The city of Cathirmoor was not the most important place in the Talabasian Empire. That honor belonged to Mount Moore, where the priestess and the council resided. It was, however, the largest by far.
A young boy stood on a high ledge overlooking the endless sea of houses, markets and palaces that comprised the city. His fine red and black clothing, well fitted and embroidered with strands of silver, stood out in the slums. He showed no fear, even though one step forward would send him plummeting thirty meters to certain death.
The danger didn't bother him of course because he was a hero and heroes needed a place to look out over those they protected. It also looked very cool, which was also very important.
"See anything?"
Dean turned away from his lookout to see one of his assistants looking up at him with nervous anticipation. Gart, as he was called on the streets, was all round with a smooth bald head and big circular eyes. He had the scruffiness of any kid born in the slums, but luckily his lack of hair actually made him look slightly cleaner than other street urchins. The rags he wore stood out compared to Dean's finery but were of slightly better quality than other children who lived around this district.
"No fires, no riots and no robberies. Is this even supposed to be a slum anymore?" Dean complained to himself as he jumped off the ledge and onto the solid stone floor of the bell tower.
"What are we going to do today then?" Gart asked.
"We go on patrol! An eagle's eye is good, but it doesn't beat getting your hands dirty!"
Gart's mouth widened slightly as Dean walked by.
"Should I go get my gloves?"
"What?"
"Well, you said we were getting our hands dirty so…"
Dean laughed. What Gart lacked in education he made up for in enthusiasm.
"We won't be needing gloves today, my friend, but maybe you could get some with metal spikes on the knuckles. That would be really cool!" Dean shouted back as he ran down the stairs, Gart struggling to keep up.
Dean, the son of one of the most powerful men in the empire, was running around with street urchins in the slums. Such an action would have had him strung up, if his father cared at all about what his son was up to. Dean was the fourth son and seventh child overall. This gave the young boy much more freedom than most noble children. There would come a time when his father would show an interest in him, but for now he was free to an almost cruel extent.
As any young boy would, Dean spent his time doing what he enjoyed; being a hero in the most dangerous streets of the capital. And where else was better to do that than the slums? After all, it was unlikely he would find any trouble in and around the palace with all those guards mucking about.
Once Dean reached the streets below, he called out to another young boy.
"Any activity down here, Longlocks?"
The young boy leaning against the tower entrance had tanned skin and long frizzy blond hair that reached his shoulders. He glared at Dean.
"I have a real name, you know," he muttered.
Dean smiled at him, making it clear he wasn't going to change his way of addressing him. Longlocks sighed and continued.
"Nothing of note, Dean. We going on patrol then?"
Dean nodded.
Longlocks was a little older than Gart and was Dean's number one sidekick. Both boys were sturdy and had good hearts. Together, they did a lot to help Dean with his work.
"Gart, take a peek inside the buildings. Longlocks, you're in charge of the side streets and alleyways. OK, let's go! And keep things tight!"
With that said, Dean bolted down the road away from the church and into the endless sea of gray, roughly put-together stone buildings. The streets were narrow and contained a lot of potholes and steps, but the young boys were agile, and it posed no problems for them. They ignored the annoyed shouts of residents they nearly bumped into and continued on their way.
It was a quiet morning in the slums. They helped a young girl whose doll had fallen into a drain, brought old lady Anise her daily vegetables and handed in a lost pendant to the city guard. All in a day's work. Still, it was only simple busywork, nothing that got Dean's blood pumping. He felt well and truly bored.
"Coulda sold that pendant," Longlocks complained as they sat stuffing their faces with meat pies Dean had bought from a nearby stall. "Might have been able to buy a new house for pa."
"Nonsense," Dean said. "That was rose quartz with a copper chain. It wouldn't have gotten you that much. Don't worry, I'll pay you even better than that next week."
Longlocks pursed his lips but said no more on the topic. Dean had a lot of money thanks to his social standing, and he used it to make the slums a better place. That involved keeping his two friends happy and, let's say, receptive to his commands.
As they ate, Dean heard a shout that was suddenly cut off. Putting down his meat pie, he looked over towards a small path in between two abandoned-looking houses. He felt a surge of excitement.
"Look sharp, guys. Looks like we got ourselves a case," Dean said with a wide grin he didn't try to hide.
"But my pie will get cold," Gart whined as Longlocks muttered under his breath.
"Don't worry. If this goes well, I'll buy you some more," Dean said without hesitation.
That kept them both quiet as Dean crept up to the street corner. He peaked down the path and saw four figures. One had his back to a wall, and the three others were looming over him.
The three assailants were nothing special. Street urchins, older than him by about a year or two, judging by their appearance. The young man on the ground was different. He wore fine linen robes with bright red borders tied together with an expensive-looking leather belt. He had curly red hair and wore glass spectacles, a rarity in the slums and an accessory that would fetch a high price. Dean wondered what a noble kid like him was doing wandering around this part of town.
He looked back and nodded at his friends, both of whom were wielding the fine metal clubs he had given them long ago. They were light and often carried by noble kids for self-defense, useful if you didn't want to risk killing your opponents. Dean held a short sword breaker, hidden behind his back. If any of the urchins had a dagger, he'd be ready for them. The martial training afforded to young nobles had always given him the edge in street scuffles.
The three other boys were evidently bigger than them but they had the advantage of surprise. As they approached Dean overheard one boy talking.
"Won't say it again, strip it all off. Everything on yous' worth a small fortune, I'll have ye know."
The redheaded young man cowered slightly and reached for his spectacles. He had just grasped the frames with his fingers when Dean and his friends heroically appeared behind the assailants. The noble boy had just enough time for his lips to part slightly before Gart and Longlocks' clubs came down on the heads of two of the attackers. They crumpled to the floor as Dean held his blade to the third boy's throat. It was disappointing, but the scuffle had lasted less than two seconds.
The remaining boy gasped in surprise and struggled slightly, but Dean held the knife edge closer to his throat, causing a small cut which oozed blood. Needless to say, that got him to become as still as a statue.
"Don't move or you'll be cut in a very bad place," Dean whispered. "Can't guarantee you'll live if you start choking on your own blood now, can I?"
The boy swallowed and stopped moving, aside from a slight tremble of nervousness. Dean looked down at the boy's hands and trouser pockets. He was unarmed, from the looks of it.
"Looks like I expected too much," Dean whispered, a slight twinge of disappointment in his voice.
Well, they were street urchins. It was very rare for them to have any weapons beyond a solid stick or kitchen knife. Not to mention they only prayed on the weak, never expecting any resistance.
"You alright, friend?" Dean asked, looking down at the young noble boy and offering his hand.
He nodded with a grateful smile. There was a bruise on his left cheek, but he seemed otherwise unharmed.
"T-thank you." He whispered as he took Dean's hand and shakily got to his feet, dusting himself off. "Sorry for causing you trouble."
Dean's eyes widened at the sudden apology. Typically, getting an apology out of a noble was like pulling teeth from a bear.
"No need to say sorry. This is the exact thing a hero needs to do after all!" Dean said proudly.
"A h-hero?" the young boy asked, eyes wide.
Dean nodded.
"What's your name?"
The young boy swallowed before stuttering out a name.
"M-Matin, Matin Ev-Evelyn."
"Evelyn?" Dean asked in surprise.
Now that was a heavy name if ever he heard one. Perhaps this incident wasn't as boring as it first seemed.
"Well, nice to meet you. My name is Dean. Just Dean for now. And what about these three louts? Since you're the one they attacked, I'll leave it up to you on how we deal with them."
Dean hoped the young man wouldn't go too far with his revenge. Killing people on the streets would only result in complications later.
Matin looked unsure as his eyes shifted from one urchin to the other. The other two had been restrained by Gart and Longlocks who were both leaning on their victim's backs. Dean still held the sword breaker to the third boy's throat.
"We can send them to the city guard or we can rough them up here and now. Keep them from bothering you ever again."
Dean felt the boy in his grasp tense at his words.
The nobility tended to be a very vengeful lot, but this child didn't seem to have a cruel bone in his body. In fact, he looked rather cowardly. He just hoped the boys didn't receive a death sentence. They didn't deserve that.
Matin smiled and scratched the back of his head. It was a slightly awkward smile, one that suggested to Dean that the boy hadn't genuinely smiled in a long time.
"I think I'd like to let them go, actually."
"Wha?" Longlocks asked, almost falling off the boy he'd restrained.
Dean looked into Matin's eyes.
"Are you sure about that? Lessons are learned the hard way in this part of the city. If you let them off with a slap on the wrist, they'll just end up doing it again."
Matin simply continued to smile politely.
"Yes, they did nothing wrong. It was I who was wrong for showing off my wealth so thoughtlessly."
For the first time that day, Dean felt truly tongue-tied. He gripped his captive tighter, causing him to grunt in pain.
"If you don't think of something, someone else will suffer for it, you know," he said, his voice low but resolute.
Too soft. Much too soft. This was the exact opposite of the problem he was expecting.
Matin nodded.
"That's fine. They don't have a choice but to steal from others to survive. I can't look down on them for that."
Dean looked at Matin. He didn't blink or look away. There was nobody forcing him to answer. What he was saying was his honest opinion.
Dean felt his grip on the young man slacken. Taking his chance, the boy broke free from Dean's grip and sprinted away, shouting sorry repeatedly as he fled.
"When I become duke, I'll make sure you can all live happily!" Matin called out after the young man.
A noble with dreams of doing right by his people, a true rarity. More than a little naïve but Dean felt a sense of admiration for the boy despite that. He hoped he wouldn't lose that spark as he grew older.
After a nod from Dean, his friends let the other two go.
"What if they try to get back at us?" Gart asked with a worried expression.
Dean shrugged.
"We'll just have to keep an eye out when we're around here next time. They shouldn't bother us now that they know we're armed."
Matin was smiling, actually smiling, as he watched the urchins flee.
"I'm glad that ended without too much violence," he said.
Gart and Longlocks made hard expressions as they eyed Matin with uncertainty. Dean, on the other hand, smiled and nodded enthusiastically.
"Where are you heading, Matin?" He asked.
Matin's smile disappeared, and he bit his lip.
"I was trying to get to the academy district but got lost along the way," he said sheepishly.
"The academy district?" Dean asked incredulously. "That's on the other side of town."
Matin just continued to smile nervously, eyes darting from left to right.
Dean sighed.
"You can't be thinking of taking him all the way there?" Longlocks asked, a nervous tone in his voice.
"Oh no, no!" Matin said, shaking his hands from side to side. "I think I'll return home. I've changed my mind about going."
"You sure?" Dean asked. "Escorting you there would be no problem for us." He ignored the loud protests coming from Longlocks and Gart.
Matin nodded.
"I'm sure. I've caused enough trouble already."
"Well, suppose it's the Evelyn estate then." Dean said, gesturing at his two friends to follow.
Longlocks sighed in relief. It was much closer to here than the academy district, and Dean knew the way very well.
"Are you sure it's ok? Taking me back, I-I mean?" Matin asked as they started walking back towards the main street.
"Yeah, it's too dangerous for you to be walking around here on your own."
"I see, well thank you." Matin replied.
They eventually made it out onto a busy market street with wooden stalls and hundreds of people cramming the thoroughfare. The surrounding buildings, though made from the same gray stone, were in much better condition with tall facades and decorated features. It was much safer here than in the back alleys. They just had to watch out for pickpockets. They naturally formed a small perimeter around Matin as they walked. Dean felt proud of how well-trained his two friends had become. Perhaps they would find work as bodyguards in the future?
"Do you really run around helping people like this?" Matin asked Dean.
The boy had done nothing but ask questions as they moved through the crowd.
"Yeah, somebody's gotta do it." Dean said as he stuck out his chest with pride.
"Woah." Matin's face lit up as he looked at Dean.
"Why were you going to the academy district anyway?" Dean asked as he navigated easily through the crowd.
"I wanted…to visit…the…Grand Library." Matin answered, getting interrupted as he ungracefully dodged oncoming townsfolk.
"Doesn't your house have loads of books already?" Dean asked. The Evelyns were more than wealthy and influential enough to have their own library.
He chucked a coin at a fruit-monger and grabbed two apples, handing one of them to Matin. The voice of the seller called out, saying something about overpaying. He ignored the protests and continued on.
"It does, but mother… she says I can only read certain books." Matin said as he bit into his apple.
Dean took a bite of his own apple, a little more forcefully than necessary.
"Keeping books away from people who want to read them, hate it when they do that," he muttered while chewing.
Dean knew it was common practice. Many books were kept away from the common-folk or young children in an effort to teach them only what those in power wanted them to know.
Matin didn't respond for a moment and seemed to lose himself in thought. He tripped, tumbled and ran into many a shopper as they navigated the busy street.
"Mother is just looking out for me," Matin said with a smile after a brief pause.
It was the same smile he had used when forgiving his attackers. Dean couldn't really understand why at the time because of his age, but his instincts told him that there was something off about that smile.
"So, what were you trying to read? Larry the Magician? Or maybe it was The Golden Sextant?" Dean asked excitedly, naming off two of his favorite books. Those were also books his father had tried to keep away from him, calling them a waste of time.
Matin shook his head.
"Not those. I wanted to read about history, but Mom says it's a waste of time and I should focus on my numbers and political matters."
Dean forgot that he was walking on a busy street for a moment and almost walked into someone as he gazed at Matin in confusion.
"You went through all this because of a history book? Your mother doesn't even allow you to read those?"
History books were fine and all. In fact, his tutors encouraged him to read them over his fairy tales and novels. However, he wouldn't exactly travel all the way across the capital just to read one.
"Mother says it isn't necessary for me yet. She plans all my days for me, and I only get free time when she is busy with her own work."
Matin sounded tired as he spoke about his daily life. Dean could only pretend to sympathise. His older siblings would probably understand Matin's plight a lot more than he could.
Eventually, they turned left off the main market street and ended up on an even larger but much less crowded street. The finely laid cobblestones of the road and street lamps fashioned into complex shapes gave the area a refined, almost gaudy feel.
"That's my house over there." Matin said, pointing towards an imposing building looming over an already tall stone wall. There was a large metal gate with intricate designs separating the mansion from the outside world. Dean whistled.
"Might be even bigger than my house," he whispered.
"If we could nab something from in there, we could eat honey rolls for the rest of our lives!" Longlocks said, shaking Dean's arm.
Dean looked at the two guards standing outside, their spears reflecting the morning sun.
"Not if you want to keep your insides," Dean replied dryly.
Gart placed his hands on his round stomach with a look of concern.
"Maybe we shouldn't go any further," he said.
"No way. We just rescued a noble, we might get a huge reward!" Longlocks said, pushing his friend forward.
Dean felt himself tense as they approached. He probably should tell his two friends to stay back. He would be safe, but he couldn't be sure about them. Sadly, it was already too late to change course.
"Oy, is that the young master?"
Dean and the others turned around to find a third guard behind them. He had a stern face that looked like it was carved from granite. He looked down at the children with a stern and tired expression.
"You'll be coming with me."
They were brought into the mansion and left in a parlor near the entrance. Both Gart and Longlocks looked around in awe at the rich furnishings and artwork. Dean sat uneasily in a leather armchair that was much too big for him while Matin had gone entirely quiet and was now twiddling his fingers.
The sound of rushed footsteps warned Dean of somebody's approach long before the door slammed open, revealing a richly dressed woman with red hair tied up in a bun. Without pausing, she ran straight to Matin and embraced him.
"Oh thank the Goddess you're safe, dear," she cried.
Matin had to struggle slightly, grunting as he struggled to breathe. When the woman was done with her coddling, she lifted her face and shot a piercing glare at Dean and the others. Dean felt himself swallow deeply.
"They saved me, Mother!" Matin said in a hurry. "I got attacked and…"
"Where?" she snapped as her eyes darted back to Matin.
"I don't know, somewhere in the slums next to the Cathedral, I…"
"I told you many times not to go there!" she shouted, grabbing hold of Matin's shoulders.
Matin cowered and looked away, shaking. Eventually, she looked up and made eye contact with Dean.
"For saving my dear Matin, you have my thanks," she said in a shaking voice.
"Do we get a reward?" Longlocks asked with bright eyes.
Dean almost hissed at his friend to shut up, but it was too late, and the damage had been done. The temperature of the room seemed to drop several degrees. Marianne's cold eyes shifted to Longlocks, and the boy seemed to shrink in on himself from the look alone.
"Your reward will be that I let you go free. If I see a dirty urchin like yourself near my house again, I will have you in the dungeon!" Marianne snapped
Dean's eyes narrowed. What was she going to do to them if they hadn't rescued her precious son? Fearing further issues might arise if he didn't make one thing clear, he got to his feet and yanked a ring from his pocket, presenting it to the woman.
"I'm Dean of House Kasanagh, fourth son of Duke Morgan Kasanagh. It's an honor to meet you, Your Grace." He said, bowing deeply.
"Hoh." The woman said, eyeing his ring and then his face. "Your face does seem familiar, child. Yes, you have done excellent work this day, dear. You may call me Marianne."
Her tone had changed completely upon learning of his lineage, and she adopted the attitude of a kindly older woman within a split second. Those kind eyes disappeared soon after as her gaze shifted to his two friends.
"And they are?" she asked.
"My attendants," Dean replied quickly.
"Attendants? They look like they haven't bathed in months, or perhaps they have not bathed in their entire lives. You can't fool me that easily, dear."
Marianne clapped her hands, and a guard appeared from behind the door.
"Escort these urchins from my home." She said coldly. "They're dirtying the furniture."
Dean and his friends made to protest, but Marianne slammed her hands down on a nearby table.
"Quiet! Be happy I do not have them strung up!"
Dean, and everyone else in the room, was shocked into silence, and he could only watch as his friends were led off. By the time he stepped out into the hall, Gart had already started crying.
Marianne made her way over to a chair opposite Dean and gracefully took a seat.
"Now, you said you were Morgan's fourth son?" she asked.
"That's right." Dean replied, his voice trembling slightly.
"Oh relax dear, I mean you no harm. You look like you have a good head on your shoulders. So, tell me. Why were you wandering around the slums?"
To help those in need.
That's what Dean wanted to say, but speaking to Marianne made him choose his words a bit more carefully in the hopes of gaining her approval. Years of interacting with the nobility had taught him that it was often better to tell them what they wanted to hear.
"I was assisting Brother Marcus in the Cathedral. He asked me to go to the market and buy some wine, but I got lost on the way."
A half truth. As the fourth son, he was expected to join the brotherhood when he came of age. Assisting the brothers was something he frequently had to do, much to his irritation.
"I see, and the boys who were with you, where did they come from?"
"They were helping me find my way back."
Marianne nodded.
"Matin dear, is he telling the truth?" She asked, turning to face her son.
Matin's eyes widened upon being addressed. His eyes darted between his mother and Dean as his mouth flapped open and closed.
"I… I think so. I'm not sure, I…" Matin trailed off.
Marianne turned back to Dean.
"You've been well educated. You spout lies like a veteran politician. Very sly for one so young."
Dean felt his stomach tighten into a knot. Even his father had trouble seeing through his fibs, most of the time.
"You'll be a good friend for my Matin."
There was a brief silence as Dean processed the unexpected words.
"What?" He asked in shock.
He had been preparing himself to be punished harshly for his actions. Lying was something his own mother often punished harshly.
"I'll speak to Morgan and have some meetings arranged. My dear Matin has been feeling lonely lately. Perhaps that's why he went and got himself into trouble. Yes, a friend will do nicely."
Dean could barely keep up with the flow of the conversation. He looked over at Matin, who was smiling at him nervously.
"Do you object, young Kasanagh?" Marianne asked coldly.
Dean shook his head quickly.
"Not at all, Ms. Evelyn."
"Marianne is fine, dear. You may stay for a while and play with Matin. Try to toughen him up a little, will you? I'll have a messenger sent to your estate so that a guard can escort you back later."
Marianne got to her feet and made her way to the door. Before she left, she stopped and looked back at them.
"Oh, and Matin dear. Later on, you will tell me what they looked like. The boys who attacked you."
Her tone was as cold as ice and seemed to suck the air right out of the room. She then left, leaving the two boys alone together.
Dean and Matin turned to look at each other. Matin only smiled as he usually did and scratched the back of his head awkwardly.
"Do you want to see my toys and books?" He asked nervously.
Dean gave an uncertain smile of his own.
"Uh, sure. I suppose?"
*
And thus concluded Dean and Matin's first meeting. They were eight years old, or perhaps seven? It was a long, long time ago, in a different place and time. Details always faded with time.
There was one detail, however, that Dean never forgot. The next day as he, Gart and Longlocks were patrolling the slums, they heard a disturbing story of how three young boys had been brutally murdered in the night. Their bodies torn to shreds to the point where it was difficult to clean up the street where they had been found.
Indeed, as Dean and his friends approached the street in question, blood could still be seen staining the cobbled road and the surrounding buildings. Some stains had even reached the second-floor level.
He never found out who the victims were, but they never saw the boys who attacked Matin again.