Author: Cal Rook, Posted: Mon May 25, 2026 4:31 PM, Post Subject: One Job Away from Decent Boots

Cal listened quietly, working through his food while Garland talked. It was something Cal had learned over the years. When a man bought you a meal and started explaining the shape of an opportunity, it was usually best to let him get to the end of it before deciding whether to run. Especially when the man in question looked like he could catch you before you reached the door.

He took another bite and gave a slow nod at the warning. “Dante and Lotus,” Cal repeated, as if putting the names somewhere careful in his head. “Right. Avoid those.” A pause. “Any names I should run toward, or is this more of a learn-by-surviving sort of place?”

There was humor in it, but not dismissal. Cal had been around enough strange people to know that every town had its rules. Some were written down. Some were shouted at you by guards. Some you learned only after offending the wrong person’s cousin. Sularia sounded like the third kind, which meant he would need to watch his step.

He took a drink of water, then glanced down at his hands when Garland pointed to them. Strong enough hands, he supposed. Scarred in small ways. A few old breaks that complained when the weather changed. Not the hands of a swordsman or a craftsman, exactly. More the hands of a man who had lifted, hauled, dragged, carried, cleaned, fixed, and occasionally punched his way through employment.

“Labor I can do,” Cal said. “That part doesn’t scare me. I’ve been sore before.” He gave the ale a thoughtful look, then added, “Dragon’s Ale might, depending on the name’s accuracy.”

The offer to walk away without bad blood should have made him feel better. It did, in a way. But it also made the choice harder. Cal was used to bad choices. Bad choices were simple. You picked the one least likely to kill you and called it wisdom after the fact. This was different. Free meal. Honest work. A road north. A man who might have been many things, but did not seem to be lying. Cal set his spoon down and leaned back a little, looking at Garland more seriously now.

“I believe you,” he said. The words came out plain, with no flourish around them. “I don’t know if that makes me smart or stupid yet, but I believe you’re telling me the truth as you see it. And since the truth as I see it is that I walked into this city hungry, broke, and looking for work, I’m not in a proud enough position to sneer at a better road when someone points at it.”

He looked toward the tavern door for a moment. Beyond it was Adeluna, busy and loud and full of chances. Some good. Most probably not. Cal could stay here and take whatever job came first. Maybe it would be fine. Maybe he would end up unpaid, robbed, or face down in a gutter because he had guessed wrong about someone’s intentions.

Then again, that could happen anywhere. At least this way, he had a name. A direction. A warning about Dante and Lotus. That was more than he usually got. Cal looked back to Garland.

“So, I’ll go.” He lifted a hand before that sounded too eager. “Not because I think it’ll be easy. I’ve learned to mistrust easy. But if there’s honest work in Sularia, and people there who won’t mind a man starting from the bottom, then I’ll take the chance.”

He picked up his mug, finally allowing himself more than a cautious sip. “And for what it’s worth, Garland Wintercrest, I appreciate the meal. If Sularia works out, I’ll owe you thanks.” A small smile tugged at one corner of his mouth. “If it doesn’t, I’ll still owe you thanks, but I may complain more while giving them.”

Author: Garland Wintercrest, Posted: Mon May 25, 2026 3:31 PM, Post Subject: One Job Away from Decent Boots

The offer sounded too good to be too true and if Garland was in Cal’s shoes, he would have thought there were catches to it too. But the former had a problem with impulse control when it came to certain frills; while many had been quenched over the years, the man still liked to put his foot into his mouth. He let the man savor his meal while he thought amongst himself of how to explain to Toya on bringing another stray home.

A stray bringing in a stray, she or his lover would say.

He could hear Aja’s laughter ringing in his ears now.

“Well, you won’t have to worry about any of those four happening to you; the folks up there are honest, for the most part. Have a couple of troublemakers especially in her extended family, but they keep mostly to themselves. Just be weary of certain districts there and do not get tangled up in anyone named Dante or Lotus. Heaven knows what little depraved game they’d get you into if they ever snatched you up on their web.” Knocking on the bar, he was met moments later with a second bottle sliding down his way. “Great service”, he chuckled as he undid the cork and drank directly from it this time around.

“I suppose I am painting a pretty picture that’s too good to be true. Can’t fault you for think that, Cal”, he spoke up after giving it some thought. “The menfolk that usually stay there aren’t the great protectors that other towns and cities romanticize. Hell, even my kind play second fiddle to the ladyfolk and we are bloody wolves. However, they command the respect they deserve given their awful history. Up there, they are clearly stronger and we support them in any way possible. I think you’d like it up there. No one would be demanding you to be some great hero or genius.”

He pointed at Cal’s hands, of which he was sure were hardy and strong. “Labor would be my guess. Never can have too many hands in that. Hell, they put me to work every one and a while even! Then again, my Toya would see where she’d want you. You wanna impress her? Caught her in a good mood; usually when she’s downing some of that Dragon’s Ale of hers.” He took another swig and leaned back a bit.

“As far as you like, you can reject the offer and there would be no bad blood between us, friend. It’s bad luck for me to revoke the free meal right there. It would be like we’d never met and you’d be free to take your chances here.” Garland sounded gruff but his words were sincere. He wouldn’t see him in a bad light and the wolf would leave him to his own peace should it come to that. It would be a pity to leave such a soul to these streets, especially since Garland already didn’t trust much of them in this city.

“Just know that I am called many things, as well as one that has done many things in my long life, but lying ain’t one of them, kid. My rear is too prideful to do that.”

Author: Cal Rook, Posted: Sat May 23, 2026 4:06 PM, Post Subject: One Job Away from Decent Boots

Cal listened while Garland spoke, and while he did, the food arrived. That made listening easier. It was nothing fancy, but it was hot, and hot food had a way of making even bad ideas sound reasonable if a man was hungry enough. Cal picked up the spoon, gave the bowl a look like he was not sure whether to thank it or apologize to it, then took a careful bite.

For a moment, he said nothing. Then he pointed the spoon at Garland. “That,” he said, “is already the best offer I’ve had all day.”

He took another bite, slower this time, and leaned one elbow against the bar. Garland Wintercrest. The name sounded important, or at least like it belonged to a man who thought it should be important. Cal had met plenty of those. Most were trouble. This one was probably trouble too, but there was a difference between trouble that bought a man dinner and trouble that waited for him in an alley. Cal preferred the first kind.

“Sularia,” he repeated. He had heard the name before, though mostly in the way men heard names when they were not meant for them. A place far off, rich enough to have stories attached to it, dangerous enough that people either spoke of it with respect or with the sort of confidence that came from never having been there. Desert city. Powerful women. Magic. Warriors. Gold, probably. Trouble, definitely.

Cal lowered his spoon. “I’ll be honest with you, Garland. I know the name. I don’t know the place.” He gave a small shrug. “That’s usually when men like me get into trouble. We hear a name, hear there’s work, and by the time we understand what sort of place we’ve walked into, someone’s already charging us for breathing wrong.”

He took a drink of water, then glanced around the tavern again. Not because he expected danger right then. Mostly because he had learned that expecting none was a good way to be surprised. 

“But clean pay has a nice sound to it,” Cal admitted. “So does steady work. And I’ve never been against hard work. Just against hard work that ends with me unpaid, stabbed, cursed, arrested, or some combination of the four.” He paused. “Which, to be fair, narrows the field more than you’d think.”

Cal finally let himself take a small pull from the ale. It was good enough to make him understand why Garland had attacked his own mug with such purpose.

“You said they’d appreciate a man like me.” Cal gave him a sideways look, dry but not unfriendly. “That’s kind of you to say, but I should probably make sure we’re speaking honestly before I follow a generous stranger into the desert.” He sat back a little. “I’m not a soldier. I’ve guarded things, sure, but mostly because someone needed a body standing near a wagon. I’m not a mage. I know enough about magic to step away from glowing circles and not touch bottles that whisper. I’m not a craftsman either, not properly. I can fix small things badly enough that they hold together until someone better comes along.”

Another bite of food. Another thoughtful pause. “What I can do is work. I can carry. I can listen. I can keep my head down when I need to, and I can keep my eyes open when keeping my head down isn’t enough. I can take orders, if they’re sensible. I can ask questions, if they’re not. And I can take a hit well enough to remember who gave it to me.”

Cal looked at Garland more directly now. “So if Sularia has use for that, then I’m interested.” He tapped the spoon lightly against the edge of the bowl. “But before I agree to anything, I’d like to know what sort of work we’re talking about. Labor? Guarding? Delivery? Cleaning stables? Standing outside a door looking meaner than I am?” A faint smile crossed his face. “And if your daughter-in-law is one of the head rulers there, I’d especially like to know whether this is the sort of job where I’m supposed to impress someone. Because I should warn you now, Garland, I am very bad at impressing people on purpose.”

Author: Garland Wintercrest, Posted: Thu May 21, 2026 9:44 AM, Post Subject: One Job Away from Decent Boots

Garland was one that was the furthest thing from being a humble person. Many would simply boil it down to him being arrogant, even though he would admit it sometimes. But that was the sort of person he was- reeking of confidence and would damn well prove it anyway he could. But he was also a generous person if he liked someone and this man, he took to almost immediately. “Hard to find work when you’re starving, friend. I know that very well when I first arrived on this land.” It felt like eons when he thought back to being dropped from the other side and arrived at Canelux. Having nothing to his own name, Garland did whatever work he could find; often it was more dishonorable work than what his new friend likely sought out.

He let Cal order his meal as he took his seat and waited for the ale. “Garland Wintercrest is the name”, he proclaimed with a grin. “Depending on who you ask, those familiar with me would either sing my praises or groan when they think of my name.” He chuckled as the ale arrived and proceeded to down half of his mug. The cool, smooth taste was like heaven to his lips; especially since he hadn’t had a drink like this in quite some time. Sularia was known for its spicier stuff, particularly because of his daughter-in-law drinking it like it was water.

“Aye, what I say is true. It won’t be anywhere here though. It’d be up north in the desert area.” Garland set the drink down and eyed the man. He looked strong enough, first off. And smart enough to not dive headfirst without some sort of hesitation. The wolf didn’t seem to have to worry about him falling prey to any tricks in these parts at least. “Nonsense! Anyone worth their weight is respectable in my eyes”, he shrugged. The hood was lifted off him and down went the rest of the contents of his mug. “Not looking for a hero, son. I just took notice of your decree and know of a place where your talents and skills can be used the most. Heard of Sularia?”

“It’s a place where the ladyfolk make up the majority in that desert oasis. Warriors, mages, healers, a lot of them make up that place and my daughter-in-law is one of the head rulers there. The place is crawling with opportunities for hard work and they’d appreciate a young lad like yourself. And you wouldn’t have to worry about dirty money or nothing like that, Cal.”

Author: Cal Rook, Posted: Sun May 17, 2026 5:57 PM, Post Subject: One Job Away from Decent Boots

Cal felt the hand hit his back and did his best not to stumble forward into the bar.

He managed it, mostly.

It was the sort of pat that said friendly, but could have very easily meant broken ribs if the man had been in a worse mood. Cal turned his head, gave the stranger a quick look, and immediately decided two things. First, this was not a man he wanted to upset. Second, this was definitely not a man he wanted to upset on an empty stomach.

“Hard day’s luck,” Cal repeated, rubbing one shoulder like he was considering the phrase. “That’s generous. Most days I just call it luck and try not to give it credit.”

He watched the man move to the bar and order ale like he had every right to be there. That was a useful talent, Cal thought. Some men entered rooms. Other men arrived in them. This one seemed like the second kind. When the stranger offered food and drink, Cal hesitated.

Not long. Pride was a fine thing for men who had eaten recently.

“I won’t pretend I’m too proud for a meal,” Cal said, stepping over to the bar. “That would be a lie, and I try to save those for emergencies.”

He set his pack down by his feet and took the offered place, careful to keep it close enough that no one with quick hands could get ideas. The tavern was warm, noisy, and full of people who were either pretending not to listen or doing a poor job of hiding that they were. Cal had spent enough time in places like this to know that free food always came with a hook. Sometimes it was a job. Sometimes it was trouble. Usually it was both.

“Whatever’s hot,” he told the barkeep. “And water first. Ale after, if my stomach forgives me.”

He looked back to Garland, studying him openly now, though not rudely. Tall. Strong. Hooded. The sort of man who looked like he had walked through plenty of bad roads and left worse men behind him on them. Cal had known a few like that. Most were best avoided. A rare few were worth listening to. He hoped this was one of the rare few.

“Name’s Cal,” he said. “Cal Rook.”

He picked up the mug when it came, but did not drink from it right away. Old habit. Bad habit, maybe, but old enough to have kept him alive through a few poor decisions.

“You say you know a place with clean pay.” Cal gave a small, dry smile. “I’ll admit, that caught my attention. I’ve had pay. I’ve had clean. I don’t often see them together.”

He took a drink of water, then let out a quiet breath as if even that was better than expected.

“I’m listening, friend. But I should warn you before you make me sound too respectable.” He leaned one elbow against the bar. “I can work. I can carry, guard, haul, find, patch, mend, sweep, follow directions, and occasionally give them if everyone better suited has already left. I’m decent with my hands, better with my feet when running is an option, and I know when to keep my mouth shut.” A pause. “Most of the time.”

Cal glanced toward the tavern door, then back to Garland. “But I’m not a knight, not a mage, and not one of those men who can split a tree in half while shouting about honor. If this place you know needs a hero, I’m afraid I’ll disappoint everyone involved.”

He finally allowed himself a small sip of ale, just enough to taste it. “If it needs a man willing to work, though,” he said, “then I can probably manage that.”

Author: Garland Wintercrest, Posted: Sun May 17, 2026 5:20 PM, Post Subject: One Job Away from Decent Boots

Sometimes it was good to get one’s feet back into the dirt and for Garland, it kept him from getting too comfortable being on his backside. Bouncing between his sons’ homes and pestering the ever living daylights out of them made for some friction- mainly for Blaine. And so with that, the seasoned wolf decided to venture out and promised to return in the coming days.

The trek from Sularia to Adeluna proved uninteresting for him other than the occasional bandits that see nothing but his knuckles colliding with their faces before he shortly left. Keeping his hood up and illuminated with strong twin orbs peeking out, he moved as gracefully as he could through the busy crowds. His dealing with humans haven’t been loved aside from a few brief exceptions- mainly barkeeps until they got tired of him drinking all their ale or the occasional street walker that captivated his attention. Sadly the former was off the table- Garland didn’t fear many things but his most recent mate was one of the few that he didn’t want to anger. Still, his eyes did wander as he passed by a pretty little number, but his hands didn’t nor would they.

Approaching the tavern, Garland was in time to overhear someone’s request for a job. He stood by for a moment, sizing him up. Whoever this man was, he was gutsy and Garland respected the hell of a man who was willing to do what he needed to in this world. The wolf smiled a little and went to pat the man’s back hard. “I like that confidence! And you certainly look like you seen a hard day’s look, son!” Whether the contact met or not, Garland went to the bar and knocked on it. “Barkeep, get me a bottle of ale and two mugs.”

Garland was a tall being with a strong body and brown locks that fell down from his hood, barely missing the top of his shoulders. He looked back at the man and gestured with his fingers to invite him over. “And get him whatever he wants. Food, water, a stronger drink, whatever.”

“Don’t let anyone short-change you, friend. It’s rare to see someone willing to put in the work these days”, he said as he sat down on a stool close by. “Might know of a place where you can find work easy and the pay is at least cleaner than what some nefarious minds here might try to put you through.”

Author: Cal Rook, Posted: Sun May 17, 2026 4:48 PM, Post Subject: One Job Away from Decent Boots

Cal Rook entered the city with sore feet, an empty stomach, and the quiet confidence of a man who had absolutely no plan.

That was not entirely fair. He had part of a plan. The first part was to get inside the city. He had managed that much, which already made the day better than some he had lived through. The second part was to find work. The third part was to use whatever coin came from that work to buy food, clothes that did not look like they had been through a barn fire, and maybe, if fortune was feeling especially generous, a pair of boots that did not hate him personally.

He stopped just inside the street and took a slow look around. The city was busy enough that nobody paid him much attention, which suited him fine. Cal was used to being overlooked. He was a human man around thirty, with a shaved head, a short beard, and the general look of someone who had done a lot of jobs without getting rich from any of them. He had worked docks, carried messages, loaded wagons, swept tavern floors, guarded caravans, repaired things badly, and once spent three days assisting a man who claimed to be an alchemist.

Cal still did not know what the man had actually been making. He only knew it had smelled terrible, stained his hands green, and exploded on the second night. 

“Never again,” Cal muttered to himself.

A passing woman gave him a strange look. Cal gave her a polite nod, as if talking to himself in the street was a normal and respectable thing for a grown man to do. Then he kept walking. He needed work. Honest work would be best, though he was old enough to know that honest work and good pay rarely walked into the same room together. Still, he liked to start with optimism. Optimism was free, and Cal had learned to appreciate anything that did not cost money.

His first instinct was to find a notice board, a market, or some sort of guild hall. His second instinct, which was usually louder and less sensible, was to find a tavern. Taverns had food, drink, gossip, employers, liars, thieves, mercenaries, and people desperate enough to hire strangers. In Cal’s experience, that made them dangerous, useful, or both.

Usually both.

After a little wandering and only one wrong turn that led him into an alley he immediately decided was none of his business, Cal found a tavern with enough noise coming from inside to suggest it was either popular or currently being robbed. He hoped for popular. He had nothing worth stealing, but thieves were rarely polite enough to believe that without checking. He paused outside the door, brushed some dust from the front of his shirt, and tried to make himself look like a man who belonged somewhere.

It did not work.

“Right,” he said under his breath. “Food first. Work second. Trouble never, if possible.”

Then he opened the door and stepped inside. The warmth and noise hit him at once. Voices overlapped. Cups struck tables. Somewhere, someone laughed too loudly at something that probably was not that funny. Cal let his eyes move across the room, taking in the exits, the bar, the tables, and the sorts of people who looked like they might either offer work or start a fight.

He preferred the first kind. He made his way toward the bar and leaned one arm against it, careful not to look too desperate. Desperate men got cheated. Proud men got ignored. Cal tried to land somewhere in the middle.

“If there’s work to be had,” he said to whoever was listening, “I’m looking. I can carry things, guard things, find things, fix some things, and talk my way out of trouble more often than not.” He paused, then added, “And when that fails, I can usually take a punch well enough.” Cal gave a small shrug. “Not much of a boast, I know. But it’s honest.”

He glanced around the tavern again, hoping someone nearby needed a man with no special talents, no grand destiny, and no better options. There had to be work somewhere in this city. And if there wasn’t, well. Cal had been hungry before.