The young thief soon emerged out of the back street into the brightly lit, spacious and resplendent market district. The sun causing her to squint momentarily as she kept a wary eye out for any nearby guards. She removed her conspicuous cloak and stuffed it into her small pack, revealing a dirty, but properly made and tailored tunic, stolen from a shop. Without her cloak, she could be any village girl, returning home from a day working in the fields or cleaning a noble house. The open district was packed with people, stalls and decorations, ready for the crowning of the new Emperor. She gently slid in among the many merchants and citizens, watching for sagging trousers and heavy bags. She soon spotted a pair belonging to a huge gentleman, currently in the process of ordering what appeared to be his staff to carry is heavy items.

"Careful! That cabinet will be in the entrance hall! If you drop it. I'll have you whipped!"

She maneuvered closer, pretending to study the details and smell of a freshly oiled and painted wooden cabinet. The moment soon arrived. The cabinet in question proved too heavy for the clearly underfed servants. With a terrifying crash, the cabinet came apart as it slammed into the cut stone pavement. The man roared in anger and began beating his servants with a large riding crop. She approached him silently, keeping a low profile, soon she was behind him just as he raised his arm to strike again. His heavy pouch bounced in his loose pocket, and as the leather crop struck servant flesh, she deftly cut the rope attaching the pouch to the belt. Within moments she had put distance between them, ten meters, sixteen, soon his angry voice had blurred out in the buzz of the crowd. A few second later, a deafening scream momentarily caused the immediate area to fall silent.

"Thieves! Brigands! Cutpurses and scoundrels! Guards! Guards! My coins are stolen! GUARDS!!!"

She looked up at the sky, affording herself a smile under the pretense of the warm temperature. The initial response soon died down, and the square went back to normal, save for a squad of guards making their way towards the now much poorer gentleman.

The young thief had made her way into the slum district. A filthy, decaying hole holding those who had not yet fallen to such desperation to seek out the sewer gods; invented mockeries and imitations of the golden marvels placed in front of the opulent temples in their honor. Of the most popular gods, Yulie was the one most common even underground. There she was known as Vilji, a sometimes gentle and sometimes violent deity, who would protect those who were content and strong, and clear out those who would not conform to the absolute squalor.

Beggars lined the still damp streets, the tall wall and high-built houses leaving the streets in almost permanent shade. A stench of decay, defecation and disease hung heavily as filth was simply thrown out of windows, a mist of pure filth clinging to walls and mixing with the mud.

She continued onwards, nearly stumbling over destitute beggars who often would grab hold of her clothes. With a kick she would free herself, but they would just keep coming on. She hated the slum, and walking the streets filled her with dread, more so when carrying something of value. She soon arrived in a familiar back alley. At the end of it was a small crumbling shrine dedicated to Acrypha, the patron of thieves and assassins. A silence hung over the streets as not many dared approach. She moved in the shadows, and approached the statue. With one last glance, she pushed aside some of the hanging growth and climbed in behind the statue. She took one last bite of her apple core, and began to dig under the statue with her bare hands. Out of the soggy mud emerged a small metal box, plain to look at and starting to rust and decay like everything else.

Her secret thief's stash contained very little of true value, but that was about to change. She quietly put the pouch of coins into the box, throwing one glance at the soggy, and burnt remains of the small drawing in the corner before closing the box, submerging it back into the mud. As quietly as she had arrived, she left, covering her muddy tracks and making her way in the direction of the market. With plenty of daylight left, she decided she could manage one more run.

After some walking, she entered the residential area. The squalor gave way to open, well-kept streets and pretty houses in many different shapes and forms, all built with functionality in mind. The interior she remembered was spacious, depending on the tenants and their wealth. One house she had entered had been lined floor to roof with hunting trophies, each bearing a huge hole straight through the skull made with an oversized, cruel crossbow. The owner had been a renowned hunter. Until she had received a contract to hunt him. A slight smile passed through her lips remembering the satisfying thud and following splash as she put one of the bolts through his skull, before mounting the cracked, dripping head on a pedestal. Another of the houses she had systematically burgled in cooperation with two other kids from her part of the sewer. Despite having known them for long, she found herself unable to remember their faces, both having long since been killed off in botched robberies. She passed by a pair of ladies talking loudly, sharing gossip about their neighbours, as she approached the all pinched their noses and turned away in apparent disgust, having the opposite effect of her going even closer, causing a minor freakout among the ladies.

She was nearing the end of the district where the road forked, leading into the market district, and the workshop district. A group of people had gathered in a circle over by the wall of a nearby house. Out of curiosity, she decided to move a little closer. As she neared, she saw a stream of blood running between the cut stones, and heard the wet snapping of bone. Despite being a bloody heap, she recognized the young boy as one of the children from the sewers. Four guards stood around him, trampling and kicking him with their metal-covered boots. The boy yelped, but remained still, his thin legs twisted and his fingers being crushed one by one.

"Dirty little shit... This is what happens when you try to steal from your betters!" One of the guards kicked the boy in the face, sending a spurt of blood and milk teeth flying. Another two guards, on the right made the next move, one held down the boy’s knee, while the other placed a savage kick with his pointy boot into the side of the boy’s leg, just under the kneecap.

"Take this!" The other guard on the left stomped the boy's thumb, the broken digit making a disgusting wet crack and snap.

"Alright, that's enough. Get back to your posts!" One of the sergeants of the guard approached and the crowd began to disperse. She vanished along with the crowd, feeling no particular remorse. Every day it was survival of the fittest, and the boy had taken the fall for her theft. A hint of relief washed over her as she left the scene, tucked into the crowd. The broken body remained, slowly bleeding dry.