Vilpamolan was busy, despite the freezing weather. People were up and awake, walking along the main road, carrying carts and baskets and bags. Everyone was engaged in the business of a new morning before the daylight had even completely risen. The city was lit mostly with lamps, both indoors and lining the street.

Sophia and Lise drew long looks from passersby. Sophia couldn't blame them. In a place like this, anyone and everyone will look on outsiders with distrust. It would be hard to look more foreign than they did, an archer and a wannabe witch, one dressed like a sorceress and the other with a weapon at her back. Sophia kicked at the packed dirt that made up the city's roads with scuffed boots, kicking up small clouds of dust and dirt. The morning sun that shown down at a slant hurt Sophia's eyes. She pulled her cap low over her eyes, wiping at her blurry vision. Sophia looked around at her surroundings, then sighed poutily.

No, the city still looked like a cesspool. No amount of clearing her vision would change that.

Her hands and pockets were empty, devoid of her tools and precious books. Sophia hadn't forgotten anything. She hadn't left any of her belongings behind, although she didn't bring anything either. On their way to the city, the Desher twins lost nearly everything they had been gathering and saving in their years of travel on the road. Highwaymen had crossed them in the Virens Forest, on their way to Vilpamolan. They were robbed blind, and everything they held dear (and everything that held any value on the black market) was stripped of them.

"If only I had my spellbook."

With her arms folded across her chest, Sophia said that. She said that without faltering, and her words didn't have hesitation, but they didn't have eagerness or enthusiasm either. They were very businesslike. Ignoring more essential things like their tent, their blankets, basic utensils, compass, and the meager amount of coins that they had piling up over the years. Every ounce of their savings was gone, save for a pitiful ten silver pieces that Lise had cleverly hid in her boot and divided between her and her sister.

But nevermind Lise's cleverness. Sophia had lost the only thing that had held any real value to her - her spellbook. Oh, and her lire. She supposed that was important too.

Then Sophia sighed. Nothing was really needed for the pair of sisters to be happy. If Sophia had to say there were things, they would probably be a pair of eyes and just a bit of courage.

Also, her sister. That was necessary.

But as it stood, her sister had lost her spellbook. And that was unacceptable.

"We'd be in a much better place if I had my spellbook. Which I don't."

Sophia didn't care if she made Lise angry with all of her complaining. It wasn't even her fault - she just wanted someone to take it out on. And as it stood, Lise was the only one to receive Sophia's wrath. That girl was like a demon when she was angry, but that was only when she had a spellbook, some sort of method to take her wrath out on people.

But she didn't have her spellbook. And she reminded Lise of that again.

"It'd be great if I did."

Vilpamolan. While Lise had to admire the independent, free nature of the bustling city, it was probably one of the worst places to end up right now. No matter the district or the people, no one was willing to give a handout, though many peddlers still tried. It was a city of back alley politics and cut-throat deals where morality took a backseat to the ends. It was cold and it was unforgiving. The Desher twins had learned this many times in the past.

It wasn't the dump of a town that caused Lise's mood to dampen and her patience to strain. The day was so thoroughly ruined since early morning and Lise's rude awakening. Highwaymen had found a jackpot in Lise and her sister in the forests, quietly napping on the road to some sort of trading city. Knife pressed to her cheek and Sophia cornered by two nasty looking Dwarven thugs, the twins were forced to give up everything. All of their silver, save for a few pieces the taller sister had kept in her boots. Their traveling rations. Changes of clothes. Even Sophia's treasured spellbook.

That last item dictated most of the conversation as the twins redirected themselves towards the Pirate's Haven, hoping to soften their losses with any sort of cheap or misplaced goods no one would miss.

Lise used the term 'conversation' very loosely. The two already had all the information. The biting humiliation that they were taken advantage of by a group of thugs. The realization that the upcoming days would be rough and the two would sleep hungry for a while. The fact that they were at someone else's mercy and that it was a miracle nothing worse happened. Still, Sophia found it wise enough to brood about losing her book, accomplishing nothing but frustrating herself and her sister. Lise mostly ignored the comments, scanning the streets for anything they could use.

"Honestly, it would be great if you put a lid on it."

It was uncharacteristic, and annoying, that Sophia was this chatty. The smaller twin usually spent their trips silent, her nose in a thick book or some ancient-looking scroll. Unfortunately, as stated before, all of that was gone, leaving the redhead to complain bitterly to Lise, who was getting tired of it. She was justified in her whining, sure, but it didn't magically make everything better. Complaining wouldn't get a roof over their head or food in their belly for the night. Ten silver and a silver tongue could try to do just that, however.

Never mind the fact that most Vilpamolan inns Lise had stayed in were rat-infested, ruffian-infested, and weren't worth the wood they were built with. It had to be better than braving the wild or some alleyway. That was just asking to get jumped again, and it was obvious to Lise that neither her nor her sister were prepared for a tussle like that, even with the meager number of spells Sophia remembered and the bows and knife that Lise somehow still owned.

I mean, at least the two weren't dead. That had to count for something, whether it be through the Gods themselves or sheer blind luck. The twins walking out of the morning with life and limb, it was proof that something was watching over them.

"Listen. We lost your spellbook, yes. I know. I'm sorry. But we lost a lot more than that. We could have died."

It wasn't going off on her sister. Both of them were tired and bitter. The last thing they needed in this situation is to turn on each other. If it came to it, the two could just press on to another town if they found nothing. Lise would conjure up some meager scraps of bread or an apple, about the only magical ability she had, and make sure Sophia didn't go hungry. It would be hard, but they had made it through worse in the past. They just needed to stay positive.

"Help me find a good inn, wouldja?"

Sophia shivered against the cold, tugged at her scarf and pulling it up over her face so that it covered her mouth. She clung close to her sister, despite her very vocal irritation with her taller sibling. She walked shoulder-to-shoulder with Lise - at least, about as well as she could. Her younger sister easily had about four inches over her, but it was good to stick close for the sake of warmth. Winter would soon be on them in full force in the coming months. Sophia wrapped her arms around herself, still shivering. The outdoors on this morning felt akin to food storage. Very cold and dry. Her breath appeared before her face in frothy white puffs.

For one second, Sophia was short of breath. She inhaled deeply, and regretted it. There was a deep itch in her chest, and she coughed hard to clear it. Sophia covered her mouth with her hand to keep from hacking all over her sister. Sophia felt the heat and moisture of her breath against her palm. She coughed one last time, got her breathing under control.

How unladylike. She was dehydrated. The inside of her mouth was so dry it felt painful. When she spoke again, her voice was hoarse. As fond as the girl was of dramatic statements, she did not waste her words so thoughtlessly. She has a minimum standards on what she believes what her conversation partners will consider entertaining or enlightening. Idle chat and any concurrent conversation do not meet that standard. However, when Sophia was in the least bit unhappy, she would let her conversation partner know.

"A good inn. You'd be hard-pressed to find even a mediocre establishment in a city such as this. I can't promise you anything more than that."

It pained Sophia to see her sister starve herself for her sake. Lise had a large appetite. She who had lived the least of the two sisters was not only young to her elder sister, but by human standards as a whole. Lise was still growing. She was already taller than Sophia herself, but her build suggested she yet had more height to gain.

Sophia had no appetite like her sister. She did not have the same hereditary taxes on her metabolism. Her intake was sparse in comparison, as her growing was long finished. Constant exposure to taxing arcane spells and rituals left Sophia's growth and physical condition stunted.

"On one condition: do keep the apples for yourself."

Sophia thought on her words for a moment, wondered if she came off as too concerned, too overbearing. As the elder sister, it was her right to be overbearing. She had earned it simply by being born first - such was the law among siblings. She wouldn't want to sound worried about Lise and her near-constant malnutrition, though, because the younger girl would insist that Sophia eat instead. She felt guilty. A feeling of deep discontent ailed her. Sophia felt as if she were committing some crime whenever Lise went hungry for her sake. What was worse, that same voice of conscience told her that, by eating more than her sister and knowing better, it harshened the responsibility of her wrongdoing. Sophia added onto her statement, knowing the misplaced haughtiness that dripped from her tongue.

"I don't like the red ones, and it seems that they're all you're capable of conjuring."

Satisfied, Sophia walked quickly ahead, passing her sister so that she couldn't respond, and if she did, she was out of earshot. Sophia wandered ahead, slipping in between burly thieves and brigands alike. An inn was easily identifiable, being the largest building on the street, (and with a hanging sign that read "INN" in big bold letters) and it was right in their path. They were fortunate to not need to cross into another main street through an alleyway. Sophia motioned for her sister to follow her inside, a beckoning wave of her hand, and the shorter girl pushed open the door to let herself in.

Sophia's immediate impression was that the place smelled like old beer. Probably gallons of homebrew ale has been splashed onto the woodwork over the years. But, though she hates to admit it, this inn is warm and cozy. There was no snow outside, but the wind has picked up. And here she stood, between the proverbial rock and hard place. A room full of pirates and drunks and criminals, threatening to catch fire at any moment. Cold bluster on the other side, which was also filled with pirates and criminals, but less drunks.

Sophia cast a look over her shoulder at her sister, a raised eyebrow hidden behind her bangs. Her expression bore a look that said, how's this for a good inn?

"Not the most respectable of establishments. I have fond memories of that room we rented back in the Winking Mermaid. I doubt we'll find such hospitality here."

Sophia did have a point. You'd be hard pressed to find a good hole to take a leak in at Vilpamolan. It lacked the glitz and polish that Adeluna City or Wyllmochvar, instead favoring a rough-around-the-edges, working-class aesthetic.It's houses were cold, it's ground was cold, it's denizens were cold, but they sure had some hair on their chests. In some ways, it was very much a city made for Lise Desher. Perhaps in another life, one where Lise didn't have to fret and starve over her and her twin's survival, she could like this swampland. Perhaps even call it home. But for now, it was a dump with crap for inns.

The biting cold should have bothered Lise more, but thankfully, her sister warmed her. The redhead would cling to the taller girl's arm while the two walked, even as they grumbled and quipped to each other. So much for being angry. Their body language told a much different story from their lips, as to be expected from sisters that had to depend on each other as much as the Desher twins.

"You know what I mean by 'a good inn'. I mean one where we won't get mugged again. Or worse. This isn't our first place in this cesspool, remember? Remember all those guys last year?" There was a poignant, pleading look directed at Lise's smaller sister that screamed 'please work with me, you jerk'. "This one looks alright, though. How much do you think they charge for a room? I… uh, I don't think we should ask for work in a place like this." Nasty implications if they did, that was for sure.

"That reminds me. You haven't eaten in a while. Here, hold out your hand."

Lise breathed in and out slowly, preparing for a rather taxing spell. The only one she currently knew. She clasped her hands together and steadily drew her hands back as a faint yellow light emanated from within. Her eyes swam for a bit as the invasive feeling of conjuring washed over her body and she felt the slight twinge of an upset stomach from all the commotion. The light faded, Lise took a second to compose herself and catch her breathe, before holding out her prize with pride.

A simple roll, distorted by Lise's grip, with what appeared to be honey slathered all over it. The honey was dripping down the girl's outstretched hand. Her face was a happy one, with a hidden firmness to it.

"There! 'Sweet bread'. It's not an apple, so you've gotta eat it."

Good thing no one else was entering or leaving the inn, because there was a passive-aggressive showdown for the ages happening in front of the downtrodden inn's entrance. The sort of stuff that would remind the droves of hardened pirates and thugs of acting out against their mother and facing the consequences. Some of them, though not many, even stopped their activities and conversations to look at the two obvious siblings. After the smaller girl has graciously accepted the labor of love, then, and only then, would Lise and Sophia see about getting a room.

"No, Lise, I have not forgotten those men. It is fortunate for us both that I was in possession of my spellbook at that time."

Sophia adjusted her cap, glared up at her taller sister. Whether through the residual magic of her mother's grimoire or a mere trick of the light of the inn's lamps casting on her pallid face, her eyes glowed bright blue. She closed her eyes for a moment, and when she reopened them, the twin pinpricks of blue light were gone. Her expression of ire, however, did not seem as if it would disappear as easily on this morning in Vilpamoran.

"It is unfortunate that I do not have such security on our most recent visit."

Sophia's lip curled up when her sister reminded her of her previous excursion in the rat's den that was Vilpamolan. Sophia was so lost in thought, in fact, that she almost didn't hear her sister tell her to hold out her hand.

Almost.

"And yet, you've not eaten for a much longer period than I. Lise, listen to me. You need to eat. Much more than I do. I won't hold out my hand."

Sophia turned her back to her sister, folding her arms under her cloak out of childish defiance. But even from the corner of her vision, Sophia couldn't ignore the gentle glow of Lise's conjuration. She whirled back around to face her sister, her cloak fanning around her as she spun. She struck a finger at her sister, preparing words of rebuke and scold. Her mind was a whirlwind of emotions, though, and no coherency came through. Worry, fear, anger, frustration. All of it came out at once, in a stream of meaningless nonsense.

"No, you– Stop that. You'll hurt yours– No. No. Lise. I, ah– just, would you– Lise. Lise, pleas– Lise."

Sophia knew full well the toll that conjuring took on her beloved sister. It made her nauseous, exhausted, and Sophia swore it took a month off of her total life span every time she did it. Sophia was an elementalist, but she is no more restricted to that class of magic than an evocater is limited to making explosions, or a summoner is limited to creating short-lived automata. Elementalism is a high study, but Sophia's interests have deviated into other branches. Conjuration makes for the topic of this deviation, as any and all attempts to convert the magical energy in her grimoire to the chemical energy in food led to the magic rebelling against her and backfiring, causing all sorts of magical maladies.

Everything between being covered in hideous boils for an hour to her bones suddenly being replaced with jelly. Grape jelly. Yes, she did tests. They all came back grape. Sophia was perfectly capable of casting an antimagic spell to return herself to normal, but, to this day, is unable to tap into the branch of conjuration.

The fact that her own sister could so easily conjure very deeply frustrated Sophia. Not only did Lise not utilize a spoken invocation, she had no infused grimoire to draw power from. Indeed, she was able to cast independently from a source - making her, in theory, a superior mage than Sophia. Not only was this infinitely humiliating, it was absolutely unacceptable.

Sophia took some solace in the fact that Lise wasn't a particularly good conjurer. What was presented to the elder sister was a laughable mockery of a breaded roll slathered in honey. It more closely resembled a wad of dough that someone had sneezed on. Sophia raised an eyebrow when Lise spoke, a lack of amusement written in her expression.

"I understand your attempt at humor. I simply do not find it amusing."

Sophia's half-lidded gaze met the sternness of her sister's, and while the lazy girl's expression bore no hint of struggle, but Lise had been by her side for so long that she was able to detect even the smallest of tweaks in Sophia's face. A twitch of her lips here, her eyes narrowing just enough to be barely perceptible there. The air should have crackled with electricity and the inn should have caught ablaze from the sheer intensity of the clash of wills that was taking place within its walls. After but a few short moments in which an eternity's worth of emotion passed between the last bearers of the Desher name, Sophia's logical nature overcame her desire to be stubborn.

She knew that a refusal to accept her sister's foolish offering would only lead to prolonged conflict and a prolonged period of time without a bed to sleep in, so Sophia took the roll from Lise's hand with her index finger and thumb, as if handling a very dangerous thing. The honey stuck to her fingers like tar, and she held it in her palm to prevent making a mess of the floor - as if it weren't messy enough. The honey dribbled and pooled in her palm, but she pretended not to be bothered by it. Sophia would eat the roll only when they had a room - she disliked eating in public places. As a matter of fact, Sophia just disliked public places.

Sophia now regarded the host of the inn defensively. He was a stout, piggy man, cleaning a glass with a dirty rag behind the counter of his inn. The resemblance between his skin and the texture of the stained floorboards was uncanny - it certainly was his inn.

"Now, please, ask how much it is for a room here."

Of course, social environments were not Sophia's strength. The whole speaking with others thing was left to the much more sociable Lise, who handled such alien concepts with the utmost of fulfillmence. Sophia theorized once that excessive amounts of time spent in her spellbook seemed to have weakened parts of her that it was never meant to strengthen.

Lise frowned. The satisfaction of winning the twin's dispute wasn't nearly enough to uplift the somber mood of the morning. Vilpamolan was drab and grey with an extra helping of dangerous, Sophia was being borderline impossible right now, and most of their stuff was still in the hands of some stupid thugs in the middle of who-knows-where. There was no smile when Sophia accepted defeat. There was no passive-aggressive celebration. That would go against the intention of the action itself. There was only one word uttered in victory before the subject was dropped.

"Good."

While it seemed as though there should be childish gloating and sneering, it was not to be. This was a willing sacrifice and an act of love. Lise would graciously accept her empty stomach and fatigued body if it meant her sister could eat, even if she had to put up with gross apples and bread most of the time. With the issue resolved and Sophia fed, they could focus on more pressing problems, such as renting a room or getting her sister's stupid books back. The former would go first, however.

"Right, right, I can handle all the talking. Don't worry."

Lise felt uneasy about the tubby man behind the bar. He was very obviously the owner, or at least an employee of this… fine establishment. His shirt was stained and sweaty, his skin was riddled with testaments to his age as well as his prohibition on cleanliness, the glasses he was filling and cleaning were foggy and discolored by a buildup of bacteria. Everything about him and his inn screamed run. Worst of all was his beady eyes that were already trained on the Deshers. They were cloudy, but leering, and it made the taller twin cold on the inside. She hugged herself as she regarded the man.

"Um-hrm. How much-"

"Hm? Speak up there, girly, I only got one good ear. What's your story, then?"

His voice reminded Lise of a fire, probably consuming a pile of trash. It was sharp, yet deep, and it put her on edge. She coughed in response.

"Ahem. No real story, just looking for a room for the day, you know?"

The man took a moment to finish scrubbing a cup before slamming it down with a loud thud! He crossed his meaty arms.

"I rent rooms to friends. You can't be a friend if I don't know you or where you come from. Bad things happen to foreigners around these parts."

Lise swallowed and threw a cautionary look towards towards her sister.

"Right. Right! Of course! Me and my sister here, Sophia," Lise motioned towards her twin. "Virens born-and-bread, just across the way. We're looking for a, uh, charter boat."

"Tch'eah. Bad things happen to liars, too."

It was hard to tell if the old geezer was amused or aggravated. The discomfort was visible on Lise's face.

"Listen, look, just- we need a room, alright. We won't cause no trouble, I swear it."

Thunk! Another finished glass is set in a stack as the man paused what he was doing. He put his palms on the bar in front of him as he stared at Lise's eyes. The girl could feel a shiver go up her spine.

"Lott'a good swearin' is gonna do ya."

There was another gap of silence as the man pondered his options. After a time, he relented, a drawn-out sign.

"You look like you're alright. Don't know what you're doing in a city like this, but it's thirty silver a room."

Lise couldn't help but feel deflected. She placed her five silver on the counter and motioned to her sister again. "This is all I got. She has five, too. Is there anything we could do? You know, besides-"

There was a burst of laughter from the man before Lise could finish her sentence. He pointed at his grizzled face.

"This is from a bomb I was unlucky enough to catch and lucky enough to walk away from. I've been hurt before. I've been taken advantage of. I know how that feels. Most everybody does in a place like this. If I were to give you two some work, I swear to you that I will not hurt you and I will not take advantage of you, but I will put you to work."

Observing the man, Lise noticed that his face was plastered with scar tissue, not grime. He spoke with the seriousness of a father consoling his child. Perhaps he has children of his own? The twin was still cautious about the man's proposal, but it was interesting. She spoke slowly, not sure of what to say.

"My name is Lise, then."

"Mhm. Good. What about you? She do all the talking?"

His question was directed at Sophia.

Sophia watched her sister with an impressed smile on her face. She had to admit that her sibling was much more skilled than she when it came to basic social constructs. Sophia had no idea why, but whenever she engaged with others, discussions and other interactions almost always ended on a sour note. Lise always told her it's because books don't make for good company, so she didn't know how to talk to real people without offending them, but Sophia always dismissed that notion.

There was no greater company than that which were bound between the pages of a book.

But a certain fluency in one's ability to negotiate a room for the night was certainly a required skill in Lise and Sophia's line of work, which is to say, none at all. But something about the exchange made Sophia nervous. While she wasn't particularly paying attention to the exactness of the words said, it didn't sound like things were going well. She decided to listen more carefully, mentally chastising herself for her scatter-brainedness. She was a mage, for heaven's sakes. Focus of mind was one of her greatest skills. At least, it was supposed to be.

Sophia caught the bit about the bartender having once been caught in an explosion, and the information did not surprise her one bit. He was a disgusting and repulsive-looking man, and just looking at him brought bile to her throat. She kept it down, if only because emptying the contents of her stomach would not exactly secure a room for the twins. When he spoke of it, the notion of labor did not thrill the elder sister one bit.

Sophia wasn't ready for the man to address her, and when he did, she jumped. She was startled out of her own thoughts, and now, speaking to her, was a man she mentally insulted for a disfiguration he could not have prevented.

Perhaps this is why Sophia did not fare as well with others as her sister.

Nevertheless, Sophia straightened herself out, brushed off the front of her cloak and stood as tall as she could, which is not very. Sophia spoke with a girlish voice, which sounded only slightly like a woman. While it held all of the confidence of a noblewoman, her voice was weak and not at all deep.

"I can speak for myself. Lise is simply more capable of handling situations of social uncertainty."

The man snorted.

"Social uncertainty, hn? Charmin'. You got any skills, missy?"

Sophia tightened her cap on her head, gripping it by the bill and tugging it low over her eyes. You got any skills. A mage of her caliber, asked if she had any skills? How insulting. She closed her eyes and spoke, one fist at her hip, the other holding a sweetroll whose honey was dripping onto the floor.

"Of course I have skills. I am a wise and powerful mage. I am in possession of the strongest spells in Revaliir. I am in possession of a book of unparalleled magical power, written by the grand sorceress Magnolia Desher herself."

"Never heard of her."

Sophia looked down at her feet, disappointed.

"Ah."

The bartender leaned forward a bit, pointed one sausage-like finger at a girl who had called herself wise and powerful, though she looked like neither. Irritation was written in his disfigured face.

"Lissen, Sophia. I'm willin' t' give you an' yer sister an opportunity. Outta the kindness in m' heart. What you're gonna do right now is drop yer attitude before I change my mind."

She felt childish guilt bubble up from within, realizing quickly the source of her error. This is why Lise did the talking. Sophia hid her shame with the bill of her cap, looking at her feet again.

"…Right."

He straightened himself back out, returning his attention to Lise.

"Lissen. I'll give you the key t' yer room. I'll take yer five silver, you can keep yer other five. I'll want you back down here later in the day, when it gets real busy. I get a lotta customers in th' afternoon, and I'll need you two to bus tables, maybe do summa the cookin'. When people stop comin' in, you can go back t' yer rooms and rest."

He turned behind him, pulled a key off of one of the many hangers. The number six was written on a tag attached to it. He tossed it onto the counter in front of Lise, slid it towards her.

"I want you two back down here by midday. You've got an hour or five t' rest 'til then."