At the edge of the road, a small, malnourished child looked enviously at the man eating steamed buns near a food vendor.
Swallowing a mouthful of saliva, he tore his gaze away from the fresh bread and walked weakly down the road.
Due to excessive thirst and malnourishment, his cheeks were sunken. His bones and ribcage were clearly protruding, visible through the tears in his rags.
He dared not beg, having suffered countless beatings and cold, indifferent stares from the citizens.
To them, he was a nuisance. A parasite who leeched off the income of others.
Afterall, why should they give precious coin to a stranger? This boy obviously couldn't do any work to repay them, nor do community work to contribute to the town's environment.
Before long, the boy had understood this: Society ran on the principal of mutual benefit.
Nobody would do something if they didn't receive something in return. They'd do it either for monetary, physical and emotional gain. People would only do things that would benefit themselves.
On the rare occasion that he would be donated to, it was because of social benefits.
The person would donate one or a few copper, almost always being within the watchful eye of the public, and in return, they would gain the status of a generous and kind person. Combining this with a few other methods, they would be revered as a magnanimous and trustworthy person. Without a doubt, many people would show their respect to someone like this.
Therefore, this benefited both the boy and the person.
If he was alone, in a secluded environment like the night, he would receive no donations.
If nobody could see them performing this act, then what was the benefit of doing it? If they wouldn't receive praise and compliments, it was a fruitless endeavour.
Curling up in an alleyway, he relaxed his flimsy body and tried to fall asleep, shivering.
"Disgusting.."
"How pitiful.."
"Get up! Beggars like you have no right to dirty the streets!"
Several people passed by the boy, making comments.
Ultimately, the boy couldn't fall asleep. His hunger was too strong, his stomach squeezing and groaning in hunger. His head spun, throbbing incessantly. It could be likened to placing his head between an anvil and a blacksmith in the midsts of the forging process, repeatedly enduring the strikes of the hammer.
So, he gathered his strength and slowly sat up, leaning against the cold, wooden wall of the alley.
If he died here, so be it.
He didn't even have the strength to say his last words. Although he wanted to laugh bitterly and curse the townspeople and the world, he couldn't muster up the energy to open his mouth.
At the young age of 14, the boy was on the cusp of death.
"Are you alright?"
Through the moonlight, he could vaguely see through his blurry vision a woman. She had her blonde hair done in a singular plait, hunched over and looking sympathetically down at the boy.
Just then, his heavy eyelids shut, his body going limp.
2 Years Later..
"Lancelot!" A middle-aged woman with a single plait called out, standing in the kitchen.
Around her ran around small children, laughing joyously, engaging in mischief and playing.
"Tag, you're it!"
"No, you didn't even touch me!"
"Yes I did! Sore loser!"
"Hey, I'm not, you baboon-faced idiot!'
"..What did you just call me..? Come here!"
The child lunged at the boy. However, the other child was fast, dodging the boy and slapping him before running
She closed her eyes, looking down and sighing helplessly at the children's usual antics.
Then, a 16 year old boy with messy, mid-length cobalt hair walked groggily past the door frame.
"Yes, Miss Orca?" Lancelot answered, his tone betraying his current slightly lethargic state. His back was hunched as his eyelids drooped slightly, half-covering his bright, aqueous eyes.
"It's time for your first day of work! You have.." She glanced through the large paned window that was in the kitchen, his eyes landing on the massive mechanical clock tower that stood out in the middle of the municipal square.
Although the orphanage was not near the municipal square, due to the extravagant size of the clock tower, it was still easily seeable. This allowed for most of the citizens to be able to tell the time, not having to spend large amounts to buy clocks or sundials.
"43 minutes, if you don't want to be late, quickly eat breakfast and hurry along!" Miss Orca urged.
43 minutes was enough time for anyone to eat breakfast and go to their workplace in the town. However, due to Lancelot's past reputation, it was extremely hard for him to get a job locally. Even if he now had a place to stay at the orphanage, he was forced to walk a long distance to reach his workplace.
Lancelot tersely nodded, sitting down at the table and eating the prepared bowl of porridge hastily.
During these past two years, he had gained a sufficient amount of weight. He no longer looked starved due to the orphanages and Miss Orca's care. His skin carried the paleness of an adolescent, his naturally thin frame growing slightly thicker.
It was clear he has been eating well, no longer suffering from malnutrition.
Miss Orca's face softened as she looked at Lancelot.
"I'm proud of you, Lancelot." Suddenly, Miss Orca said.
"Huh?" Lancelot looked up at Miss Orca, confused.
"You might have not noticed it, but you stopped pushing others away." She sat down infront of him, grasping his hand and squeezing it.
"I've seen it, the way you care for the other children here."
Laughter resounded through the room, bringing a sense of liveliness as sunlight poured through from the window.
"You've stopped looking at everything with indifference, you're stepping away from your reclusive habits." She smiled. "You're acting more like someone your age, a boy who's growing. Sometimes, you feel rebellious, sometimes you feel happy, or angry, or annoyed. You started wanting to eat when and what you want, to play outside and prove yourself to others. I've even seen the way you look at the girl next door." She grinned.
"Though, you still haven't started trying to socialise.."
Lancelot looked away, feeling a little embarrassed.
"Yeah, well.. it's all thanks to you, I guess. You helped me when nobody else did."
Miss Orca shook her head.
"It's all due to your efforts, remember that."
She leaned forward, their foreheads touching.
"You won't be alone ever again, ok? You have us, we'll always be with you." She pulled away, kissing his forehead.
Lancelot's mouth was slightly agape before it closed, the corner of his eyes pricked with happy tears as he revealed a brilliant smile, nodding.
"I-I'm off."
He choked, standing and walking towards the door. When he reached the door, he looked back.
"I'll be back."
"I know." Miss Orca replied, her gaze lingering as she looked back to the mess that the children created.
Inside a bustling tavern, a youth with cobalt hair stood behind the counter, serving rum, spirits and wine whilst talking to a few patrons that sat infront of him.
"So, this your first day on the job?" The short yet muscular man asked over multiple loud voices, his voice slurring slightly as he finished drinking a thick, pale-brown liquid from a large mug.
"Yes." Lancelot simply replied, cleaning the glass in his hand expertly.
As he was the oldest in the orphanage, he was unfortunately responsible for most chores. This led to him being proficient in cleaning, washing dishes and other household chores.
"You can read? That's impressive." A woman with slightly-wavy brown hair asked, dressed in leather armour. She leaned in, twirling the glass in her hand, cheeks slightly flushed.
It was evident that she was drunk.
"Thank you, Miss Adventurer." Lancelot responded a little dully.
This woman was an adventurer, a common occupation of those wanting to get rich quickly. This profession experienced a surge of popularity due to the recent exploration of the Verdure Forest.
"Who taught ya?" The man asked.
"My caretaker did." He responded curtly.
"Bah, you speak like it hurts you!" The man chuckled. "Try being more talkative, boy. A bartender should be good at talking to customers."
"Sorry, I'm not really good at speaking with people." Lancelot said a little sheepishly whilst scratching his cheek.
"Hey, Lancelot!" The shopkeeper came out from the back door and called out, an old yet strong looking man. "You should go home, your shift's done."
He walked over to Lancelot, handing him a few copper coins.
Lancelot nodded, pocketing the coins and leaving the tavern.
A few minutes later, a thin, lanky man entered the tavern. He was dressed in a hooded robe, making it difficult to discern his features other than the grin on his face. On his waist was a belt, attached to it was a sheathed sword.
He strolled to the counter, sitting on one of the stools.
"One Azure Spirit." He ordered, flicking a coin at the bartender.
Azure Spirit was a popular and cheep drink. It was made using a commonly found fruit called Azurical. It resembled an apple, but bright blue. It had a sweet and slightly spicy taste, being used in many dishes, drinks and dyes.
"Coming right up." The middle-aged man said, catching the copper coin. He was currently the bartender on-shift. After a moment, he slid a glass filled with a light blue liquid to him.
The hooded man brought the glass to his lips, taking a small sip before spitting it out.
"Ugh, just like I thought, disgusting.." He said in a slightly angry tone, wiping his mouth.
"Ah, uh.. Sir, I can compensate you with a different drink." The bartender quickly said, caught off guard by the man's reaction.
The man shook his head, standing up.
"I'll need a different form of compensation." The hooded man laughed.
"The lives of everyone here will suffice." The man unsheathed his sword, pointing it at the tables of seated customers. His hood rid up slightly, exposing his singular, red eye. The other eye had a small scar running down on the surface of his eyelid.
Everyone in the tavern became quiet.
"What did this guy just say..?"
"The fuck..?"
"Who does he think he's talking to? Come here, you bastard!"
Outraged, several customers stood up and rushed towards him. They wielded clubs, swords or daggers.
In the middle of this maelstrom of people, the hooded man's grin turned maniacal.
As Lancelot walked down the cramped road, the houses on either side looming over him, he couldn't help but shiver when he felt a gust of cold wind.
Currently, it was night. He worked from 3 o'clock to 9 o'clock. The fact that it was December also contributed to the chilling temperature.
"Should've wore more layers.." He stuffed his hands in the pockets of his brown linen pants, wearing a tunic of the same colour.
"Help! Someone help!" A shrill scream resounded through the empty streets.
Turning his head to the direction of the scream, Lancelot saw an old, wrinkly woman and two men.
"Shut the fuck up!" The smaller man shouted, slapping the old woman.
She fell onto the floor with a thud, holding her cheek whilst tears fell from her eyes.
Lancelot narrowed his eyes, clenching his fist.