The bustle of the streets died as the night beckoned. A raggedly dressed teenage boy stalked the narrow alleyways. The dark was where he truly belonged, where his skills shined. It was only natural for one of his kind. His body tensed and his senses heightened as he pressed himself firmly against the wall and listened closely for the drivel of his friends with loose lips and fat wallets.
As if on schedule, two drunken men, one tall and lanky and the other short and chubby, wobbled down the streets. One could easily tell that they were rich aristocrats from the way they dressed and the accessories they wore. The poor who lived around these parts would have no need to work a day more for the next few years if they could happen to possess anything of what these aristocrats currently wore.
“Ah, why are we stuck here in the boonies governing over these poor sobs?” lamented chubbier man.
“Someone has to do this job, not like we were born with the talent to be great heroes,” replied the other.
Suddenly, numerous people emerged from the alleyways of the streets and brandished their weapons, if they could even be called weapons. Although they emerged menacingly enough, the majority were wielding pitchforks and other farming tools that looked as if they were shoddily glued together with rice paste. They could probably hardly harm small game, much less a fully grown human.
A man holding a rusty hatchet stepped forth from the crowd. His eyes were big, but they seemed small because his head was much bigger. His eyes were wide apart, but his face was even wider. However, the man’s body was flat and thin, completely disproportionate from his facial structures. If one were to describe him, he would be likened to a compressed toad.
“You spend your time blabbering about heroes and you can’t even focus on your actual jobs; where else would you useless blockheads have any success?” bellowed the toad-faced man.
He looked like a toad and he sounded like a toad. The boy could not help but let loose a snicker, drawing attention towards his direction.
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The boy clapped his hands over his mouth and kept silent. If he were discovered, then he could not begin to imagine the consequences.
Of course, the drunken men had not taken light of the opportunity provided. As the crowd was distracted, they had sobered up and retreated a fair amount.
“What are you fools waiting for? After them!”
With the toad’s outburst, the crowd remembered their original objective! They hustled and ran over the toad. If the man didn't look close enough to a smushed toad before, he just got that much closer!
Of course, one could only expect so much from a ragtag group of people. With the country in such a disorderly state, ravaged from corruption and war, the people would naturally become more and more unruly. The middle to upper class citizens would usually face minor issues. However, for the lower class, resources and food were scarce and, worse of all, crime was rampant.
Furthermore, as if there were nothing to lose anymore, there would be the occasional band of rebels. However, in reality, most of these rebels were outsiders that sneaked into the slums to take advantage of the current plight.
Seeing the mob chase after the two men, the child's eyes deviously shifted left and right before beginning to take liberties in "taking care" of the toad. After making sure the toad was unconscious, he searched for any valuables. However, all he found was a coin purse with a big hole at the bottom. How pitiful!
Being mischievous, by the time the child was finished, the toad looked like he was one with nature, one with the road – lying naked on the street with his limbs outstretched.
Suddenly, as if complimenting the boy’s skills, the sound of the clock tower signaled midnight as soon as he finished. However, the boy abruptly brushed off the dust off of his clothes and started running. He was late for his scheduled appointment!