Living Valor, and Writing Tragedies

The fruit merchant seemed perplexed and frowned at the amount of fruit being bought. "1600 Berries. If you're going to donate it, at least be subtle." the merchant commented, adding an additional 200 berries as opposed to last time Howell had bought fruit.

The Merchant grimaced, "Lotsa good it's doing. I got merchandise stolen from me despite that place. I don't know who wasted their their money on the place if those brats are still gonna steal. Plus I don't want my taxes to be wasted on something we don't need.
Those kids can work, it's not like it's illegal." . That was true, as child labor laws were not fully abolished by the world government. Slavery was, but it wasn't enforced outside of the Marine's jurisdiction and while Yellow Key was home to a Naval Base as well, money talked more than common sense on this island. If it wasn't profitable it wasn't worth doing in many people's eyes. It was also why Yellow Key was a hotspot for gamblers, and expensive things. Too many times businesses would get free labor because someone would buy something too expensive, then be forced to work it away, and that could take days. Then they needed a place to sleep, or food, and that came from their debtors and so the cycle continued. It was why you always asked for the price of things before buying anything in this place, especially at the more expensive looking places.

"So yeah, 200 is to make up for what those brats stole. If you don't like it, go to a different fruit vendor." , the man's mood soured though a glance back at the parade brought it back for a moment.

The merchant looked skeptical at Howell before smiling at the man offered his precious berries. "Nice doing business with you." he said, before counting out the bills. "Come back anytime." a smile crept along the man's face as he believed he could likely get away with this in the future if he wanted with Howell. With the parade finally beginning to finish, and reach it's end, Howell would need to consider what he would do now.

Heading towards the orphanage, Howell would barely bump into a man dressed sharply with a business suit. The man was half ready to grab Howell, only to hear him mutter an apology, before the businessman decided it wasn't worth the attention. He had come here for a reason, and it was all the better if he blended in. "No worry." The man said, his accent heavily implying that he wasn't from around Yellowkey, as he had an almost added an "ah" to the end of his statement.

It wasn't uncommon for people to visit the island from abroad; especially businessmen and well dressed noblemen. Still, as Howell's attention was elsewhere he wouldn't be able to grab a glance at the man if he turned around. The trip to the orphanage was uneventful after that. The Orphanage had been erected on the farthest side of town, well away from any of the businesses. On one hand, it definitely gave the children plenty of room to play and explore in the pretty scenery that Yellowkey was known for; but the problem was that it was so out of sight that it basically wasn't acknowledged as part of the community. It was to be expected, as the building that had been used was originally run down beyond repair. The money used by Howell had been mostly to buy the funds necessary for repairs to make it habitable. Once those were done, the rest had been used to "pretty up" the establishment; using Yellowclay Stucco as the rest of the town did. Even if it was out of sight, the island had a sense of pride about itself. Vanity bled from this entire island like sap from a fresh wound on a tree.

Approaching the wooden fence of the orphanage, it resembled a small mansion. There were a few small things that had been left around, a rope swing; "Fool's Sand" box, and even a see-saw that Howell had personally chosen to add and assemble on his spare time. The children were currently inside; likely awaiting their first meal of the day. Howell almost always made it in time to hand the orphanage owner and co-founder of it, Mother Bellona a few extra donations to make their day a little bit sweeter. He'd step into the side door which connected to the kitchen to see the Nun busy over a pot of oatmeal. Turning to the sound of the door opening, she's smile. The nun was probably in her 30s, but still beautiful with large green eyes, red lips, and a fair and elegant face. She wore the usual black and white attire most nuns wore; though she did have trims of gold around her wrist cuffs. It wasn't an uncommon fashion statement, and most always had some coloration of gold on themselves as to indicate they were a resident of the island. "Mr.Davis, I'm glad you've returned as usual. Did work go well?" She asked. Bellona didn't know exactly where Howell worked, but she did know that "Night shift" was the riskiest jobs available to anyone. You only took those jobs when you needed large amounts of money; but almost all of the money from those shifts came with a catch. For Howell his pay was always delayed in weekly "bonuses" outside of his usual baseline pay.

Mother Bellona only smiled as Howell got straight to helping her prepare meals. As she continued to stir the pot and prepare today's breakfast for the children, she couldn't help, but to pause for a moment as she listened to Howell, turning quizically, she's answer, "No, but Bradson and Ivort did come back a bit late yesterday. They seemed a bit happy about something, but when I asked them they said they saw some pirates get grabbed again." Bellona stated. It was true that a second group of pirates had gotten apprehended, but that wasn't until mid day yesterday; as Howell was obviously asleep. Being a chef he had ears for rumors that drifted through the kitchen from the other cooks. "I told them that it's not nice to laugh at Pirates, and that it was dangerous to be near the shore on the main side of town. They agreed with me, and promised never to do it again, but I worry that they aren't taking it seriously." The Nun stated, as she looked down trodden.

Still, she suddenly realized she left the pot boiling as she quickly turned around and rapidly stirred it to keep the food from burning. She wasn't the best cook, often times seeming distracted by something or another; which was why Howell was obviously helping. Most of her food had a tinge of burnt taste to it, so the fruits usually made things easier on the kids. Howell would continue to peel the apples, before they were all finished, and soon enough he'd be able to prepare them any way he needed, as Bellona quickly began to pour the porridge into bowls, placing them on the massive counter for Howell to season and finish preparing. The usual speckle of black indicating that she had let the food sit a bit too long was less than the chunks from her first day here.

Mother Bellona frowned, "Still, we should treat others as we expect to be treated. It's the Golden Rule after all, and a place like Yellowkey should follow such gilded standards." she muttered back herself. Sharp ears as ever, which was why the children were usually tight lipped when Bellona was near enough. Many of them knew that Mother Bellona would always step in if she suspected things going poorly for her charges. When Howell finished garnishing and seasoning the bowls, she'd speak, "It was likely an hour after you went to sleep. I presume you'll still choose to take the upper room, or will you rent out a tavern room? I've made up the bed after you left." She stated, before picking up the bowls to help place them on a trolley to take to the mess hall.

Soon enough, the sounds of a gilded dinner bell rang as the children quickly came downstairs. Many of them greeted Howell, some hugging his leg, waist, or simply saying thank you or good morning to him. Most of the 26 orphans of this little sanctuary were barely even older than 10, with the two eldest being 11 and 13 respectively. The target of Howell's suspicion. Immediately Howell could tell they were laughing and having fun, but quickly quieted down as they saw Mother Bellona, and even smiled falsely at Howell. They were hiding something; but they were obviously not wanting to get into trouble. "Good Morning Mr.Howell, Good morning Mother Bellona." the Eldest Brandson, stated, as he tried to be causal and mostly succeeded. Ivort was less so, as he performed the same greeting, but avoided eye contact with either of them. Ivort wasn't the type to be shy.