[Littorbourg]

Claude walked the cobblestone streets of Littorbourg, his boots tapping softly against the uneven surface. The bustling coastal city stretched out before him, a maze of narrow, winding alleyways and broad thoroughfares crowded with people.

A cool breeze from the sea brought with it the sounds of seagulls and the distant clamour of ships creaking in the harbour. He passed a fruit stall where a lively vendor argued with a sharp-tongued customer over the freshness of his wares. The scent of overripe oranges mingled with the tang of salt air, and the lively chatter made Claude feel strangely out of place.

However, he was not able to appreciate the rustic charm of the coast city. His mind was elsewhere, spinning through his worries and uncertainties.

"Never would I have thought that, me, someone embarking on the road of a mage. Someone who had literally travelled to another realm and fought monsters. That the same me would be penniless..." he muttered under his breath, shaking his head in disbelief.

Yes.

Claude had just hit upon a depressing truth. He had no money. Not only that, but he also had little to no clue how to earn it. After all, Claude hadn't lived in a particularly civilized place these past few years.

Surviving through magic and fighting creatures in distant lands hadn't exactly prepared him for the mundane challenges of city life.

'I won't actually have to sleep on the streets, will I?' He pondered sombrely. The irony wasn't lost on him—he'd recently been locked in a life-or-death struggle with a demon in an ungodly realm, and now he couldn't even muster enough coin for a crust of bread.

As he wandered deeper into the city, Claude's mind churned through possible solutions to his predicament.

Physical labor?

He quickly dismissed the idea. He wouldn't earn much, and it would drain the energy he needed for his real purpose in Littorbourg: investigating Elysium, a possible mage haven.

Fishing?

He had no experience with it and no means to procure the necessary tools. As for relying on luck, Claude had an inkling of a feeling he wasn't particularly lucky.

"I need a job that isn't too physically taxing but would also help me learn more about this world," Claude murmured to himself. "After all, my understanding of this place is still at the level of a village boy..."

As his mind raced, Claude's eyes landed on a tall stone building near the heart of the city. His gaze sharpened, and a glimmer of hope sparked in his chest.

"Why did I forget about that!" Claude berated himself and immediately began moving towards the building.

A building loomed ahead of him, an imposing structure of dark, weathered stone and high-arched windows. The roof was crowned with copper spires, now green with patina from years of exposure to the coastal elements. Above the heavy wooden door hung a carved wooden sign depicting an open book framed by a sunburst.

Claude pushed open the doors and stepped inside. At once, the air changed; the bustling noise of the city fell away, replaced by silence. He was greeted by the sight of countless bookshelves stretching into the distance, filled with volumes of varying sizes and ages.

The room was lit by soft sunlight streaming through the high windows, casting a golden glow over the worn wooden floors and the towering shelves.

A few well-worn reading tables were scattered throughout, their surfaces scratched from years of use. The scent of old parchment and leather bindings filled the air, along with the faint tang of salt that seemed to permeate everything in Littorbourg.

At the centre of the library sat an elderly man behind a desk, peering through a monocle at the pages of a thick book. His white hair was neatly combed, and his spectacles perched precariously on the edge of his nose. The man's face was lined with age, but his eyes remained sharp.

Claude approached the desk and cleared his throat, feeling a twinge of awkwardness as his voice echoed faintly in the vast room.

The elderly man didn't look up.

Claude coughed a bit louder this time.

"What is it you want?" the old man barked, his voice scratchy. "Can't you see I'm reading here? Darn kids these days… no patience."

"Good morning," Claude began, his voice trailing off as he glanced around for the right words. "I was wondering if..."

The old man snapped his book shut with a sigh and looked up at Claude, his eyes narrowing. "Well, come on then, spit it out."

"Right, right," Claude stammered. "I was wondering if you were hiring here. For a... librarian's assistant, perhaps?"

The old man raised an eyebrow, scanning Claude up and down with scepticism.

"You're literate?" he asked.

Claude nodded.

The old man seemed surprised. He tossed the book he had been reading over to Claude with a careless flick of his wrist.

"Show me," he commanded. "Read."

Claude caught the book and hesitated. It was a slim volume with a green cover, the title embossed in gold. With a glance at the old man, he turned to the first page and began to read aloud, his voice steady.

As the words left his lips, the old man's expression shifted from scepticism to surprise.

The man nodded slowly. "Well, well. Seems you weren't lying," he muttered, leaning back in his chair. "Not bad."

"You're lucky to have your literacy," the old man said, his eyes softening. "Books are the only reliable friends in this world. They'll never betray you, lad. Only teach you what you're willing to learn."

He stroked his beard thoughtfully, his eyes regaining their sharpness as he considered Claude. "You can start tomorrow," the old man said with a dismissive wave of his hand.

Claude hesitated. "Would it be possible to start today?"

The old man squinted at him. "Why the rush?"

"Because," Claude said with a half-hearted chuckle, "if I don't start now, I'll probably end up sleeping on the streets."

The old man blinked, clearly taken aback by the statement.

"You have no money?" he asked, the confusion clear in his voice. A literate man without money was a rare sight.

Claude nodded wryly.

The old man rubbed his chin, his eyes narrowing as if scrutinizing a puzzle only he could see. For a brief moment, his expression flickered—not quite pity, but something far more calculated. Then, it softened. 

"Were you affected by those bandit attacks last year?" he leaned forward and asked quietly. "A lot of villages around here were wiped out… barely any survivors."

Claude stared at him for a moment, taken aback by the assumption, but chose not to correct him. The truth was far stranger—and far harder to explain. "Something like that," Claude replied vaguely.

The old man stood and patted Claude on the shoulder. "Well, you're safe here, lad. Littorbourg's got the sea, the salt in the air, seagulls that'll decorate you with bird droppings if you're not careful, and townsfolk who brood like the weather. It's not perfect, but it's a place to start fresh."

'Well I sure hope so...' Claude muttered inwardly, he didn't want to deal with any more dangerous situations.

He just needs to work here for a few months, gain a better understanding of the world and try and get to Elysium.

It shouldn't be too difficult? Or so he hoped.