Rising higher by the minute, the sun once more met the horizon and peeked its crest. The chilling cold was fought off by its warm rays, leaving behind a radiant glisten as the outer layer of the snow that had fallen during the night began to melt.

From within a large dumpster, Asterion shiveringly raised one side of its lids and peeked outside at the rising daylight, questioning whether or not it was worth it to get out. He would not leave until the sun was out long enough to fend off hypothermia…

The night before, he had troubles finding a warm place to sleep. The alleyways he knew were all taken—or rather defended, by more violent men than he. Other than those places, he didn’t really know many other places he could go…

So, he chose the next best thing. A trash dumpster. He didn’t desire to sleep in the trash, nor did he intend to. But walking by it stole a questioning glance in its direction. It would not keep him warm, but did keep the wind off of him, allowing him to survive the chilling night. It wasnt the best, but after he moved the hardest of the garbage out of the way, it actually almost resembled a plushy mattress.

Needless to say, however, he didn’t sleep the greatest.

With bags under his eyes, Asterion hopped out of the dumpster and looked around.

“At least nobody saw that… desperate measure.” He muttered.

He was used to having to do deplorable and embarrassing things to survive, but sleeping in a dumpster felt a bit too far.

With wounded pride, and an empty stomach Asterion made his way to school for the day.

Midway to the school, his stomach began to pain, not too intense, but a subtle, gnawing misfortune.

‘Already?’

He imagined he would have at least till midday before the pain from not eating would begin. Instead, it seemed to be happening immediately.

Finally making his way to the door of the school, he found his way back into the classroom and with Mrs. Press.

Sitting in his usual seat, he began his routine stare at the window, letting the lecture pass unabated.

By the end of it, he was in no joking mood. By now, the small hole in his stomach became a vast cavern, every subtle movement amplifying the pain it created.

‘Endure…’ he thought, painfully.

It was hard to believe that hunger can cause that much pain. Hunger was the lack of food, which—according to Asterion—meant that there was nothing within him to cause pain. Nothing was even happening.

Yet nothing hurt so much.

When the bell rang, and all the students left, Asterion stayed seated, preparing himself to make the journey to the tavern for his repayment shifts

“Gah. It hurts.” He whispered, covering his face with his hands.

Mrs. Press was sitting in her seat at the front of the room, eyeing him expectantly. Noticing her gaze, Asterion made a final huff before moving towards the door.

Walking out, he once again made his way to the tavern, passing the same shops and stalls he did the day before on the way.

Hearing a chorus of parade ahead, Asterion made sure to step to the side, just in time for a guard—the same one who knocked him down yesterday, to walk by, smirking as the crowd parted before him.

“Is this a routine for him?” He asked aloud, more to himself than anyone.

He had walked this market many times, and as a result crossed many of the city soldiers who guarded the streets. None had ever been that bold, much less rude.

It was genuinely perplexing.

‘Gosh. Who does he think he is?’

Next to him, a voice resounded with distain.

“He actually believes that only he can protect people if anything were to happen, and that they themselves are helpless. So… I guess a savior?”

Looking to his left, Asterion met the gaze of a man with blue eyes and blonde hair. The man looked like every noble he had ever seen. Tall, bright eyes, and blemish-less. The man, who wore a brown overcoat made from a leather he couldn’t quite place the origins of, looked at him expectantly.

‘Is he talking to me…?’ Asterion thought, confused.

“Well… I answered your question, so I believe so.” The man said.

“What? Sorry, I didn’t say anything.” He responded.

The man frowned. “You didn’t? Ah… that’s a shame. I was doing so well.”

Much more confused, Asterion looked blankly at the man, questioning his sanity.

‘Did this guy just read my mind?’

The man, who had a look of disappointment written across his face, slowly rose into a slim smile.

“No…”

Asterion’s eyes widened. “What? You definitely are!”

He groaned.

“Gah! Fine, you caught me. Sorry.” He raised his hands in an apologetic gesture.

Still stumped as to how a person could read the thoughts of other people, Asterion raised a brow.

“How are you doing that?”

“Doing what?” The man replied, perplexed.

A stupified expression formed on Asterion’s face.

“What do you mean ‘doing what?’ How can you read minds!”

The man, obviously getting the question now, replied.

“Um.. I don’t know, I just do? That’s kind of a hard question. It’s like asking a person how they walk. I move my legs in a way that allows me to walk… except with your mind.”

He thought the man was messing with him. The answer was a bit vague, and it didn’t make sense in the slightest.

Just as he opened his mouth again, his stomach sent a particularly pained wave through his body, making him reflexively hunch forward a little.

‘Ah… that hurt.’

The blonde haired man looked down at the now hunched boy with a questioning stare.

“You okay there?”

Looking down at the street, Asterion fought internally. ‘Not particularly, my stomach wants to eat me because I can’t feed it! What, you can’t read that?’ He thought, sarcastically.

Looking back up to the man, which from this angle looked even taller than before, said “Yeah… I’ll be fine.”

The man chuckled.

“I heard that you know.”

Asterion widened his eyes, seeing his error.

“It’s fine. Your in pain, I understand, people lash out. Why don’t you just eat something? I see your a bit less well off from your clothes, but there’s plenty of opportunity to work for food around here.”

Asterion sighed, looking down at his clothing. He knew he didn’t look the best, having spent the night in a dumpster with little sleep, along with the wet dirty stone of the street from the unwanted advances by other people…

But why did he have to point it out?

‘Just call me emotional and lazy while your at it.’

Aloud, he said:

“I was. Three bastards from the pathfinders skipped out on their tabs yesterday and I have to work off their meals before I can eat again. I haven’t eaten in two days.”

The man’s suppressed smile widened a little.

“Pathfinders? How did you know they were pathfinders?”

“Their swords had the pathfinder sigil on it. I’ve read books about them.”

‘Wastes of space…’ he internally monologued.

The man, who only grew more happy with his resentment, thought for a moment, before speaking.

“So… you haven’t eaten in a couple days and are looking for work? You wouldn’t happen to be interested in something long term? I actually came to the market to look for people interested in joining me for my work. I supply everything you need while your with me.”

Asterion’s eyes widened for a split second before he regained his composure. The man’s smile was now written across his face, revealing nothing but joy.

“I was actually only looking for a few more, so you’d be perfect.”

He grew suspicious.

Fate was often a cruel thing to people like him. While sounding like a fantastic opportunity, Asterion couldn’t help but think that the offer was too good to be true. Very rarely do people get both food and money for work, much less shelter as a bonus.

Yet… this stranger just offered all three and he’s looking for multiple people?

‘This has to be a scam.’

“Uh… where in the city is the work located?”

“It’s a bit of a distance, you’d have to be willing to travel, that’s why we cover most of it. It’s cheaper.” He gave a nonchalant shrug. “Most are rather intent on not making life changing decisions, so we don’t get a lot of people joining in droves.”

“What would the job entail?”

“Oh… not much. You are small and fragile, so we wouldn’t have much use for you in any heavy capacity.” Eyeing Asterion up and down, “You’d make an excellent attendant, though.”

‘An attendant? Not bad…’ Asterion thought.

An attendant wasn’t the worst thing he could be. In fact it was probably one of the better prospects he could end up as. Considering his current prospects were working in various establishments as a work-for-food hire until he could find a more permanent job. The job he would find, however would undoubtedly end up with him working at a factory and living in objective poverty for the rest of his life.

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That life would be undoubtedly short, as well… factory workers had short lifespans, after all.

An attendant didn’t work in a factory, however, slowly working themselves to death to make ends meet. An attendant didn’t need to work on a line and do the same thing every day.

Well, an attendant can slowly work themselves to death, too…

But it would be much less harsh!

“Yes, we have many openings for them. It’s a rather new opening we are searching to fill. In fact, you’d be my attendant.” The stranger said flatly.

“What?” Asterion said, questioningly, before realizing he was still reading his mind. “You’re mind reading is throwing me off.”

The stranger laughed.

“I’m Bellarus, by the way. Most just call me Rus. I can tell your already interested. How about ditching that work you have and coming for the orientation? You won’t need to work for them if you have us.”

His stomach growled, with another wave of pain, loud enough for Rus to hear.

“I’ll get you a meal on the way.” He chuckled, “finding you was luck. Just like I am yours. I only needed a few people to meet my quota, and you make the last person.”

Immediately, Asterion’s suspicion went away. The man, Rus, was obviously a blessing in disguise.

“Oh… where are the others?”

“I’ve taken them to orientation, believe it or not, finding people to work for you is a rather boring endevour. Helps break up the monotony.”

With that, they walked together down the street, getting a meal, and then the rather long adventure of following Bellarus to his position’s orientation.

As they walked, Asterion noticed a few… inconsistencies in the hours that passed. Not enough to back out, but enough to rouse suspicion.

The first thing was that no matter what he asked Bellarus about what his duties would be as an assistant, the guy would be incredibly vague.

It was strange, especially since he said he was supposed to be his assistant.

So, chalking it up to it being a diverse job, with rather wide job duties, he let it go.

The second thing, was that whenever he asked where the work would be located and where he would live, the blonde haired man would always respond with something along the lines of:

“You’d live near me, of course!”

Or more specifically when prodded,

“It’s located… uh… I actually don’t know the name of the place! Sorry! We will be fine, we won’t be there long.”

Asterion was also noticing that Bellarus was a strange character. Stranger than most he had met, at least. The man was adamant in staying vigilant, and was always looking at other people, as if he was watching them. Aside from that, he was simply rather quiet.

At one point, Asterion was mulling over this information during the meal, he had thought about a rather crude joke about another table when Bellarus was looking the other way, and he could have sworn he saw a hint of a smile form.

However… when he asked, Bellarus always denied reading his mind. Claiming he ‘wouldn’t dare invade his privacy, now that they’re friends.’

The last thing, and the most egregious inconsistency, however, was actually when they were approaching the orientation.

Now far from the market district after walking a couple more hours, they wandered street after street till the sight of people slimmed down to an occasional person passing by every few blocks. They were close to the outer wall. Bellarus was looking around, as if lost, but continued walking.

It was… getting sketchy.

‘Why are we so far out?’

Walking a couple steps behind Bellarus, asterion studied the surroundings, and noted that most were rather run down, and uninhabited.

“Is this the place?” He asked hesitantly.

Ahead, Bellarus absentmindedly responded. “Yeah… it’s close. Should be right… here”

He stopped abruptly in front of a wooden door.

Still standing behind him, Asterion studied the building. Some of its finer details were made of wood, like its door, but the building itself was made out of the same material every permanent building in the city was made out of. The resilient stone.

Turning around, Bellarus looked at Asterion up and down for a moment. The kind of watchful gaze that would give anyone a pause.

‘Yeah this guys going to murder me.’

He smirked, and then laughed.

“No, I am not going to murder you. But I do need to let you know one thing about the job. There’s one condition. There’s no ending it until your contracts completed. Once you enter, you’ll be orientated and hired, regardless of whether or not your actually useful in your role.”

Surprise wasn’t on his mind at the confession that Bellarus read his mind, even though he said he wouldn’t. In fact, Asterion was quite sure he hadn’t stopped since they met in the market for one simple reason. It’s what he would do if he had the power. He wasn’t foolish enough to handicap himself of a potential tool in most scenarios.

He also wasn’t foolish to miss the fact that this entire situation was eerily similar to—at least how he imagined it usually went in his head—and edging closer toward recruitment for a crime syndicate.

Asterion began pondering to himself if he had accidentally befriended a crime boss, who seemed very interested in him joining them?

There were glaring flaws in his reasoning.

Looking at the blonde haired man up and down again, he was stumped. he couldn’t foresee this man being a dangerous individual. He was quite friendly and amiacable. He had money. And he didn’t appear to carry a weapon, at least not one visibly.

He was sure he had one on him, tucked away out of sight in his boot or belt, maybe.

Though… who would need a weapon when you can hear people’s thoughts? His opponents minds would become his weapon. Their thoughts his foresight.

Asterion blinked.

‘Pfft. This dude is too pretty to be part of a crime syndicate. He could have just married rich.’

“Uh… thanks, I guess… but what about the job, are you in or out?” Bellarus said, with a confused look on his face.

Asterion’s eyes widened, and he coughed to hide his embarrassment.

Food was a distasteful thing to think about, which is ironic considering it’s tasteful qualities…

Asterion, understanding that refusing this offer may be a smart thing to do considering the sketchiness of the situation, looked at Bellarus and did a serious, resolute nod.

There were many reasons he would have refused the job offer. Each pertaining to the scrupulous nature of its description clarity, or lack there of.

But there were an equal number of reasons he would accept the position. More than that, there was a multitude of reasons past that number. Considering the alternative, there just wasn’t a reason to refuse.

What else would there be for him? Work till his life span is cut short, trading his health for the bare minimum a person needed to live in the city until he met his end?

But there was one more reason even above that, a rather short term one that pressed on him heavily nowadays. It wasn’t as important in the grand scheme of things, he knew he would endure, and while not thriving, would be able to make it through its cold grasp.

Winter.

He had endured it a few times since becoming an orphan, surviving the freezing temperature. Each time was a test of his will to live. The cold temperatures pushed many of his luxuries, such as the expectation of basic government assistance to the side as people in the same situation as him went into survival mode, crowding shelters and consuming more food and warmth. But this time was different. This time was special.

He had an opportunity in front of him to not suffer its wrath… He would be a fool not to take it as a blessing.

For many, this job would be temporary slave servitude. For Asterion, it was a better path.

Bellarus smiled, and without looking, made a pattern of knocks on the door. A man answered, opening the door a moment later.

His greeting was short, his voice was rough, nodding to Bellarus. He moved aside to let them in, standing behind the door.

“Rus.”

Hidden by the shadows that laid inside, it took a moment for Asterion’s eyes to adjust to the darkness of the room, it was relatively empty aside from a few chairs that littered the center of the room, and closed doors along the far wall that led deeper into the building.

To his left, he saw Bellarus standing casually, suppressing a smile, and looking at him almost expectantly. Confused, Asterion looked around, thinking of what he might of been expected to do for an orientation, before turning his head right towards the man who now closed the door, locking it.

His eyes widened.

“You’re going to want to bind this one.” He heard from behind.