Metello was joyful when he left the House. He had feared many things when entering the building: being kicked out or simply kicked because of his black hair, the teacher not being there, the teacher not liking him, the teacher being a jerk, the teacher being a master torturer. Even if he didn't really know yet for the last one, the rest had gone well. Not even a mention of his hair had been made. It was a bit of a surprise for him.

Hat on, he went the same way as earlier. He immediately noticed that there were a lot more people than earlier. He needed some time to find his way through the loose crowd and when he reached the top of the bridge, he understood. He saw West Work Street being blocked between the end of the bridge and the rich market district. Some [Carter], probably, had accidentally unloaded his fruit cargo on the ground and the man was being yelled at by angry people while he was loading back his products as quickly as he could.

Not too much interested in the scene, Metello walked forward, holding his hat tight. If he didn't like meeting strangers much, crowds were even worse. Fast enough, he reached the other side of the bridge. There, among the blocked carts, an attractive wagon stood out. He had never seen such an elaborately decorated vehicle. Around it, a few people had stopped to admire the craftsmanship. The orphan went closer to do the same.

While approaching, he took a look at its front and noticed a rich-looking man dressed in a blue and gold silk shirt and hemp pants who was sitting beside the driver. As a hat lover, the boy noticed with interest the extravagant felt headgear the wealthy man wore, embroiled with golden threads and blue ribbons fluttering at the back. The man seemed to like blue and gold. Unlike the conduct such a person should have in Metello's mind, he was cursing loudly the unfortunate cause of the traffic jam thirty meters away, talking about the presumed mother's job of the [Carter]. Just like a petty [Rogue] of the poor district.

Metello stayed a meter away from the covered wagon so he could see the whole of its wooden side, beautifully carved with animal shapes. He recognized wolves, eagles, lions, tigers, and bears among other majestic beasts, all standing in a position of dominance, giving the cart a nobler appearance. Above the carved sides, intertwined wooden rods were forming a grating through which Metello could see the underside of the royal blue fabric roof.

Metello couldn't help but think it was a [Merchant] from the rich market district bringing with him pricey stuff. Curious about what was in the wagon, he approached a bit more until he could touch it. He looked ahead toward the driver seat to be sure he wasn't looked at and he stood on tiptoes, leaning on the cart. He was just tall enough to take a peek through the wooden grid.

What he could see was a bunch of barrels, some closed and some with weapon handles sticking out, and about fifteen boxes laying on top of each other at the front, which presumably contained individual precious weapons.

Forgetting where he was, Metello was looking for a rapier in this weapon treasury when he saw the back of the wagon opening slowly and the head of a young woman appearing. They looked at each other and he recognized her. He saw her knowing smile and heard her speak softly.

“Hi coal-head, long time no see.”

Just after that, she knocked over a barrel to the ground and quickly crouched.

“Andrea ?”

The rich man turned around, alerted by the noise of metal falling on the ground. By then, Andrea was already holding some of the spilled weapons and was running for cover. She was really fast. But all the blue-wearing man could see was Metello looking at the back of his opened cart.

“Son of a whore! Get your dirty hands out of my wagon! What are you doing near it ?” Clumsily jumping off the driver seat, he walked toward a stunned Metello and passed him to go to the back of the vehicle. “Shit! Albert! Come here now!”

The [Merchant] then turned toward Metello, speaking calmly. “It's your doing isn't it ?” He took three quick steps toward the boy hidden under his hat and seized his arm.“Call the guards.”

He spoke to the driver who was at his side while keeping his eyes on Metello. “Put the weapons back in the cart and close it better than last time.”

He wore a terrifying smile when he spoke to the orphan again.“And you little [Rogue], I hope you don't care for your hand because you won't keep it for much time now. Ironholes don't need your kind.”

Looking closer, the man realized something and his smile fell so his face could express his surprise. “Aren't you the rumored black-haired orphaned bastard? I thought your existence was some sort of new horror story to scare the kids and now you stole me! What a joke. You will pay for it, I assure you little demon.”

Metello regained his senses. He had been called a thief and a [Rogue]. It was bad for him. Orphans from the Equality's orphanage were known to often be part of thieves gangs. If it were known he was from there, it was going to be an even bigger issue.

“No, I'm not a thief! I... I was just looking at the weapons! I've not stolen anything. I have nothing on me! Look!”

While defending himself, he tried to break free and his hat dropped down, showing his hair to the gathering crowd around them and it aroused their hostility.

Two guards wearing the same full gray leather uniform, a white cape on the shoulders, and a basic sword at the waist appeared through the crowd when Metello's plea was answered.

“I know your kind. You work in groups. If you're not the one who took my goods, you're the accomplice who failed to run off. Don't deny it.” He then turned toward the [Guards]. “This little fucker and his friends stole some pricey weapons from me. You will find his accomplice and get back my weapons. Now.”

“Yes Mr Moore, we will do all that we can. Could you come with me to the guardhouse ?”

Mr Moore, as was called the [Merchant], gave some instructions to the wagon driver to keep an eye on the cart and to the second [Guard] to protect his cargo, as if he was his employee as well.

The first [Guard] took custody of the black-haired boy with disgust and their little group of three made way through the crowded bridge. Metello didn't know what to do. He was panicking and tried to get rid of the guard's hand to run away but his timid try was not enough to escape. All that Metello gained was a firmer hand on his wrist.

Then, Metello felt that he missed something. A disturbing feeling. Around them, he saw that a larger part of the people than usual was looking at him with surprise, disgust, or hatred. Also, he could see these emotions were even stronger than usual. It took him a few seconds to understand that his hat had been left on the ground near the cart. His sole protection from the hostile gazes was gone. These looks were the reflection of what people really thought about what he was. As they walk by the House, all the friendly moments there were properly forgotten.

So, he lowered his head in despair while being pulled by the [Guard]. They painfully reached the main square and around it the main guardhouse.

They walked the huge stone stairs leading into the large building and he looked up a bit, seeing the huge hall. They walked directly to the [Civil servant] behind his desk.

“This little thug seed would have helped to steal some good from Mr Moore. Is there some available [Questioner] to interrogate him?”

Another [Civil servant] on the back left the hall on that demand. The [Merchant] couldn't help but retort. “I won't take a no to this request sirs. I know well your [Chief], I even eat with him sometimes, and I pay a lot of taxes for your salaries so even if there is no [Questioner] here, you'll have to go and fetch one if you want to be able to feed your family in the next months. You have no choice but to find someone to pull the worms out of the nose of this black-haired brat.”

Fifteen minutes later, Metello sat in a small stone-built room with the [Guard] behind him. A triangular-shaped wooden table stood in front of him with Mr Moore at his side and a [Questioner] at the other side. The curled brown hair woman was neither wearing leather armor and pants like the [Guards] nor carrying any weapon. She wore a white linen formal dress and an accusing and tired look toward Metello.

The first part of the talk consisted on Mr Moore telling his version of the story. Metello couldn't really say he lied. It's just that he jumped to conclusions too fast when he saw him near the cart.

Then, the second part started. It was Metello's turn to talk, or rather to answer the [Questioner].

“So, where is hiding the accomplice Mr Moore told us about? Tell the truth.”

Metello felt a tingling sensation in his head as the last words were pronounced. Not even being able to decide when or what to answer, he opened his mouth and spoke.

“I can't answer this question.”

Metello was shocked. He was discovering the words he pronounced at the same time as the others in the room. As he looked at the woman, he noticed she was a bit surprised too, but not for the same reason. She raised an eyebrow and asked a new question. “And why can't you answer my first question? Tell the truth.”

The same tingling sensation came back. He finally understood that it was a blessing that the woman used on him. It induced some sensation not much different from the divine energy. Once again he had no choice in what his mouth said.

“Because I have no accomplice.”

The woman took a heavy breath. “We should have started with that. Did you or a friend of yours rob this man? Tell the truth.”

“No.”

An annoyed smile painted itself on the woman's face. With a calm voice, the [Merchant] protested. “You can try but you won't fool us boy. I heard you call the name of your accomplice. ”

“He told the truth Mr Moore.”

“Are you accusing me of lying ?”

“I did not say that, Mr Moore. Perhaps you just made an honest mistake. Everybody can. Let me ask some more things. Identify person. Metello, could you give us your version of what took place?”

This time, no tingling sensation, no compulsion to talk forced him. It wasn't needed. He was willing to tell all of it.

After Metello finished and before the [Questioner] could speak, Mr Moore began showing some anger.

“Now, you can tell where this Andrea lives. You filthy orphan thieves all know each other. I won't be humiliated by your kind.” Impatient, he shouted. “Tell me!”

“I would rather you calm down please Mr Moore.”

“You're not the one whose reputation will take a hit with this story. Do you even know how important a reputation is to a [Store Owner]? If I'm doing nothing after being stolen and it is known, I will be a laughing stock in the marketplace and in the upper echelons!”

Losing a bit of her calm, she raised her voice. “Mr Moore, please. Metello, do you know where the thief lives?”

“No, sorry. We grew up in the same orphanage but we had never been friends. Quite the opposite I would say.”

With a glance, the woman stopped Mr Moore from talking back again.

“You can take the boy outside Hector, he has nothing to do with the theft. Mr Moore, you can write a complaint with the contents of what you have been robbed of. We will do our best to retrieve your goods.”

The [Merchant] and [Store Owner] turned toward Metello. “You stinky black-haired orphan, don't think you will come out unscathed. I saw it. Someone will have to pay for this. I have relations and I will use them to make your life “different” until you come and tell me where to find my goods back. Don't think you...”

“Mr Moore, one more word of it, and you'll be detained for the week.”

Tension in the room was palpable. Mr Moore didn't say anything else but his eyes were sufficient to complete the threat to Metello.

Before going out of the guardhouse with his escort, he managed to borrow a hat to walk to the place of the robbery. The street had been freed from the tumbled-down cart and traffic was much smoother. Unfortunately, he didn't find his hat back. After giving back the one he was lent, he had to return to the orphanage feeling naked because of the wind in his short hair.

When he was back, Metello stood aside for the rest of the cycle, hidden in the broom closet. He made Maria understand he didn't want to speak when she found him and they sat in silence together until she had some chores to do.

He needed time to think about what happened to him. More than all, he needed to think about the threats the [Merchant] had made. On his bed, when the shutters were closed and silence reigned around him, he determined he couldn't decipher the situation alone. He would have to speak about it with Mrs Richardson. As usual, she was the one he needed when he was in big trouble.

Early in the next cycle, Metello told his headmistress what happened as briefly as he could, ending with details about the threats. He saw her angry face growing during the story like he had seen only once when a child had been found almost beaten to death in a nearby alley several years ago.

“This shithead of a [Merchant]! I know him. It's not the first time Mr rich Moore picked on some of our children. He is typically the kind of person who judges others only based on their wealth, thinking poverty, as much as richness, is deserved. It's easy to think that when you are on the wealthy side. As if, an orphaned [Worker] could become as rich as himself, the son of an already wealthy merchant, even by working every hour of the cycle.”

The boy stayed silent. The amount of anger in the atmosphere was stiffing.

Taking a deep breath, she continued a bit calmer. “My anger doesn't help you. Sorry. Let me think about what we can do.”

After a few seconds, she talked again. “I don't think he can do anything to you in the orphanage or at the House, I'll talk to Brorne about it. But we should be careful in between. I can probably go with you for the next cycles. I dare him to try something funny when I'm around. But I don't think I will be able to come with you every cycle until you come of age, all the more after that. We could hope he'll give up at some time, but we can't be sure.”

After some more time thinking, she added with a sad laugh. “Actually, it may be good training for you, trying to avoid being caught by monsters, even if in that case the monsters have a human form. I don't like the idea of you being in danger, but if you choose to be a monster hunter, we'll have both to get used to it. I can't think they would be as beastly as monsters, and I'll be there to support you if needed.”

Metello was not really satisfied by the outcome of the talk, but it made sense.