Perched on the crumbling half-wall, with her toes and fingers glued to the mossy stone, Nua watched two bored guards near the entrance to the junkyard. The day sun had already set, and the evening sun was rising over the Overlord's Mercy, small and dark red, bathing the surroundings in blood-tinted twilight. Near the end of their shift, the guards became even more lazy than usual, ceasing their patrols and neglecting scavengers like Nua, who blended into the ruins.

Nua was nineteen, but she looked twelve. It did not set her apart from many other street youths of Overlord's Mercy's Bottoms, as scrawny and bowlegged as she was. Thin, greasy strands of dark brown hair surrounded her round face. She had red, flaking patches of cracked skin on her cheeks and a broken front tooth. Her tawny complexion and the golden glint in her eyes marked her as one of the Unsagga people, which was the only thing about her that drew attention and in a negative way, as you could not get far in life with this kind of ancestry. In her tattered shirt and pants – the only clothes she had – she seemed more like a boy than the young woman she was. Not that she had ever paid attention to her looks or anything except day-to-day survival. Nua's mind never matured beyond adolescence, and who knew how things would turn out for her if it wasn't for Auntie Hala.

It was hard to tell what compelled Auntie Hala to take the orphans under her roof. Through the years, she had fostered many, feeding them with whatever she could get and teaching them whatever she could, which in her case was the craft of a tinker, doing laundry or sewing. This was how she earned her keep – depending on what was needed at the moment. She did not question other means of income of her children, as long as they shared with the rest of their family and didn't invite trouble. Those who were too sick, too frail, or – like Nua – too scatterbrained to really help, however, she did not cast away. They stayed for as long as they wanted. They went away, eventually. The Bottoms had its ways to suck people in or finish them off.

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The majority, like Nua or Hala herself, were Unsagga or some mix thereof, forbidden to prentice to the licensed craftsmen even if they were able to pay the fee. Unlicensed tinkerers like Hala barely earned their food. What was left was a life of thievery, prostitution, or a combination of them both. There were tales that one or two of Hala's stronger and smarter foster children became mercenaries in the Overlord armies, which was a dream for many, but not everyone could achieve that. For example, Nua was about two heads shorter than most city guards.

That's why she became so skilled at going unnoticed.

Crawling along the wall like a sleek, small lizard, Nua looked for the hole in the fence. Right now, one of the guards stood near her favorite opening and, unfortunately, did not seem inclined to move. There were several, though, and Nua knew them all. Yes, the junkyard could be dangerous. After all, the regular rubbish was piled on the wartime trash, and these, in turn, covered vestiges of the Forsaken ruins. Plagues originated here; animals transformed by the ether could and would get out to roam the streets; any small treasure you found could well be cursed.

But there was copper wire if you were lucky. Or bronze plates. Or even, in some rare circumstances, or at least that's what the word was on the streets, real silver. Not True Silver, of course. These were just leftover scraps of wartime machines and goliaths, any meat that was left on their bones after the real mage-craftsmen and alchemists dismantled their armor and weapons, then repurposed True Silver and Star Gold.

The copper wire could bring home a few meals. Usually, Nua would be happy with any discarded item from the contemporary trash pile. Pots or baskets or furniture used clothes or shoes, anything that was not good enough for the people getting rid of it, but just right for the Bottoms. A few days ago, though, they had a new arrival at Auntie Hala's place, and Nua wanted to help. Also, this meant that her daily bowl of porridge was smaller than usual. She was hungry and therefore adventurous.