A girl's voice cries out in pain as rough hands throw her out onto the wet, stone ground. She lands in a puddle, the palms of her hands scraping on cobble as jolts of pain run through her arms and knees. Before she can pick herself up a boot kicks into the centre of her back and with another cry of pain, she lands facedown in the puddle. The rain beats against her back, matting her short, obsidian black hair down to her head, and the sounds of laughter, music and shouting men pound against her ears.

“Damn brats… What's this one then, second tonight? Third?” A gruff, slurred man says from the brightly lit doorway behind her. His shadow lays over her, looming just out of sight. She curls inwards, in anticipation of the beating she knows is coming.

Even still, the sudden kick to her unprotected side makes her gasp in pain as she writhes on the ground, tears stinging her tightly shut eyes.

“Wrong tavern to go a thieven’ in, lil’ pickpocket. Now make yerself scarce before I teach you the manners your folks never did,” the man says, an almost casual and bored disdain in his voice.

A third kick, this time to the small of her back, hits hard enough that it forcefully rolls her over. As she whimpers from the blow, curling tighter into a ball to protect her belly, she cracks open an eye and sees the man standing over her. He’s older, black hair but going grey, and built like an ox. Her silver eyes meet his… and there isn’t an ounce of mercy in his gaze. He looks at her like she’s something he just scraped off his shoe. When he sees her looking, the bored expression drops almost instantly, replaced with a barely concealed rage.

“Kasin’s got enough of you Arklanders running about as is. Get back to yer people and get the hell out.”

She pushes herself up out of the puddle, swaying in pain and clutching her side as she’s unable to stand up straight. But fear drives her just as much as the emptiness in her stomach, so she staggers away like a drunk, eyes not leaving the man until she’s well outside of his striking range.

As she tries to run down the alley behind the tavern, her tears start to flow more earnestly. From the pain of moving, but more and more from the growing frustration in her.

She’d been so close. The coin purse had been right there, right at her finger tips…

All at once she found herself outside of the alleyway as she bumped head first into a person’s elbow. She recoiled and lost her balance, landing on the ground with a painful bump.

“Oh, dear… are you alright? Did you dirty your coat?” A woman’s voice coos, as the girl stares up intently at the male partner of a young couple that she had just walked into.

“I’m well, of course, no need to fret my love,” the man says back warmly… as he brushes away at his elbow with a smile. On his hip, right there, is a leather bag, a purse. She’d felt it against her chest as she walked into him. If she’d only been paying a little more attention, maybe she could have…

The couple walk quickly away, leaving her behind as she stares after the coin she knows is leaving her once again. There’s a lot of people in the street watching, even a pair of guards in silver plate, and suddenly she doesn’t feel quite the same way. Maybe it was for the best that she didn’t try something.

A shiver runs through her as the rain and the night air start to catch up to her. So, she pulls herself slowly to her feet, watching as the eyes of the crowd start to wander away, and she continues to walk.

When she finds a place to sit, just under an awning that hangs from the front of a store, she leans back into the wall and slides down it with a quiet whimper, clutching her throbbing side. Then she sits, hugs her knees to her chest, and does the only other thing she can think of.

She holds both hands out in front of her, resting her forehead on her knees almost as if in prayer. The little drops of cold water that run down the back of her neck and drip from her bangs onto her bare legs send shivers through her body, and she holds back tears as her shoulders start to shake.

There’s another tavern somewhere nearby. She can smell the unique stench of breads, meats, ale and sweat even in the heavy rain. An image comes to mind unbidden, of a group of friends, maybe shopkeepers or merchants, guards or mercenaries, farmers or nobles… all sitting around a table, laughing as they enjoy a meal. Music plays in the background as the muse plays a jaunty tune, and there’s a warm fire in the hearth that puts a glow on everyone’s skin.

A man steps into a puddle right at her feet, splashing her bare legs and feet with frigid water, shocking her upright. Her legs start to quiver and she curls them tighter into her body, the only source of heat she has. The ragged shorts and tunic she wears do little to stave off the cold.

Her stomach growls, and she lowers her head again to her knees. She doesn’t cry anymore, just stares down into her lap with a gaze as empty as her hands.

It’s late at night, and she’s tired. A little part of her wants nothing more than to crawl back to the tent she and her family call home, to the musty, damp bedroll she shares with her little sister, and wait for her father to bring something to eat. Something her mother could cook on one of the fires the community kept burning for anyone to use. Anything that could fill her belly, and push the cold, wet feeling out of her bones.

Then she remembers something she doesn’t want to, and tightens her eyes shut. Those days… are gone now. She wouldn’t be here if they weren’t. So, she holds her hands out farther, bows her head lower, and waits.

The faint ticking and hum of a clock and the subtle patting of rain were the only sounds that disturbed Lukas in his bedroom, but he found himself wide awake long after his brothers had gone quiet. The little device that sat at the other end of the room ticked slowly on, powered by some arcanisms that were beyond him, relentlessly signifying the passing hours. Eventually he sat up quietly as he could, grateful that the relatives they were staying with in Kasin had individual bedrooms for all of them. It would be hard to explain if one of his brothers saw him getting up this late.

He was fully dressed but for his bare feet when he got out of bed, grabbing socks, a black cloak with his family pin and a pair of leather boots from under his bed on the way. He snuck out of the luxurious bedroom, eyeing the doors that his brothers were sleeping behind, and crept down the hallway of the manor. When he was a safe distance away, he put the socks and boots on, and started weaving his way through the hallways, keeping a careful ear out for any servants who might be up this late.

When he did hear a set of footsteps coming down the hall, he silently hid himself behind a tall set of golden plate armour. He dared not peek out from behind it, but he watched the glow of a single candle move through the hall, carried by what looked to be a groundskeeper. The second the groundskeeper was around the corner, Lukas hurried down the hall away from him until rounding a corner where at last his destination came into sight.

The back door of the manor lay before him, and thankfully the locks didn’t require a key from the inside the way his family manor in Selerica did. He breathed a silent prayer in thanks, before slipping through the door and into the back alley and the cold rain beyond.

The manor was located in a district of Kasin known as the Golden Gardens. It was a place for nobles too important to live with the common folk, but not explicit royalty that would live in Castle Kasin on the top of the hill right next to it. Even from here, though, the towers of Castle Kasin broke into the skyline above even the tallest of manors and mansions, domineering over the largest city in the world.

Lukas paid little attention to any of it. Instead, he patted at the hidden pocket in his cloak, feeling the jingle of silver in his coin purse inside. With a sense of determination in mind, he set off from the mansion, no longer walking quietly but with a full sense of purpose and confidence.

As he rounded the corner out to the main street, a nearby guard who appeared to be half asleep saw him, and instantly furrowed his brow in concern. Before the guard could so much as speak, Lukas raised his chin in defiance, puffing out his chest and pushing aside his cloak so that the Lichtenwald crest on his cloak pin caught the moonlight. The guard went pale in an instant, snapped to attention, and respectfully stared straight ahead as Lukas passed.

Being the son of a powerful noble was certainly useful, sometimes. Lukas let a little smile creep onto his face as he put the guard behind him.

Slowly but surely, the manors and houses got smaller and smaller. He occasionally slipped by more guards and patrols, stepping into alleys when he heard them coming, until eventually he stopped seeing them all together. The houses had become tall, wooden shacks, many of which extended a ways out over the street, blocking out much of the night sky.

To Lukas though, none of it really mattered. He had a single goal in mind, and everything else only mattered as much as it helped or hindered him.

He was curious. And as a noble of the highest house in Selerica, why shouldn't he get his answers?

In front of him was a stone balcony with a wooden railing. As he approached, the rest of the capital city of Kasin came into view below. Kasin dwarfed his home city, all of Selerica could easily fit just in the expanse he saw in front of him. The countless wooden inns and taverns, stone towers and barracks, the churches and the shops… he paused just long enough to take it all in.

At last, he saw what he was looking for. A crowded and well lit corner of the city filled to the brim with tents. He quickly made for a staircase down to the lower parts of the city, a confident smile on his face and a spring in his step.

The streets were surprisingly busy, outside of the wealthier district his Aunt and Uncle called home. Taverns were loud, open windows releasing the sounds of music and raised voices, and the thick smells from within. Not many people glanced his way from the crowds, just as he’d hoped… a lone child wandering after dark must not have been out of the ordinary here. He’d been counting on that much being the same as in Selerica, at least.

He kept his face hidden behind the hood of his cloak, pretending to be using it merely to protect from the rain. He was far from the only one, though, and he breathed a sigh of relief as a patrol of guards moved by him on the street without a second glance. The fewer people he showed his insignia to, the fewer chances there were that it would circulate back to his father somehow. He could never know just which guards might have Lichtenwald gold in their pockets… of course, the ones that did would have to obey him, if he gave an order. At least until word got to his father, then the real trouble would start. His smile faltered as a troubled look came over his face. He’d just have to avoid showing his insignia at all, from here on out. It… probably wasn’t wise to show it in the first place.

The streets got narrower and the buildings got taller as Lukas wandered further from the hill and down into the dirty roads below. Though the buildings were taller, they were far less sturdy looking. Buildings at their base were often stone, cobble or brick, ancient and worn smooth over centuries of rain and wind. But on top of each of them, wooden extensions had been built, most of which seemed rickety, at best. At worst, Lukas thought it must have been a miracle that the wooden frames had not collapsed yet.

He kept his eyes peeled on the crowd, looking for the right person. He needed someone willing to sell him the information he wanted, but trustworthy enough to tell him the truth. Shady enough to keep their dealings quiet, but not so dangerous that he’d be risking injury or kidnapping. For all his confidence, he wasn’t stupid, after all. He knew the tiny knife he had behind his back likely wouldn’t protect him much from a determined adult three or more times his weight.

It was almost an hour into his walk that he finally saw it. Almost exactly the right person as he’d been looking for.

There, under an awning in front of a shop that had long since closed for the night, sat what looked like a young boy. He had pale, dirty skin that stuck out from under ragged shorts and tunic, and no shoes covering his feet. He sat against the wall with his head resting on his knees, one hand limply held out in front of him, empty but for some water that had dripped down from the edge of the awning. The boy slowly dumped the water out from the palm of his hand, taking a moment to rub and dry his hand off on the side of his clearly wet shorts, before holding that same empty hand out, all without looking up from his lap.

As Lukas walked over, checking to make sure no one in the crowd was paying much attention, he carefully held a hand over his coin purse. He came to a stop just a foot away from the boy, who slowly looked up as he saw the tips of Lukas’ boots at his feet.

An Arklander? Lukas thought, both surprised to see one here in Kasin, but not surprised at the state of the boy. His hair, though damp, shone and glimmered darkly like the deepest of obsidian, and the almost shimmering silver of his eyes in the moonlight seemed otherworldly. Both were a sign of an Arklander, the race of people who lived to the west of Selerica… a people who’d once proudly been the leaders of their own sovereign nation.

That is, until just a few short years ago when Kasin had finally won a war that spanned a hundred years, and took over the Arklands. The fighting in the streets in the old Arklander cities to this very day made the savagery of beasts seem tame in comparison, or so Lukas’ brothers had said. Something about rebel groups and assassins… Lukas hadn’t paid much attention.

“Copper to be spared, m’lord?” The boy said in a high, weak voice. His eyes had deep, dark bags under them, though it was hard to tell through the layer of dirt on his face. He had slim, shrewd features, but under the obvious exhaustion and hollowness of his expression, there was a glimmer of sharp, dangerous intelligence that made Lukas initially uneasy.

“If you’ve the answers I’m looking for, then most certainly,” Lukas responded, lowering himself to one knee in front of the boy. How old was he, anyways? Nine, maybe ten? The boy looked a year or two younger than himself, if he had to guess.

“Depends what you’re askin’... and who’s askin’,” the boy said quietly. He spoke oddly soft, Lukas thought, but put it from his mind.

“You won’t get the who part of that, but I’m looking for answers about the tents near the west gate,” Lukas responded, parting his cloak to pat at the purse there. The boy’s eyes sharpened as he saw it, and Lukas smiled warmly. He knew that he had the boy’s attention now.

“Least you can do’s a first name, m’lord,” the boy said quietly, sitting up straighter and casting a suspicious glance at the crowd around them.

Lukas pondered a moment. How much should he tell this stranger? He could always lie, but then, it was quite likely that an Arklander would never willingly speak to a guard, or even a regular citizen of Kasin… maybe that made it safe enough?

“Lukas,” he replied after some thought, before standing up and holding a hand up in a gesture to pull the boy to his feet. “Just Lukas will have to do, I’m afraid.”

“Kris,” the boy said, taking his hand and pulling himself to his feet. “Just Kris… of Addiron.”

He’s from all the way in Addiron? Lukas thought, unable to stop a curious look from crossing his face. Addiron was about the furthest point in Arkasia away from the capital of Kasin, and also the last Arklander city to fall in the war. Just how, and why, this boy had come all the way to Kasin left Lukas baffled.

“Well, Kris of Addiron,” Lukas muttered, as he caught sight of a group of guards rounding the corner at the end of the street. “Let’s find somewhere more private, shall we?”