Nathaniel stumbled as the tip of his right boot caught onto a rock, trying to maintain his balance by scrabbling his arms and legs madly against the dirt for a moment .
He was going to be late!
Feet pumping with speed fueled by urgency, the boy sprinted down an alleyway filled haphazardly with towering stacks of wooden empty crates, a by-product of the morning market. Gagging at the taste of decay in the air from leftover produce rotting in the heat, he panted with his teeth clenched, not wanting to get breathe in any flies into his mouth.
Once bitten, twice shy. Experience has taught him that choking on a fly was both disgusting and painful.
Still, taking the shortcut was worth it, literally cutting down his journey by half. Nathaniel had found it by sheer luck the last time he ran away from the street kids that hung out around the far side of the marketplace. He knew they picked on him because they assumed he was an easy target as he was both smaller and younger than they were, but he always gave as good as he got or better, choosing only to escape when they started ganging up on him. It was a fortunate thing that none of them knew about the alleyway that led up to the small moat ringing the walls of the orphanage, given how secluded it was. Getting trapped between the bullies and the water would have been painful at the very least, given just how deep the water ran.
Grimacing at the thought, Nathaniel leaped over the moat with his hands out before him. Fingers catching on to the edge of the low wall, he bent his legs to absorb the shock as his feet came into contact with it. Hanging off his grip on the ledge, he then shuffled his feet upwards until his knees came up tight to his chest, bouncing for a moment to gather momentum before kicking off to pull himself up and over, clearing the top with ease born of experience. Jumping down, the boy entered into the backyard of the orphanage proper, landing into a four-point crouch which he smoothly chained into a shoulder roll to further bleed off the impact of his landing. Nathaniel dusted his hands off, grinning. Made it!
“NATHANIEL! WHAT HAVE I TOLD YOU ABOUT CLIMBING OVER THE WALLS?”
Crud. Busted by the matron.
Wincing, the boy looked up to see Matron Abby striding towards him, her brows furrowed in anger. A strict, middle-aged woman with brown hair that was slightly graying at the temples, she was the caretaker with the most seniority amongst all the matrons that ran the orphanage. Unlike her much younger colleagues, Matron Abby firmly believed in the notion that sparing the rod would spoil the child, liberally giving away strokes from her dreaded switch as punishment whenever she caught anyone misbehaving. Nathaniel was an often victim, and it was always worse when she made him cut the very switch that she would whip him with.
Grabbing him by the ear and twisting it, Matron Abby raised her hand, causing Nathaniel to rise up on his toes and yelp. Fuming, she took in the sight of him all scruffy, taking special note of his bloodied knuckles. Taking her gaze further upwards, her eyes softened as she spotted Nathaniel’s split lower lip. Tenderly, she then brushed across it with her thumb, the boy letting out an involuntary squawk of pain as she made contact with the sensitive surface of his injury.
Letting go of him, Matron Abby shut her eyes for a moment, pinching the bridge of her nose. She blew out through her pursed lips, the forced passage of breath audible to his ears. “Nathaniel, have you been scrapping with the boys from round the market again?”
Scuffing the heel of his boot against the grass with his hands in his trousers, Nathaniel scowled. “...wasn’t my fault this time. They were waiting for me after I came out from the bakery.”
Sighing, Matron Abby bent down a little to take Nathaniel's face in her hands. Turning his head side to side to check for any more injuries, she deemed it acceptable, kissing the top of his hair and ruffling it fondly as she stood back up. “Go wash up and change into a fresh set of clothes, alright? Especially your face and your hands. I’ll get some ointment over your knuckles and bandage them once you’re done. Now, Matron Agatha has already informed me that your prospective parents are already here, waiting on you in my office. I want you looking your best for them, understand?” Straightening up, the matron smoothed out her skirt. “And shush, no back talk from you now!” She added, giving him a stern look as Nathaniel opened his mouth to protest. Matron Abby then started shooing him towards the direction of the main building.
Muttering mutinously under his breath and glowering sulkily, the boy shuffled off towards the showers while gingerly licking at the split on his lower lip. Ouch, this bloody stings! Must be from when I got blindsided by the fruit seller’s son, that fat git. I’ll get him next time.
The tale has been taken without authorization; if you see it on Amazon, report the incident.
“And wash your hair! You smell!”
Nathaniel swore.
----------------------------------------
“Ten of Hearts.”
“Ten of Spades.”
“Jack of Hearts.”
“Two of Clubs.”
Several groans were heard.
“Are you serious? That’s sixteen points above my card!”
“He always does this! Such a wanker.”
“Pass.”
“Me too.”
“Gah. Me three.”
“Suckers. Pair of Fours, then.”
“Damn, should have kept my Two of Hearts just now instead of blowing it off. Pass.”
“Pair of Sixes. I’m out of pairs. ”
“Two Kings.”
“That the largest pair you could field?”
“What’s it to you? Either play a hand or pass! I don’t believe you’ve got a trick up your sleeves every time.”
“Suit yourself, then. Here, eat this Pair of Aces. Since all the Twos are out and the rest of you guys have any pairs larger than mine… Straight, Three to Seven. Yes! Pay up, fools!”
“Aya, you bastard!”
Saintly rocked back on his hunches, smug. Winning the last four games in a row should have earned him enough to cover last night’s tavern tab, if he wasn’t mistaken. Snickering, the marauder gathered the loose cards his companions tossed onto the stool they were using as a card table. Shuffling the cards slowly, his grin widened even more as he spied Robin, Rum and Weaver rummage through their money bags while their faces wore various levels of disgust.
“Care for another round, lady and gentlemen?” Saintly asked gaily.
“Nah, not going to let you cheat me of what’s left in my purse. I lost enough as it is,” Rum grumbled, frowning at him suspiciously. “Even if I can’t prove it.”
Weaver’s face had an interesting expression on it. If Saintly ever had to name it, it would have been two parts indignant, one part mystified and one part heavily constipated. Unsurprisingly, it wasn’t a good look on the priest. “What!? And we let him deal anyway? Gods, Rum, why didn’t you tell me?”
Loosening his sleeves and straightening both his elbows with his fingers splayed, Saintly then displayed his empty sleeves to his fellow gamblers crouching around the stool with him. Shuffling the deck in full view after picking it up, he then did a dizzying display of cutting and riffling the cards. Throwing his hands out with a flourish, the marauder dealt eight cards, facing them up in a circle following the circumference of the stool. Each card was a court card, neatly arranged in ascending order starting from the Queen of Diamonds. He couldn’t keep in a smirk after that display of pure cardistry.
Robin flipped a middle finger at him.
“Because like Rum said, no one could ever prove that he’s actually a dirty, cheating card shark.I once saw him pull that exact same trick with a deck someone else shuffled for him,” The ranger blew his fringe away from his face explosively. “And it was his turn to deal anyway.”
“Lil’ old me, a card shark? Why, I would never!” Saintly blinked twice, both his hands up in front of him. A perfect picture of wide-eyed innocence, or so he thought. No one actually bothered telling him that a shit-eating grin would totally destroy the image he was trying to portray. Oh, how he loved it that his Company tag was an ironic one.
Two knocks rang out on wood suddenly, the sound dulled by how thick the material was. Every head in the room immediately snapped towards the general direction it came from, tensing, including one that was napping in a corner just a while ago.
That was when the doors to the orphanage office swung open.
“... Mister and Missus Black?”
----------------------------------------
Nathaniel winced in pain, looking away to the side as Matron Abby put on the finishing touches on the bandages wrapping around both his hands. It didn’t hurt that bad before he took a shower, but the throbbing had spiked into a burning sensation the moment his skinned knuckles came into contact with hot water from the orphanage’s showers. Standing up, she dusted her knees and apron off before combing a hand through the boy’s brunette locks, brushing his fringe out of his face with a thumb. “Now, none of that potty mouth of yours when meeting the Blacks, you hear me? They’re already here, waiting in my office. Nothing we can do about that lip except maybe applying some salt water to it, but I’ll do it for you after they leave. No point making it hurt during the meeting.”
“Hey, and chin up now,” Matron Abby chided, putting a finger under his chin and pushing it up. “Don’t look so glum, okay? I know that you’re afraid that you might get passed up for someone else again, but the letter said they’re specifically looking for a twelve year-old child who has a good head for his subjects in school and reasonably boisterous. Now, doesn’t that sound just like you?” Smiling, she held out her hand towards Nathaniel. “We’ll go in together, okay?”
Nathaniel took in the sight of the matron’s weathered hand before slipping his own almost shyly into it. Her hand felt warm and safe and caring, and it will still be even if the Blacks didn’t want him. Matron Abby has always treated the orphans like her own children, and it at that very moment that he knew that she would always have a special place in his heart, and vice versa.
The boy smiled at the matron warmly. Tugging on her hand, he pulled her towards the door of her office, the sting of the bandage pulling against his knuckles all but ignored. “Let's go then! They’ve been waiting for long enough already!”
Matron Abby laughed as she let herself get pulled along. “Ready?” She asked, knuckles raised against the wooden double doors that separated them from the office. Taking a deep breath, Nathaniel nodded. The matron took a deep breath herself too, before rapping smartly twice and pushing them open.
“... Mister and Missus Black?”
Pulling the boy in after her, she walked into her office and found themselves face-to-face with five black-clad strangers, all wielding steel and wand against them.