indents

     Rory was currently walking side by side with Sarra, bucket in hand. They had been walking for nearly an hour now, and the flimsy sandals that constituted Rory's footwear proved to be of little comfort to his feet, but, upon seeing the crowds ahead, he knew that they had reached their destination.

      "Many people."

      "Of course. Everyone's hungry, after all."

      "Where to?"

      "Usually some guy gives a speech and then they tell us where the orphan's portions are." She pointed at a man standing on what would normally be the gallows, two guards in shining armor next to him. "I think it's him." Sure enough, his voice soon bellowed out.

      "Citizens of Adringum, our Majesty, the almighty, just, and fair King Hellbram has graciously sent food and aide from his very pockets. Know that despite your personal failings, our great father has generously given you another breath of life. One ticket represents one share--thievery will be punished, swiftly and mercilessly." He coughed. "Oh yes, and orphans shall be given their own share, over there to the right." He turned awkwardly to a sinewy man next to him, who nodded a few times. "That is all."

      "Wait line?"

      "Yeah, may as well," she said, sighing. They walked over to a group to three or four wagons, tarps covering their contents. A few men wearing breeches but not cloaks were passing out parcels, under protection from a small squadron of city guardsmen. A massive line had formed already, and, being comprised of children, it soon transformed into more of a blob than a line until the guardsmen began to wave their swords menacingly, forcing them back into a single file line.

      "This is going to take forever," Sarra groaned, peering over a few hundred heads.

      Rory just nodded. They just stood there for a bit, a somewhat awkward silence permeating the air.

      "So... where are you from, Rory? Never got to ask that before."

      "Far away."

      "Far away? That's not very specific."

      "What about you?"

      "Me, huh? Hmm... Well, my brother and I were the children of a minor officer in the military."

      "No military honors?"

      "Wrong military. Our father was part of the Aklan military. That's to the south, by the way. I'm not really sure what ended up happening to him. Maybe he died. Maybe someone paid his ransom. I don't know."

      "Not care?"

      She sighed. "Ah, I guess I don't. I know familial ties are supposed to be important, but I can't even remember seeing him. Really, what's the difference between him and another random guy? How about you? What's your relationship to your parents?"

      "Ah... distant? Me taken for... education very early."

      "Oh, are you a monk?"

      "In a way."

      "Suppose that's how you learned to read so quickly. Man, this line never ends." Just as she was complaining, they heard a common to the left.

      A man wearing rough clothing was angrily holding his parcel open. "What the hell! This is half sand, you bastards!"

      Another man looked inside his. "Hey! You're right!"

      Momentum gathered. Soon, dozens of angry people gathered below the gallows, demanding an answer.

      "L-lies! The sand was placed by you, in an attempt to—"

      "Fuck your bullshit!"

      The noble looked nervously around him. He whispered into one of the guardsmen, and soon, they pushed through the streets, silencing all dissenters.

      Rory turned towards Sarra. "Country always like this?"

      "Well... yeah, I guess so. It was better in the past. When I was five, living at Loria's place, they had officials pass us monthly rations. Then they stopped. Now they started again, but we have to gather for them. I don't know anymore. I don't really care, either."

      Though, under the sweltering sun, the time passed slowly, eventually it was their turn. Both of them turned their tickets, small chips of wood carved with a unique pattern, and received a bags worth of food.

      "Hey, Rory, let me see your share."

      "Hmm? Sure, why?" he asked, confused.

      She winked at him. "I'll tell you later. Here, stand in front of me." She, hiding behind Rory, began to shift through the bags, or so Rory thought. He couldn't really tell. "Okay, all done."

      They had only managed to walk 20 or so meters before 3 or 4 children, likely poor street children, stopped him. Their clothes were no better than what Rory and Sarra were wearing; in fact, they were a bit worse, since they both washed their clothes semi-regularly.

      "What you need?"

      "Your food."

      Sure are blunt. "Ah? It is ours."

      "And? What, are you some kind of idiot?"

      "Maybe."

      "Look here, give us the bags, and we'll let you out. Don't, and, well..."

      "Threats?"

      "Yeah. I see your girl other there. Don't give us the bags, and she'll be on our beds tonight."

      Rory was absolutely confident; with Chronos, it is frankly impossible for anyone to defeat him individually.

      Sarra nudged him in the back. "Rory, let me handle it," she whispered.

      "They no threat," Rory responded.

      "Just let me handle it, okay?"

      Perplexed, Rory nodded. Sarra took her bag and offered it up. "Just one is alright, right?"

      The boys thought about it for a while, before agreeing. "Sure is. Free to go." They didn't really want to fight; they didn't have enough energy or medical access to afford to fight. They'd seen people die from cuts before, and weren't going to risk it.

      After Rory and Sarra had walked for a bit, Rory asked Sarra, "Why let them?"

      "Why not?"

      "Could fight. Keep all food."

      "We did keep all the food."

      "What? But—"

      "Rory, do you remember that guy complaining about the sand?"

      "Wait, do you mean that...?"

      "Yep, that bag had nothing but sand. Now we don't have to dump it somewhere. Sometimes it's best not to fight."

      "Very clever. Experience?"

      She sighed, staring up at the sky. "Yeah. Rory, I didn't mention this before, but our mother... our mother was most likely raped by our father. He felt bad, stayed with her for a bit. When she had us, she up and left us. Don't know what happened to her, either. Then Aklan starting losing the war, and what were we?"

      "Sorry."

      "Those weren't good days. We managed, though. We hid, we foraged, we stole until we got here. And then Loria took us up."

      "Good woman."

      "Definitely. Our lives have been relatively easy since then. I just wonder, how long will it last? This peace?"

      "I don't know."

      "Neither do it. Come, let's go."

      It had been almost half a year since Rory arrived. He could hold a proper conversation now, though he still spoke with a strange accent. He and the two siblings had quickly befriended each other.  He had undertaken a mission to make them literate, which had had varying degrees of success. Sarra took to it, but Gilas still complained that, “I’m just staring at a bunch of damn scribbles”.

      They held regular “missions”, which had grown more and more elaborate. Gone were the days of robbing fruit from merchants. No, they had bigger targets now. Sarra did the research, Gilas did any heavy lifting, and Rory did the deed. They were quite successful, hitting even a few banks, never taking enough to be suspicious. No doubt the blame would be laid on a greedy accountant fuzzing the numbers, not a trio of orphans. Loria was debt-free at this point, but Rory’s flowery writing had an unfortunate side effect…

      Dinner was finished, and Rory was due to help wash the dishes along with Loria.

      “Say, Loria…”

      “Hmm? What is it?”

      “Is there any way to move up the social ladder?"

      “Oh, you don’t like living here?” she said with mock disappointment.

      “N-no, it’s not that…”

      She smiled. “Yes, there is one way. The King hosts an Abex Test every year. The top scorers get adopted into noble families.”

      “You’ll be a noble then?”

      “Well, not quite. You’ll be an Abex—an extension to the family. You won’t have all the rights and won’t be in line for succession. But, you’ll have the right to marry a noble girl then, and if you do, then you’ll be an official member of the aristocracy.”

      “When is it?”

      “In a few months. What, do you want to take it? Maybe you should spend more time learning math and less time out there with Gilas and Sarra,” she said, reaching down to rub his head. “Oh look, there they are. Go on, I can handle this.”

      Rory, having completed his heist, was strolling his way back to the trio’s designated rendezvous point. The tree that served as their meeting point began to come into view; from the distance he spied not two figures, however, but four. That’s not right. Suspicious, he sneaked his way closer, sometimes meandering in random directions, sometimes following the crowds of passerby’s that flocked across the city streets. As he neared them, he could see Sarra and Gilas tied to the three. Above them stood two young men, both draped under cloaks. That could only mean one thing—they were nobles.

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      Rory ran the situations through his head; he had a few courses of action. He could simply activated Chronos, untie the two, and escape. But they piss him off—this shit is what brought humanity to its knees. No, he won’t just save those two. He has a unique position, after all. He has power; undeniable power. Power that money can’t buy.  Power that has yet to fail him.

      Illan Tykis stared at his two prisoners, unsure of what to do.

      “Shall we arrest them?”

      His attendant, a lesser noble, answered. “My Lord, that would be the just course of action.”

      “They look quite pitiful, don’t you agree?”

      “They look like rats.”

      Illan sighed. “I suppose,” he said, squatting down. “Why do you steal, little rats? Does not the Kingdom send out aid?” They didn’t answer, merely staring at him with cold, hateful eyes.

      “They steal because they fucking need to,” said a voice from the shadows.

      “Who dares speak such language against the noble Tykis?” his attendant demanded, furious.

      “Calm down,” Illan said. “Who’s there?”

      A figure emerged from the corner, not a hair taller than the children underneath his feet. His shoddy clothes and wild, unkempt hair revealed his status. At this, one of his seemingly mute prisoners finally spoke up.

      “Rory, get away! He has a sword—“ she screamed before being silenced with a swift kick from Illan’s attendant.

      "Rory, eh? You say you steal out of necessity? That very well could be true; the plight of the common folk are not entirely lost among us. What of the aid sent out by the Kingdom?"

      "The aid gets sent, but it doesn't actually get to the people who need it. The stronger kids take it for themselves. The other kids have to work for them, steal, or find someone to live with."

      Illan brought his hand up to his chin, apparently deep in thought. "So they form their own little governments... How curious. Do the taxes manifest purely in the form of services? Do they have a commission to determine labor division? Ah, could you take me there, sometime? I'd love to—"

      "Fuck off. People are starving to death and you want to watch them? How about you help them?"

      "Greatest apologies. That was not thoughtful of me," he said, raising both of his hands. "Is there something I can do for you?"

      "Let them go."

      "You mean these two? Ah, yes, they seem to know you. Not a—"

      He was interrupted by his attendant. "You cannot, my lord!"

      Illan sighed. "I suppose not."

      "Let them go," Rory repeated.

      At this, the attendants rage boiled over. "You rat, that mouth of yours shall perish today," he said, drawing his sword.

      Illan and Sarra's voices mixed together. "Rory, run!" "Stop, stop!"

      What was this fool doing? Drawing a blade against a child? Illan reached out to stop him, but he was too late. The blade fell... and fell... and—

      He blacked out.

      "Rory, what did you do?"

      The trio was walking back to the orphanage. Gilas was brimming with fervor, frequently slapping Rory on the back while repeating some variation of, "You really showed them!” Sarra was still dazed, however.

      "I'm just fast."

      Sarra snorted. "Yeah, so fast we couldn't see you disarm, beat, and dispatch of those two lordlings."

      "What, did you want me to leave you there?"

      "No, it's not that. It's just... strange. Is there something you haven't told us?"

      "N-no, not particularly."

      "Stop worryin' 'bout it, Sarra. Rory's a badass, that's all we need to know," Gilas laughed.

      They could see the orphanage appearing in the distance... and Loria, hands on her hips, giving them a stare that could chill the sun. Well, there was nothing to do now but confront her.

      "What were you three doing out there so late?"

      "Just... going for a walk," Sarra answered in her most innocent tone. They chose her as their representative, hoping that she would have more mercy on a girl.

      "You thought you could trick me by putting pillows under your covers?" Well, it worked the last few times.

      Sarra laughed awkwardly, before looking down. "We're sorry. We're sorry," she repeated, looking over at the other two, who quickly followed her. Loria continued to stare at the three for a little bit, then sighed.

      "Alright, alright. Apology accepted. I won't bother asking why you were out there. No doubt I'll get nothing but lies. Just remember, there are dangerous people out there, especially at night."

      "Don't worry, Loria. Rory would handle any of that," Gilas said, smirking.

      "Oh really, Rory would?"

      Emboldened, Rory responded, "I'm pretty confident."

      Loria laughed and walked over to him, pinching one of his cheeks. "What if I was the one attacking you?"

      "I could handle that," Rory answered, though his speech was distorted from the abuse his cheek was receiving.

      "And whose cheek is being pulled right now?"

      "Well, that—"

      Loria let go. "Anything can happen, Rory. Sometimes you can't fight your way out of it. Now, let's all get inside."

      Rory heard knocking near the door. Loria quickly walked over and answered.

      "H-hello, my lords. Rory? There's no one here named Rory. Oh, yes, if I see anyone named Rory, I'll be sure to tell him that. Thank you for gracing us with your presence. Goodbye."

      Lords? It must be related to those two. Rory was still very confident in his ability to handle most matters. Loria, having properly sent off her unexpected guests, turned towards him.

      "Rory? We need to talk."

      "What is it?"

      "There were two men with cloaks outside. They were asking for you. Why? What did you do last night?" Must be vengeful or something. I'll beat that out of them this time.

      "Nothing, Loria. Where did they ask to meet?"

      "The park on 5th street."

      "Alright, I'll head out." I can defend myself, but... "Loria, don't tell Gilas or Sarra about this."

      "Why? Rory, what are you about to do?"

      "Nothing, Loria."

      "Don't 'nothing' me.

      He disappeared. She sat down and sighed. There was nothing she could do at this point.

      Illan was lounging around in one of the many parks located within the city. The cloak fluttering behind him caused most of the populace to shuffle away from him. Finally, he spotted the person he wanted to see.

      "Rory! Good morning to you."

      "What do you want?"

      "Just to talk."

      "I'll go ahead and let you know that I can, at any point, kill you."

      Illan raised both of his hands apologetically. "Oh yes, I've well experienced that." He then gave Rory a more serious face, and said, "I've come to warn you."

      "About what?"

      "My good attendant has taken the liberty to report you to the city guard. You are wanted for Assault."

      Rory snorted. "And? Do you think you can catch me?"

      "No, no I don't. But they know where you live, Rory. Tonight, if you are not found, they will raid the Mera premises and arrest all inhabitants for aiding a criminal." Illan could see Rory stiffen. Not a very good poker face, evidently. "That is all, Rory," he said, turning to leave.

      "W-wait!"

      "Hmm?"

      Rory hesitated, before steeling his nerves, "Can't you do something?"

      "I am but a lordling. If I was a Count, then perhaps I could influence the proceedings. But alas, I am not." That was a lie. For something of this little importance, a word from him could pardon Rory. And yet, that would be no fun, would it? "Oh yes, and if you assassinate my father, I will probably not want to help you," he added before turning to leave.

      When Ilan had walked a good distance away, he gave once last look back, casting his gaze upon a figure paralyzed, a figure far smaller than the prideful spirit that he had met earlier. Well, now, Rory, whatever shall you do?