Today was a sunny day. The market of Marcaia was as full as ever – crowds upon crowds of people showed up to it each and every day. The cool sea breeze did make the summer heat a little more bearable. Great vessels constantly came and left the port next to the marketplace, delivering their wares from the other ends of the world.

A young man watched the daily hustle and bustle from a shaded alleyway. He checked his pouch. One silver coin. His stomach growled – no way that’d be enough money for today’s meal. Time to go hunting. Stepping into the sunlight, he mixed in with the crowd. What he needed was a good target – a full purse and empty head. Where better to look than right here, in the trade center of Idyllis?

The boy passed different merchant stands – some peddled freshly caught fish, others jewelry of the North. From culinary delicacies from the Isles, and deadly northern weapons, everything the mind desired could be found here – and whatever was spared from Idillys’ drought for those with a little too much money to spend. 

“Fresh Idyllian wine! Come buy your Idyllian wine here! Fresh from the Artivian orchards!” Perfect. The burly man selling the expensive drink looked exhausted. Not a single person in the crowd was stopping by. He stepped up to the stand, the merchant sneering as he approached. Not that he could blame him. If he were a rich merchant himself, he wouldn’t be happy to see a street urchin approach his stand either. “Piss off, kid. You can’t afford this wine anyhow – if you’re old enough to drink it.”

“Listen, I’ll cut you a deal.” The boy leaned in and whispered. “I’ll get people to buy this wine. All I want is two silver.” The man laughed.

“Sure. Get me one customer, then we’ll see.” He smirked – dumb fishes fall for the easiest bait.

“Alright. I’ll need a taste of that wine first.” The man grabbed him by the collar.

“Why would I give you a taste of this wine? It’s worth more than the two silver you want.”

“Correct. I want two silver for selling it. But I need a taste to sell it. Big difference.” Snorting, the merchant took a jug and lightly, very lightly dipped it in an open barrel near him. Probably to get rich folks to taste test, but…none even bothered to go near his stand. Would go to waste in this sun.

“Thank you very much.” Said the boy, before swallowing it in a single gulp. He suddenly seized up. “This…this wine…!” He fell over. There was gasping all around him. Worried bystanders asking whether he was alright. 

“Don’t look at me! The kid wanted a taste, and couldn’t handle it!” He felt a hand grabbing his collar and pulling him up. “Come on, get up!” The man suddenly let go, and the boy felt a softer hand on his head whilst other voices chewed out the merchant for being irresponsible.

“Are you alright?” A soft voice spoke. The boy opened his eyes. He was in the lap of a beautiful lady. Clear skin, well dressed…perfect. A crowd had gathered, too. All according to plan.

“Yeah…I think so.” He mumbled, raising his jug. “This wine…it’s just…”

“It’s what?” 

“It’s just…too…damn…” He jumped up on his feet. “Good! Everyone, you need to try this wine!” He approached the merchant and dropped the jug on the stand before leaning over it. “This is Artivian, you said? I never knew Idyllian wine could be this good!” The man looked absolutely flabberghasted. Quite slow, this one. “Now’s your chance.” The boy whispered, leaning even closer to the merchant.

“I-indeed! What we have here is the wine of the golden orchard! Try some for yourself, people!” Now the man had an attentive audience. People stood in line to have a taste of this famous wine. The boy winked at the man, holding up two fingers. The man shoo’d him away, focusing instead on the wealthy-looking gentleman trying his wine. The boy, having expected nothing less, turned to leave. Before he could slip back into the crowd, he was stopped by the woman who’d cared for him. He smiled and curtsied.

“Thank you ma’am. I don’t know what he would’ve done if you didn’t step in.” She giggled.

“Nothing to thank me for. You have piqued my interest in this wine. Though I do recommend you refrain from drinking. I doubt you’ve the constitution for it.” He scoffed.

“I’m tougher than I look, ma’am.” He bowed his head and walked past her. “Please excuse me.” As he mixed back into the crowd, he lightly brushed against her. 

Before long, he heard a few indignant cries from the stand. Oh no, there was a thief going around. Hopefully they catch him soon, he thought, chuckling as he returned to the alley whence he came. Another successful hunt. Rich folks with empty heads and sometimes, good hearts. Still the easiest targets…he felt a tingle in his left arm. 

He pushed aside those thoughts, taking the three pouches from under his cloak and checking their contents. Oh spirits. This was the motherload! Three golden coins, at least a dozen silvers and…a whole bunch of coppers! He’d have enough food for a week, at least! He laughed heartily – today was a sunny day. A good day – he had to celebrate. How about an exotic tavern? His treat.

In keeping to the dark alleys of Marcaia, he was able to avoid any pursuers that might come after him. Didn’t matter how many soldiers of the Order chased him, he’d rarely, if ever had trouble dealing with them. May cost him the odd silver coin or two, but they were usually to busy fighting over those to do anything to him. After all, what was one to expect from hiring thieves and other low-lifes as soldiers? Not that he was any better.

He emerged from the maze of back alleys at the back end of the port, where all the warehouses were. Men carried freight from the large ships to and fro.,some merry, others visibly depressed. The young thief could instantly tell who’d arrived from a voyage overseas. If he returned to this damned country, he’d look like that too. Then again, he wasn’t living off a sailor’s wage – he could afford to eat the fine food of the Isles today!

In the road beside the warehouses was a tavern. It was small and quaint, with a roof of straw and thin walls. Yet it somehow never buckled in the stiff ocean breeze. A marvel of western engineering, he assumed. But that wasn’t what he came to lather over today. The jingling in his pocket made his mouth water – he’d passed by here many a day before, back when he was still attempting to find breaches in the warehouses’ defenses. 

Whilst he was unsuccessful in that regard, he did find one of the best smelling kitchens in the whole city – ever since that day, he’d sworn to try it one day.And that day was today. He happily swung open the saloon door, and took in the atmosphere.

It was rancid. Dead silent besides the one patron, who guzzled down a jug of wine like it was water before dropping face-first onto the counter. The man’s smell was so pungent it reached the boy near the door – he had to pinch his nostrils, lest he vomit. This wasn’t how he imagined it to be. The bartender looked over at him, with an expression that was hard to decipher.

On one hand, he could see a little shame. He had to take pride in this establishment – it was one of the best in the city. On the other, there was also something else, something the boy was not able to discern. Oh well, he thought, guess I’ll just sit so far away from that guy that I don’t smell him. He made a gesture to mimic eating – big mistake, now the smell was in his mouth. Ugh.

The bartender nodded, and pointed at a table in the far end of the tavern. Perfect, it was near a window too. Led to an alley too, going off the tiny amount of light filtering through it. Better keep it open – to deal with the smell, and any unforeseen emergency. The old man approached him.

“I’m sorry to ask this, lad, but…”

“Yeah, I get it. Don’t worry.” The boy produced one of the golden coins. The man’s expression instantly lit up. Too easy. 

“Wonderful, sir! What may I bring you?” Not that he could blame the guy. Lot of people these days bolt after eating their meal. Must be the first gold coin he’s seen in weeks.

“Honestly, I don’t know much about western food. What do you recommend?” Before the bartender could answer, the man at the counter suddenly shot up from his sleep.

“Drrrrrrink the…the…ugh…” He held his mouth shut. Oh no, was the guy about to barf? Please no, the boy wanted to keep his appetite. As the man turned to face him, he recoiled in disgust. His face was covered in an unkept beard, with crusty pieces of…something peeking out from beneath the hairy jungle. His reddened eyes were underscored by rings blacker than charcoal. His entire body was covered in some kind of white dust. “Drink the wine. ‘s good.” His words were slurred. Going by the dozens of jugs on the counter, the fact he could still speak at all was a miracle.

“Suuuure.” The boy glanced at the bartender, whose expression had changed. He could clearly see it now, in those wide eyes. Fear. Why, though? Sure the guy was disgusting, but why was this man so scared? 

“I-I will bring you today’s special, young sir. Please excuse me.” He hurriedly turned around and walked to a door in the back, presumably the kitchen.

“Wait! Barkeep!” He froze. The stinking man’s voice, though slurred, bellowed loudly through the tavern. He raised his jug. “Bring me three more.”

“Right away!”

“And put it on my tab.”

“O-of course, sir!” The barkeeper disappeared in the back room. He came back out within moments, holding four jugs in his hands and placed them before the stinking man, who stared at them.

“Correct me if I’m wrong…” He pointed at each of them. “One. Two. Three. Four. Didn’t I order…oh what was it…?” He scratched his chin. “Five? Yeah, it was five wasn’t it?”

“O-of course, sir. Excuse me!” The boy watched, baffled. Was this guy that rich? No, for some reason, the barkeeper was legitimately terrified.

“And one for the boy!” The barkeep nodded before hurrying into the back room. The man looked over and gave the boy a toothy grin. “You need to taste the wine of my homeland. It’s the best.” 

“S-sure. Thanks.” The boy felt unease. There was something off about this guy. He coughed as dust got in his mouth, cursing loudly before washing it down with one of his four jugs of wine. But again, if he got a free, good-tasting wine from it…he wouldn’t complain. Second time today, actually. It really was his lucky day! The barkeep returned soon after, bringing them their drinks. The man had already finished two, and was mumbling something under his breath before keeling over on the counter. “What’s his deal?” The boy asked.

“Shhh! You’ll wake him!” The barkeep whispered, and leaned closer. “Don’t mess with him. He’s dangerous.” Red flag.

“Don’t need to tell me twice.” The boy tried the wine. It was oddly sweet, completely covering the initial bitterness of the alcohol. It was a barely noticeable aftertaste. “This is good though.”

“Glad to hear it.” The barkeep smiled, if lightly. “Your meal is almost ready. I set it up while pouring the wine.”

“Perfect.” He wondered what today’s special was. And how he prepared it so quickly. He glanced over at the stinking man again. His face was firmly planted on the counter, and drool dripped from his open mouth. Just how drunk was he? Even the boy, lacking experience with drinking such drinks, could tell that it was rather strong. He was already a little tipsy. And while he was at it, he wondered what that dust was. It was on the man’s cloak, in his face and all around his seat.

“Your meal, sir.” The boy was snapped from his thoughts, his nose twitching at the familiar lovely smell. He turned to face the barkeep, eagerly licking his lips. What was today’s special, he asked himself again. An exotic fish? A plate of fruity delights? Perhaps even an animal from the central jungle?! His mind went wild.

Then the barkeep placed a plate with a singular fish in front of him. It was baked brown, with red fruits finely chopped and scattered on top and laid to rest on a large leaf. For today’s ‘special’, it was a little…underwhelming.

“Excuse me.” He looked at the barkeep, pointing at the coin on the table. “Is that all I can get for this gold coin?”

“Yes, sir.” The man sighed. “Times are hard, as you know. Food has become excessively expensive over the past few months, what with the war and all.” He reached for the coin. “Your payment, please.”

“But that only goes for Idyllian goods. This fish is from the Isles, right?” The boy covered it with his hand, preventing the man from taking it.

“Yes.” He tried to pry away the boy’s hand.

“So you imported it.” He didn’t budge. “And you’re still charging higher prices?”

“Yes, boy. That is how the economy goes, unfortunately.” Oh, so this is how he wants to play it. No problem, thought the boy. You want to play this game? We can play this game. He looked past the barkeep and at the stinking man.

“Excuse me!” He called out. The barkeep immediately tried shushing him, but he kept calling out. “Sir! Helloooo!”

“Shut up, kid!” He tried forcibly holding the boy’s mouth shut.

“Oi barkeep!” Came the slurred voice from the counter. The stinking man propped himself up and pointed at the boy. “He needs to try the food, too! My tab!”

“O-Of course, sir!” The barkeep said while glaring at him.

“Hey, you heard him.” The boy shrugged and gave the man a shit-eating grin. “Don’t keep me waiting now.” As the barkeeper disappeared in the back room once more, the boy happily took the knife to cut open the fish.

“Wrong!” The stinking man yelled. “No need to cut it open. The scales are tender and edible – don’t waste a single bite, it gives the whole fish a great flavour!”

“T-thanks.” The boy dropped the knife and took up the spoon instead. He took a spoonful of his meal – as the man said, the spoon went through the scales like a hot knife. First time he’d seen anything like it. “So I eat the meat, scales and sauce all at once?”

“Damn straight.” The man took a swig of his wine. “Watch out, though – western food isn’t for the faint of heart!”

“I’m tougher than I look.” The boy said, puffing out his chest and defiantly devoured the spoonful in one go. He keeled over and coughed violently. Too spicy, he thought, desperately trying to wash it down with more wine. The man guffawed at his misery.

“Warned ya, kid!” He slapped his knee. “It gets funnier every time.”

“Bastard.” The boy glared at him. Actually…something caught his eye. The stinking man had an odd glove on his left hand, the one he used to slap his knee. The glove had some kind of glowing lines running along where the bones in his hand were, each a different colour. From index finger to little finger, the lines were a fiery red, deep blue, dark yellow and light violet. On his fingertips, there were corresponding gems of the same colour, except for his thumb, which sported a gem with the same red as his index finger. And in his palm was one more gem, at least twice as large as the others, entirely translucent.

What the hell was that glove? And how much was it worth? Surely, with those gems, it would be worth dozens, if not hundreds of golden coins! How many weeks could he live off that, the boy wondered. The back door opened, and the barkeeper entered with three more plates of food, setting them down before him. They each were covered by a large wooden dome.

“Enjoy your meal.” He said snidely.

“Thank you very much, I will.” The boy said, handing over the gold coin. Today was a great day. First his lucky hunt, and now he was blessed with the presence of a great guardian spirit – one that granted him this lovely boon. A feast, worthy of nobility. That’s what he was talking about! He smiled and bowed at the stinking man, who raised his jug and gulped it down in one go, before falling back on the countertop. At some point, the man would be out for good, and the boy had to disappear before that. Lest they make him pay for everything after all.

As he set to dig into his meal, the front door flew open. Men sporting the colours of the Ashen Order stormed in and surrounded the stinking man. His drunken stupor had overwhelmed him, it seemed – he showed no reaction. Two soldiers stood by the door, holding open the door. 

A young woman walked in. She looked a few years older than the boy, twenty at most. Her hair was raven black, tied into a braided bun. The clothing she wore differed from the usual chainmail of the soldiers. She wore a less restricting white shirt with golden buttons, bearing a breastplate with the Order’s emblem on it – the Manticore with a mane of flame. She had short black leather pants and boots that reached halfway up her upper thigh, and a red cape that was grey on the inside. 

Was she…an officer? No, she couldn’t be. She was too young for that. And pretty. The boy couldn’t look away. It was unusual for a woman to work for the order. Much less one as pretty as this. Didn’t help that her choice of clothing was a little…revealing. With crossed arms, she surveyed the tavern. Her emerald eyes eventually met his. He quickly looked away and stared at his food. His heart skipped a beat.

“I thought everyone had left the tavern.” She said to the man standing beside her, wearing similar clothing. Contrary to her soft features, her voice was stern and commanding.

“Everyone besides him and the owner, miss.” The boy could feel her gaze on him again.

“Unimportant. You.” She pointed at one of the men. “Confiscate that glove.”

The soldier reached for the glove. Suddenly, the stinking man arose from his slumber and shot up in his chair. He turned to look at the soldier.

“Did you just try to take my glove?” He said, eerily clear. The soldier stepped back hesitantly. “You did, didn’t you?” The stinking man smirked and snapped using his index finger – the gem in the middle began shining bright red moments after. He then grabbed the soldier by the collar with his other hand, and held his glove to his face. “Here, have a taste.”

A vortex of flame erupted from his palm, enveloping the soldier’s face entirely. One could see the silhouette of his head in the stream of fire, mouth wide open as he screamed. But his screams were drowned out by the stinking man’s manic laughter. Before long, he let go and the soldier fell into the piles of dust on the ground. His head was missing. Only ash remained, slowly floating onto the floor.

“Who’s next?” He asked, swaying unsteadily on his feet. 

“Me.” The woman uncrossed her arms. The man laughed.

“Listen girl, you’ve got a long life ahead of you. Don’t waste it this stupidly. Not when you’re this pretty.” She whipped out a small crossbow from her belt. 

“You’re the last person I’ll get that lecture from.” She shot a bolt in his leg. The man, too drunk to react, yelled in pain and keeled over. Before he could react, she had already closed the distance and spun on her front leg, delivering a devastating kick to his jaw. It was over in an instant. The man dropped to the floor, unconscious. She removed his glove. “Didn’t think it’d be that easy. So much for the great Raven of the West. Tie him up.” 

Wait, the boy thought. That guy was the Raven?! The one who’d massacred countless soldiers of the Order? No wonder the owner was scared shitless! The boy had thought it all a rumour. After all, who wouldn’t? A guy who could command the elements with a snap was too outlandish to be true. But here he was, in the flesh. Last the boy had heard, the Raven was slaughtering his way through the Isles. When did he get to Idyllis? 

“Don’t worry.” The woman had walked over to his table. Her gaze and tone had softened. “You’re safe now.”

“T-thank you.” He stammered. “I’m shocked. Didn’t know that guy was the Raven of all people.”

“Hard to believe, huh? Well, he’s taken care of.” She looked back as the Raven was tied up and carried outside. “By the way, I’m Lynn.” She held out her hand. Her left hand. He could only stare at it. Did she know? “Oh, sorry.” She held out her right. As he slowly reached to shake her hand, she suddenly grabbed it tightly.

“Gaston.” The man behind her took out a small booklet.

“Golden hair.”

“Lady said that. Looked quite smitten, too. You little charmer.” Lynn laughed and ruffled his hair with her other hand. “But the wine seller was right, it is more a dirty dark blonde. Next.” She snapped her fingers.

“Blue eyes.” They knew.

“Checks out. Got the scar on his face, too.”

“Torn, dirty clothing and a purple cloak.” The boy glanced at the window. He needed to get out of here.

“Why, I think we got ourselves a winner here! Now for the final test…” She pulled open his cloak. A smirk spread across her face. “Gaston, we got a match.” He broke out in a cold sweat. “Got all three missing pouches.” She let go of his cloak and pinched his cheek.

“Naughty boy. It’s not the first time you’ve been reported for stealing. Even got a nickname by now. They call you the ‘One armed bandit’. Fitting, I’d say. No wonder you couldn’t shake my hand.” He clenched his teeth, and tried wresting his arm from her, but no dice. Her grip was too tight.

“The two scourges of Marcaia in one fell swoop. All in a day’s work.” Nope, not today, thought the boy.

He got up and jumped on the table. Before Lynn could react, he kicked the plates, aimed at her face. She recoiled, giving him the opportunity to slip out of her grip and crash through the window. He bolted as fast as he could through the dark alleys of Marcaia. He passed by the warehouses, the port, the market and headed to the city centre. He’d lose them there, at latest. Too large a crowd to track him. Even if he went slower, he couldn’t afford to stop. So he kept going, from a sprint, to a jog, to a slow walk. 

As he continued walking, his stomach growled. He realized that he had only eaten a single bite of the fish. His tongue was still prickly from it, but his belly very much empty. He needed to eat something…anything. An apple. At least an apple, to ward off the hunger. There was one. 

He could see it. That little boy was holding one…and he looked as dirty and downtrodden as the bandit himself. He charged at the boy, fuelled by desperate hunger. He ripped the apple from the boy’s hand and kept running, ignoring his indignant crying. Sorry, he thought, but in this day and age, only the strong survive. He ran and ran and ran. Was he running from the crime scene to not be caught? Or was he running from the guilt of stealing from someone weaker than himself?

He felt a tingle in his left arm, but shoved those feelings down. There were still pursuers on his tail. No time to think. Keep running. Through the crowd. Into the alleys. Hide behind this store. No one could find him here. He’d cleared half the town by the time he stopped. He took a few moments to catch his breath.

“Good riddance.” He mumbled, and stared at the apple in his hand. There hadn’t been enough time to even have a single bite. Even now, with his stomach growling furiously at him, he hesitated. That boy he stole from…he reminded the bandit of his own past. A few years ago, that might as well have been him. In a way, he’d stolen from himself. His left arm, or the stump that was left of it, began aching.

Was this really what he wanted to be? Did his dream amount to nothing?

Well, he always knew he wasn’t pre-destined for greatness. In the end, a street rat, and a scummy one at that, was all he was.

The sound of crossbows firing snapped him from his thoughts. There were two more bangs, and he felt something wrap around his arms and legs, making him lose balance and fall on his face. He looked down, shocked to find thin ropes with two metal balls at their ends. They were so tightly wrapped around his limbs he couldn’t move them. Who, he thought as the apple fell to the ground, so tantalizingly close to his mouth, who did this?

“You really need to work on your stamina.” Spirits be damned.

“How did you catch up?!” Lynn laughed as she dropped from the rooftops and attached her two crossbows onto her belt. She kicked him onto his back and kneeled down beside him, flicking his forehead with a smile. 

“Finding you was easy. Your hand is bleeding.” She was right. He only just noticed the large cut. Must’ve happened when he jumped through the window. Damn it! 

“Blood loss combined with intense running will exhaust anyone. I just had to follow your trail at a moderate pace. Now let me see that cut.” She checked his hand. “Nothing serious. You’ll be fine.” She took a small piece of cloth from her pouch and bandaged his hand. Wait…was she a good person? The bandit got an idea. A good person that worked for the Order? This should be easy.

“Come on, let me go. I’ll give you today’s loot if you look the other way.” He said, trying to smoothly resolve his predicament. Not the first time he’d been caught. It was the first time he’d been humiliated like this, though. But Order soldiers were all the same. Pay a large enough sum, and they’ll always forgive the crime. Add a little pitifulness to the mix, and she’d surely fold. “I steal only because I have to. You can have all of my gold!” Her eye twitched – her expression was one of annoyance.

“That money doesn’t belong to you. Or me. Same as this apple. It will all be returned to those you took it from.” Lynn picked it up and cleaned it with her cape. Huh? Wait, this wasn’t how this was supposed to go. She sighed when she noticed his shocked stare. “I don’t expect you to understand. You are a criminal, after all –  a young one, granted. Perhaps I’m being foolish after all. Maybe you don’t deserve mercy.”

“W-wait, hold on!” Lynn stood up, shaking her head.

“Don’t worry, I won’t kill you. But you will go to the dungeon.” The last thing the boy saw was her rearing back her leg to deliver a kick to his head. The same that had beaten the Raven. Yep, sweet dreams.

What a rotten day this turned out to be.