As daylight filtered into the orphanage, Fitrus gathered all the children, his voice carrying a stern edge as he addressed us. With a somber tone, he outlined his plan: we were to gather money for the church by seeking charity from the townsfolk. However, there was a catch – food would only be provided to those who earned it through their efforts in collecting donations.
The announcement sent a ripple of apprehension through the gathered crowd. It was clear that Fitrus intended to impose strict conditions on our access to sustenance, turning the basic necessity of food into a reward for our labor.
As the implications of Fitrus's decree sank in, a sense of unease settled over the orphanage. For many of us, the prospect of having to earn our meals through charity was a daunting task, especially in a town already struggling under the weight of war and hardship.
Nevertheless, with little choice but to comply, we braced ourselves for the challenging days ahead, knowing that our survival depended on our ability to navigate the precarious balance between charity and necessity in a world where every morsel of food was a precious commodity.
As the days passed and the children embarked on their quest to gather donations for the church, a sense of desperation hung heavy in the air. Many of them resorted to begging, their pleas falling on indifferent ears as they scrambled to earn even the smallest amount of currency.
Amidst the hustle and bustle of the town square, Eric stood apart, his reluctance to beg evident in the furrow of his brow. Despite his best efforts, he found himself unable to accept the charity of strangers, his pride standing as a barrier between him and the meager offerings of passersby.
Watching Eric's struggle, a spark of inspiration ignited within me. With Joshua engrossed in his own endeavors, I called Eric aside and shared my idea with him. Instead of begging for scraps of currency, I suggested that Eric take on tasks for the vendors in the marketplace, offering his services in exchange for a fair wage.
Though hesitant at first, Eric's eyes lit up with newfound determination as he grasped the opportunity before him. With a sense of purpose driving him forward, he set out to approach the vendors, his head held high as he offered his assistance in various tasks.
As Eric worked tirelessly throughout the day, his efforts were met with appreciation and respect from the vendors, who recognized his hard work and dedication. By the day's end, he had earned a respectable sum of money, far surpassing what he could have hoped to gather through begging alone.
With a sense of pride swelling within him, Eric returned to our makeshift home, his pockets jingling with copper currency. As he recounted his success to me, I couldn't help but feel a swell of admiration for my brother, who had refused to compromise his dignity in the face of adversity, and had instead chosen to earn his keep with honor and integrity.
With the fruits of our labor amounting to 50 copper, I quietly advised Eric to stash away 35 of those coins for safekeeping. It seemed prudent to keep a reserve for emergencies or future needs, given the uncertainty of our circumstances.
As we divided the remaining 15 copper amongst ourselves – five coins apiece for Joshua, Eric, and myself – I felt a sense of satisfaction knowing that our hard work had not gone unrewarded. Despite the challenges we faced, we had managed to secure a modest sum through honest means, a testament to our resilience and resourcefulness.
As we returned to the orphanage, we were met with a scene of tension and apprehension. The children, each clutching their hard-earned earnings of 50 shillings, stood before Fitrus, awaiting his judgment.
However, instead of praise or gratitude, Fitrus's reaction was one of fury and frustration. With a swift and forceful motion, he lashed out, striking a young girl named Lea across the face with the back of his hand.
His voice thundered through the room as he berated her, his words laced with anger and disdain. "Fifty shillings? What use is fifty shillings? You can't even buy a loaf of bread with such a paltry sum!"
The room fell silent, the air thick with tension as the children recoiled in shock and fear. Lea, her cheeks stinging from the blow, stood trembling before Fitrus, tears welling in her eyes as she struggled to comprehend the injustice of his actions.
As we stood before Fitrus, the memory of Lea's punishment still fresh in our minds, a sense of apprehension gripped us. The weight of our meager earnings – just five coppers each – felt insignificant in the face of Fitrus's wrath.
I glanced at Eric and Joshua, their expressions mirroring my own uncertainty. It reminded me of the unease I used to feel back in my world, standing before authority figures at school, even though they never resorted to violence. But here, in this unfamiliar setting, the fear was palpable, and the consequences of displeasing Fitrus were all too real.
Despite our trepidation, I summoned a smile and offered words of reassurance to Eric and Joshua. "Let's take a chance," I said softly. "We've learned the value of both shilling and copper, and every contribution counts, no matter how small."
With a nod of determination, we stepped forward, our palms sweating as we placed our meager offerings before Fitrus. Though the fear lingered in the air, we refused to let it consume us. We had faced adversity before, and we would face it again, armed with the lessons we had learned and the strength we had gained through our shared experiences.
As Fitrus surveyed our modest contributions, his expression inscrutable, I held my breath, hoping against hope that our efforts would be met with understanding rather than disdain. In that moment, all we could do was wait, our fate hanging in the balance as we stood before the enigmatic guardian of the orphanage.