Chapter 4

“She was really pretty and really nice!” Cillia said, recalling the young woman who had given her the large loaf of bread that was still feeding them today. “Usually they’re mean and tell me to leave and take a bath, but she didn’t, she was nice to me and smiled at me. She even apologized. I haven’t seen that before. She was so pretty and so nice!”

Kestrel shook his head. It had been two days, but Cillia was still talking of the onyx haired girl she had bumped into and received bread from.

“When I grow up, I wanna a nice pretty lady like her. I wanna wear fancy dresses and nice shoes just like she did! What did you think of her Kes?” she prattled on.

“She was pretty, and seemed nice enough,” Kestrel gruffly replied. He had noted her beauty. Her black hair was different than the blonds and light browns that were prevalent in Fiell. “But I am starting to get sick of you talking about her. Why would you want to grow up and be some stuffy rich person. You’re already more amazing than any other girls. You don’t need skirts to make you nice.”

Cillia stuck her tongue out at Kestrel. He didn’t know anything about girls. What a dummy. Of course she wanted beautiful skirts and dresses!

Kestrel replied with a playful swat at the young girl.

It was true that he'd found the girl attractive. The young woman who’d given her that loaf of bread had had a beauty that stood out in Fiell, but he’d seen something in her eyes that little Cillia had missed.

Pity.

Kestrel hated that look that came into the eyes of those who lived in abundance when they saw him. They thought less of him. He could see it in their eyes. They thought that since he lived on the streets he wasn’t a complete person. He was an object to be looked down upon. He was something to be pitied.

She had been no different. Despite her uncommon kindness that pity was still there and he knew the pity in their eyes was really just haughtiness. He hadn’t met one of those people yet who realized they were one bad financial decision away from ending up just like him, a pauper.

Cillia kept chattering on about the woman and how she wished to grow up in a good house and have Kestrel get married so she could be a big sister. She explained how she would run a household like those ladies at the market, and would get married, have kids, and Kestrel would be their grandpa and they’d own a big estate where she would play every day and everyone would be jealous of her.

Her fancies were starting to annoy him.

“Are they all like this?” Kestrel thought. “Are all girls minds consumed with such nonsense? I don’t think I could handle a lifetime of this. This last two days of her incessant talking have been enough for a lifetime.”

Soon Cillia’s chattering made Kestrel start thinking of marriage.

He was of age to be married but who was he kidding? He would never find someone. Who would want to marry an orphaned street rat with a kid that wasn’t even his own? What could he possibly offer as a husband?

A good alleyway? Some nice burned crusts thrown out from the bakery?

The more he thought of it, the more Kestrel’s mood soured. He tried thinking of something else, but Cillia’s nonstop chattering only served to cement the issue in his mind. “This is why I only think of the present, there is no future for a vagabond like me,” he bitterly reminded himself in a failing attempt to take his mind off of the topics of love and a future.

“She was beautiful though,” Kestrel caught himself thinking of the young woman Cillia kept talking about.

He recalled her shiny black hair and her piercing light blue eyes. Yes there had been pity in them, but there’d also been something else there as well. Something familiar.

What was it?

*****

The duo’s scavenging had brought the to the riverside later that morning. Kestrel would often come down to the docks and do small tasks like mending nets and cleaning chum buckets for smattering of coppers or an extra fish or two from the fishermen.

He wasn’t above begging to get by, and he often did so in the winter when the river was frozen over, but Kestrel tried to provide for himself and Cillia through honest means whenever he could.

He may be an orphan without a home, but he could work like any other man, and it bolstered Kestrel’s pride knowing he was a capable man.

A man who just happened to be cursed by the streets.

It was a sad fact no one would trust a person who spent most of his life in alleyways, no matter how virtuous they were. Not that Kestrel was a saint mind you, he’d been in his fair share of scraps and had resorted to thievery to get by on more than a few occasions, but still, most people would rather look away than be reminded of the poverty right in front of them.

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“Cillia, bring me that knife.” Kestrel called to the young girl who was playing nearby as he worked mending a net on the docks.

It’d taken a little persuasion but he’d been able to convince a new fisherman of his skills and had been given a few coppers to clean up the man’s boat and do some small repairs.

“Kes, d’ya’ want me to do anything else?” Cillia asked as she scampered over to Kestrel’s side and handed the knife to him.

“Nope, I’m done with everything I’d need your help with. Why don’t you see if anybody wants a message delivered?” Kestrel suggested.

Running messages was a good way to gain some extra coin, and was an easy task for anyone who knew the streets well.

“If you do a good job running messages, you can spend one of the extra coins on a treat while I finish here.” Kestrel said, giving the young redhead a little extra incentive.

Kestrel wanted her to leave so he could have some time to clear his thoughts, but he also hoped that maybe, just maybe, someone would see the young girl’s skill and take her under their wing and teach her a trade.

She deserved a better life. She deserved a life that he would never be able to provide for her himself.

*****

“Take it to the Trout River Tavern, he’ll be in the back of the bar,” the man said after having Cillia repeat the message and the name and description of the recipient.

The Trout River Tavern was up the river about a mile from where Kestrel was mending the nets. It had gotten its name from the tributary that ran behind the building, meeting up with the main branch of the Lao river, the heart-blood of Fiell, that bore an old mountain tribal name, only a stones throw from the bar.

Cillia knew the area by heart as she and Kestrel had spent many a warm summer’s night in the streets nearby appreciating the cool breeze that blew in off of the intercepting rivers. She knew the tavern. It was a rough place, but the owners did the best to keep the violence to a minimum there.

As she scampered down the street, Cillia’s mind was occupied with taking in all the sights and sounds. Kestrel didn’t see the beauty in Fiell. He always complained about it. He was too grumpy for his own good. The world was beautiful.

She hoped that one day he would learn to see it.

Cillia loved Kestrel, but she didn’t want to be like him, he was kind and caring to her, but when he was crossed Kestrel could be cold and heartless. She’d seen him when his eyes went dark. She shuddered at those memories.

She shuddered at what she had seen him do to people who had tried to hurt her.

Cillia wanted to stay as she was. She loved the world and found wander everywhere. She didn’t want to lose that. She didn’t want to become so hard like her guardian.

She was young, but she knew that she could be better. She hoped that Cillia might learn that he could be better one day too.

Still, for all her complaints about his hardness, Kestrel had provided for her and taught her more than any other pauper she knew. He had equipped her. Made her capable. She loved him for that.

Yes, she was young, but even at her age, she knew that he sacrificed himself for her.

*****

“You WILL have to wait. You’ll fail if you don’t follow my plans,” a voice said.

“I’m the Minister of Defense! You dare talk to me so!?” the second voice replied shrilly.

“By the Emperors balls! I don’t care who you are! If you don’t listen, they’ll succeed and the empire will fall. Nobody will care if you were the Lord Emperor himself! You gotta listen to me, I’ve been part of the crew long enough to know just how skilled they are. If you insist on doing things your way, you’ll wind up dead for sure!” the first voice barked.

“You will NOT insult me so! I’ll do things as I see fit! I know how to catch a bunch of petty revolutionaries! I demand your respect!” the second man snarled in a high pitched voice, taken aback at the other man’s brashness.

“You'll get no such respect from me. I care for you as much as I do a dying sage-weed junkie! At least don’t sound like the crying of an injured whore,” the first man, who’s voice was substantially deeper, snapped back.

“Do you want me to kill you right now and hunt down your family?” the weaselly man hissed “You WILL hold your tongue in front of me!”

“Shut up!” the grizzled voice responded. “I’m giving you and your impostor Emperor exactly what you want! You’ve wanted the rebellion for decades and I’m handing you their heads on a platter! I don’t care for you nor your Emperor. He’s a worthless lying pig! I’m just too tired of fighting. The only reason I’m doing this is that I want to spend the rest of my days in peace, and if you aren’t willing to listen, I’ll go to someone else and make sure you’re numbered among the rebels!”

The second man raised his voice to object, but he was silenced.

“You'll shut your idiotic mouth, pay my price, and do things my way, or I’ll make sure you die with my compatriots. I’ll give you to Aris Ravenscroft,” the man’s voice was chilling. “Remember, he did nothing to save his own brother, a member of ours. What would he do to someone like you whom he hates, I wonder?”

The arguing continued in hushed tones but soon they agreed on terms and the information had been bought. Minutes later the shrill man left the isolated room of the tavern.

“It sounded like it got pretty heated in there,” a guardsman who’d been standing next to the door said to Edrian Wolls, the hawk-faced Minister of Defense for Vealand.

“Let us leave, we'll talk about it away from prying ears. It was bad enough meeting in a tavern,” Edrian said to the two guards that had been stationed at the doorway to the private room made for meetings exactly like the one that had just taken place. “For now we’ll play along with the fool.”

The guards nodded.

“I was forced to give up a couple hundred golds for the information. Make sure to find where he stashes them before their little assassination attempt that he assures me is going to happen happens,” Edrian commanded the duo as they made their way to the stables. “Oh, and I want him killed during the during their attack. We must make sure no one comes out of it alive. We’ll kill everyone, including their families,” the Minister said coldly, there was no humanity in that voice of his.

They mounted their horses and left the stables. As they were riding away from the tavern, Edrian noticed a young girl with a crumb cake leaning against the back of the building near where his meeting had taken place.

Had she heard? Did she realize what had just taken place?

“Emperors balls! If the little rat overheard, then everything could be ruined! These contemptible street maggots, any amount coin will loosen their worthless tongues. Best to have her killed with the rest of the human piss.” Edrian thought.

He growled to his escort “Send someone to track down that child. Find if she’s talked, then kill her.”