The streets were silent.  It was a Sunday; of course the streets were silent.  While the majority of people living within the city of Elbrem would not consider themselves to be religious folk, many still stuck to the old tradition where Sundays were considered to be family days.  The three young adults roaming the streets, however, had no family to be with.  One could say that these three street rats were a family amongst themselves.  They found each other in the hustle and bustle of city life and formed family by choice, relying on each other for support and laughter as they navigated the world without any guidance of an older adult.

    The first of the band of misfits was a young woman with fair hair and blue eyes.  Her hair was loosely pulled back, half of it tied up and half of it hanging down freely, secured with a piece of ribbon.  She wore filthy, ragged skirts and had a patched jacket over her off white shirt.  Yet she carried herself with pride as she walked jauntily with her friends.

    The second was a youth who was not quite a boy, but not quite a man.  He had dark skin and dark, short, curly locks.  His dark eyes scanned the silent streets, gazing at goods that someday he’d wish to purchase; once he got the money to do so of course.  He too, wore somewhat ragged clothes.  His pants were a bit too short on him, as recently he had spurted up to the sky.  He stumbled around awkwardly, still trying to get accustomed to the adult body, which he had so recently come to posses.

    The third was sandwiched between the other two.  While one could tell that she was indeed female, her chest gave herself away, she was dressed quite androgynously.  She wore a tunic, belted in the middle to give it some shape, but also to hold her purse and knife close to her body, and dark leggings, under a large emerald cloak.  Her dark hair was cropped to her shoulders, and pulled back with a piece of leather to secure it.  Of the three she was the best dressed, and the most confident.  She strode through the deserted market place as if she owned the place.

            “Do you all see anything you want?” she asked her companions as they gazed in windows piled high with goods.  Pretty new ribbons, freshly binned books, bronze broaches.  Anything one could imagine was sold in the upper city.  Although, none of that mattered on a Sunday: the doors were firmly locked.

    “We passed a rifle I’d love to get someday.” The boy said, grinning.

     “There is absolutely no way I’d let you have a rifle Tomas.” The middle girl replied, shaking her head.  “Even if you were able to get the money you needed.  You’d shoot your own foot off by accident within a week.  Where would you be then?  You wouldn’t be able to work much, would you?  And we wouldn’t be able to take these lovely strolls through town.  No.  Absolutely no guns.”

    “Come on Emory.” The girl in rags chided.  “Tomas is eighteen years old.  He’s a man now.  Surely he can make decisions on how to spend his money by himself.”

    Emory shook her head.  “He’s been under my care since we were lil children.  I watch out for him like a brother.”  She looked at the boy, smiling.  “You know you’re better with knives any way Tomas.  What would use would a rifle be to you?  Tell you what.  Your day of birth is coming up soon.  Maybe with some of the profits from my next job I’ll buy you a new hunting knife.  How does that sound?”

    The boy grimaced.  “I’d rather a rifle.”

     “And I’d rather you keep all limbs on organs intact.”

    “Fine.” He said, rolling his eyes.  “Hey Malley.  You want anything from these fancy shmancy stores?”

    The blonde girl blushed and replied, “I was eyeing that beautiful green dress a few stores down.  I need a new dress.  Or new skirts at the very least.  Look at me.  I’m a disgrace.”

    “We’re not living in the royal palace Malley.” Emory jeered, pointing a finger to the middle of the city, where the palace sat surrounded by high stone walls.  “You don’t need those upper level skirts or dresses.”

    “She does need new skirts though.” Tomas pointed out.

    “Yeah.  That’s right.  Can’t I at least dream of that finery?”

    Now it was Emory’s turn to roll her eyes at her two companions.  “Of course you can dream mate.  You just sound a bit vain.  That’s all.  I cannot believe that you are two years my senior and still dreaming of such expensive garb.”

    “Bear in mind, Miss Emory, that I have not been living in the lower city quite as long as you have been.  I lived in the upper city until my father lost his store.  It’s only been five years since I’ve met you.  This finery that you speak of, is what I’m accustomed to.  The same way you are accustomed to the filth and muck of the lower city.”

    Malley was right of course.  She was always right.  Emory loathed her friend for that reason.  Having grown up in the upper city, Malley had the luxury of attending school during the course of her childhood.  She had learned things about the world that Emory could never hope to understand in depth.  She had proper grammar and mannerisms, versus Emory, who seemed like a pig besides her friend.  Emory had spent her entire life living in the slums.  She had never had a father, and she could barely recall her mother.  She had grown up in a workhouse, living in cramped dormitories with over fifty young girls and working hard from sun up to sun down the moment she was old enough to pull her own weight.  As a young girl she had been able to sneak around the workhouse, stealing sweets from the greedy, fat people who ran building and bullied the residents.  She was so nimble on her feet that she could easily slip into their offices and swipe some food in less than two minutes.  One lucky day, around the age of ten, Emory had been given the duty of emptying ashes from the fireplaces into a large bin out back of the workhouse.  While dawdling outside and poking around the alleyway that the bin was located, the little tyke discovered that one of the boards in the fence was lose.  She slipped through the crack in the board and never saw the old workhouse again.

    “Yeah, I know you don’t.” Emory replied.  “That’s why you’re so prissy all the time.  But you’re adapting to our ways of life, ain’t ‘cha?  You even took on a new name for yourself.”

    Malley nodded.  “Maleficent Brillinger doesn’t really suit someone from the lower city.  Most of you don’t even have surnames.  Malley suits me better any how.”

    “I’ve got a surname.” Tomas said proudly.  “Tomas Pitts is the name and thievery is the game.”

    “Hush now.” Malley chided, whispering.  “You don’t want anyone to know what we do for a living.  If we’re ever caught, even just saying it aloud, we’ll be in a great deal of trouble.  Thievery is a criminal offence.”

    Tomas gestured at the empty street.  “What people are around here?  It’s deserted!  No one is here to hear us.”

    “No.  Malley is right.  We shouldn’t speak so openly about what we do in the upper city.  Even if there ain’t people on the street, plenty of folk live in the apartments over the shops.  They don’t see things the way we do.”  Emory glanced at the sun, then at an expensive wristwatch on her body.  “It’s nearly supper time.  And that means it’s nearly church time.  We ought to start heading back to our parts of town.  These rich folk don’t like our folk hangin’ about.”

    Malley nodded in agreement.  Tomas groaned, muttering something about how both girls were such sissies and weren’t game for excitement.  He lagged behind them as they made their way through alleyways and down cobblestone streets, until his stomach rumbled loudly and he caught up to his friends, if only to be several paces closer to food.

    As the gang wound their way further away from the palace and from the upper city, their scenery changed.  Neat rows of shops with neat rows of apartments stacked on top gradually changed to buildings of all shapes and sizes smushed together.  In the lower city, no people observed the holy day on Sunday.  There was no time for a day of rest.  The motto was that people would rest once they were dead, or at the very least dying.  The quiet, empty streets of the upper city soon gave way to large crowds milling about on the street.  Chickens squawked in cages.  Little kids ran amuck in the streets, slipping between adult legs and under pushcarts filled with goods.  People shouted and hollered, selling the wares that they had for sale.

    “Pickles!  Pickles!  Nice, salty pickles!  One for five punams!”

    “Hats for sale!  Keep your head warm in the cold winter months!”

    “Hey mister!  Can you read mister?  Want a pape mister?”

    “Roast corn!  A bushel for one joram!”

Emory, Tomas, and Malley weaved through the crowds, paying no attention to the chaos of the streets.  It is how all people in the lower city went about their lives.  When there was something you needed, you would pay heed to the ruckus.  However if you had no need for the goods being sold you kept to the path that you were walking, ignoring everything you passed or dodged around.

    As the sun was beginning to sink, the trio found themselves in a familiar neighborhood.  The folks that they passed nodded at them.  Some even called out hello as they began to pack up their goods for the day to return home.  A few more weary steps, and then the three slipped inside the door to The Falcon, eager to eat a meal together as a family.

    The palace was quiet this evening.  It had been quiet ever since King Sebastian Thornecrest II had fallen ill.  The palace staff had taken to speaking in hushed whispers, as if any noise would disturb the Kings rest.  They were super timid in front of the three royal children, fretting that any talk of the Kings ill health would upset them.  The children had lost their mother long ago.  The staff didn’t wish to have them hear that they would soon be fatherless as well, although all three children were of an age to understand the nature of death.

    In the palace chapel, the eldest child, Crown Prince Dominic Thornecrest I, knelt before the Gods alter.  Sage and cinnamon overwhelmed him as incense burnt in a bronze tray.  His eyes were shut, his hands clutched together.  He could hear the whispers of his advisors… no, his father’s advisors… from the back of the chapel, and he tried his hardest to block them out.  He needed to focus.  His lips moved slightly as he silently muttered his prayer.  He begged the Gods to let his father live, as he had been doing every day at sunrise and sunset.  He was far too young to run the country, especially during the times that had befallen Anova as late.  His siblings were too young to lose another parent.  He was too young to lose another parent.  He repeated the prayer in his mind, constantly.

    Gods in the skies up above.  Grant health and wellness to my father, Sebastian Thornecrest.  May he live to see another day and may he gain his physical strength once more.  Spread your shelter and your peace over him and shield him.   Shield him from sorrow and pain.  Amen.

    Having completed his prayers, the prince rose, facing his father’s two most trusted advisors.

    “Gentlemen.” He recognized their presence in the room and strode towards them.  “Thank you for allowing me to have some time alone with the Gods.  I am yours now.”

    “Crown Prince Dominic,” Gallagher Godfrey began.  “Let us head to your fathers offices.  Sir Ward and I would like to discuss some matters that have arose as of late and that you should be aware of before assuming your position on the throne.”

    Dom’s eyes blazed with anger and pain at the notion of him assuming the throne any time in the near future, but he feared that Gallagher was correct in the notion that he would soon be King of Anova.  After all, his father’s health had been ailing for a month and he made no signs of recovery.  Gallagher saw the fear in the prince’s eyes.  He too was fearful.  Dominic was but twenty-one years of age and while he had been groomed his entire life to assume the throne, no human could have expected that it would be this early in life.

    “Come, my prince.” Gallagher coaxed, gently yet firmly.  We have work to get done.”

     Sir Isaiah Ward, Minister of Defense, patted Dom on the back.  “All will be well boy.  Trust me.  It is in the Gods hands, and while we may seem to be have a rotten share of life right now, all will work out.”

    Dom nodded, doing his best to keep tears from welling up in his eyes.  He was going to be the King someday soon.  Kings were strong humans who led nations to greatness.  They did no cry.

    He followed Gallagher and Sir Ward through the dark hallways that led to the small chapel back into the main corridors of the palace.  They climbed marble staircases to the fourth floor, the private suites for the royal family.  Guarded around the clock, the only people with access to this floor were members of the royal family itself, their personal attendants and servants, or guests escorted by them or a guard.  The gold clad soldiers standing at the doors opened them with a flourish, and the three men strode by.  Three doors down the hallway, on the right, was a door that Dom had never opened once without permission.  It was his father’s private office, in which important meetings on running the state of Anova were held.  Dom had been permitted to sit in on these meetings, as he grew older, and his father had called him in on numerous occasions, but this was the first time he would be entering without his father’s bidding.

    The door opened like any other door.  Of course it would.  It is not any special door.  Dom allowed Gallagher and Isaiah to enter the room first, and then he followed.  Everything inside the room was as his father had left it.  Papers were sprawled over the top of the large mahogany table.  Books were stacked neatly on the floor to ceiling bookshelves.  The musky scent of cigars and whiskey filled the room.  Gallagher pulled out the chair at the head of the table.  His father’s chair.  Dom took a deep breath, and then moved across the room, sitting in the chair.

    “Okay gentlemen.” He said, his fingers interlocking as he rested his hands on the table.  “Lay it one me.  What is happening that is so urgent that we must continue my royal training at this late hour?”

    “Crown Prince,” Isaiah began, but Dom cut him off. 

    “Oh for heavens sake, the both of you with this Crown Prince nonsense.  You address my father by his name, do you not?”  Both men nodded.  “And as a child you called me by my given name.  I understand that I am the Crown Prince, but please, for the love of all the Gods and for the sake of my sanity, call me Dom or Dominic.”

    “Dominic,” Isaiah began once more.  “News of your fathers ailing health has reached our neighbors.  As you know, Anova has always been in an unstable friendship with the Empire of Rhovan.  Our spies have gotten word to us that the Rhovanite army is slowly moving towards the border.  While this does not mean that an attack will happen in the near future, both Gallagher and I believe you should be aware of the burdens that will be upon your shoulders shortly.”

    Gallagher continued, “I have made contact with the Rhovan emperor several times over the course of your fathers illness, attempting to find a route to peace that can appease both nations, without the need to go to war.  He has been… cordial… if that.  He claims that Anova belongs to the empire and that one way or another he shall take it as his own.  He has mentioned the need for his son to be wed though.”

    “Yes, I know he has a son.  Vernyn?  He’s a few years my senior.  What does his sons lack of a bride have to do with Anova though?”

    “Everything, Crown Prince.” Gallagher spoke.

    Dominic looked between both Gallagher and Isaiah, the faces both solemn.  “Well?” Dom asked.  “Spit it out.  Tell me what marriage has to do with Anova.”

    “Emperor Ouellette has generously offered Anova’s safety in the return of a bride for his son.  It would foster an alliance between Anova and Rhovan for the entirety of the bride’s life.” Gallagher reported.

    “Well then?  Go out and find a bride for Vernyn Ouellette.  It cannot be that hard to find a pretty girl to give them.  Problem solved.  Friendship fostered.”

    Isaiah shook his head.  “I’m afraid it’s not as simple as that Dominic.”

    “The Ouellette’s have claimed that they will only settle for a royal bride.  They want Lillian.” Gallagher confessed, his voice soft.  “You have time to think their offer over of course-”

    “-But we must remind you that Rhovan has the largest army on this continent.  While we have a strong army, we would not stand a chance fighting against the Rhovanite army.” Isaiah concluded.

    “She’s only seventeen years old.  She’s too young to be a bride.” Dominic murmured, shocked.

    “And of course we know that,” Gallagher reassured the prince, “but the Rhovanites have different practices than we do. “

    Isaiah added, “They have some ruthless, barbaric practices, such as marrying off children.”

    “We’re merely asking you to consider this.  The Rhovan emperor has been… erm… gracious with the time he has allotted us.  We have a month after the point of your fathers death to make a decision.”

    “So there’s time for peace negotiations?  This think about a different way to solve this problem?” Dominic asked his advisors hopefully.  He could tell though, by their grim faces, their lips pressed into thin lines of worry, that there would be no other way.  His father would die soon enough, and then in a month he’d have to make the decision to marry off his little sister or to throw the entire country into war with an Empire so massive that it expanded over half of the continent they lived on.  Dom sighed, and looked at both of his advisors.  No, they were still his father’s advisors, he reminded himself.  “So.  Gallagher, Isaiah, is there any other pressing matters that we must discuss?  Or did you bring me from my prayers simply to give me this news?”

    “Well, there is a matter of your coronation in the near future, although we do not need to talk about that now.” Gallagher quickly responded.  “Nor do we need to speak of plans of a future marriage at the moment.”

    “There is the whole army issue… if you do go that route.” Isaiah said gruffly.  “We’d have to do a mandatory draft into the army.  Arrangements would have to be made.  Paperwork filed.  Official order decreed.  And we’d have to set up a training camp for all the young people we enlist via the draft.”  Gallagher coughed sharply and gave Isaiah a look.  “Erm… but we don’t have to talk of it now.”

    “Good.  Now gentlemen, if you excuse me, I would like to retire to my rooms early for the-”

    There was a sharp knock on the door.  All three men froze for a moment, until Dom called out for the person to enter.  An attendant slipped through the door.

    “My Crown Prince,” she said softly.  “Doctor Althea sent me to fetch you.  She says that it is urgent sir.”

    Without a beat, Dom rose from his seat, and as regally as he could sped out of the room to his fathers bed chamber.

    Emory tossed and turned throughout the night, unable to sleep.   She kept trying to find a comfortable position in her bed, but to no avail.  The mattress felt lumpy and prodded her back and sides in odd places.  She sighed and turned on the bedside lamp, looking around the room she had called her own for the past three years.  For a while, when she was a younger girl, she had lived on the streets, finding large boxes to sleep in during the wintertime and park benches during the summer.  As she proved to be a skilled pickpocket though, she eventually made enough money to rent a room.  The room she happened to rent was above The Falcon.  Ambry, the owner of the pub that had become Emory’s home base, didn’t trust her at first.  After all, if this orphan pickpocketed folk on the street, what would keep her from taking from his fine establishment and then disappearing into the night.  Emory had sworn on her mother’s grave that she would not steal from the man, and since she did have money for the first months rent up front, he relentlessly gave her a room.

    The room wasn’t much, but it was her home now.  The queen-sized bed was centered beneath two windows.  On one side of the bed there was a night table, and on the other side was a dresser with four drawers.  There was a fireplace in the left wall, and a metal bar for her hanging clothes on the right wall.  That was it.  That was her home.  Plain and bare and all her own.  She grabbed the ragged book that she was currently reading off the bedside table, and continued from where she had marked it off.  Reading was Emory’s second favorite hobby, right behind pick pocketing.  When she was in the workhouse she taught herself how to read with bits of newspaper that she snatched from the offices.  She could spend hours reading.  She devoured books as if they were essential for survival.  She thanked the gods for libraries, as she could get as many books as she wanted free of charge.

    Tonight was one of those nights where she sat up for hours reading: her fingers flipping page after page, her mind exploring a new world through the eyes of a new person.  It was only when sunlight began streaming into the room through the threadbare curtains that she realized she had spent the whole night awake.  She did not feel exhausted though: she felt great.  She clambered out of bed and pulled her nightshirt off, mussing up her hair.  Quickly, her underthings were put on, and then Emory rummaged through her drawers for a clean pair of leggings.  She pulled on the dark blue leggings and chose to wear her burgundy tunic with them, belting the shirt in her middle as she always did.  She ran a brush through her short hair to get rid of any knots it may have, and tied it up out of her eyes; slid on her black boots, grabbed her cloak, and headed down to the main floor of The Falcon.

    In the morning time the Falcon was calm, compared the ruckus in the night.  Drunkards were still fast asleep at this hour, and the people who would come to the pub for dinner were on their way to work.  Only one table was occupied.  Ambry’s wife, Celeste, and his daughter Caddie sat at a table, along with Jeremiah, one of the other boarders living in the inn.

    “Em!” Caddie squealed in delight.  “Sit down!  Eat with us!  Please!”  She begged in the way that only a six year old could.  Desperate and pulling at your heat strings. 

    Emory laughed and ruffled Caddie’s hair.  “Of course I’m going to sit with you.  Where else do you think I’d eat my breakfast?  Over yonder at that far table in the corner?  No missy.  I’m going to eat my food right here with you.”  With that she dragged over a chair and plopped herself into it.  Caddie giggled and snorted, and some milk came out of her nose.   Emory chortled as she piled bacon and flapjacks onto her plate, causing more giggles from Caddie, who snorted more milk from her nose.  A sharp tsk from Celeste broke up their laughter.

    “Young ladies,” Celeste said sharply, wiping the milk from Caddie’s nose, “Do not snort milk, or any beverage, out of their noses.  Nor do they laugh at said beverage leaking from others noses.”

    “C’mon Celeste.  You know that I am the furthest thing from a young lady that there is.  You know the work I do.  That a’int exactly ladies work now, is it?”

     “You still should be setting an example for Caddie when in her presence.  We may not come from the high and mighty in the upper city, but I do expect her to be as proper of a young lady that I can raise.”

    “Mama!  I don’t wanna be a proper young lady though!” Caddie piped up.  “I wanna be like Em!  I wanna go on adventures and climb tall buildings and steal pretty necklaces and bracelets and wear leggin’s!  I wanna be all piratey!”

    Caddie’s outburst caused both Jeremiah and Emory to snicker.

    “No stopping her now Mrs. Jacobs.” Jeremiah remarked.  “You heard the lil one.  She’s gonna be all piratey.”

    Emory smiled.  “Caddie, I hate to break it to you dear, but I’m not a pirate.  I’m a regular girl who just happens to have a skill at leaving a building with valuable objects that may not belong to me.”

    Caddie pondered this for a moment then announced to the table, “It’s okay that Em’s not a pirate.  I still want to be a pirate and wear leggin’s.  I’ll sail the around the world in a pirate ship!”

    Ambry chortled behind her, coming in from the barn with a fresh pail of milk.  “So my little girl is going to be a pirate, eh?”

    “Ambry, don’t encourage her.”

    “It’s all just fantasy my sweet: a little fun and games.  Let the child have her fun before forcing her to grow up.”

    “Here, here!” Jeremiah coursed in agreement.  He held up his glass; Emory and Caddie toasted with him.

    Celeste just rolled her eyes once more.  “What in heavens name am I going to do with all of you?”

    “Love us Mama?” Caddie suggested.

    “Of course I love you my sweet little one.  As for these two,” she gestured to Emory and Jeremiah, “I don’t need to love them.  But I do tolerate them and get along with them.

    “Caddie, my darling, shouldn’t you be getting along to school?” Ambry asked, looking at the clock on the wall.  “It’s near time that you were there.”

    “Oh I’m sorry Papa!  I was having too much fun with Em!”  The little girl leapt out of her seat and ran up the stairs to the private living area to grab her school supplies, and in a few moments was out the door, bounding up the street.

    “I’m afraid I must get going too.”  Jeremiah apologized, clearing his own dishes along with Caddie’s, who had forgotten to clear them from the table.  “Only one day of rest a week.  Then it’s off to work for another six days.  Thank you for the grub, Mrs. Jacobs.  I’ll be back around dinnertime excited for a large supper tonight Ambry.  What’s on the menu this evening?”

    “There will be roast lamb, mashed potatoes, beef stew, and grilled vegetables offered tonight.  We’ll expect you back at suppertime then Jer.  Good luck at work today.”

    Jeremiah nodded, grabbed the packed lunch that he made for himself, and headed out the door, whistling.

    “And then there were three.” Ambry said, sitting down at the table and helping himself to bacon and flapjacks.  “Where is Rowan?  Shouldn’t he be down here eating breakfast?”

    “Mr. O’Neil has yet to make an appearance.” Celeste clucked.  “For heavens sake that man is constantly hung over or in a state of drunkenness.  It is despicable.  What on earth does he do for a living?”

    “It is none of concern my sweet, as long as he continues to pay his room and board in an orderly fashion, which he has been doing for seven years now.”

    Celeste just sighed and got up to clear her own dishes and to begin washing the ones caked with food from the night before at the pub.  Ambry stuffed his face with food; hungry from a morning of tending to the animals he kept.  Once he was satisfied he looked at Emory.  “So, Miss Pirate, do you have any work lined up for today?  Or will you be under foot all day as the wife and I go about our daily chores?”

    “Neither, Mr. Jacobs.” Emory said, smiling.  “I do intend to go on a walk today through the market place to see if I can line up some work however.  It’s been two weeks since my last gig, and while I still got money, I would enjoy making more.  Plus I miss the adrenaline I get from my line of business.”

    “Which market place do you intend to walk in today?  We’ve got quite a few in a city as big as this.”

    “The one no person darest speak about in the open, Mr. Jacobs, as it is quite illegal.”

    He nodded.  “Ah, that one.  Do be careful Emory.  Caddie is quite in love with you, and I would hate to break her heart telling her that you have been thrown into prison.”

     Emory nodded, rising from her seat.  “I will indeed do my best to be careful.  Shall I clear my plate?” 

    Ambry shook his head.  “No need, I’ll be getting up in a moment.  Have a good day Emory.”

    “You too Ambry.” She said, grinning.  She followed the footsteps of her other companions out the door, making her way into the bright future.