Harper's Pathos

Chapter Thirteen: Honest Intentions

Morgan meandered through the streets of Nayak only half thinking about where she was going. She was too deep in thought for such trivial things as 'directions' and 'paying attention to her surroundings.'

Money making schemes and fraudulent business plans flew through her mind at a breakneck pace. Almost all of them were stamped with 'wouldn't work' as she sent them to the back of her head. There were two main problems with most of her plans, even the good ones.

The first: limited manpower. Morgan knew that on her own she could fairly easily pickpocket someone, steal from a merchant stall, or even mug someone if she had to. She didn't enjoy taking a stealthy route to solve problems, but growing up on the streets had certainly taught her how. However, she wasn't stealing to pay for a meal for the night. She needed a lot of money. If she was going with the criminal approach she simply couldn't do this alone.

That led her to the second problem: she didn't want to use the criminal approach. As disinterested as she was in the law or the authority of frankly anyone in power, she didn't want the risk. She was in a new city with a fresh start, trying to become a respected scholar and a member of the community. A reputation as a thief and a criminal would surely taint that, if not erase the possibility entirely.

On top of that, she had Harper to consider. She hated the idea of dragging them into some underground illegal nonsense. Even if they weren't alongside her in the situation, she didn't want them having to visit her in a prison cell, either.

Morgan continued to rack her brain. How the fuck do people make money legally?

Farming. Herding animals. Selling things they make. Morgan sighed. She couldn't do any of that.

How do other people pay for schooling then?

She answered her own question, and once again the answer was useless. Most people in the House of Readers likely either had rich families to begin with, or they at least had working families that could help pay for loans while they studied. But Morgan didn't have old money, and she didn't have family that could work to help pay for her education. Morgan was a street kid, and street kids like her didn't go to school. Street kids like her survived until they couldn't anymore, then they stopped.

Her feet lightly kicked up dust as she continued to walk the streets, fists gripped tight and footfalls becoming heavier and harder. When the girl realized her teeth were grinding, she took a second to compose herself. Deep breath in, deep breath out. Deep breath in, deep breath out. Being angry was one thing, fuming was another. When she let her anger boil out of her control it clouded her mind instead of fueling her. She made stupid decisions when she got too angry. She had realized that back in the ruin.

Think, think, THINK! When good ideas still failed to come to her, the frustration continued to grow, despite her best efforts. Bloody hell. I need to mellow out.

Morgan stopped in her tracks, recalling something she had taken in subconsciously several steps back. Turning around, she stared at the sign hanging in front of the entrance. Script she couldn't read, of course, but the art of a cup with foam spilling from it made the meaning clearer. A tavern? Some kinda beerhouse?

She considered the sign for a time while standing there still, other people moving around her like a stream flowing around a stone which refused to budge. Maybe I just need a drink. I'll have one, calm myself down, and figure things out.

Even with her tall stature and intimidating presence, no one payed the Angalian girl any mind as she slipped into the crowded beerhouse. The place was nondescript by Nayak standards. It was furnished with low-standing couches and cushions, some rugs and woven art adorned the walls, and a bar stood on one side of the room. Chatter filled the air. It was lively enough, even a little rowdy. Morgan did her best to ignore the rest of the patrons. They had their own business, and she had hers.