~~
A copper piece of metal made a ping! as it fell and hit the wooden floor of the bustling general store. Before the coin even had a chance to finish moving and lay flat on the floor, a petite, pale hand was clasped around it. The hand instinctively brought the coin to a young boy's chest. The grungy, sickly-looking child chanced a swift glance over his shoulder before making a mad dash, from where he squat, to the main entrance.

The owner of the general store, a graying old man, began to shout and call for the lad to stop, but it had been just a few moments too late. The boy had already broken out through the entrance and was blending into the mass crowd right outside the shop. The old man stopped shouting, knowing it was too late to do anything more.

"Besides," he thought, returning his attention to one of his many customers, “he may need it more than I do. Just because the shops and workers get paid well, don't mean that everyone has such luck here. Not everyone can prosper in the world, or else the natural balance would be off."

~~
As the young boy ran through the crowds of sailors, merchants, and common folk, he mumbled to no one in particular, "Ocriet, a city of dreams...people come here from all over looking for money and work and opportunities. They think they can get it all here, but some of us aren't so lucky..."

He trailed off as he turned a corner and slowed to a complete stop, staring straight ahead of him. His light green eyes shown brightly through the mess and tangle of his thick brown hair as he scanned the harbor, and used one of his long sleeves to push the mess out of his view. His shirt was two sizes too big for him, and his sleeves hung at his sides like an octopus' tentacles. Directly in front of him were the "Twins of Ocriet", two massive warships that were issued to the city of Ocriet by the government for defense of the city. He wished to touch those wooden decks with his own two feet, and learn what it's like to work upon one of those massive vessels, to sail the great roaring seas.

Suddenly, a look of discomfort and discontent crossed his face as he began to turn away and proceed, once again, down the stone street of the harbor. What chance did an orphan have of leaving the city anyway? No one would trust him because he wasn't raised by any parents, only the people who raised him in the orphanage. Even if someone did trust him enough to take him on as an apprentice and take him away, he doubted that he could actually muster the courage to actually leave his "family" behind. He was the backbone of the family, even if he was only eight years old. If he left, then there would be no one to help out the way he did. Maybe his life in Ocriet would be the only life he would ever know. And, as crazy as it sounds, maybe this would be the best life possible for him. The orphan took a sharp turn around a corner, into an alleyway, and began to blend in with a crowd of sailors.

~~
The port town of Ocriet was smaller in size than most others, but made up its lack of size with an economy the world has yet to see. Its businesses and middle class workers always had jobs and became very prosperous. The marketplace was filled to capacity to the point where once could not fit into a merchant's stall for simple merchandise like island shells and floral pieces. If it was being sold in Ocriet, then it was worth quite a price. Even simple hand-crafted dolls or hand-carved pipes could be sold to make a living. All it took was a good business sense, a quick tongue, and for your stall to be set up in the city limits. Every piece of merchandise was swiftly consumed by the multitudes of travelers that traversed the city streets.

Why was Ocriet such a prosperous and bustling city? There are actually two parts to that answer. First, it is a port city. Port cities have a natural tendency to have a lot of traffic and their businesses generally do well. They import and export so many goods that tariffs and taxes add to the wealth of the government as well. The second reason is Ocriet's geographical location. It is found on the very tip of a peninsula that cuts the Volviet Ocean into two, near identical bodies of water. On each side of the Volviet Ocean, there is a country, and both happen to have a trade agreement with one another. Thus, Ocriet creates a perfect way point to stop, rest, and resupply. If a ship made a straight shot across the ocean from one country to the other, it would take about two to three weeks.

To the east of the Volviet Ocean is Juin, a country that prides itself in its diplomacy skills with other countries. It has remained neutral for a vast majority of armed conflicts for the past few hundred years, and has created a great variety of trade agreements and treaties that keep it one of the biggest centers of trade. In a sense, they remain safe and quiet while being able to delve deep within the confines of the world market. It is unfortunate that the same neutrality felt by other countries is not kept within Juin itself.

While the country flourishes, many people wallow in misery form the harsh laws passed down upon them by their government, a senate of individuals with a head speaker. These men, as of late, have become very traditional. They wish to revert to the older ways of their society. One way was to introduce marriage laws into the country over the last decade or so. These laws dictated that the parents would find a suitable partner for their child through contracts and agreements of other families. It was also instated that it was unlawful to marry someone who was born outside of Juin. In certain cases, if a family was close to the government, then the government itself would step in and choose a spouse for the children in order to keep power around the government tight. These marriage laws, along with many others, came with a harsh price as well. A new form of physical punishment was institutionalized and some laws, if broken, could result in a person being condemned to death. For such a thriving and prosperous country, the people seem to be lacking in freedom.

The surface is shallow and thin, but easily creates a facade as to what is actually happening deep within Juin. The Juin government does not want to admit it, but they are rapidly losing control of the criminal organizations embedded deep in their country. The country knows it cannot stop them, but still pretends to hold the country by a leash around its neck.

To the west is Auberd, the "Country of Journeys" as some call it. People tell stories about the great and mighty heroes that appear in history and claim that they all originated somewhere in the country of Auberd. The rolling plains and vast valleys are as calming and serene as the queen whom rules them. The government of Auberd is made up of a single individual, monarch, Queen Mirela II and her council of advisers. For all of the peace that seems to be told about the lands, many travelers speak about great dangers that lurk within the vast forests of the country. They say that even the most serene and docile places can turn their wrath upon you in an instant.

A quick glance at a country cannot tell you everything about it, and it cannot tell you what its citizens are like. Every country has its criminals and scoundrels, but each ruler has a different method of dealing with such tricksters and thugs. Auberd, like many before, had first tried using military power in order to weed out the criminals, but this proved to be extremely ineffective. It was like using a hammer to break apart a puddle of water, only to have it seep back to the source and reform. Nothing had changed until one of the queen's advisers came forward and proposed this: "Why do we not use their own kind to destroy them organizations form the inside-out? We can use people much like themselves to stage assassinations and coups within the criminal organizations themselves."

Thus, the concept of the Royal Rogues was born. These Rogues are at the beck and call of the entire royal family for any assignment, ranging from bodyguard duties, to information gathering, to scouting, to assassinations. As such the Rogues soon became an elite unit of specially trained soldiers within the government. They created a tradition of recruiting young, around the age of seven or eight, in order to start with a person they could shape and mold. A child's brain is easily filled with knowledge and teachings because it is a clean slate. In that respect, adults cannot be trained because they have learned enough to fill their brain with other things other than training to be a Rogue. In fact, the Rogues most commonly recruit children from orphanages, since they have no families to worry about. Their process of recruiting, however, is complex and lengthy. As such, it is most commonly carried out by trainees in their third or fourth year of training. They are not given the title of Rogue until they finish their training at the age of twenty. Using the younger ones made taking children easier, since two children running off together was less suspicious than an adult taking a child away. The "street urchins" wouldn't be missed, and who better to teach a Rogue's skills than a child who has grown up learning how to survive since they could walk? Survival was the basic instinct for a Rogue.

~~
"How much longer do we have to watch this little rat?" a soft voice mumbled, sounding irritated.
"Until we're told to stop. You know it's that simple, and you shouldn't be complaining about it," a rough voice answered.
A young girl, no older than eleven, pushed a strand of black hair behind her ear and stared at the boy below the rooftops, navigating the back alleys like a mouse in a maze, with her piercing brown eyes. She took her delicate-looking hand, pointed her finger at the boy, and traced his path thus far through the maze of alleys, noting, “He’s a fast one. This city must be huge, with twists and turns all over and he hasn't stopped running yet! Even the crowds don't slow him down. Think he'll qualify?"
A boy, not much older than the girl, ran his fingers through his spiky strawberry-blond hair and stared out over the rooftops, past the shops, past the ships docked in the harbor, and to the darkening horizon. The wind shifted suddenly and he shut his dark, hazel eyes against it. "It'll rain soon, Sam," he thought aloud.
Sam turned her head towards him and crossed her arms across her chest, being careful not to disturb the purple brooch neatly placed on her brown leather tunic. "So? You didn't answer my question, Marcus," she retorted.
"How do you think I know? It's not up to us to whether he gets in or not. We're here to observe the kid and report back, that's it. We shouldn't have any opinions on the matter, and if we do then we should keep them to ourselves and not let them affect our reports."
"You're kind of cold Marcus, you know that? Loosen up."
"Look, you know as well as I do that our pinions were taken away long ago. We won't get much freedom until we hit our sixth year, when we get to go out into the world with a mentor and travel, remember?"
"I'm going to hate that part of training."
"Where did that come from Sam?"
"I hate traveling," and with that she slipped off the edge of the roof and began a graceful descent down windows and balconies and ledges until she landed in the alleyway below.
Marcus looked over the rooftops one last time before heaving a sigh, reiterating, "It's going to rain..."
He leaped from the rooftop where he stood to the next, letting Sam lead form the ground as he followed from above.

~~
The little thief form the general store didn't sop; he only thought about his destination: home. Well, it was the home that he had known all his life. He didn't have a true home with parents, since he was an orphan. He was raised, along with a dozen others, by a kindly old woman who lived deep within the confines of the Ocriet streets. Getting back home was like navigating through an urban maze of alleys, buildings, and shops, and even remembering the next time how to get there without getting lost. Now that the woman was getting on in years, it was up to the children to teach each other the easiest way to get back home. That job was usually given to this specific little orphan, who knew everything about the city streets.

This wasn't his only talent though. He was fast, not just in speed, but in his thinking, too. The orphan was light on his feet and was a quick thinker. If an alley or route home was blocked, he could immediately think of a new way home and take a detour without a second thought. If a fight broke out, he knew how to steer people into chasing him and then he'd be able to trap them somewhere so that he could fight back. He was still very young, but when someone grows up in a harsh environment with little to no help or money a boy can mature into a man very quickly just to survive. Life in a city was tough, but at least it was a life that taught you some handy skills.

The orphan took a left, then a right, and then another right and stopped. He stared at a wide, shabby door and then took a quick glance at the copper coin he held in his hand. "I know Gran doesn't like me scavenging like this," he muttered," but she doesn't have to know. I'll find a way to slip this to her later."

He smiled to himself and dropped the copper coin into his patched, ragged pants pocket. It took all his strength in order to wrench open the wooden door, and it required another orphan to help him close it. The door wasn't heavy at all, there wasn't enough of it left to make it heavy; it was just that the hinges were made of rust and wouldn't budge. It took a swift kick before the door finally shut entirely. As he turned, he heard a familiar voice calling to him, "Elliot? Elliot, is that you?"

The orphan boy subconsciously patted his pocket where the coin lay and strolled into the kitchen, if you could call it that, calling, "Yes, Gran. It's me."

Elliot found his Gran standing over a pot of water, struggling to lift it by its thick iron handles. Without a single word, Elliot scampered over to her and lifted the pot from where it sat on the table over to the wood-burning stove, which housed a blazing fire. He gently set the pot onto the stove's surface and turned around to help Gran into a wobbly oak chair and took a step back.

Age was beginning to show in Gran. She was a worn, poor, ravaged-by-time woman. It didn't shock many people when she claimed to have seen the kingdom of the Elves and the First Holy War; both events having taken place over eighty years ago. Now Elves were all, but extinct and there had not been a major armed conflict since the First Holy War. The world even only has a select few individuals that can summon even a fraction of magic, and they refuse to teach it to just about anyone.

This was the age pf Gran, not measured in years, but measured in events and wisdom. You could see it in the deep strands of gray in her mangled, frizzy hair, the long cuts of wrinkles in her skin, her sunken eye sockets, and her serene, everlasting blue-green eyes. Her dress was a plain and simple sky blue cotton material that fell to her ankles and was held high above her collar bone. No matter how old she became, Elliot believed her to be an image of a saint. She was as everlasting as an angel in his mind. "Thank you dear, you've always been such a love to me. You work so hard to help around here. I only wish I could reward you more," Gran spoke softly, a war smile creeping upon her lips.

Elliot looked away, avoiding her gaze, and began to search for the knives. As he produced a small blade form a cabinet, he reached for and grabbed the bag which contained the vegetables from the market that one of his brothers had fetched earlier in the day. He proceeded to chop some carrots into smaller pieces as he spoke, "Gran, I owe you a lot more than this. Just doing chores isn't enough."
Gran shifted in her chair. "Oh, but doing all those chores while the work can be given to the other children is special in itself. Kindness goes a long way young one."
"You would know Gran," Elliot complimented.

Gran didn't say anything further, but Elliot knew that she had a tear or two lingering in her eyes. He quickly finished chopping up the vegetables and dumped them into the water, which had begun to bubble. He pulled a wooden spoon form water basin and stirred the soup slowly. Gran watched in a slight bit of awe, commenting, "I have never seen a child as young as you have such a talent for cooking. Maybe we can find someone to make you their apprentice."

Elliot frowned, but did not run around. Not too much earlier in the day had he toyed with the idea of leaving the orphanage and journey in lands away from Ocriet. The idea lingered in his mind like a scar, never fading. Yet, after all that he had done for the orphanage and all the support he had given Gran, he would still regret living his own life. His family needed him, and he knew that all to well. But, he was young, and there would be plenty of time later to do what he truly wished to do with his life, right? He was too young.
"Should I go collect the other little ones, master chef?" Gran asked, adding the last bit with a chuckle.

Elliot looked over his shoulder form his spot by the stove and smiled gently, nodding a few times. Gran stood slowly, her knees shaking from the strain. She grabbed the table with her one hand for balance, and used the other to reach for her cane. As she hobbled off into the next room over, Elliot took towels, picked up the pot of soup, and placed it at the center of the table. Then, he took the spoon, stirred the contents a bit more, and stuck the spoon into the pot. He grabbed bowls, placed them on the table, slipped the copper coin into the bowl at Gran's seat, and climbed out the window behind the table. He had only come back to help prepare supper, he wasn't hungry.

"Come along everyone," Gran said as she trudged into the kitchen, followed by a dozen little children. She noticed the window open and the copper coin in her bowl as she sat down, and smiled a quirky, wise smile. "Elliot gets his little bits of freedom every now and then," Gran thought.

She brought the children to a minimal noise level, and looked to the boy sitting across form her. "Now," she spoke, folding her hands, "Miles, dear, say grace please."
~~