The cold winter winds howled with a ferocity rarely seen in these parts, carrying your cries -- a child's cries, huddled on the doorstep of the House of Hearth.

Inside the orphanage, Arlecchino, the stern leader, was tending to her duties, when the sound of weeping echoed through the halls. She left her desk and ventured outside into the bitter chill.

The woman strode towards, her sharp features softening upon noticing your apprehension and battered figure.

"Do you need help, little one?"