Kid sat in the gloom, looking at the swaying branches of the tree he and Lissa planted. She had long since left to help her mother with the nightly rush. Kid had been loitering in the grove for over an hour, enjoying the solitude despite the boisterous noise coming from the Dancing Bear. He didn’t want to go home but as the autumn air grew cold with the setting of the sun, he knew he had to.

When the chill began to make him shake, he rose to his feet. Kid sucked in his gut, for what little good that did, and slid his way through the gap. The wind blew hard down the street, feeling like knives as it cut him to the bone. He pulled his shirt tighter about himself, trying to keep in his warmth as he walked down the block towards the squat wooden shack that awaited him. It was indistinguishable from the rest of the trash heaps lining the road. Rusted nails stuck out of the withered wood while the soft glow of firelight leaked through small cracks in the walls.

As Kid approached, he could feel wisps of warmth leaking from the building, teasing his cold flesh with the seductive promise of warmth. As he reached to open the makeshift door, it slammed open, knocking Kid to the side. He rubbed his arm and watched as a man he didn’t know walked by. “Probably back to his family,” Kid muttered under his breath. He didn’t even have the courtesy to shut the door as he stumbled out onto the street.

Kid stepped inside, pulling the door closed behind him and latching it shut. The place wasn’t much to look at. There was no furniture in the small enclosure, only a small pile of coal and a fire pit in the center of the room. Its dying flames flickered, casting shadows over the rubbish strewn floor. To the left of the pit was a small alcove filled with straw. He could see one of his mother’s pale legs flopped outside and unmoving.

The place smelled of smoke with a hint of ass. Kid grimaced as he nudged empty bottles out of his way with his toe. He walked to the pile of coal and tossed a few pieces into the fire, giving it more substance and heat. Then he turned to regard his mother.

Clouded eyes stared up at the ceiling, looking without seeing. Her body was haphazardly arrayed, likely just how the man had left her. A blanket was tossed over her, half covering her nakedness. Kid walked over to her and checked for coins.

Not even a single copper bear. Kid sighed. Looking at her comatose body, he didn’t have to wonder how the man paid. Honestly, he was almost relieved to find her like this. The thought sickened him as he looked at her. Kid knelt next to her and pulled the blanket higher, completely covering her. He watched her with sad eyes as her pupils shot around, while her lips rose in ecstasy. He hoped wherever she was that she was happy.

Kid took his final loaf of bread and placed in the crook of her arm. As the bread touched her skin she looked at him. Kid startled as her eyes met his and she outstretched her arms, beckoning him. “Baby, I thought you left,” she breathed.

Kid backed away, bile rising in his throat. She didn’t even recognize him. As he stepped away she seemed to forget he was there and returned to her silent vigil of the ceiling. Kid took a moment to brush away strands of straw that had found their way close to the fire before he plopped himself onto the ground.

He could smell himself, the scent of piss and sweat mingling with the sickly, sweet, smoky air. He had nothing to change into. That thought alone brought him shame as he watched the flames flicker. If money was the root of all evil, then he lived in a city of saints. The thought brought a twisted smirk to his lips. “Shit.”

***

Kid awoke to the feeling of small hands running across his body. He wasn’t concerned since he had no money on him, but it was still annoying. “What are you doing?” he asked, opening his eyes to see his mother crouched over him.

Her pawing turned into gentle stroking and she gave him a hurt expression. “Can’t a mother watch her son while he sleeps?”

Kid frowned, wondering if he was imagining her checking him for valuables. He wanted to believe she wasn’t, but couldn’t quite suspend his disbelief. “Sorry mom, you just startled me is all,” he said, playing along.

“I wanted to thank you for the bread you left me dear. I woke up right hungry this morning.” She stroked his cheek. “My little angel.” Kid closed his eyes and basked in the warmth. He wanted to believe it. “I even saved you a little. Can’t have my growing boy starve while I get all plump and round,” she said, offering him the stale crust off one of the ends.

Kid took it without hesitation, eating the meager portion in two bites. “Thanks mom,” he whispered, eyes downcast.

“Of course, honey. After all, you’re the one who brought it home.” She ruffled his hair and plopped her butt on the ground. “It seems like you had a nice windfall yesterday. Is there any chance you could spare a bit for your ma?”

There it was. Kid shifted uncomfortably. “Marc took the rest of what I had.”

She smiled at him and put a hand on his shoulder as he tried to stand, pushing him back to the ground next to her. “But my little prince is smart. Marc’s a bully, but you’ve got twice the brains. I’m sure you found a way to outwit him,” she whispered conspiratorially as if they shared a great secret.

Kid shook his head. “I’m sorry mom. I don’t have anything else. If I did, I’d give it to you. You know that.”

She frowned, removing her hand from his shoulder slowly, as though still suspicious. “Then I guess you and I have a long day of work ahead of us.”

Kid nodded, still studying the dirt floor of the hovel.

His mother waved her hand dismissively. “Scram. I could have paying customers coming in at any moment.”

Kid knew she was lying. Nobody in this part of town had spare time this early in the work day other than the Sons and he knew none of them came here. They’d be living a lot better off if they did. Kid rose to his feet and walked to their ramshackle door.

His mother spoke, as he opened the door. “Kid, we know what happens to liars right?”

Kid flinched, a tingle of fear gripping his spine. He nodded and rushed out the door.

Clouds blanketed the sky above, giving Bleakridge an atmosphere that matched its name. The sun had risen above the horizon and cast long shadows across the street. Dozens of pedestrians walked with purpose along the road. Some ambling into the Dancing Bear for a quick meal or some hair of the dog, while others went to work.

Kid already knew where he was headed. His mind had been long made up and seeing his mother had only reinforced his choice. He wanted more from his life. He wanted to wake up feeling pride in what he had accomplished. Instead, he woke up to the stench of stale urine. Hell, he’d settle for waking up with an extra pair of pants.

Kid felt the gravity of the moment in full as he placed his hand on the door of the Dancing Bear. There would be no going back. With a deep breath, he opened the door.

The bar was filled with patrons lining the benches along the tables. Lissa flitted between the tables, talking to each of the guests and running back to her mother to relay the orders. Hilda rushed back and forth from the counter to the back room, carrying bowels of gruel, loaves of bread and mugs full of ale. It was a hectic time of day and nobody gave Kid the slightest attention as he sauntered between the tables towards the bar on the far side of the room.

The barstool was uncomfortable and reminded him of the confessional box as his legs dangled in the air. Hilda caught his eyes as she continued to work but ignored him. Lissa popped by a moment later and asked if he was buying anything. He’d barely told her no before she disappeared back to the tables.

Kid was growing impatient as he waited for Hilda to acknowledge him. As she walked by with another full mug he called out to her, “Hey, Hilda I need to talk to you!”

The woman’s face furrowed in annoyance and she ignored him, continuing with her work. Kid narrowed his eyes at her as she disappeared into the back room. With a shrug, he hopped off the stool and followed her through the door way. Kid had never been in the back room before and the niceness of the room surprised him. They slept on something more comfortable than straw. They had several blankets. There was a hearth built into the wood and various iron tools hung from the wall next to it. Lissa’s father sat behind a small table, hewing at a long piece of wood. The sight of the man sent a bolt of fear through Kid. Looking at James always made Kid a little uncomfortable, but now James was staring straight at him.

A hand roughly grabbed one of his ears, tearing his eyes from James, and dragging him out of the room. “Ow! Ow! Ow!” Kid yelled, as Hilda yanked him into a corner of the tavern.

Hilda roughly shoved him against the wall. Why were people always doing that to him? She bored into him with a steely gaze and spoke in a terse whisper. “I’m only going to say this once so listen. You and I have no relationship. If you say anything to my husband or daughter, I’ll skin you alive myself. You do not seek me out. You wait. You do not come into my home and from now on, you stay the hell away from my daughter,” she said, “Now wait.”

Kid swallowed as she released him and went back to her work. He slumped into one of the benches along the tables, far from any of the other patrons and waited. After several minutes, the bench creaked as somebody took the spot next to him. Kid looked up, expecting to see Hilda but froze as he saw James’s scarred face looking down at him.

The man smiled, contorting the scars on his face and only making Kid more uneasy. “I’m sorry about my wife, she can be a little territorial sometimes. I hope she didn’t scare you too much.”

She did. But Kid wasn’t about to admit it. “I’m sorry I interrupted you sir, I just had a question for Mrs. Haverson,” he said.

“Well what was it?” James asked. “Maybe I can help.”

Kid forced his uneasiness down. He didn’t think he’d have to keep secrets from Lissa and her father. “I- uh, my mother asked me to come over and ask about some -uh- women’s troubles.”

James snorted in amusement at Kid’s apparent discomfort. “Say no more. I’ll leave that to my wife.”

They sat for a moment in awkward silence until Kid spoke up. “What were you doing in there, sir? With the tools and wood, I mean.”

James, frowned, the corners of his lips tugging at the scars along his face, seeming to exaggerate the movement. “I was making a long bow,” he answered.

Kid’s eyes were instinctively drawn to James’s missing fingers before he could stop himself. James caught his eye before he could look away. “Sorry,” he muttered.

James smiled sadly. “Don’t be, it is strange after all. I can’t even legally sell the bows in the market because I lack a license from the Bowyers Guild,” he said with a bitter chuckle. “My wife thinks I don’t know where she takes them, but I do,” he said with a downcast look at his hands.

“When I was a lad my greatest joy was the drawing of a longbow. I was a damn fine shot. Damn fine. Even won a few competitions. I actually proposed to my wife at the end of one, naming her the festival queen and then my bride.” James smiled at the memory.

“Festival?” Kid asked, not recognizing the term.

James’s smile disappeared. “Ah, I forgot. They were before your time.”

Kid cocked his head at the man. It wasn’t often that an adult was willing to talk to him about the past. “Was it so great before?” he asked.

“Great is a relative term. I’d call it ‘less bad’ if that makes sense,” he said, rubbing at the scars lining his hands. “The Outwalls are the same as before, just bigger. There’s some more dark-skinned faces wandering around. The Goddess is our patron instead of her sister. We call our king an earl and now he has a boss. The poor eat a little less, while the rich have larger armies. Am I bitter about it? A little. But is it worth risking what I have left? Divines no.” He ran a hand across the stubble lining his jaw.

Kid looked up at the man in confusion. “Don’t you want more from life than to live hand to mouth?”

James’s eyes became distant. “I used to,” he said, “and look what that got me.” He paused for a moment before turning his gaze back to Kid. “What I miss most from the old days are the clans. Used to be that every person in the Rills was born or married into one of four clans, each bearing the symbol of some such animal. My family were once wolves for example. It gave us loose bloodlines, so we always knew where we came from and could lean on other members of our clan during hard times. It unified us. Probably why the Venarans crushed that tradition into the dirt. Few ever went hungry in those days.”

James chuckled shaking his head. “Sorry boy, you got me rambling. Feels like forever since I thought of the past. Been too worried about the day to day.”

Kid could relate to that, but something bothered him about what James said. He couldn’t keep the anxiousness out of his voice as he asked, “What do you think of the Sons?”

James glanced toward his wife and then looked down at the table. “I came over here for a reason, Kid.” James locked eyes with Kid. “You’ve been close with my daughter for a long time now. As a father, I’m just asking you to consider her before you make any decisions you might come to regret.” He paused. “Be careful around Marc.”

James patted Kid on the shoulder as the boy stared up at him with wide eyes. Without another word, James rose to his feet and walked back to his workshop. Kid swallowed and turned his gaze to the table before him. He never considered he might have a future here. He looked up at Lissa as she flitted about the room. Her smile was infectious, and Kid felt himself grinning just looking at her.

While he and James talked, the morning rush ended. Only a few patrons remained, and they seemed happy to wallow in their dinks. Kid tensed as the Hilda took a seat next to him, fearful she might hurt him again. She spoke beneath her breath and told him his mission.

Kid didn’t know whether he wanted to laugh or to cry. “You want me to sneak into the castle huh? Do you also want me to take out the Earl while I’m there? Maybe seduce Ilyena and get a marriage alliance? Hell, I could-”

“Do you want the job or not?” Hilda asked. “There’s a thousand boys just like you who would jump at the opportunity to earn silver. If you don’t want it, then waste somebody else’s time."

Kid hesitated. Silver. He could spend the night lounging at an inner-city inn for that much. He licked his lips as he admired the coin’s metallic glint. His stomach growled, seeming to urge him on. Greed may be the death of thieves, but hunger was a close contender. He took the money

“What do I need to do?”