In the slums of Heizer, a trio of men in matching dark-brown attire could be seen snickering as they followed a watery trail, coming to a stop once they saw it turn into an alleyway.

One of the men began by clearing his throat as he stood before the alley while the others slowly crept to their designated spots, using the buildings' walls to cover their frames. The young boy had proven himself to be quite slippery, requiring the ruffians to use their heads and formulate a plan to capture him.

“Darn it!” The man cried loud enough for the boy to hear, eying his fellows standing in places opposite to each other. They would lay in wait for the opportune time to jump and strike. “We lost ‘im again!” His performance had awarded him with an empty can of Fresco sent straight from the alleyway.

The boy clicked his tongue as he witnessed the can zoom past the man’s head. “DaRn iT! wE LoSt hIm aGaIn.” He mocked the man as he picked up another empty can of Fresco. “You think I’d be dumb enough to fall for that again? At least make a new script, nimrod!”

It had been quite the coincidence, the boy taking his stand in an alleyway littered with empty cans of the caffeinated drink.

“Relax kid,” The ruffian disregarded the boy’s words, continuing with his lines. “No need to be so mean to such a nice un--” Another can of fresco flew past his head, a bit too close to his face this time. It startled the man and caused him to lose both his train of thought and his footing. “Ya crazy brat! Lemme finish the line!”

“No! Your acting is horrendous and your voice has no soul.” The boy criticized the man’s performance, picking up a can within his immediate vicinity. “And you’ve been chasing me around for like, an hour or something. What do you want from me?!” He stood up and took his aim, a puddle forming beneath his feet. An elderly woman had unknowingly drenched the boy in laundry water, washing away any chance he had at eluding his pursuers.

The ruffian stood up and cleared his throat After a few moments of searching, the ruffian continued with the line he believed he was on. “Relax kid." He'd chosen the wrong line. "Ya kind uncle ‘ere only wants to help. How about ya come out an--” Another empty can had been thrown his way, but unlike the previous two, this one had succeeded in bouncing off the man’s forehead. The sight that transpired caused his fellows to burst out in rapid fits of laughters.

“I don’t need your help! And stop referring to yourself as my ‘kind uncle’. It’s weird!”

Struggling to keep his anger at bay, the ruffian slowly approached the alley. He turned to his fellows, receiving nods of encouragement as they both wiped away their tears, before entering the alley.

Before him stood a boy in pulverous and soggy attire, firmly grasping a can and a filth-stained hat in each hand. His cold-blue eyes darted between the man and the entrance, most likely plotting his escape.

This was, as one would expect from a greedy ruffian that rarely used his wits, something that he had completely disregarded. He instead focused on the boy’s raven hair, breathing a great sigh of relief upon noticing that nothing had been washed away. He no longer had to worry about the imperial truthseeker. They could simply turn the boy in and leave with the bounty. It wasn’t every day that they’d run into one foolish enough to dye their hair black.

The trio had plans to feast like kings that night, knowing it would barely dent the gold that they’d receive. As for what they would do with the rest? The dimwits were incapable of thinking that far ahead.

Now before we continue, a small bit of exposition was necessary to understand why these ruffians would relentlessly chase after the raven-haired youngster.

A few decades ago, the emperor had legislated an imperial decree that safeguarded the last living member of the Kenworth household. This decree had made the young man completely untouchable, for very few in Terra could muster up the courage needed to defy the emperor.

At first, the man’s identity had been kept a secret. This led to many would-be imposters dying their hair and claiming to be the Kenworth. It was a well-known fact amongst the populous that only those with Kenworth blood possessed natural black hair, and rather than taking the risk of offending these individuals, many would relent to their demands and give them whatever they desired. This was news that the emperor hadn’t taken kindly.

He then issued a second decree, banning the usage of all black hair-dye. A bounty had also been placed on any foolish enough to use it, a hefty reward given to those that apprehended them. A bounty that wanderers were quick to exploit. Many children were gathered with their hair forcefully dyed by these shameless fortune-seekers, a short-lived practice brought to an end with the simple deployment of truthseekers.

Not wanting the wanderers to sow needless discord and destabilize the empire with their schemes, the emperor revealed the identity of the last Kenworth.

At the moment, there were six living Kenworths in the world of Terra. Unfortunately for these men, this youngster happened to be…

…

It seems that the exposition had taken up more time than necessary, as I’ve missed the chance to narrate the boy’s daring escape.

Hmmm… My inability to pause the world may prove to be a greater problem than I’d first anticipated. Maybe I should prioritize finding ways to work around these issues before I become too preoccupied.