Clouds choked the sky as the sound of brushes hitting the stone pavement outside could be heard. The aftermath of the festival was clear to all. Drunkards were being dragged awake by angry tavern owners, buckets of cold well water splashing over men still drunk from the night before. Many of whom were still drunk from the festivities the night before.
Johns walked out of all manner of dens of depravity, their carnal needs sated. Many would now return home to their wives and children, having spent a large portion of money on their night of fun. Some even using their family's savings to satiate their desires.
Cleaners loitered about the street, many of them being hungover themselves. Broken windows, carts smashed in, squashed fruit littered the floor. All manner of waste littered the streets, even as the city stirred awake.
The morning sun basked the city, its light falling onto a closed-off area where an orphanage stands. wo stories high and starving for repairs. Windows shattered, their jagged teeth biting at drafts cold enough to chill a man on fire. Rats fat as cats prowled the floorboards. Then the roof, with it's tiling having been collapsed since it's construction.
Inside, the bedrooms were lined with bunk beds, with so little space for people to grow, it almost stunts a child's growth. In one of those beds a child writhes in agony. His forearm still pouring blood out from the previous night's beatings. It's within that pain that the child named Riven is forced awake by the sound of a slap to his face.
The girl who did it, little more than two years Riven's senior. She walked around with a slit in her lips, giving her a slight lisp. She was smaller than many her age, with her appearance often being one of dirt and grime. Many before the incident had referred to her as Gutter Tongue, although the ones in the room at least referred to her as 'Saintess'.
After the scene a month ago, she became Kae's 'assistant', keeping them in line and monitoring each of their movements. Telling Kae, who then whispered his venom filled tongue to the Director. She slinked between bunks like a rat made flesh, always sniffing for blood to spill at Kae's feet.
'This fucking rat... I remember her last night.' She truly laughed at the cruelty that he faced. 'She should have died that night, if not for that priest. He doesn't realise the pain his actions cause.' With her now revelling in her being saved. In her mind her life was ordained by God, and now no harm would come to her, no matter the cruelty.
"You have to apologithe to the Director. You thpilt your blood on hith favourite tunic. Do it before breakfatht, or elthe."The lisp still rang in her voice. However no one dared to laugh as this was her domain and the wooden morning star. A special gift from Kae filled the room with a sense of foreboding.
The last laugh, caused a girl's death, with the morning star being a gift for this achievement and her right of rule. "If you cauthe a dithturbanthe like latht night, I'll chrithten the Morning Shtar with your blood, boy." She would have been told off by Kae last night, the brusing around her neck told that much.
"Don't worry Saintess, I will get to his room immediately." Riven ached through the shooting pain, that rang from his throbbing forearm. The injury causing him to feel light-headed, most of his blood now being on the floor of his room, children stepping over it, but never giving it a single true thought.
He lifted his legs out of the ill-fitted and worn-out blanket that barely kept any warmth for him during the night. Once his legs hit the floor he grabbed on to the bed frame, his finger being pricked by a splinter coming from its rotting wood. Finally being able to stabilise himself after an eternity of the room spinning.
He took one step at a time, moving and leaning against the wall for support. The rest of the children having already left, stepping out over the dried blood on the floor. No one checked his condition. Caring was a luxury that only the rich were able to grasp. For the children here could only dream of reaching the top of the hills, where the rich resided.
However, the only hill that they would reach is the one next to the church for unmarked graves. No one truly knowing who they were, and how they lived. The only ones who could judge their actions was God and his infinite wisdom. Although Riven never believed in a God, blaming him for the situation that they were placed in.
'God, just why did you have to give me such a weak body? Why do I feel fear? Why do you allow this? Why let them be so cruel?' These were his prayers. Not learned from scripture, but forged from pain, his only outlet in a world where no one listened. Prayers born from desperation. From a longing for a life where the sun might finally shine.
After his daily prayers he makes his way to the door, finally opening it using his only working arm. The aching pain still lingering throughout his body. But still he persisted, making out into the hallway. The second floor was practically abandoned, except for the snoring coming from the end of the hall. The Director's room.
All noise that generated from the house, came from downstairs, from the small hall, where food was provided by the local church and government, a 'gift' from the nobles. With the delivery drivers never failing to mention, that this was 'Provided by the generoisty of the noblest of beings.' With them stating how they shouldn't talk ill of them and that we should always kneel before them when they walk by.
'A way of keeping us in line.' Riven thought, directing his anger at the nobles. In his mind they had a way to fix their cruel world or even their abode. But they never did. However, this thought was drowned out by the pain in his arm. His forearm burned as if a coal had been pressed into his flesh. The pain pulsed like a second heartbeat, raw and relentless.
The pain, although wore out his mind, he never forgot his mission of getting to the Director's room. A goal that drowned out the pain. The wall was Riven's only comfort, having to make his way through the hallway. Snoring that he heard even in his room, started to get louder, reverbating against the walls.
'I hate the snoring. Wakes us up. Then he complains when were tired.' The eyebags that have been generated from the constant stuggle of shutting their eyes and falling asleep. A pain, that was felt by all the orphans among him. Many would doze off during the day. Heads quickly sinking towards the earth at an alarming rate. As it they had been hit in the back of a head by a shovel.
'The man would be better poisoning us, then let us hear him belting out, one more snore.' Riven eventually peeked his way and saw the sleeping Director. 'The man would get what was coming to him, in this life or the next.' Riven although not believing in a God, hoped that at least those born wicked would find an eternity of suffering.
The 8 year-old child made his way into the room, not setting off the creaking the door was famous for. One had to be careful around the Director, the man's hands were like boulders and his temper as fierce as a man who lost all his money gambling. Which the Director had before, those nights were always the hungriest.
As he stepped across the floor, he saw his true goal a box stuffed beneath the Director's bed and where he kept an item from each child, the certificate for their care. Riven needed this piece of paper. It allowed the Director to pin them down here. The paper would prove to the authorities that the Director took care of him. Well, not quite good care.
Meaning that when Riven escaped the Director could use this paper to get the authorities to bring him back, then he would face true punishment, a system for which Kae divised. He called it his 'Closing Act'. All the children had to watch as he made the child perform tricks like an animal, beating them. Sometimes worse. Riven always found the aftermath heavy to bear.
Those papers placed a mark on them for which they could never escpae. All except his true 'brother' Jace, he promised Riven that if he found a way out he would take care of him. Although that was 3 years ago, and a promise like was probably sincere but doubtfu;. However, one day he saw Jace loading in supplies, he gave Riven money upon seeing him and a sunstone.
The stone was an ancient way of sailors, in which to find the sun in even the most dreaded spot. Winking at Riven, leaving before the others from the house spotted him. Riven vowed that as soon as he saw Jace, he would escape. This goal was the only thing that had kept him alive, the months and the beatings were brutal. But this one passion, this dream fuelled Riven. The shot at a normal life.
He crouched down, head diving down to reach the box beneath the slumbering, drunken beast. Making his breathing come to a stand still, the amount of focus needed was impeccable. He had tried to get the contract saying he was under the Director's care many times. With each ending in failure, with the main reason being he couldn't get into the Director's room without looking suspicious.
So he employed a plan. He purposly held as much blood in his mouth as he could and splashed it on the Director's tunic. Which he knew was his favourite as he only wore it out to special events. Remembering how he almost beat someone to death when they tore off a section of it in a brawl. And he knew it would be punishment for kids to clean the Director's clothes if they dirted them. A chance to slip inside without suspicion.
Therefore Riven using his knowledge, although the knowledge of an 8 year-old to find patterns. He brought each of these events together to devise a plan. Jace had told him 'Think about what your enemy loves, and you'll figure out how to best him. As once he loses what they are then the most predictable.' This advice stuck, altough he knew it was lines from a play. He still remembered.
He crouched, breath shallow, sliding his hand beneath the bed. His fingers brushed the box...
The snoring stopped.
The beast had woken.