Does anyone have a particular preference over indents? I use them out of traditions, but I am not entirely sure they are appropriate for a forum.

       Familiar stones and buildings began to appear as Rory strolled down a street that he had many times walked through. He was without his cloak now; incognito, if you would. A turn here and turn there; his fleet flew with familiarity. He had, in his hands, a few bags, some filled with fine food, some filled with gild. They were all, however, impossible treasures to the people that lived here.

       He wondered what Loria would think of him now, a full blown noble with a net worth significantly higher than the sum of all the inhabitants of this entire sector. She would laugh, maybe tease him a bit. He would tell Gilas of some stories, give Sarra a bow. They wouldn't abandon him, treat him as a stranger. There's no way; that's impossible, right?

       It was just past this corner—his home for more than a year. There were people there; people who wouldn't hurt him. People who would appreciate him.

       And yet, as he turned the corner, he saw nothing. No building. No ruins. Nothing. Just empty ground. He stumbled forward, his mouth agape. He dropped his bags and fell onto his knees, staring up at the empty space as if the old broken building would suddenly reappear. He noticed a man walking down the alley.

       "Sir, sir, sir!"

       "What is it?" he grumbled.

       "W-what happened to the residents here?"

       "Oh, the orphanage?"

       "Yes, yes! The orphanage, what happened!?"

       The man rolled his eyes. "Bloody fools, living in that building. Could’ve crumbled any minute."

       “No, don't tell me—!"

       "No, they didn't die. At least not from the building."

       "Where are they, then?"

       "Some noble bloke came over and bought the land, leveled it out. Said it was a matter of public safety. God knows where they went. Probably came with the building."

       "Oh."

       "If that’s all, then I'll be goin'," he said as he turned around and walked away. Rory ignored him.

       Resolve, huh. Resolve. If only he had come earlier, he could buy the land. He could let them stay. No, he could give them a better home. Resolve. And yet, he didn't. He waited, hiding in comfort while his friends starve, squandering his time. Now they're gone. It was much too late now.

       He felt a hand fall on his shoulder, but he didn't respond. Just kept staring at the empty space where the orphanage use to be.

       "Rory?" a familiar voice whispered.

       "Go away, Aria."

       She sat down next to him. "I thought you'd be here." She looked up into the sky. "Finally worked up my nerve today as well," she said with a sad chuckle. "They're not here, are they?"

       "...no, they're not."

        She smiled self-deprecatingly. "Neither were mine. All lost, apparently. Too late, too late. Too late to do anything. Did you bring those for them," she said, pointing towards the bags.

       "...yes, I did. Not much to do with them now. May as well bury them."

       "Bury them?"

       "It's something we use to do back where I use to live. A memorial of sorts."

       Suddenly, the bags were snatched away by a brown blur. Rory turned his head, stumbling forwards. "Hey, get back here!" he yelled. When the dust settled, however, he saw a short kid, younger than he was, stained with dirt and wracked with hunger. "That's mine, you damn brat!"

       "B-but—"

       "But nothing! I need those!"

       "Y-you said you were going to bury them, right?"

       "Yes, and what of it?"

       "I-I'm hungry."

       "Go to one of those provincial kitchen's, then. I've personally set one up."

       "There's food there, but it doesn't actually get to us. The stronger kids take it for themselves. The other kids have to work for them, steal, or find someone to live with."

       Those words sliced through Rory's mind, hot and painful, for in his memory, a very familiar scene played out, with a dirty young orphan stealing from protesting noblemen... He couldn't accept it; no, there's no way, he couldn't have...

       Someone else appeared from around the corner.

       "I recognize you—you're those new Abex's, aren't you? You noblemen are all alike," he spat out.

       "B-but—we were just like you!"

       "Oh, and you think you know how we feel? You've been in this world for no more than two decades; I've lived in this hell hole for six. And my children will too. And their children. We don't have that kind of smarts, and we certainly don't have the time to give them fancy educations. We need to eat, and eat now."

       "I... I..." Rory wasn't sure what to think anymore.

       Having enough of it, Aria stood up, throwing a gild at both of them. "I suggest you both leave now."

       Surprised, they stared blankly and then left.

       The skies darkened, the stones around them gradually grew spotted, a thunderous cry coming from the sky. Neither of them budged, however.

       "Aria... I..."

       "Yes?"

       "Such a fool... I came here to find comfort, yet only found nothing," he said, staring at the empty space once again. "A nothing that reflected just how ugly I am."

       "If you're ugly, then I'm hideous."

       "Aria, am I a monster masking a human... or a human masking a monster?"

       Aria shook her head. "That's your decision." She looked up, feeling the rain drip down her face. It was increasing in intensity.

       "I've lost everything, Aria. I've lost my past, I've lost my will, I've lost my humanity."

       "Perfect," Aria said, smiling. "A perfect opportunity to gain a new life, a new will, a new humanity. There's nothing like starting from scratch." Water torrented downwards from the sky, loud enough to force them both to speak with more volume.

       "Do I have time, though?"

       "Strike when the iron is hot, Rory."

       He chuckled sadly. "That's how I got this leg."

       "No, you struck too early."

       "Then when the hell do I strike?"

If you come across this story on Amazon, be aware that it has been stolen from Royal Road. Please report it.

       "Don't let time have its way, but don't fight time either. Control it."

       "Control it?"

       "Flow with it. When you see an opportunity arise, take it. Do not force it. And do not wait."

       Rory stared up at the sky, his hair hang wet behind him. "Thank you."

       "Of course, Rory. Anything for you." Slowly, she began to walk away, but not before turning around for a few last words. "By the way, Rory," Aria said with a wink, "you are still coming to my party, are you not?"

       The carriage plodded along, down into the heart of Adringum. Inside were two finely dressed adolescents: a short young man with blackish hair, and an even shorter young lady with rosy blonde hair.

       "That Aria, what is she thinking," Rory grumbled.

       "What is wrong with a party? Social gatherings are not rare, Rory."

       "No, it's not about the party, it's about when she brought it up. I was busy being emo and melodramatic, and there she goes, toting about her party."

       "Emo?" a confused Rosa asked. "What does that mean?"

       "Context clues, my lady."

       "Who ruffled your feathers?"

       "Aria did! Bloody hell, I told the engineers about springs, what's so hard about attaching them to frame?" he complained, his head being bumped quite a few times into the walls of the carriage.

       "Springs?"

       "Never mind."

       The carriage came to a stop.

       "We've arrived, my lord and lady."

       They walked out and into the Ayell gardens, which, for tonight, was a mystical amalgamation of gentle floating lights.

       "Do you know who supplied her with those?"

       "You did."

       "That is correct. It's a chemical fluorescence; no fires, no heat. Perfectly safe."

       Rosa just sighed and started to walk forward. Before they managed to get very far, however, another lording greeted them.

       "Vyncis, Vyncis. Good evening."

       "Same to you, Illan."

       "Ah, Rory, I have something to discuss with you, if you would excuse me, Ms. Vyncis."

       “Huh?” Rory asked, confused.

       “Important information.”

       “Like what?”

       “Important information,” he repeated, emphasizing important.

       Rosa nodded. "That is fine with me, Tykis."

       "Thank you," he said, dragging Rory away.

       Alone, now, Rosa walked into the main area of the party, where numerous lords and lordlings were socializing.

       "Hello, father."

       "Ah, good to see you, my dear," Pier said, standing up from his seat.

       "The decorations look very nice, don't they?"

       "Beautiful. It was made by Rory, you know."

       Rosa giggled. "I think I know well enough by now."

       "Oh, was he boasting?"

       "All throughout the carriage ride."

       Pier brought his hand up to his chin. "Curious, now. I've never heard a pip from him. Had to ask one of my associates to even know."

       Rosa tilted her head, curious. "Really? He seems to boast plenty enough."

       "If you were to ask ten of his friends, I believe ten of them would tell you that he is perfectly modest."

       "How strange, then."

       "Ah," Pier laughed, "enough of this. It's no good to speak of people behind their backs. The music has started, my dear. Would you be kind enough to lend me your first dance?"

       "Of course, father."

       Rosa never liked dancing. She was always a little too short to keep up with the other dancers and their long strides. Moreover, she never had that many dance partners. She was considered 'cute', not 'beautiful'. A girl, not a lady. Myell's fascination didn't help, as he usually scared away everyone else. She hadn't seen him today, though, which was strange, since she knew he came. After Pier, she danced with three other people, mostly of courtesy.

       Suddenly, as she was resting, everything moved away from her, forming a sort of bubble. Confused, she looked around, only to find the source straight ahead of her: Myell, in a cloak lined with gold, strutting straight towards her.

       "Tydyll. G-good afternoon," she said, curtseying.

       "Rosa, my dear. Today is the day."

       She laughed nervously. It couldn't be... "The day for what, my lord?"

       He dropped to a knee. "Rosa, will you marry me?"

       She froze. "But—“

       "We are all children of the King, Rosa. He has granted me permission."

       "...can you do that?" she asked, desperate.

       "The King and his advisers have agreed," he replied gravely. Well, of course they agreed!

       She didn't know what to do—her entire plan was based on fatherly refusal, but he had found a loophole. She couldn't refuse; it was for the good of the family, so that Pier could live his last days in peace, so Rory could tinker around without obstruction.

       "I-I..."

       She was interrupted by a character, hobbling straight towards her, ignoring the de facto social barrier that surrounded them.

       "Why, fancy meeting you here, Rosa."

       "R-rory? What are you doing?" she asked, confused.

       "Abex Vyncis," an angry Myell trying but failing to control his temper asked, "what are you doing?"

       "Oh, I just have something to tell Rosa."

       She noticed veins pulsing in Myell's forehead.

"Speak, then. Speak and be gone."

       Rory theatrically turned towards Rosa, giving melodramatic bow. The entire crowd sat silent, waiting for the words that propelled him to break all concepts of social etiquette. She noticed the hostess of the party, Aria Ayell, and Illan Tykis standing near the edges, a hint of excitement in their eyes.

       Rory smiled as large a smile as he could, getting on his knees.

       "Rosa, I love you. Marry me."

       "...huh!?"