The other boy’s name was Roy, or so he was told. He was only slightly older than himself, but the older boy seemed to possess a wealth of expertise. More than that, he could see that behind the congenial smile, well-hidden and buried deeply, was a deep-set hardness. An unshakable foundation, forged by the fires of fear and desperation. Masked by a simple smile.

They were kin. Not by blood, but by circumstance. That, he could feel in his bones. No smile, no mask, could keep the knowledge away. They were two of a kind. Outcasts. Forgotten. Thrown aside.

It was that inherent knowledge that prompted him to follow. It was that nascent connection that prompted his trust. Or, at the very least, a close approximation to it.

And so, he followed. Soon, he found himself filing through the alleys of Yraos. Roy walked ahead of him, navigating the labyrinthine twists and turns of the city’s outer districts with a practiced ease.

He had not been here long, but he knew enough to be impressed by Roy’s familiarity with the ever-meandering streets and byways. Personally, he had been forced to keep himself restricted to certain familiar areas - were he to wander, it was possible that he would never find his way back again.

That was not to say that the streets were so very convoluted that they were impossible to navigate. While they were certainly so, it was the people that presented the real danger. As people always did, he had come to realize.

Even now, guided by the older boy’s expertise, he could feel stares boring into him from every which direction. Appraising looks that swept him from head to toe as he passed, evaluating him. Judging him.

In his early days in the city, before he had properly adjusted, he had made many mistakes. He had been purposeless - and in that lack of purpose lay weakness. In the year since, things had changed.

He had been brought to the city by a group of adventurers. From what he now understood, they had been unwilling to leave him in such dangerous territory - but that did not mean that they were willing to take on responsibility for him. Instead, he had been left with a stranger, the man pocketing a small amount of coin in return for his services.

Of course, the moment he had the chance, the man had thrown his new charge out onto the streets.

That had been one of his first lessons in the ways of the world: if you cannot fend for yourself, nobody else will.

It had been more confusing than that, at the time. Along with his complete and utter lack of memory, he had not even been able to understand the speech of others - let alone communicate for himself. Now, perhaps that had been a large part of what had caused him to be cast out by the man. It had likely not done him any favors. Still, he couldn’t help but hold a grudge.

Despite that, he supposed that his circumstances had provided him one benefit.

He learned quickly. Extremely quickly. Astoundingly so, even. It wasn’t long before he had made the local language his own.

As he later realized, it was sometimes easiest to make marks upon a blank slate. He had no preconceptions, no faulty foundations. In fact, he had none at all. Just like a child newly born into the world, he found himself absorbing knowledge voraciously.

Except, of course, he was far more intelligent than a newborn child. He’d like to think so, anyway. At the very least, he was significantly more motivated. With death looming around every corner, he had to be.

Despite his innocent beginnings, he had quickly become familiar with the world. And chief among those, he had become familiar with death. It was one of the first ideas that he had come to understand - before friendship, before trust. Death had found him first. As it always did.

The tale has been illicitly lifted; should you spot it on Amazon, report the violation.

Though he had not yet understood it at the time, death was the first thing that had greeted him in this world. Death of a village. Death of monsters, to be sure, but death all the same.

Even now, the fire and the smoke filled his dreams. The death that they inflicted. It all felt important, somehow.

He shook his head, clearing his thoughts. His mind was wandering, he knew. Meandering back and forth with little direction, thrown every which way by the winds of his whims. It was little surprise, given the circumstances. A brilliant flame seared the back of his eyes, pulsating painfully along with the infection that had set in his leg and back. While his dire need for food had been partially met, he was still in extremely poor condition.

He turned his attention back to Roy, attempting to pull his mind back to reality. The older boy had walked at a consistent pace all this time, only now beginning to slow. They turned one final time, stepping in front of a door that abutted the alleyway.

Roy knocked in a deliberately rhythmic pattern, waited, and then knocked again. A surprising amount of noise spilled forth from the other side, metal scraping against wood, latches pulled open. The door opened slightly, revealing a set of inquisitive eyes. They widened, and the door opened further.

“Roy, you’re back!” a voice yelled out, the sound grating against his ears. He winced.

“Yes, I’m finally back. Keep it quiet, Anniya,” Roy replied.

“Sorry…” Her voice lowered into a conspiratorial whisper. “How did it go?”

“Well, we won’t be worrying about money for a few more days.” He patted his side, causing the telltale jingle of coin to ring.

As if she had only just recognized his presence, she started. “Who’s this? Another stray?”

He rankled, but only slightly. In truth, he had little energy after the troubles of the day.

Roy turned towards him with a questioning look. “I don’t actually know entirely,” he said, “but yes. He’s the one that was found in the Ankul village.”

Anniya’s eyes widened. “Really?” She looked at him more seriously now, pressing her face closer and squinting in concentration. “You don’t look like no half-breed to me.”

“Anniya!”

“What? That’s what they’ve been saying, right? That adventuring group brought back a half-breed from a monster village.”

“Does he look like a half-breed to you?”

“Well, no. That’s what I was saying.”

Roy sighed. He gave an apologetic look. “Sorry about Anniya. She has more words than sense, sometimes.”

“Hey!” she pouted, finally opening the door further to let them in.

Throughout all of this, the boy only looked on in silence. The whole scenario was a far cry from what he was used to. Of course, the fugue caused by constant pain didn’t aid in alleviating his reticence.

He followed Roy beyond the threshold, slipping quietly past Anniya. As the door shut behind him, he took in the room. His injured leg dragged against the floor, riling up a cloud of dust that seemed determined to smother the lungs of the warehouse’s inhabitants. His lungs formed their protests, and he coughed weakly, sending a wave of agony flaring down his injured back. Sweat beaded on his brow, in stark relief to the chilling cold that gripped his body. His limbs shook with the strain of the journey, the fever, hunger, and fatigue ravaging his body.

Ahead, what for many would be the picture of squalor appeared - yet, for him, it was an image that provoked wonder. A dusty, abandoned warehouse. Empty wooden crates lined the walls. Wooden shards spilled from many of the discarded boxes, worn away by time and ill care. Stout beams spanned across the roof of the building, cobwebs dripping from on high like grasping tendrils.

Yet, in the center of the warehouse were comforts that the boy had never been able to completely acquire for himself. Pallets, filled with straw, formed beds - an amenity that he had long gone without. There were even pillows. He shook his head in amazement.

Two other boys rested in the middle of the building. They looked up at their approach, eyes gleaming with interest.

“Norik, Wymar! We’re back!” Roy called out excitedly.

He continued to follow Roy across the building, yet his strength was quickly fading - giving way to a complete and utter exhaustion.

The walls began to close in, an impermeable darkness pressing in from every direction. His knees buckled, finally giving out.

He hit the floor.

The last thing he saw before consciousness left him were the concerned faces of those around him.