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Like most days, Baldur’s Gate and its winds felt cold.
Bitterly so.
This was especially the case for Enver Flymm, whose threadbare clothes moreso covered him rather than warmed him as he carried out deliveries on his parents’ behalf.
A rickety handcart creaked and groaned behind the child as he pulled it along the cobblestones of the Lower City.
He had been making decent progress, with the majority of the deliveries having been made by the afternoon. The thought of completing his deliveries early did make a small smile twitch at the corner of the child’s mouth. Perhaps he would have time to watch the mechanisms of the portcullis on the gates which blocked the Lower from the Upper City churn and perfectly slot together once more before going home. Or perhaps he could sneak into the Hall of Wonders again.
That was very fun last time.
Enver had been so caught up in the possible plans swimming around in his mind that he did not see the hazards rapidly developing before him.
Two black cats rushed out from behind a stack of crates, barely just missing Enver’s ankles as they dashed out of one alleyway and into another. The child barely had any time to react at all, and tripped over his own feet as a result. His body twisted in his attempt to catch himself, accidentally bumping the wooden cart up the shallow curb of the pavement.
The rickety handcart groaned and shifted under the sudden change in terrain. One of the wheels bumped off its axle, spinning in place until it finally lost its momentum and rattled to a stop as it laid on the pavement a few metres away.
Enver quietly cursed to himself, brushing off his grazed knees and palms as he got back on his feet and walked over to the escaped wheel. It was heavy for a child, and so he had no choice but to simply drag it back toward the cart with no passers-by attempting to even offer any help.
He balanced the wheel upright precariously, his hands hovering for a few moments to ensure it would not roll away before turning toward the now slanted handcart. Enver barely just lifted the cart with all of his strength, his knees already threatening to buckle under the weight. But now, he had to somehow get the wheel back on.
Enver took a deep breath to ready himself, attempting to take the weight of the handcart on his frail shoulder as his arms stretched out to try and reach for the wheel in time. But alas, his malnourished body was not strong enough for such a task. His knees gave way and he fell backside-first down onto the cobblestones, his head just narrowly missing the edge of the cart.
He had no choice but to get this fixed.
He couldn’t go home without making these deliveries first.
He simply just had to try again.
Enver climbed to his feet, brushing himself off once more. He looked around, trying to spot perhaps something he could temporarily take just to prop the handcart up on.
As the child started to walk toward what looked like a stack of abandoned crates, he heard the handcart creak and groan behind him. Upon turning toward the noise, a tiefling child was staring straight at him while holding the cart up level.
Was he helping him?
Enver was unsure what to do for a few moments, simply just staring back at the silent tiefling. Why was he helping? He visibly didn’t have anything to pay him back with for this aid.
The tiefling was still standing there though, holding the cart up for this stranger.
Enver moved into action. He took hold of the wheel with small fingers that had turned pink by the cold sea air, rolling it toward the cart until he could put his weight behind it and push it back onto the axle.
He gave it a few experimental shakes, ensuring it was secure enough before he gave a small nod to the stranger to let go.
The tiefling child wordlessly did so, his hands falling back down by his sides as he stepped up onto the pavement. He was still staring at Enver.
The human child was slightly perturbed by this stranger, but he did at least take the moment to properly look at who had just helped him.
He looked like a weird kid.
Far too tall for his age; his limbs were at an awkwardly long length that he was yet to grow into. His clothes were just as basic as every other Lower City kid’s was - varying shades of grey and brown - but they were certainly in far better condition than Enver’s own. Perhaps he was lucky enough to have a mother that patched his clothes up for him. His dark hair was short; a buzz cut that was several weeks into being grown out.
However, it was the tiefling’s eyes that really struck Enver.
Dark scleras with a ring of pale orange flames filling the iris.
Of course, he had seen many other tiefling children around the Lower City, but this one was weird. Other kids blinked and moved their bodies normally. This one stood with an odd tension to his spine, a constant twitch to some part of his body, and an intense gaze.
“Uh, thank you.” Enver stepped off of the pavement and wrapped his cold fingers around the handles of the rickety handcart, lifting it up to be level with his hips.
“You take this route every Twosday.” The tiefling child stated, unblinking. “And every Tenday, you go by the Basilisk gate.”
The human child’s brows furrowed; bewildered.
Who was this kid?
How did he know his routine?
“It’s none of your business where I go.” Enver tried to sound cold and aggressive. Maybe that would make him leave before this became any weirder.
“You always look at Baldur’s Gate when the guards open the portcullis for the merchants, but you never go through to the Wide. Why not?”
Enver frowned at the other child. He was starting to get freaked out by him. Was he being watched?
“Just because you helped me with the cart doesn’t make us friends. Stop asking me questions.”
Why wasn’t he leaving, even after Enver purposely made his responses so rude?
The tiefling dug his hand into his trouser pocket, a faint crinkling noise being produced for a few moments before he pulled out a small paper bag with white and faded red stripes decorating it. These were the bags the Harbreeze Bakery used. Still unblinking, he wordlessly held the bag out toward the human child.
Enver eyed the stranger suspiciously as he lowered the cart back down onto the cobblestones before slowly reaching out and taking the bag. Upon peering inside the colourful paper, he saw two cinnamon cookies. The dessert formed to the light pressure of his fingertips within the bag ever so slightly. Still soft, still fresh.
Enver had never had these before. He had overheard other children getting them as treats for behaving well or simply by being loved, but he had never been in either of those camps.
On rare occasions, he had watched his parents through the gaps of the bannister at home as they treated themselves whenever they had a little extra money left over at the end of the month to some cheap wine and a sugarbread loaf from Harbreeze.
He never got a look in at such treats though.
They would rot his teeth, and it would become yet another hassle Enver would be piling on top of his already tired parents, as his mother had firmly told him the one time his small hand had naively reached out to try some dessert.
It was always take take take with him.
Such an entitled, rotten child.
That night, he had gone to bed hungry. His hand was bright red from the beating it had received via his father’s shoe rasp. Enver had cradled his hand, tucking it in close to his chest as he curled up on the cold and bare sofa to hide away in an attempt to get some semblance of rest.
Enver forced himself to push down such a memory. He hadn’t tried to take anything since then, and he now wouldn’t have to with this impromptu gift. He may finally be able to have a treat all to himself without being punished for it.
“I don’t like sweets. And you always look hungry.” The tiefling child stated, his arms straight down at his sides once more.
“Who doesn’t like sweets?” The words left Enver’s mouth before he could stop himself.
“Me.” The tiefling stated bluntly, a slightly confused look starting to appear on his face. Had he not heard him?
Enver opened his mouth to retort back to what he deemed as rudeness. However, he was thrown off guard and thus interrupted by the rush of somebody taller than him just narrowly missing running into him.
A teenage girl, no more than fifteen, had run up to the tiefling. She laid her hands gently on his shoulders, being careful not to spook him. “There you are, Kai. I’ve told you before not to sneak away! It takes ages to find you, and Mama will complain if we don't make it home for dinner again.”
With the way she spoke, Enver presumed they were siblings. However, the two of them looked nothing alike. Firstly, the teenager was clearly a human. Her eyes were a light brown and looked kind, despite how annoyed she seemed to currently be at what must be her younger brother. Her hair was a brown-red bob with the fringe cut far too short and choppy to have been done professionally. She was barely just taller than the lanky tiefling despite their clear age difference.
“Where are the cookies I got you?” She tutted. Her hands patted his pockets, but the crinkling noise she expected never came. “There’s no way you’ve eaten them both already.”
He simply pointed toward Enver, who had been silently watching this older sister fuss over her younger brother with an envious expression. Nobody had ever fussed over him.
For the first time, the teenager acknowledged the human child’s presence. She stared at the paper bag in his hands for a few moments before a polite smile appeared on her face. “Oh, you’ve made a friend, Kai. That’s great news.”
“He said we weren’t friends.” The tiefling didn’t sound hurt, though. He was simply stating a fact.
“Oh.” She looked a little unsure about how to progress forward. “Well, it’s nice you still shared your food. What’s your not-friend’s name?”
“Enver.”
The human child’s face paled and his body tensed. He had not told him that yet. He really had been watching him.
“Well, it’s nice to meet you, Enver. I’m Irina.” She gave another smile and held her hand out toward him.
Enver wasn’t sure how to get out of this social interaction. It felt like he had no choice but to force himself through it. He tucked the small paper bag into his pocket, ensuring the cookies would not break into pieces before holding his own hand out to awkwardly shake the girl’s hand.
Irina definitely noticed the scabs on the back of Enver’s hand. She definitely noticed how skeletal his arm looked. She definitely noticed the pallid tone of his skin. And yet, she simply continued to smile as if she hadn’t.
“You are always welcome to come join us for dinner, Enver. Mama would love to meet Kai’s friends, or not-friends.” She leaned down, to the child’s eye level as her voice dropped to a whisper, “She makes a great fish pie.” Irina then brought her finger to her lips as if she had just told a secret that was sworn between the two of them.
It was a gesture that Enver could appreciate, but it still confused him.
Why were they being so nice?
Did they want something in return?
“I have to be home by six.” Enver knew he wouldn’t be able to go with them, even if it would mean a full belly and perhaps at least an hour or so of warmth. His parents would never allow it, and they would find out if he tried to sneak around them. They always did.
A frown made its way onto her face for the briefest of moments before she forced a smile to return. “That’s okay. We live above the apothecary near Jopalin’s if you do ever want to join us. Right, Kai?” She looked toward her brother who had been intensely staring at Enver the entire time.
“Yes.” The tiefling gave a single nod.
Enver looked back toward the other child. It was still offputting how little he moved.
“Can I leave now? I need to get my deliveries completed.” If it had just been this ‘Kai’ in front of him, then Enver certainly would have just walked away without attempting any type of politeness. However, a part of him felt compelled to be at least some type of civil while somebody who was older than him was talking.
“Hm? Oh, of course.” Irina looked up at the clock tower which stood high above all of the residential buildings surrounding it. Her kind smile dropped and was swiftly replaced with panic, “Oh, shit! We have to get home as well! Come on.” She grabbed her brother by his shoulders, turning him around and starting to usher him down the street, “See you later, Enver! Enjoy the sweets!”
The tiefling child put up no protest in being guided away. However, he continued to stare over his shoulder. Flaming orange eyes were still trained on Enver until it was no longer possible.
What a weirdo.
Enver scrunched his nose up and lightly shook his head. It was one thing to know Baldur’s Gate was full of all sorts of characters, but it was another to actually interact with them. Despite their respective acts and words of kindness, he highly doubted that he would actually come across either of them ever again. He knew he wouldn’t be able to take them up on their offer for dinner without receiving punishment for it somewhere down the line, and so it was probably best for him to forget about them now.
The scrawny child placed a gentle hand over his pocket, double checking the cookies were still safe and whole before lifting the handcart up to resume on his own way. He forced the wooden wheels over the cobblestones with each pull that his minimal strength could only just muster.
There were only a few stops remaining for Enver, but the afternoon was now swiftly shifting into evening, where the air grew bitter and the streets became perilous – especially for one as weak as a child.
And as he had expected, the adults who opened their doors to accept their parcels barely gave Enver a glance beyond taking a box from his pink hands before promptly closing the doors to their warm homes once more.
Part of him wished Irina and her parents had made a delivery. He would have an excuse to go near people who might give him more than a distrustful grumble then. Maybe that weird kid would watch him enough to figure that idea out for himself.
But for now, the child had rendered the handcart empty once more, and completed his tasks for the day. A shiver racked through his body as he lifted the handles of the cart up to be level with his hips for the last time today.
The thought of the treats he had in his pocket acted as sufficient motivation for the child to force himself through the Lower City streets and back toward the rickety doors of Flymm’s Cobblers.
Enver made sure to be silent when he returned home.
Both hands were used to open the door quietly and slowly so that he would not disturb his parents or any potential customers. As usual, nobody but the family did occupy the shop floor. Enver kept his eyes downcast, intensely studying the grain of the wooden floorboards as he made his way toward the stairs. One hand remained pressed over his pocket as subtly as he could, just to ensure the paper bag would not crinkle and start to raise questions from his parents.
He did not want to hand his treat over.
It was a symbol of kindness from another, and he would do his utmost to ensure they would not be able to take such a speck of hope from him.
He made his way over to the small corner of their kitchen, stretching up on his toes to peer into the pot that was gently bubbling away on the stove. Fiddlehead soup, barely just enough for two. There was no way they would be feeding him tonight.
Enver could hear his mother making her way back up the stairs, and he knew exactly what would happen if he was found snooping around the food.
Greedy, entitled boy!
Nothing is never enough, is it?
He scurried out of the kitchen area, crouching down and crawling under one of the worktables to remain out of the way. His mother would still be able to see his feet to know he was home before curfew but just tucking himself out of the way quietly like he was expected to.
From this spot, Enver would watch his mother’s legs walk into the kitchen. He would listen to her call for her husband, and then watch his father’s legs pass by the table as well. He would hear the scrape of chairs against the floor as they would both sit down to eat, and then the consequential sound of cheap tin spoons against cheap tin bowls.
His own stomach grumbled despite how tightly he wrapped his arms around his torso in an attempt to limit any noise coming from his person. The ache of the day was also starting to catch up to the child’s frail limbs. They had never been strong enough for the handcart.
Yet despite his ailments, Enver was smart enough to lay low. Only two days prior had he been brutally reprimanded for taking their one and only timepiece apart, despite the fact that he had put it back together perfectly. He had only wanted to see how it worked; how it kept so consistent, and which part was causing the calming tick, tick, tick.
He doubted that they would have forgiven him for that just yet. To cross paths with them prematurely would only warrant further beatings, and bringing in sweets that were from somebody outside of the home would certainly be grounds for such a punishment as well.
And so Enver remained crouched down under the worktable, silent and waiting.
He waited as he heard the scrape of chairs once more, and footsteps which followed after.
He waited as he heard them go downstairs to shut the shutters and windows, and to lock the front door.
He waited until he heard the dull thud of the shop key being dropped into a nightstand, and then the groan of the worn-down bed frame as they climbed on.
And then, he waited just a little bit more.
Enver made sure to give them time to fall asleep before he crawled out from his hiding spot. He remained slow and careful, knowing exactly which floorboards to avoid as he made his way back downstairs to the shop floor silently.
Despite everything being pitch dark, he knew exactly where he was going. He mentally counted the amount of steps he took to reach the tatty rug in the middle of the room, and then an equal amount to reach the counter.
Cold and bare hands reached out, sliding along the edge of the counter until they felt the wooden pillar which signalled the end. He followed it around to the other side, continuing his light steps until his hands felt another corner.
He was now under the stairs and safe.
Enver knelt down on the hard floor, keeping his torso straight and even leaning back slightly so that the paper bag in his pocket would make as little noise as possible when pulled out.
It was pinched with his first finger and thumb, gently guiding the striped paper free and into the open air of the shop.
Only then did the child allow himself to hunch all the way down, sitting on his bum and crossing his legs as comfortably as he could on such a harsh floor. The smell of cinnamon rose from the bag and Enver’s stomach rumbled once more.
He was so hungry.
Despite how fast he wanted to move, he forced himself to remain slow and gentle. A small hand reached into the paper bag, instantly freezing up as it crinkled. Once he was sure such a small sound had not stirred his parents from their sleep, he continued. Dirty fingers grasped one of the cookies, slowly sliding it free from its paper prison.
An unstoppable smile spread across the child’s face. He held the cookie up before himself in the pitch blackness. He still remembered how they looked when the tiefling child handed them over in broad daylight.
Perfectly circular, soft, golden brown with a richer brown marbling throughout.
Both hands brought the cookie up to his mouth, allowing the paper bag to fall down into his lap. His teeth eagerly bit through the soft and chewy dessert, and then again, and again. Before he realised it, Enver had completely devoured the cookie in his blind hunger.
A wave of both disappointment and guilt washed over the child. Such a special treat, and he had ultimately wasted it. He could feel granules of sugar sticking to the pads of his fingers, which he then slowly licked off in a way to force himself to taste at least some part of the cookie properly.
It was intensely sweet, and it made a part of him happy.
Enver really did like sweets.
With hands that once again became slow and gentle, he picked the paper bag back up to take out the second and also final cookie.
He must savour this one.
Ignoring how his stomach still continued to grumble, Enver forced himself to bite into the cookie slowly. The perfectly baked dough easily gave way to his milk teeth. Caramelised sugar and warming cinnamon coated his palate, and his body wiggled happily at such a taste.
Enver hadn’t had many desserts at all during his short life, but this one was most certainly his favourite now.
As he took his second bite, his thoughts wandered to that odd tiefling child again. The unnerving disposition that he displayed, and those unblinking flaming eyes which had seared themselves into Enver’s mind. He still didn’t know why he had been nice to him.
People in the Lower City weren’t nice.
Well, except for Irina and ‘Kai’, if that was even his proper name.
Enver took his final bite of the cinnamon cookie, his hands busying themselves with neatly folding the now empty paper bag into a tidy square as his mouth chewed slowly. He reluctantly swallowed the last of the dessert, now left entirely alone on the shop floor once more.
He licked his fingers clean before wiping his hands dry on the thighs of his grubby trousers. The striped paper square was slid back into his pocket. Enver considered keeping it; a keepsake to remember the kindness that could persist through such a selfish and cold place.
If only more people were like them.
He half-hoped he would be able to see them again soon, albeit unlikely. Enver did have the passing thought of perhaps sneaking out to find them himself. He knew which drawer of the nightstand the shop key was kept in on his father’s side of the bed, and he knew roughly where the apothecary which Irina mentioned would be.
But if he were to leave, would he ever be let back in? And what if he did reach Irina and Kai’s home, and was ultimately rejected by their mother? Then he would have nowhere.
Enver didn’t want to have nowhere.
Nowhere sounded scary.
The child climbed back to his feet, gently patting his paper-filled pocket before gradually feeling his way back up the stairs as quietly as he could. He curled up in front of the oven to glean any residual heat from it, his back pressed against the wall while his knees were hugged tightly against his chest.
Enver would do his best to sleep, knowing he would be out in the cold early tomorrow morning to make another lot of deliveries throughout the Lower City once more.
Perhaps he will find a way to get to the Wide after completing his tasks. Maybe he will stumble across those two generous siblings there.
The child barely just fell asleep in the cold corner of the room with a small glimmer of hope in his heart that he would receive another small dose of kindness come daylight.
And another cookie wouldn’t be too bad, either.