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The Planes Walkers
1. Another Day, Another Piece of Gold

1. Another Day, Another Piece of Gold

The snow had collapsed the roof the night before. Jet spent the entire night shoveling snow out of the shack to just get a few hours of sleep before dawn. He couldn't sleep in. Not when there was work to be done.

"Glad to see you're awake," Jet's brother said to him as he looked back from the metal barrel in front of their shack. Embers flickered and sparked inside. A light smoke rose from the metal cylinder as if it were a chimney on top the houses they lived behind.

Jet rubbed his eyes. Though the sky was covered in grey clouds, the sun still seemed to shine brightly over Calbar. Jet yawned and then gave his older brother a smile.

"You always did say that old roof would give out eventually."

"Yeah I did. I'm just sorry it happened over you and not me. You didn't even wake me to help you!"

Jet chuckled. "You know I wouldn't bother you with that. We both can't be tired. We can't afford it."

Jet's brother's expression darkened. Jet knew he never liked hearing that they couldn't afford anything.

"Don't be like that, little brother. Just let good ol' Dustan take care of us," his brother joked as he pointed to himself with a big grin.

Jet rolled his eyes playfully. "So do we have any jobs today?" he asked, changing the subject.

Dustan reached his cloth-wrapped hands back over the embers. "I believe the bakery has a job or two. We might end up with a few more gold pieces today, if we're lucky."

The two were welcomed among the people to do odd jobs, but nothing more. Shop owners wouldn't be caught hiring the poverty-stricken.

"Anyways, let's head out. The sooner we get the gold, the sooner we can eat," Dustan explained.

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Jet nodded, adjusting his vest and scarf. The vest was almost gray with ash and dirt. The scarf remained a vibrant green. Jet made sure to take more care of it because it was the only thing he had left of his father.

Dustan gave him a nod that indicated he looked as presentable as he could. Jet returned a nod as they both headed away from their shack. Leaving the alley, Jet could see the castle that overlooked the city of Calbar. It stood as a reminder of the life that Jet wished he and his brother could have.

Calbar was a massive industrial city and capital of the Soul Empire. Jet and Dustan lived in the poorest part of the city. The majority of people who lived in their district weren't nearly as moneyless as the two of them.

"Don't you think we should move the shack?" Dustan asked.

Jet broke his gaze from the castle. "Why do you ask?"

"Well I hate that castle looming over us, reminding us who we are."

"I don't mind," Jet replied.

Dustan frowned. Jet could tell he didn't believe him, but he didn't press the issue.

The two of them walked for several minutes. They were soon out of the alley. Citizens were already moving up and down the streets going to work. Children, around their age and younger, were running around and playing. Dustan and Jet continued passed. Dustan had lost his child-like nature long ago. Jet still wanted to go and play with the other kids, but he knew he couldn't. They didn't have the luxury.

A flurry began to fall from the clouded sky as they reached the bakery. Jet's stomach growled as he could already smell the fresh bread. He looked into the window of the shop. Steam rose off of the bread in the cool air.

"Don't focus on the food," Dustan snapped at Jet, "It'll make the work harder."

Jet broke his focus on the inside and stared at his own reflection. His pale green eyes were brought out by his scarf and the gray tattered clothes he wore. He sniffled his nose a few times. The two boys were used to the cold and wet climate. They never minded having their boots soaked. Just having boots was better than not having them.

"Ah, the Cafl boys," the baker said as he poked his head out.

"Hello there Mr. Gher," Dustan greeted.

"Haven't seen you two around in a while. You working other parts of Calbar?"

"Anywhere we can get work," Dustan chuckled.

"You look so much older now. What are you, eighteen?" Mr. Gher asked.

Dustan nodded. "It's been about a year since we worked for you sir, so I'd say that's about right."

"And that makes you thirteen now, eh Jet?"

Jet nodded carefully. He was shy around others that had the power to deny them work. He knew his place as a poor citizen, and didn't want to jeopardize the chance to make a few gold pieces.

"Well come on inside. I've got some ovens I need cleaned out."

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