“What were you doing in such darkness?” Said Zack as he entered the house.

On the ground floor to the right of the entrance was the kitchen, while to the left was the dining room with a table and four chairs.

Just in front of the entrance was a wooden staircase leading up to the first floor, where the bedrooms were located.

“Not in the dark. On the first floor, I opened the window and there I was until you knocked. On the ground floor, you and Arthur told me it was better if they stayed closed until at least one of you was home.” Alicent said proudly, happy that she had done as her older brother had told her to do.

At a young age that prompts all sorts of foolish ideas, this was certainly no easy task.

Zack stroked his sister's brown hair. She was shorter than him, but this was not surprising after all she was a few years younger than him and he would only reach the age that is considered the beginning of adulthood in a year.

“Here you go” Zack handed her an apple which she gratefully accepted.

“Where's Arthur? Or that old man Convari?’ Said Zack sitting down on a stool, which used to be a chair but after it lost its support became a stool.

“Sir Convari!” Outraged Alicent “Sir Convari left this morning, right after you so I don't know where he is. Arthur is probably fighting again somewhere... and I'll have to bandage him again” Alicent's voice expressed a mixture of disappointment and sadness

“Since he's fighting I'd better go to him. Maybe I can win some good bets.” Zack smiled greedily when he thought of the amount he would win for Arthur's fight. He would never abandon an occasion for a free coin.

“You shouldn't be happy about that! What if something happens to him? You know, he might lose...” She said the last words with horror as if they had already happened.

“He won't lose, have you ever seen him with a sword? He never lost, it's a wonder anyone still wants to bet against him!” Zack smiled at his sister and threw her a sack filled with coins, he didn't even remember if it belonged to a passer-by or the merchant from under the stage.

“Hide it, under a plank in my room.” Alicent caught the sack with one hand but did not smile like her brother. There was sadness on her face instead of a smile, also her face looked pale.

Zack immediately got up from his chair and approached his sister. “Are you okay? Are you sick again? Should I go get a doctor? This much silver should be enough for him to at least examine you!” Zack's voice trembled as he studied his sister's face, which seemed to grow paler by the second.

“I'm not sick. It's just... Can you hold off on stealing? You've already gained a lot of money and with Arthur, you won't have to steal as often. You can even take up a normal job, I know it won't give you as much as it does now but at least you'll be safe.”

Zack breathed a sigh of relief “Don't scare me like that sister”

“As you know I'm stealing to earn money for this house our parents left us.” At the mention of their parents, the faces of both siblings went sad. “As you know sister it costs and stealing allows me to earn for that house” As he said those words, his sister’s eyes began to light up. He quickly changed the next words “Okay, I'll steal less.”

“Promise?” Alicent's eyes clouded over as if she was about to cry

Zack sighed “Yeah, I promise.” Every time his sister asked him for something, he couldn't deny her it, at least not directly.

When Alicent heard her brother’s confirmation she quickly regained her happiness.

“I'll go for my bet, this way of earning I think you approve?” Zack was back to his previous mood and getting ready to leave. “I think this one is fine.” Alicent muttered

“In that case, I'm going. Remember to lock the door on the bolt.”

Zack left and headed towards the familiar tavern ‘Rat's Nest’. He quickly reached it as it was only two streets away.

The tavern was located deep in the lower town, in a part where the guards only looked in when they had to. Patrols tended to avoid this part.

This was, after all, the territory of the beggar's guild, and no one wanted to get into trouble with a guild that wasn't afraid to break the law.

He stepped off the street and into a darkened alley. It was only slightly less dark than the one by his house. The roofs of the buildings were not so careful to keep the sun's rays out.

Above one of the doors hung a sign, showing to, which place you had come to. Painted on it was a black rat, hiding behind a pint of beer, clearly depicting the service this place offered and who the guests were.

He walked through the wooden door, he was momentarily assaulted by the smell of alcohol.

The tavern was almost full. At the tables sat men of mainly Southern origin but there were also people from the eastern marches, the frosty north, or even the Kingdom of Li'one.

Those from the south stood out with their tans and shorter stature, which was the complete opposite of the people from the north. From the Marches and the Kingdom, they were neither short nor tall, neither tanned nor particularly pale. They could be considered average in everything.

But despite all these differences, they had one thing in common. None of them had a profession for which there was no threat of the scaffold in some part of the world.

From mercenaries to thieves, corsairs, or even assassins. It was the nest of every rat in the city, the point where they gathered and plotted their forbidden plans.

Zack walked quickly through the tavern, greeting everyone he knew, it was always better to remain on good terms with people who could stab you in the ribs for the smallest offense.

At last, he reached the courtyard door, from behind which came shouts of cheering and booing.

When he opened it, he was greeted by a crowd of people and the clanking of steel.

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The courtyard was more crowded than the tavern.

Surrounded by buildings to prevent the unwanted eye from seeing it. The roofs of the buildings provided shade, leaving only the center of the courtyard in the brightest light.

And in that center, a wooden fence provided a place for the two combatants to show off their skills, good or otherwise.

Two men were currently fighting, both wielding swords.

The first, a middle-aged Marchesian with fair hair, wielded a sword half his height. His adversary, a representative of the south, was equipped with a sword shorter than his, a mace, his native blade.

The first fought slowly, studying his opponent, waiting for him to make a mistake. The second constantly attacked, all the while closing the distance.

The Marchian blocked, the Southerner attacked, and it seemed the fight was a draw. But while sweat was pouring from the Southerner in streams, only drops were falling from the Marchian. The fight for a good eye was already slowly coming to an end.

Zack approached the man sitting at the desk, he was writing something down on a piece of paper completely ignoring the event in the arena, it didn't matter to him who won.

“Can I still place a bet?” Zack asked, shaking a purse in which coins clinked with a sound familiar to the bookmaker.

The bookmaker smiled greedily “You can, you most certainly can. Who are you betting on?”

“All on the marcher.” Zack poured out the contents of the purse. Twenty silver coins fell on the wooden tabletop.

“That'll be twenty-two if he wins, of course.” The bookmaker smiled. He wasn't going to ask where a clearly not-rich-looking young man got so much money. The answer was obvious to him.

‘Name?’ The bookmaker asked, already with his pen prepared.

‘Zack.’ Once he saw the bookie type it in he walked away to see the fight. He wasn't afraid of being cheated, the beggar's guild didn't cheat its customers or its members.

Nothing changed in the arena, the Marchian continued to defend and the Southerner, although tired continued to press on.

The Marchian deflected an incoming cut from below and responded with his own, attacking for the first time during this battle. The southerner hastily blocked but the Marchioness although clearly younger was stronger, despite the southerner blocking the cut, the buff even flew upwards. The Southerner was not an amateur, he did not panic and immediately cut from above.

The Marchian was just waiting for it, he parried the cut and struck the Southerner in the face with the handle of his sword. The southerner spun and before he knew what was happening at his throat he felt the coldness of the blade.

“I surrender, I surrender!” The Southerner shouted. The Marchian withdrew his sword from his neck and raised it in a gesture of victory. Those who placed a bet on Marchian cheered while those who had bet on the Southerner, no longer knowing why, walked sadly away from the arena.

Marchian sheathed his sword in a black scabbard which was on his belt. Then he deftly leaped over the fence and moved towards the bookmaker who had his prize. A smile was on his face.

“Arthur! What a duel that was!” Shouted Zack with no small amount of delight, as he had just returned from the bookmaker.

“Zack, I didn't know you watched my duels. You always called them a waste of time.”

“That was before you started winning.”

Arthur shook his head “Let's talk in the tavern after I collect payment for wasting my time.” With a not inconsiderable smile, the fair-haired boy moved towards the bookmaker.

Zack burbled and moved towards the tavern.

“Arthur, great fight, you are really something. Soon no one will want to fight against you.” The old man handed a pouch to Arthur

“You're exaggerating, there's always someone.” Arthur tied the pouch to his belt, right next to the scabbard.

“There will be. But not here, not in Lower City.” The old man smiled slyly and pulled out a parchment.

“What do you mean by that?” Arthur looked puzzled and began to watch the old man carefully

“You have won all the fights so far. This arena is already too small for you.” The old man handed the parchment to Arthur “Some people would very much like to see you in a slightly larger arena. If you know what I mean by that.”

Arthur looked at the parchment, it was closed with a red sealing wax on which imprinted were two crossed swords.

“Take your time, this is a serious decision... Answer me within a week.” The old man patted the boy on the shoulder and left.

Meanwhile, Zack had already taken a seat at one of the tables.

“Have you been waiting long?” Arthur sat down in front of him.

“I didn't know it was possible to take so long to collect a prize.”

“Now you know it is possible.” Arthur responded

“Do you have any quests from the guild? I got some free time, so we could do one together.”

“One. I have to collect a debt from some innkeeper in the harbor. He hasn't paid by the due date. But I don’t think your help would help, you know how our teamwork ends”

“Whatever. What did he not pay for?”

“He didn’t pay the protection fee. Arthur confirmed.

“Oh. So you're collecting a tribute!” Zack countered with unspeakable reluctance at the task Arthur had undertaken.

Arthur sighed “Please.” He knew he didn't want to engage in a conversation that would no doubt end in an argument.

“Rest assured I'm not going to get into another debate about how unfair this is.”

“How unfair? If the guild hadn't protected him he would have been robbed a long time ago. Where do you see the unfairness in that?” Arthur couldn't stand it, after all, he couldn't just agree with Zack, it would hurt his pride.

“And why is it the guild's job to protect him? What are the guards in this city for? Aren't they supposed to protect the poor citizens? After all, they pay their tribute to them as well!”

“Taxes aren’t tribute! They must exist, without them, the city would have collapsed a long time ago. City’s guards protect its citizens but they can’t protect them everywhere in the city. But why are you even talking about that in the first place?! You are a thief, isn’t that better for you, if guards aren’t protecting the people well enough?!”

Zack smiled when he was listening to irritated Arthur. His best ability besides stealing other people's stuff, was irritating them.

“It doesn't surprise me that you are on their side. You will never understand what poor people feel, noble blood flows too thickly in your veins.”

Arthur covered his face with his hands. He finally understood what Zack's goal was. He didn't plan to defend the innkeeper, he just wanted to annoy him and get into one of his little arguments again.

“Why do you want to argue with me again? This is how I was born as a lord's son, I had no choice in the matter. Did you choose to be born as a commoner?”

“A commoner.” Zack snorted “Rather as a rat from whom, they will pluck everything he has before they throw him out and let him die in some sewer.” There was a silence around the table, neither of the speakers wanting to break it.

Arthur and Zack have always argued, and since they were forced to live together their quarrels have become even more frequent.

“And is that at all in keeping with your code of honor? Ripping off a commoner’s last penny probably ranks among the greatest virtues of a nobleman.”

“Don't start that again.”

“Just saying.”

The tavern was plunged into what seemed like a friendly atmosphere, despite people who were not usually friendly. There was, however, a table where two people were seated, who were clearly not accustomed to that environment, although they did their best to mask it.

Two men whose faces were hidden by their hoods sat at the furthest table, right in the corner of the tavern. They were dressed in leather armor from which rich ornaments had been torn. They didn’t look different from the rest, many guests of the tavern also wore a hood, especially when their portraits were posted on the city walls.

“My lord, what are we doing here?” Asked one of the men, clearly older than the other. He glanced with distaste at the beer mug lying on the table.

“We are watching and getting to know the city.” The younger man replied

“I don't understand. We could do it from anywhere else. Please, my Lord, let's get out of here, if your identity gets exposed, I may not be able to protect you.”

“Relax. To get to know a city you have to look into every corner of it, even the ones that are not friendly. Besides, stop looking at the beer as if it would kill you, when we are in a tavern we must act like people act in a tavern.”

As if to confirm his words, the young man raised his tankard and began to drink.

The older of the men broke through and also began to drink. “You're right, it indeed tastes like piss.” Said the younger of the men as he lowered his tankard and placed it on the table.

“Let's go, I'll report back to my father and then we'll get rid of the taste of this, so-called beer.” The young man stood up from the table and began leaving the tavern.

“Yes, my Lord,” The older man replied with a smile of relief. The two men left the tavern and headed towards the upper town.