," I added quietly, "that healing magic doesn't rebuild strength. It only repairs damage."
Silence.
Nibbo clicked his tongue. "He knows."
Eldren straightened. "Even if I did," he said carefully, "why would I involve myself? Do you have any idea how fast accusations fly when people get desperate? Especially when money's involved?"
He turned away from us, already dismissing the idea.
"I don't need this trouble."
That was when Supremo moved.
He didn't strike. He didn't even threaten. He just kicked the leg of the workbench hard enough to topple one of the paper towers.
Pages scattered everywhere.
Eldren spun around. "Hey!!!"
Valkyrie stepped in front of him, eyes sharp. "You're already in trouble."
John closed the door.
No slam. Just a click.
The room suddenly felt smaller.
Jucelis spoke again, voice even. "Let's be clear. No one here wants to hurt you. But if you walk away, the sickness doesn't, we have a solution, but not the credibilityofpeople, we're just kids after all, but you."
"I AM A CASTAWAY, FRAMED BY MY OWN GREED, WHO'S GONNA BELIEVE ME?"
"It's exactly because of your love for the money that you're the perfect candidate, no one is gonna believe that a bunch of kids have the solution for this problem, but you? The guy that does everything for the sake of profit? This would be your change to make a name for yourself for the sake of gaining a profit out of it"
"And if you try anything clever," Nibbo added, folding his arms, "no one will ever believe you."
Eldren swallowed.
Supremo leaned closer, grin gone. "Think about it. You stroll into the castle claiming a group of children paid you to fix a citywide problem?"
I met his gaze directly.
"We'll say you tried to deceive us," I said. "Extort money. Used fear. Lied."
His breath hitched.
"And we'll be believed," I continued calmly. "You won't."
That was the first time he looked scared.
Not of us.
Of the world we were reminding him of.
"You little…" His voice cracked, then steadied. "You don't even know what you're asking."
"I know exactly what I'm asking," I said.
I pushed the pouch forward again.
"Design a solution. Not a spell. Not a cure. A system. Something the city can build, maintain, and understand."
I know exactly what I'm asking," I said.
I pushed the pouch forward again.
"Not a spell. And not some miracle cure that disappears the moment a mage leaves the district," I continued. "I want a plan that stops it from spreading."
Eldren frowned.
I pressed on before he could interrupt.
"Isolation for the sick. Clean water routes that don't mix with waste. Airflow in crowded homes. Temporary shelters outside the dense districts so the infected aren't breathing on the healthy. Food distribution that doesn't force people to gather in lines."
His fingers stopped moving.
"None of that requires magic," I said. "Just organization.
"Rules people can follow. Structures that remain even after the panic fades."
I met his eyes.
"I've seen outbreaks end not because the illness was defeated, but because people stopped feeding it."
Silence stretched.
Finally, Eldren slumped back into his chair.
"…I hate children," he muttered.
"But you love money," Valkyrie said sweetly.
"How do you even know all of that?" Eldren asked.
"I just do." I replied
He looked at the pouch. Then at us. Then back at the pouch.
"…Fine."
The word came out like surrender.
"I'll do it," he said. "But if this goes wrong…"
"It won't," Jucelis replied.
Eldren snorted. "That's what everyone says."
He pulled the pouch toward himself and tucked it away with practiced speed.
Then, slowly, he smiled.
"Now," he said, eyes gleaming, "about that clever one of yours."
He looked straight at Jucelis.
"I might have another offer."
"Do you wanna…?"
"Noup, I'm good geezer."
"You little…you didn't even hear what I have to say"
"I know you want me as your disciple, I'm good"
Eldren started muttering as he realized that it wasn't possible to convince Jucelis.
We just laughed it off
The sickness hadn't been cured yet.
The city hadn't been saved.
But for the first time since the rumors began, I felt something shift.
Not hope.
Momentum.
And sometimes, that was enough to change the direction of things.