Roland Crescent woke with a start. Slightly panicked eyes turned calm, before a look of resignation settled on his face. Nothing better than starting your day with a coin flip.

The sinking feeling in his stomach would remain there until he knew which side the coin landed on, making it vital to waste no time, lest he ended up with indigestion.

Using a forceful gesture Roland threw off the thin sheet covering him, swung his legs over the edge, and hopped out of bed, displaying surprising force for someone asleep just moments earlier. Though maybe running frantically through a moderately twisted dreamscape did not quite count as sleeping.

The stuffy room he was in housed nothing but two beds at opposing walls, one still occupied, as well as a small cupboard in between them, underneath the only window. While appearing overly spartan, this room’s singular purpose was to keep the elements and any wildlife away. And besides the occasional leak and particularly tenacious rodent, it served that purpose well enough.

With practiced movements Roland took a ragged white shirt and somewhat new pants out of his pillow case, before throwing the sad looking piece of cloth next to the discarded sheet. Mind tired but body fully rested, he was glad his through countless repetitions honed skills would see him dressed needing no thought of his own.

Mere seconds later there stood someone who could only be described as forgettable, in a way that reminded one of a stray dog. People would notice one running past, but if somebody asked them what it had looked like they would draw a blank, not remembering anything of significance besides it being dirty, having four limbs and most likely a head. The general stuff.

Slightly smaller than other boys his age, with a slender built, worn hands and quite possibly pleasant face. Half an hour of work and sufficient amounts of soap would be needed in order to render a better judgment.

Coarse black hair, screaming for a comb, fell down the back of Roland’s neck while a few strands flowed to the front of his face, half covering somewhat small ears.

The only thing out of the ordinary were his brown eyes. Not for any striking reasons but solely because of their darker than normal color. Not quite black, however definitely reaching there under specific lighting.

Roland had always wondered if it was a hereditary trait, though a lack of any parents or relatives around to ask turned it into something he smilingly nodded his head at when mentioned. After all, one could only have the same conversation so many times before it turned into an annoyance.

Fortunately, his eyes had started to lighten slightly as he advanced in age, already looking much more normal now than during his early childhood years.

Said overused conversation pieces looked towards the other bed in the room and saw a curious scene. Belly down, limbs stretched out like a grotesque star, and one bad twitch away from certain contact with the floor, lay the rooms other occupant, Thomas, longtime friend and follower of Roland’s.

Both of them were fourteen years old, though Roland luckily had one month on his companion. Despite their group not placing any importance on seniority, he still felt his current dynamic with Thomas would be a lot more strained were he the younger one. Mostly due to a foreseeably massive increase in phrases starting along the lines of ‘As your senior…’ or ‘Someone your age shouldn’t…’ directed towards him.

Despite being unorganized, loud and incredibly cheeky, often to an infuriating degree, Roland didn’t hesitate a second when it came to selecting Thomas as his roommate last year. For there was one quality the pudgy boy possessed which stood out above all else. Absolute loyalty.

Roland thought about his previous roommates, back when he was still a little kid living with seven others inside a small room, even more cramped than his current one. I’d take my pudgy chaotic glutton over those opportunistic brats any day of the week.

Memories of all the times Thomas had struggled through one ordeal after another by his side surfaced in Roland’s mind. And not once his friend gave up or abandoned him. Truly, where could one find someone as reliable as Thomas? He wouldn’t mind a couple dozen more. Provided they brought their own food, and didn’t mind sleeping in a shed.

Walking up to his friend’s bed with a loving smirk, Roland grabbed the sheet, half stuck under an impressively sized belly, and yanked it away forcefully.

A gurgled noise, possibly indicating surprise, followed by an impact similar to a sack of wet laundry hitting the floor were heard in the small room.

And just like Roland could instinctively dress himself mere seconds after awakening, Thomas too had honed one of his abilities after countless repetitions. Though in his case said ability was the power to screech loudly, no matter the situation.

“Domestic violence! Help, I’m being assaulted!” Thomas wailed like an unwilling pig being dragged towards a butcher’s cleaver. “My chastity! Save me!”

The way he spun around the floor, limbs flailing wildly, really helped sell the show. But seeing that only a singular unimpressed audience member was present, there were serious concerns over its long-term financial viability.

Luckily for Roland, everyone living in their general vicinity had long learned to filter out Thomas’ voice when it reached a high pitch. Though a few of the newer children were quite possibly quaking in their little boots.

Hopefully some of their more experienced roommates could clear up the misunderstanding. Or fan the flames. Any form of entertainment was, after all, of vital importance in a dreary place like this.

“Rise and shine my friend. We got much to do!” Roland announced, not bothered by his friend’s screeching.

“Morning, Roland, I wonder what’s for breakfast?” Thomas suddenly replied nonchalantly, tone completely normal while his limbs were back to moving at appropriate speeds. “Or do we you have something planned?”

“I feel the White Mill Bridge could use a quick inspection, seeing nobody really maintains it anymore,” Roland grabbed his worn leather shoes from the corner, answering on his way to the door. “We’ll go take a quick look and get something to eat afterwards.” If what we find doesn’t spoil our appetite.

"Oh, I’ll get ready,” Thomas mumbled, greatly disappointed at the delayed breakfast as he rummaged through a pile of dirty cloths beside his bed.

The majority of them appeared to be proper apparel, but there always remained the faint possibility of him emerging clad in a sack. Which, while obviously still functional, could lead to some pointed stares. And promptly ensuing high pitched screams condemning people for their lecherous gazes, from what could best be described as the human equivalent of a particularly deformed potato.

Roland left the room to be greeted by a dreary hallway with countless smaller doors leading to rooms much like theirs, though most housed a lot more than two people. If one were to add locks to all the doors, this place could transform into a serviceable prison in the blink of an eye. Provided something was done about the windows.

Big double doors on both ends of the hallway served as exits, one leading into the main courtyard, the other towards an overgrown fence. Needless to say, the former saw a lot more use.

Not wanting to go against norms, and also having better things to do than detour the whole building for no reason whatsoever, Roland headed towards the main courtyard exit. He barely made it halfway when a little hurricane of activity barreled its way next to him.

“All ready for the big mission, Boss!” a transformed Thomas energetically jogged around Roland, flailing his arms around randomly trying to get them in the right shirt holes, failing spectacularly.

Impressive energy right from the start. Though that’s nothing new. Roland absentmindedly thought, glancing at his overeager friend.

They exited into a large courtyard filled with scattered tree trunks, misshapen stones, and some normally highly contested swings. This space was used as giant playpen for the children too young to wander the city on their own.

The current early hour however left everything deserted, making it seem refreshingly peaceful for anyone that ever experienced the pandemonium on display here whenever lunchtime ended.

Behind the two friends loomed their one-story high dormitory. From the outside it looked like a small warehouse made mostly of wood with a foundation of stone.

Whatever its original purpose had been, now the building’s insides were used to house as many children as possible in as small a space as feasible. The original architect would no doubt be happy that his original spirit of efficiency had been pushed to new heights.

Opposite of them stood the girls dormitory, looking exactly the same as theirs, besides some small flower beds next to the entrance.

Contrasting these frugal looking accommodations, a behemoth of a building resided on their left. Three stories tall, built out of solid gray stone with short steps leading towards a gigantic arched doorway that served as an entrance. This was the main building, housing the kitchen, a dining hall, classrooms, staff accommodations, as well as the Director’s office.

Most impressive was a plaque hanging above the entrance, depicting a white crescent moon surrounded by stars with a shining silver inscription below it.

‘Crescent Moon Orphanage’

Despite this plaque appearing infinitely tiny compared to the gigantic building, it almost seemed like the orphanage was attached to it instead of the other way round. Like if everything else collapsed, the moon and stars would keep hanging there in the air on their lonesome.

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Both Roland and Thomas instinctively walked to the spacious circle in front of the main building and faced the shiny plaque.

They held one hand above their hearts, raised it in a high arc, and left it pointing straight down at their side. Afterwards they bowed while reciting a prayer every child in the orphanage learned from the moment they could speak.

“Exalted Princess, with the Moon as our witness we honor your sacrifice.”

“Radiant Moon, may the Princesses’ wish eternally brighten your night sky.”

Whereas Thomas displayed the content look of someone completing a daily ritual successfully, Roland instead lifted his face up towards the sky, squinting slightly at the slowly rising sun.

The Savior of the continent... Everybody sings her praises but she will never hear them. Am I going to meet the same end?

Pushing the annoying thoughts aside, Roland clicked his tongue, somewhat annoyed at himself. Comparing himself to the Princess was simply too much, seeing as today’s glorious quest involved fixing a bridge, and last he checked bards were not interested in feats of public maintenance.

Turning away from the plaque, Roland walked briskly towards the gate, leaving Thomas behind.

“Let's go,” He called out after a bit.

Whipping his head around with unhealthy speed, Thomas watched his friend walk away, before quickly giving chase.

“Not really pious of you to leave me standing there, Boss,” Thomas liberally interpreted a believer’s duties, huffing slightly after his short sprint. “And what about the others?”

“Stephan was meeting some important people yesterday evening, so he probably stayed the night elsewhere,” Roland answered, not the least bit concerned about his truant companion blatantly ignoring curfew. “He’ll find us later.” Hopefully bringing good news. Though you never know with him.

Shortly afterwards Roland spotted a big figure leaning against a tree, right next to the orphanage gate on the last side of the compound.

Fortunately, our other last member as reliable as always.

This member of Roland’s little group was two years older than the rest, though only for a few more months, but that alone could not explain his astonishing built.

Almost two heads taller than Roland, Arthur could have easily passed as a laborer in his twenties. Broad shoulders, short brown hair, solid blue eyes with a stony face and clothes somehow even more ragged than the duo’s. He truly deserved to be the main subject of a reoccurring debate between the director and the head cook about their current food budget.

Thomas noticed Arthur a moment later and eagerly ran up to greet him, “Morning, Arthur! We gonna build bridges today.”

Most definitely not. Roland had little interest in adding that specific skill to his already convoluted portfolio of unnecessary knowledge.

Arthur raised his head from the small notebook he was currently examining and gave Thomas a full faced grin, showing his teeth.

“Well doesn’t that sound like a worthwhile use of time,” Arthur remarked, forgoing a greeting of his own. Putting the worn notebook in a red, sewn-on pocket of his otherwise brown pants, he pushed himself of the tree, threw his other arm around Thomas and scooped down for a misaligned shoulder hug. “Going to be fun, eh, Tommy?”

“Morning, Boss,” Arthur greeted Roland, before inquiring jokingly about their great plans. “Which puddle are we planning to cross? I remember spotting a very big one back when it rained last week.”

“The Tarna, need to challenge ourselves from time to time after all,” Roland replied deadpan as he walked past the giggling Thomas, who was trying his best to get out of Arthur’s hold. “Jokes aside, we’ll just see if the White Mill Bridge needs some maintenance, and do it ourselves if possible”

Arthur decided to let his struggling friend go, inciting a shout of triumph from the latter.

“Although we certainly have the required energy,” Arthur noted, shooting an amused look at the ‘victorious’ boy. “Repairing a bridge is probably not something we can manage. Should we get some Professionals?”

Roland paused in his step, Arthur’s timely grab being the only thing preventing Thomas from barreling into their leader’s back.

Getting some craftsman to take a look could work. Though it’s only the railing so I don’t see much reason to waste goodwill on that. I’m quite skeptical about the possibility of finding a serious problem. Either way we need to check it out first.

“No need for now, we’ll try to do a little work ourselves. If trouble comes up, we can always ask for help then,” Roland replied after thinking it through.

Arthur nodded dutifully, having long passed the need for detailed explanations when it came to his leader’s plans. He’d offer suggestions and try to ease the burden, but would never falter when Roland had decided on something.

Seeing his big companion’s nod, Roland started walking again, the other two following along. Big measured steps on his right, and short chaotic taps on his left.

Past the gate they entered a loosely paved street, littered with warehouses, once again highlighting the frugality of a long gone first director. To the left said warehouses continued as far as the eye could see, some small workshops dotted here and there in between, many already starting to see sign of activity even this early in the morning.

The right side showed quite a different picture, as a mere hundred meters ahead the street fed into another one, twice as wide and fully paved. Carts, stalls, little tents, and countless tables were arranged seemingly at random, filled with knickknacks and food. Hawkers acoustically assaulted their potential first customers of the day, seemingly trying to outdo the roosters crowing at the rising sun.

Without hesitation Roland led the way left, trying to ignore Thomas teary look towards the food stands. Maybe we don’t have to walk all the way there.

Taking pity on his hungry friend Roland kept an eye out for any carts coming their way. The big ones could be ignored, because none of them would have taken the White Mill Bridge. What he was looking for were shoddy ones that appeared to be cobbled together from countless parts, pulled by scrawny donkeys instead of expensive horses or oxen.

It didn’t take long to find one, as everyone who had something to sell made their way over to the city’s busier areas during this time of day. An old man wearing ragged clothes walked next to a small cart, donkey and all included.

“Good sir, could I spare a moment of your time?” Roland asked the storied traveler, most pleasant smile imaginable on his face. Years of dealing with people annoyed or outright angry at his, while justified, very strange behaviors had made him a master of polite smiles. “I was wondering if you came from the White Mill Bridge?”

The tired old man was momentarily surprised at being spoken to, but upon seeing the young smiling boy, just as raggedly dressed as himself, a feeling of solidarity spread through him.

“Yeah, me and my girl here always go through there,” the old man replied, tenderly stroking his donkey's head. “The crowd at the bigger bridges ain't the nicest.”

“I know what you mean, uncle,” Roland claimed familiarly. “Acting all high and mighty, despite it being people like us who built the damn things in the first place.” He was being quite liberal in his definition of us. Something that did not really matter to the old man.

The latter was no doubt happy to have someone support his views. Nodding his head strongly, he seemed about ready to start a little tirade against oppression when he suddenly noticed Roland’s companions.

Momentarily taken aback by Arthur’s height, he was quickly pacified upon seeing the starry look Thomas gave his donkey. How great to see a child admiring his proudest possession.

Roland’s smile however ended up slightly tilted when he saw the ‘loving’ gaze his hungry friend gave the animal. Deciding that quickly ending the conversation was in the best interests of everyone’s mental well-being, he asked the old man if anything unusual had happened at the bridge.

“Unusual?” the old man contemplated. “No, I don’t think so. Everything looked the same as always.”

Relief flooded through Roland. He tried not to show it, but situations like today’s were among his most hated. Failing because of one’s own lack of ability made you strive to be better. Failing without being given a chance at all on the other hand was gut wrenching, and a painful reminder that there are some things you would never be able to change.

As the old man did not say anything about a piece of the railing being gone, something which was quite hard to miss, it could be safely assumed the accident did not happen yet.

Nice. So, we have until evening to fix it. Some people would argue it was too early for celebration. Roland however had quite a good grasp on what they could and couldn’t do. And having almost an entire day for their work basically guaranteed it would turn into a successful operation.

“Thank you very much for the information,” A weight lifted off his shoulder, Roland wished the old man financial success. “I hope you sell a lot today.”

“He he, no problem, little one,” the old man replied happily. “I too hope you have a fruitful day.” Slapping his ass, the both of them continued onward.

Once they were out of sight Roland gave Thomas an exasperated look.

“You that hungry buddy?” he joked, mood much lighter than earlier. “I was scared we were about to see you devour his poor darling donkey whole.”

“I don’t think she’d taste good uncooked. And I’d also feel bad for the old man,” his stout friend replied seriously. “He doesn’t look strong enough to pull the cart himself.”

Arthur snorted at their friends interesting moral concerns, whereas Roland rolled his eyes, judging Thomas a lost cause.

“Well, let’s be on our way,” Roland decided, clapping his hand lightly. “Even if it’s not donkey, I feel like we can indulge in some more refined cuisine today.”

Instead of continuing towards the still distant bridge Roland swerved into a side street, their new destination a mystery. To nobody but Thomas.

“Isn’t the bridge that way?” the latter asked, slightly confused, not realizing their current task had been completed and the next part was something he actually should be looking forward to.

“The old man told us the bridge is fine for now. So, we can take our time inspecting it,” Arthur told their single-minded companion, trying to suppress a smile. “And it’s going to be a day of physical labor, so we obviously need some strength.”

Thomas quizzically looked up at his large friend, unsure what the latter was getting at.

“We’ll be taking a trip down memory lane. If you know what I mean,” Arthur mentioned offhandedly, looking expectant of Thomas’ reaction.

Ever so slowly thoughts connected inside Thomas’s brain as his confused look faded, turning into one of childlike glee.

“Grandma Dorothy’s chicken!” the hungry boy’s excited shout echoed throughout their surroundings, making the few people which were around turn towards them with perplexed faces.

For the umpteenth time today, Thomas ran forward like an overly excited dog chasing a cat. Though this time he did not stop, for when it came to food it was required of him to get there before anyone else. Obviously.

Both Roland and Arthur chuckled at the expected but always pleasant sight of Thomas letting loose without regard for decorum and pedestrians.

“You think he’ll make it there?” Arthur asked his leader. “Normally we leave from the orphanage.”

“Oh, he’ll definitely make it,” Roland replied, smiling wryly. “The question is how many passersby he will ask for directions.”

A grin of badly hidden schadenfreude appeared on Arthur’s face, most definitely imagining the poor people that had to decipher Thomas’ exited questions. Though in a certain abstract way, the question ‘Where the chicken at?’ seemed quite philosophical.