Years Down the Road

51 5 0
                                    

Grillby moved from village to village, doing odd jobs to keep G in his pockets for food and shelter. Sometimes he changed his uniform if his last one was a mess. Most places he worked were pubs and taverns seeing as he had the most experience there, but he wasn't picky as long as it got him out of the rain when the time called for it. Grillby missed Rocksha and the locals of Rock Bottom. When he was older, he wanted to start his own little tavern. She was his inspiration, the mother he could never have. Grillby went to the bed of the room he was temporarily staying in. He dumped his G on the bed and started counting it. He had enough G to move locations. He always wanted to take the train to the western villages, he heard the markets there were quite exquisite. He looked out his window, checking the weather patterns. He could see rain coming in from the south, but he could make it to the train before it came down if he left now. Grillby grabbed his G and made a mad dash for the train station. He was going west!

⚜️⚜️⚜️

The thirteen year old watched the rain patter on the window. The water wasn't as scary if it couldn't get to him. It was nauseating to watch the world go by so fast though, Grillby definitely preferred slower modes of transportation. Still, he was happy to at least try this new experience even if it would be the last time. "Child would you like a snack?" Grillby looked at the human and nodded, pointing to what he desired. The human happily gave him him his desired treat. "Where are your parents?" Grillby shrugged uncaringly. "Orphan, huh? Poor boy, no wonder your going west. I hope it has the opportunities your looking for boy." Grillby nodded his fairwell to the chatty human, frowning a bit. He dared not talk to strangers. That mindset would stick with him his entire life, with the exception of waiting tables and one single monster he would meet some years from now. That is later though. For now, it was raining here though he wished it was raining somewhere else.

⚜️⚜️⚜️

The west did present a lot more opportunities for him. The taverns, the pubs, the markets, the people, they were all so exotic to him. New. The west was a place for innovation. Grillby found that he quite liked the west, though the west wasn't as close nit as in the east. Minus his parents of course. The humans and monsters in the west were much more hostile. That's how Grillby learned to defend himself actually. It had started when some jerk took his G that he'd been working on. The pub he was currently working in was always rowdy, but now he was the target as he tried to put his days pay in his G pouch. Some had to learn the hard way. "Thanks for the cash brat." Grillby usually didn't pick fights, but he wasn't going to let someone steal his only means of survival. "Give it back." He requested. "Make me." The perpetrator responded. Grillby narrowed his eyes. He wasn't strong and the perpetrator was bigger than him. So Grillby ran at him, feigning a frontal assault, which was what the perpetrator was expecting. He swung fist, but Grillby had ducked down and barreled into his legs, taking him out. Grillby grabbed his G pouch and ran for it after that was done.

⚜️⚜️⚜️

Grillby turned fourteen. He'd lasted his first official year in the west. He started making a habit of following the summer market 'train'. The summer market trains were wagons goods who traveled to some of the best villages in the west. They always paid Grillby good if he helped out so that was definitely a benefit to following the summer market. Another was the free shelter he received during the  cold winters, not that he really felt the cold, but snow was frozen water and with how he was with water... it was best he was stuck inside for the winter and spring. A good thing about the west- they didn't ask questions, they (usually) didn't force him into things. Grillby could keep his fears to himself without anyone asking him why he cared so much about walking in puddles or taking care of spills. Since he was made of fire, that helped his case.

What it Means to Persevere Where stories live. Discover now