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Forged with metal and stone instead of fragile and inflammable wood, the Profectus Empire traded military and economical structural advances for its citizens' well-being.

Yet as enormous and lavish the Profectus may be, living space remains to be scarce, even in this endlessly vast earth.

To this nation, war brings fortune and death in equal measures, dealing destitution to the families of those who quite unfortunately died. Many more fall victim to the cold and disease in the gutters of the city.

Such is the case of this little boy, seemingly of fourteen years, ogling the warm interiors of a certain, modest cafe.

This cafe resided in the Second District, a few buildings away from the District Hall, attracting the most prominent customers in the area. Countless city men and women would walk upon the gray and white cobblestones, shiny leather shoes going in and out of City Hall regularly throughout the day. The streets are especially abundant on Main Street at about 7 o'clock nearing sunset, the current time of day.

The boy, short and dirty, stood out in the street full of fine men in black suits and gorgeous top hats, from time to time escorted by gorgeous women with stylish dresses and glamorous faces. A rough gray scarf, a brown coat with a couple shirts underneath, and darkish pants washed by dirt were all he had to contest against the bitterness of the ashen cold. Dreary light sapped whatever human warmth was left in the poor boy. Hunched forward, he pressed his pale hands against the lukewarm glass windows, seeing a world beyond reach.

The insides cozy and lavish that the air itself seemed yellow and lustrous. Even the chairs were golden, embellished by countless designs of eloquent symbols and of mystical beasts enthralled by what looked like olive branches. The olive branches design stretched along its golden legs, behind the soft red cushion and expanded into an upside U for the spine of the chair. The hot soups, chunks of beef, and sweet bread oozing of yellow cream entranced the boy’s eyes, incapacitating him. Yet, even with all the wonderful sight of food and alluring women, he could not block the sight of his reflection.

A face white as snow, holding a few scratches on his cheeks and the bottom of his chin, his red ears warmed by a fair amount of black hair. His red nose stubbornly braced itself against the sharp winds of January. Releasing a handful of fog from his dry lips into his soft hands, his mind drew blank, drifting off. With vacant eyes the boy released one last puff and readied himself to depart, to drift alongside the endless amount of humans, until a heavy hand took a tight grasp of his shoulder, holding him in place.

Surprised, the boy turned with eyebrows slightly raised at the man behind him. The man was no different from the passer-bys: black leather shoes, black suit, and a dark top hat. His brown eyes though held a certain tenderness to them. Standing at 5.5 feet tall with a round belly and thick skin. The man had opened his mouth to speak, but the little boy interrupted him “ Sorry sir, am I being a bother? I apologize, I was just about to leave.’’ The boy talked in quick succession as if he feared to squander the man’s time with his words. Beggars were illegal in the Second District.

Before the boy could attempt to vanish into the hectic crowd, the man hurriedly spoke up in the proper Profuctus accent, emphasizing the vowels above the word itself ‘’Now wait a moment young lad! Are you really going to leave after having a chance to dine on the food you were eying?’’

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The boy, confused at the man's words, and replied in an awkward and appropriate ‘’Eh?’’ The man in return replied with a colossal smile befitting his size and spoke in a vehement tone.

‘’I’m in a mood to dine tonight, would you care to join me?!’’ The boy stared at the man. After a slightly long pause, the words sunk in, with it his face--a face of delight, of hot ardor, of a surprise full of glee, abruptly changing into confliction, a fair amount of puzzlement, and a whole lot of hesitation. ‘’What’s your name, boy?’’

‘’I-I’m Lucius. Ahm..Thank you, sir but-’’

‘’Lucious? What a fine name! It’s ‘luc’ stems from the Latin word for light, did you know that? I wish I had a name as astonishing as yours, Lucius, but quite, unfortunately, mine happens to be a simple and common Argento Danario!’’ Argento’s voice cut loud through the crowd as he extended his arm right hand, a hand that was received awkwardly.

Lucious responded ‘’’It’s...a pleasure to meet you, Sir.Willaim.’’

‘’Likewise. Now, shall we head inside?’’ Argento grabbed Lucious by the shoulders and led him in, paying no heed to his obvious reluctance. Unsurprisingly, the old man left a thick, somewhat pleasant scent with each stride he took, concealing the smell of the damp earth that was seeping out of the boy.

The unfamiliar fragrance tickled Lucious little nose, but the aroma that was beyond the opened doors overflowed his nose with wonder and lust. With each step taken into the cafe, with each breath taken from the crowded tables, a new and splendid  fragrance filled his lungs; whether it was the sweet Bakewell Tart or the mouthwatering steam of beef melting in the soup, it all struck the boy the same: exotic, and simply far, far too sumptuous for him.

Argento and Lucious strolled through the cafe, passing by a few filled tables full of exquisite faces of groomed men and alluring young women. The cafe sparkled richly, from the silverware to the golden ceiling and to the very food itself, accompanied by a soft and soothing melody. Looking at the white, glimmering piano, Lucious could see the pianist seated on a heightened stage.

The young lady did not wear a lustrous dress, as it usually went, but instead opted for a gloomy suit. The curvy brunette hair resting on her shoulders was the only indication that she was female, her chest tight and her back straight. She was, of course, handsome, as was expected of a performer, though oddly containing two visible scars, one a finger long across her left lips, and another across her right eyebrow. She played each note softly, tones quietly shifting in the background. Long fingers moved at their own pace and mind, dark green eyes ignoring the music sheet.

Argento smiled upon witnessing the young lad’s obvious fascination with the woman ‘’Kora Dette, a lavish gift from Nrial...” Argento paused after glancing at Lucious “...Our ally, to the north. She received a scholarship from the wretched Academy. Such a shame, for her to only play the piano as a hobby.’’ He grunted in displeasure. ‘’I’m not very familiar with the Academy’s particular activities, but I do know it trains and educates future military powerhouses.’’

Lucious sat down in front of Argento, glancing sideways at Kora.

‘’Yes, but it's….more than that. Not a good place I dare say. They start with these children too early, way too early, and it ruins them.’’ He grimaced, his plump face reddening slightly.

Fuck you too fatty. At least I don’t have two chins.

Interrupting Argent’s rant was a pretty lady in black pants and a white buttoned up shirt, a handsome bow tie below her chin. Lucious peeked at her, first at her brown eyes, and then down at her more attractive parts. When she glanced at him, his eyes panicked and turned away. The blood of his cheeks to resurfaced, his eyes rampaging across the previously vast cafe, seeking a place to hide. The waitress smiled at him and attempted to hide a chuckle as she walked away.

Lucious eyes drifted towards her back, face as vacant as before. One of the few perks of being a child, I guess.

‘’This cafe is absolutely exquisite! You see that crystal chandelier up there? It’s quite expensive to work, constructed from light crystals and linked in gold, a very transmissive metal, and hardened silver to adjoined with the...’’

Ignoring the old man's rumbling, Lucious surveyed the handsome men, beautiful women, and shiny, shiny objects. The Beggar savored the bittersweet taste of this dish he could not have. Lucious tugged at his lips, nodding and smiling slightly, his voice small and smooth. Lucious awaited his  meal, nodding and awing whenever the need arose, and bid his time.