Since Thatch's bid to attain an accountant position at Shay's store failed the day prior, he could only readjust his plans.

By his estimations and observations, Shay had a particularly powerful customer. Whether that was through Conjury or status, or both, Thatch didn't know.

His initial plan was simply to highlight his worth in the presence of such an esteemed person. It would have allowed him the opportunity to form a connection he would have liked to have in the future.

Thatch was still confident enough to proceed with his plans, however.

All he required now was appropriate attire. This was a more complex problem than it first seemed. Barring price or agreeable fashion sense, the main issue rests with the fact that a boy of no repute or station donning luxury cloth would practically scream to all indecent folk 'I'm fresh meat, please rob me of all my belongings, for I have no use of them, or for my life.'

It was why Thatch had left this venture until now.

Packing away his things in the tent, he passed through the same depressing scenery on his way to the markets, still in the rags he hadn't had a chance to change in weeks.

He managed to take a 'bath' and wash these rags from a bucket of water he gathered from the common well. That was about the extent of hygiene he could afford.

As Thatch arrived in the early morning markets, he began, as usual, to formulate a strategy for the day. The orthodox way would have him make money enough to survive two months, which was also barely enough for him to afford the cheapest of luxury clothes.

Weighing each purpose carefully, he concluded that clothing was more important in the long term. The cost was twenty circles.

Thatch had with him now no proportion of that figure, and he estimated it would take at least a week of bitter work and starvation to fulfill that quota.

He didn't have that time. He needed them immediately.

So there was only the unorthodox way - steal.

And steal carefully.

He needed to exercise all faculties of wit he possessed to have a chance at success.

Luckily it wasn't difficult to find children of decent wealth in the marketplace. Thatch was aware of the consequences of aiming too high. If he aimed to swindle only a middle-class target, and fail, his punishment would be quite light.

It would be a quick death.

With all this in mind, he found a narrow alley from where he could observe the passers-by.

He first needed to determine the target he would have the most success in conning. As he would inevitably be weaker than any possible targets, using force was a foolish idea.

So long as they were gullible enough, Thatch's methods would work.

---

High seat Azroth's son was a well-mannered, well-spoken, and kind boy by any account. There were disagreements and contentions in Azroth's faction that the boy would find it difficult to inherit his father's position due to the boy's temperament.

However, his father had full confidence in the boy's intelligence and discernment.

"Trista, I will be going to the markets today, don't tell father" A ginger-haired boy turned to the maid who was dressing him, and spoke.

"M'lord, don't be silly, you should at least allow your father to place some protection on you before you go. Outside, especially the marketplace is a dangerous area for you to wander alone" the maid, Trista spoke calmly as she buttoned up the boy's shirt.

"I know that it's a difficult time, and father is under a lot of pressure from the Scholars and High Seat Plystil, so I shouldn't be going out. I know Plystil doesn't mind sending assassins with his messages, but that makes it safer for me when nobody knows I'm leaving the castle. I just want to explore and meet other people Trista, is that so wrong?" The boy had a sorrowful expression as he spoke, one too difficult to refuse, and Trista had no choice but to give in.

"I'll be hung if your father finds out" Trista sighed before she looked the boy in the eyes and gave a warm fond smile. She really did adore this little boy, loveable and intelligent and already aware enough to understand men's affairs, but still simply a curious child at heart.

"Well let's make sure he doesn't then" The boy laughed and jumped towards Trista for a hug.

"M'lord... you'll crease your clothes" Trista said taken aback.

"It's okay, actually, since no one should know I'm Azroth's son when I'm outside, I think these clothes are too fancy. Wear me something more common and some makeup" The boy still spoke hugging the maid until she separated them.

Really, this boy was too smart for his own good.

---

Thatch observed every passer-by; their clothes, their demeanor, and if they had anyone else with them, who they had with them. Attempting to ascertain their status with this information may not be entirely optimal, however, it was the best he felt he could currently do.

He grasped his bag tightly as he watched the twin stars shift.

He then noticed a child of similar stature to himself walking idly along the street with avid fascination; the sort of eyes someone new to the city would likely have.

Thatch made his decision.

"Oi you! are you new to the markets?" He approached the boy, maintaining the picture-perfect image of a neglected child. This wasn't an act of course, since that is exactly what he was.

The boy, startled, turned to look at Thatch with surprise colouring his face.

"Huh? Ah... Yes" The boy staggered for words before he spoke again "Ah, I'm sorry, was it that apparent? It is indeed my first time in the markets"

'First time in the markets? Not the first time in the city huh? This might not be so easy after all' Thatch thought.

It was surprising to Thatch, however, that the boy did not immediately dismiss him by his ragged and unclean appearance.

"Would you like me to show you around?" Thatch asked.

"Oh, that would be delightful, though I haven't actually any money with me to pay you" The boy said.

"That's quite alright, I just wanted to help since you seemed, well, new to everything" Thatch spoke with as much sincerity as he could muster.

"Ohh, that's rather thoughtful, Can I ask your name? Ah, I don't have one yet so just call me... Ginger?"

"Oh, call me Thatch. You don't have a name yet? Are you Eyerian?" Thatch asked.

"Woah, you know about us? I didn't expect... I mean, even the way you speak - you seem quite educated - I'm sorry, I don't mean offense" Ginger looked down, embarrassed that he had stuttered so much.

"Because of my appearance?" Thatch asked as he pulled on the poorly stitched cloth.

"... I apologise" Ginger spoke with what sounded to Thatch like actual sincerity.

Thatch found that rather noteworthy and surprising.

"It's okay. I'm not some noble of a fallen house, if that's what you're thinking" Thatch joked.

"Ha, I didn't think you were" Ginger smiled at him and continued to speak as they walked along the streets "Hey, I know this might sound strange from someone you've just met, but umm...would you like to be friends?"