//Hey guys, Broderick here. Again comment below on any mistakes I make and tell me what you think about it. Thanks for reading, please review. This chapter is a bit longer that I expected and I hope you enjoy it. Next chapter will get into the juicy part of the story hehe.

Chapter1

From Humble Beginnings

Lewis Fitzwilliam stared into the cracked mirror of a shabby room in outskirts of London. He wore his best clothes; a blue vest with silver plated buttons with a full sleeved white shirt underneath and coffee coloured breeches. Keen, blue eyes stared back at him with an intense gaze which showed his wilful and intelligent personality. A gleeful smile lit up his face. Finally, they were moving to central London, even if it was the poorer part of the great city he couldn’t wait to go back. It was the most exciting day of Lewis’s short sixteen years of life, and on his birthday no less. It was cold winter, but nothing could thaw his excitement.

“Lew,hurry up, the carriage is waiting”, his mother called from outside.

“Coming mother”

Lewis opened the secret compartment inside his breeches and pocketed his savings from underneath the carpet, a measly 23 shillings seemed like a fortune to him at the time. Sparing one last cursory glance to his room, he picked up his bags and ran out the front door to his waiting father and mother.

Annabeth and Charles Fitzwilliam were doting parents and Lewis their only child. Growing up was tough for Lewis, all his relatives had died in the Great Fire of London. The family barely escaped the fire, fleeing to the outskirts of London with their lives. Lewis was left with a nasty charred black burn on the underside of his hands, a constant reminder of when the family lost every one.

Yet Lewis was adamant they move back, he spent too much time alone and so they decided to comply with his wish. Annabeth tousled Lewis’ strawberry blond hair.

“Stop it”, Lewis trying to stop his mother, everybody loved to tousle his hair and he hated it.

“Lew, are you ready to leave”, he vigorously nodded his head, chuckling his father adjusted his spectacles and pulled an envelope out of his pants while putting his newspaper in the crook of his arm. ”Okay son, today it a big day, your birthday and our big day as a family as well. So here, open it when we reach the house”.

Charles handed his son the envelope smiled and turned to his wife;

“Do we have the house writ?”

“Offcourse darling, I have it let us set off” she lovingly proclaimed while waving the letter around.

Meanwhile Lewis tucked the faded yellow envelope into the growing secret compartment under his breaches with anticipation to open its contents later.

Eyeing the writ joyously he couldn’t believe his father procured one. The council of housing department which King Charles II had just instated required it. The King made sure all the inhabitants of his beloved city had a proper permit to live, after the great fire London became quite the mess. Without one they would be rejected at the various gates and become paupers of the street. The family got into the horse drawn carriage and set off, towards their new future.

After hours in the trundling carriage with light hearted chatter between the family, the tell-tale sound of wood on cobble stone filled the carriage. Lewis perked up and looked out the window, taking the surrounding houses of Southwark. They still had to cross the River Thames and make their way to new house in Whitehall. Finally the barge came into site and Charles stopped and payed the driver a half crown.

Lewis and his mother where terrified of the bridges decided to hire a ship which ferried travellers across the river. Seeing the lines of massive seafarers and smaller riverboats getting ready to head off, they hurriedly found the only vessel with space, ‘The Rose of the Sea’.

“Morning good sir, may we enquire if there is a space we can fill on your ship” Charles shouted to a heavy set man shouting orders to crewmates milling across the deck of the ship carrying cargo and checking ropes.

Coming down the ramp he said; “You’re quite late, we can accept you at the price of a guinea and three shillings”, the waterman smiled showing his yellowed teeth. Charles knew it was a steep price, but the next ships would only depart tomorrow and they’re rapidly depleting funds could not take another beating at the hands of a local inn and the devious man knew it. He nodded and handed the coin over to the sailor.

Flourishing, the man introduced himself; “Good morning good sirs and lady, this is my humble riverboat the ‘Rose of the Sea’, we set of in a minute so get aboard”. Turning on his heel he went back onto the ship.

Lewis helped his father with the bags, and went aboard. Each step caused a creaking shudder which reverberated around the ships hull, and Lewis had second thoughts on making his family take the ship across the Thames.

Lewis settled on the bow of the ship and stared at the city across the river and a weathered sailor walked up and copied him on wooden railing next to him. He lifted his scarred hands and tousled the boy hair. Lewis forgave him; he was lost in his growing excitement.

“First time in going to London”

“No my family left after the fire destroyed our house”. Lewis grimaced.

“Sorry to here that my boy, maybe you’ll have a better time, this time, Kane be by name”.

“Lewis”

“Oii, Kane get your lazy arse over here we’re moving”, yelled the captain.

The creaking ship moved and Lewis was certain that it wasn’t as rosy as the captain insisted it to be. It certainly wasn’t sea worthy as the other ships they saw although it was, just a small riverboat. The ships rocking caused gradual shudder as they sailed past the bustling ships next to them. Charles saw his boy looking out at the sea and stood behind him with his hand around his wife’s waist and awaited their arrival feeling the cold winds that blew onto the deck.

“Starboard, to starboard, we need to clear it, we need to bloody clear them” yelled the frantic captain, high pitch and desperate.

The crewmates ran across deck with urgency they didn’t show before. Lewis looked to where the captain was faced and saw another ship on a crash course with they’re own. This ship was huge, towering a good five meters above they’re own, it was no rose, it was a monster. It would be obvious which ship would come out better in the exchange.

Looking up at his father with horror he saw the same expression mirrored on his face. Charles grabbed his wife and son and ran to the port of the ship, the side that wasn’t going to be pulverised by the oncoming ship. Covering them he grabbed the railing of the ship and braced with the rest of the crew.

Boom, the impact sent splinters the size of stakes across the surface of ‘The rose of the Sea’, spearing the ship mate next to him through the heart. The vessel tipped and Charles lost his grip and began to slide across the deck, into the churning river below which was slowly swallowed the damaged¬¬ of the side of the ship. Lewis cried out and grabbed onto his father in process dislodging his mother, she slid down into the water falling into the unforgivable ice cold depths of the water.

“MOTHER, MOTHER”

”ANNABETH” yelled broken family.

“LEWIS”, she yelled hands outstretched, falling further away from her son and husband.

Lewis gained speed and slid in the wake of his mother with his father falling first. Tears slid down his face as he scrambled to find a purchase.

The Kane fumbled and frantically reached for a handhold feeling his body move down the raft boards, feet first in to the gurgling river which claimed half the crew and passengers already. Slowly yet surely, the weight of his own body dragged him down into the frosty water. His nails cracked on the planks as he slid. He managed grab a hold of jutting plank and haul himself a couple meters upwards as a woman went sliding past, screams of anguish following in her wake. Looking up he saw a boy of maybe sixteen holding onto his father as they tumbled. As they fell past he managed to grab the boy with his free hand.

Kane knew that he couldn’t hold onto both the boy and his father, feeling the plank that they were holding on for their dear lives shift, he had to either let go of the boy and his father or make the boy let go of his father.

Seeing the fathers look of recognition as he stared down and said;

“You have to let go boy”

“No, no,no,n-o” Lewis cried as tears streamed down his face. He desperately clutched onto the hands of Kane above him and his father below him. “I can’t let go, I can’t”.

“Lewis my boy, you have to be strong, survive” Charles exclaimed.

“No, please don’t leave me, please” Lewis shouts turned into sobs.

Charles sighed and smiled a smile full of sadness that even Kane could feel and let go of his sons’ hand. He fell into the turbulent and violent waters below where the other boat was still grinding into the ‘rose’. Lewis fainted and fell limp.

Not a second later a rope was thrown down and Kane levered himself out of the water with the limp boy in his arms. Dragging himself onto the deck off the huge ship he dumped the boy and threw up sea water.

Crawling to the bow he saw the buildings and houses of Whitehall and realised they crashed right before reaching their destination and began to laugh. They where the only survivors of the crash, hysterical he fished out his waterman’s licence and got of the ship they crashed into.

Kane got walked down the plank board extending across ship and waited in line to enter the gates of Whitehall. Laboriously he got closer to the front in the line and saw an obscenely overweight man, his huge stomach jiggled under the bright garb he wore as he shouted. Grease lined his numerous shins and spittle flew at the poor sod in front of him. Kane was not looking forward to this. Next in line he took out his writ.

“Your permit writ.” The fat gates keeper accepted it and read through.

As much as it hurt him to do so he had to be civil to the fat bastard, he wanted to get the boy in the orphanage, at least there he’d be taken care of unlike the kids in the back-alleys and sewers of London.

“Sir, we've just crashed, me and the boy are the only survivors”, Kane said.

“So”

“He needs to be put in the orphanage”, getting slightly annoyed.

“The orphanage is for kids of London, not the scum in the backwater outskirts”

Outraged Kane shouted;” Listen here you fat bastard, the boy has just lost his parents and is in every definition of the word an orphan. If you can’t see that you pompous cur, you’re fat and stupid”.

Shit, instantly Kane thought, he knew this would spell disaster for the boy, and he was right.

“Officer, seize the boy and throw him into that back alley there” pointing to a particular dark alley, while smiling.

The officer was a member of the Bow Street Runners, vicious guards of London who dished out death penalties and hangings like it was nothing. He ran to the boat and up the plank, lofted the unconscious boy onto his shoulders and went to the alley dumping the boy in the filth that covered its floors. Kane couldn't do anything for the boy now. Being forced through the proper gates into the city he turned back and offered a prayer to God for him in the way of an apology, it was going to be a cold winter.

Lewis slowly came too, awakening to his own stomach grumbling in protest. He paused and turned in the filth and couldn’t understand where he was. What was he doing on the floor covered in filth, where are his parents, why was he feeling empty.

The reality of his situation hit him with a speed of a steam train, he couldn't breathe. Lewis looked down at his body covered in grime and saw that his vest, hat, shoes and happiness had been stolen. Clenching and unclenching, he stood up shakily and threw up adding to the back-alley mess.

Lewis could barely feel his body everything was numb, his heart was on the verge of breaking and bruises covered his legs and hands. Feeling something digging into legs, he realised that his parent’s letter was still with him inside the compartment behind his breeches, along with the savings he placed into them. It felt like a lifetime ago.

Reaching in and unsealing the letter Lewis began to read the last words he would ever receive from his parents.

“To Our son, Lewis

We have watched you grow from a babe to almost a man, and this is our grand gesture of love on your special day. We saw you persevere through going to the outskirts of London and we’re proud of you strength. I hope this year you learn to be even braver. Seventeen, next year you become a man. And though the climb is far from over, we just want you to know how impressed we are by your courage and intelligence. The inevitability of things changing greatly wears down even us; however you convinced us we could handle going back to London. Never change as you light our lives up and give us our purpose. Even though we don’t say this much, we need you to know we will always be by your side. There is nothing we can’t say here that we can’t tell you in person. So we give you this hoping you cherish today and everyday from now on. Stay true to yourself; keep your integrity and inner solidity.

From your parents Charles and Annabeth who will love you now, and forever."

Lewis slid a golden necklace out of the envelope with the letter. Inside was a faded black and white image of his parent smiling and an engraving on the other side.

“Be strong.”

He fell to his knees clutching the golden present and cried the second time that day. He lost everything that and now he had to survive in the rough cold dark hell which existed for the street kids and poor of London.

The small fortune Lewis had in his pockets dwindled fast, the first time he attempted to buy an apple he almost lost the small amount of money that he did have. The vendor selling fruits and liquors on the street screamed thief as soon as he saw Lewis. Scrambling back he picked an apple running into the alleys dodging all the grabbing hands while his bare feet got lacerated continuously.

Lewis had to evolve and so he did. He learned many things those first few months in London. He learned which inns and restaurants threw away food and when to eat it. After eating a rotten piece of meat he lay in an alley for a day rolling around throwing up and his stomach giving him piercing pains, he never at rotten food again if he could help it.

He learned the vastness of London. It was a combination of many areas each with their own dangers. If you stood on the tallest building looking down you still could not comprehend its vastness, even if you lived your whole life there you would never know all its parts. But Lewis identified two basic pieces of the city. Poor and rich.

Whitehall, where he was dumped, and all the surrounding areas were poor, less Bow Street Runners and more thieves, beggars, and average people. As you approached closer to the residence of the king you found more and more politicians and nobles. Places like Essex and Middle Hall where rich and had more Bow Street Runners patrolling the area.

To survive, he learned how to slit purses and deftly steel its contents without the owner even hearing a jingle. Fighting was a necessity, fending of other street kids and gang members were a daily occurrence. So even though his growth was hindered by staying hungry every night, his gangly body gained muscle, and even better, his survival instinct became ingrained.

But the most important this he learned was to hide. Lewis had a secret place, a place no one had ever been and would ever see. Atop an abandoned collapsed old mill, Lewis had found a small space only accessible by a small opening. It protected him the rain, wind and other dangers of the night. Covered by a tanned canvas it was almost invisible and formed his refuge. It held the only solid piece of his past he had, the gold necklace from his parents, so he took every precaution to keep it safe.

And so Lewis survived in the unforgiving conditions of London for almost an entire year until the winter approached. He survived longer then he should have, but the unforgiving winter began to destroy everything he learnt. His safe spot was no longer safe, the freezing air prevented him from sleeping and stiffened his fingers until he could no longer slit purses and steal. The restaurant and inns stopped serving as often and so Lewis went hungry.

He was desperate, the last time he ate was to days ago, and a head of a fish at that. He tried to beg but the residents around Whitehall could barely survive the winter themselves and he became not a shilling richer and even hungrier then when he started.

“So hungry, I can’t even breathe properly” he said to the wall inside his hidey hole which didn’t reply back.

Maybe he could try his luck in the rich sides of London. Making a split decision he put his necklace in the secret compartment of the tattered remains of his old breeches and set off, braving the icy gusts towards Essex. Emerging from the alley Lewis was immediately struck by the difference in atmosphere from where he came. The nobles and rich residents could afford a winter coat and so came out of their houses.

Shop owners wrung their hands and sweated even though it was cold, when negotiating prices higher they remained overly polite. It seemed to Lewis that he had stumbled into a royal court room. Everything was clean, he felt like he was polluting the area with his old clothes tattered and filthy.

Looking around he was emboldened by his prospective targets. He saw an old lady in silk green dress covered in her thick winter coat. Stepping into the light of the road, she looked down at him and he heard her as surprised breath in, as a hand went to her mouth. Lewis didn’t need to act as he held out his trembling hands from the cold.

“Spare a shilling ma’am, please” Lewis looked up feeling every bit as vulnerable and shamed as he felt.

“Of course, you poor boy,” her eyes teared up and she fumbled with her purse drawing out guinea, and placed it in my outstretched hands. A whole guinea, I won’t starve for a month. This is plenty rewarding, he definitely was doing this more often. So he continued doing so, begging and occasionally hiding when he saw anything threatening, a large man with a musket on his side marched through and nobles with cold gazes.

While pleading to young woman, Lewis felt heavy scrutiny on the back of his neck. He turned as saw clean shaven bow street runner, this one was different commanding and intimidating. Lewis could feel his killing intent from where he was standing. Backing up into the alleyway the young woman was surprised, but he didn't care he ran.

Heavy boots of the guard came from behind him as he ran, his breath burned in his chest while he jumped over obstacles in the alley. Lewis didn’t know this part of the city and eventually found himself stuck in a dead end. As he turned around a wooden baton came swinging down. Crack. It exploded on his shoulder blades and his head hit the ground. He got pulled up mercilessly by his hair as the world was spinning and blurring.

“Are you stupid boy? You should know better than to come here” he panted while shaking the Lewis violently.

Pressing the boy against the stone wall. He said;

“Well, are you stupid?”

“No” in a daze he replied.

“NO? Well then if you’re not stupid you need a lesson”. The infuriated man threw him onto the floor. Sliding and slipping the gravel opened up his back and his hands, the black scar on his hands dyed red. There was a whistle as the baton landed again on his back.

“Never come here again. Do you understand? Everything past Sussex it is off-limits to you whores’ son” and he slapped the boy onto the floor.

Lewis mind went blank and he slowly rose.

“Don’t you talk about my MOTHER” he yelled and charged at the man.

Bang, the guards’ knee blew his head back and teeth flew everywhere. Collapsing onto the floor he curled up into a ball.

“Don’t.Bloody.Come.Back.Here.Again.You.Scum” each blow punctuated by a vicious kick. “Understand?” After the reign of blows finished he laughed while walking away.

Lewis passed out and when he came too, the darkness has swallowed the light and the cold had chilled him to his very bones. The ground around him was full of dried blood and his left eye swollen shut. Hands on the ground kneeling on the floor he felt around for the money he had gotten from begging. Clutching onto the solidness of the one guinea he found, he leveraged himself onto the wall and started to drag himself towards the small space he called home. He now realised why the beggars never strayed pass Whitehall into Essex.

His broken ankle and shattered ribs made moving immensely hard. Each step caused a thousand flames of agony to dance through his body. Passing in and out of conscious he reached the inn a hundred meters from his safe spot. Reaching two girls standing in the kitchen doorway. Not noticing the heavily injured boy leaning upon the wall until he was upon them they gasped.

“Can you give me some bandages? I have money, see.” Offering the guinea in his outstretched hands

The girls disappeared and the boy sighed, the door swang open and the sounds of conversation, laughter and music spilled out. The sound was a memory of family and warm happiness. Surprisingly they came out with bandages a coat and some wine, they accepted the coin in his still outstretched hands. The sounds brought a longing deep inside him he thought he had buried, hugging the coat to his chest, his hand trembled.

“You can come inside and warm up besides the fireplace” she began to take his hand thick with dried blood.

“No” he lurched back “Don’t touch me” Lewis was shaking. Staggering against the wall he said;

“I’ll be okay, I have somewhere to be” as he dragged himself away.

He could hear the muffled sobs of the girls behind him as he left as fast as he could go. Lewis didn't know what he was fleeing from.

Dragging himself forward for an age, he reached safety and he collapsed in front of the canvas which covered the entrance of his little hidden dwelling. The wine bottle cracked, embedding his body with glass as he fell, opening even more wounds on his body. The bandages and coat got drenched with the blood-wine solution, and he fell flat onto his back. Lewis pulled from within his breeches the time piece from a time ago and realised it had been a year since he was orphaned. Fate is cruel to let him die on his birthday and lose everything again. He just wasn’t strong enough.

Lewis felt the cold arms of deaths embrace him as his vision faded into darkness.

Just a Reference for the reader on currency in London in the time

Shillings: 12 pence = 1 shilling; £1 = 20 shillings

Florins: 2 shillings = 1 florin

Half-crowns: 2 shillings and sixpence = 1 half-crown

Guineas: 21 shillings = 1 guinea

Also a map

Map of London at this time

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