"Hey Raph, where the hell are you?"

  I slowly open my eyes, staring at the planked wooden ceiling right above me. Mold growing where I usually lie, praising my breath for relieving the bitter coldness each night.

  Well, no use complaining I guess. I sigh and move very slowly as Pild begins tapping his foot.

  "Give me a moment Pild. Remember last time I got off in a rush?"

  "Yeah, I still got the scars to prove it. But you wouldn't be in a rush if you woke up on goddamn time!" Pild retorts, rolling up his right sleeve to show an old scar caused by a deep gash.

  Moving very slowly to prevent angering the creaking bunkbed of death and misery, and also to piss off Pild who is tapping his foot even faster after rolling his sleeve back down.

  Eventually I hop down, met by Pild's frustrated face. His nose crooked as ever, causing his glasses to slowly droop down. Slightly shorter than me, but still eye level.

  He smirks, "finally realized how smitten I am?"

  "You had three months of classes four years ago, stop using words neither of us understand and let's get a move on" I reply, moving past him and through the door as I hear him mutter something under his breath.

  Just a typical day. Five forgotten teens living in the cheapest place possible.

  The other three are down the incredibly short hallway that leads to our poor excuse of a kitchen - basically stacked on top of each other as they munch on last night's leftovers.

  Lil' Lill, the shortest and youngest of us sits on the corner of the counter counting the same 4 coins over and over again for some reason.

  Triss, the oldest of us wolfing down as much as she can before the food goes bad much to the disdain of Pild who looks at her with a face filled with sadness and betrayal. I'm almost surprised he didn't drop to his knees.

  Finally, the last and least, Sabar wearing their mask and hood as always. Not speaking, just sitting in their chair in the corner of the room. Hey expenses 5 ways is better than 4 so they get a pass from me.

  "Hey Triss" I call out as her eyes dart over to me, her face blathered in potato, "what's on the schedule for today?"

  She takes a moment to chew and swallow before replying with a mostly full mouth and terrible pronunciation "Fold 'ar".

  The Golden bar, or "Fold 'ar" I guess, is a dim bar with a hell of alot of drunkards.

  "Alright, so we'll meet up at 6 as always?"

  To this, she gives me a thumbs up as Pild and Lill argue over who plays the role of runner today.

  If it wasn't clear already, we're not the most legitimate of people. But hey, it keeps a slightly leaky roof over our heads and a slightly warm room heated by the bookstore's fire downstairs.

  This narrative has been purloined without the author's approval. Report any appearances on Amazon.

  Pild avoids my glare after realizing he woke me up for no reason, as I sigh and start getting ready to leave - putting on my old worn short leather shoes that press against my toes. Sometimes I wonder how I can walk in these things, let alone dash for my life three times a week.

  I begin walking to the other side of the kitchen, where Lill opens the door joyfully - it seems like Pild waking me up early gave her the ammo to win the argument.

  As the door creaks open, the hinges worn to the point that the entire door is slightly slanted, I think about how I got here.

  From being left on the street, then raised in an orphanage, and now here.

  A rush of air enters the kitchen, throwing me out of my daydream as Lill throws me outside to "keep the warmth in" or something. The familiar view always amazes me.

  Down below the streets filled with grime, blood, randomly dumped toxins and an assortment of black rats. But look at eye level and you can see the beautiful moss that this city is famous for, the large castle off in the distance, and the overall peacefulness of life here. Even during sieges, life continues.

  And the sky, the blue sky that perfectly contradicts the green moss. Small whiffs of white clouds here and there too, blending in over the reliable thick stone walls that surround us.

  Saretta is the only place I've ever known, and by the Gods I love it.

  I stand there for a few seconds, taking in the view, before sighing and heading down the ladder that was on my right. Going down is simple, but try climbing up three stories of ladders at the end of a long day.

  I reach the bottom, as the stench hits my nose. You can't get used to it. People laying unconscious on the sides of the road, the grime, the black rats, the moss that hovers off the floor.

  When the moss doesn't even want to touch the floor, you question why you are.

  Well no need to question every little thing, I think as I land with a small slimy sounding slosh. I walk over most people, stepping on a few I recognise, up until I reach the end of my little alleyway.

  And onto the main street.

  Gone, stench and grime in an instant as I watch thousands of people walking past each other in a quickened pace.

  Labourers, inventors, shopkeepers, guards, clerks, every single different profession all huddled in the same space. No matter where they originate from, not matter where they're going to. No one gets special treatment here, and no one can lord over you. Why?

  Because it's space-efficient. The only reason this can exist is the constant siege and war this city suffers through, and honestly? I don't mind it. Sure I'll never eat an apple, savor the taste of a well-roasted animal or mess around for weeks at a time.

  But I'm equal.

  No need to stand around, I think as I join the general traffic. A small kid like me here? Untrackable, almost unnoticeable.

  Almost.

  I duck a swing from the large hairy man I just stole from, as he yells something in a language I don't know. I don't even try to fight, immediately fleeing before the crowd realises what happened and grabs onto me.

  I weave between people, staying clear of anyone with armor. Most are used to this rush, as they reflexively let me pass without thinking why.

  Still I'm not exactly free yet, trying to blend in with the edges of the crowd as I watch and hear the hairy man searching for me - trying to draw me out.

  That won't happen obviously, but he doesn't have much hope outside of that.

  I slow down, slowly joining the slower lanes of people in the street. I don't see him anymore, not that I'm actively looking. That'd be far too suspicious. Finally I leave the main road after spotting a side alley I recognise, as the terrible sloshing sounds return from each step I take.

  The stench is something you can never get used to. I check what I stole, as I realize it's a vine pouch. Score.

  Vine pouches are usually given to servants to buy stuff, so it's great that I got out here early. Pild still gets no apologies though as I open the pouch and see...

  Three drop coins, a picture of a kid and a snack!

  Oh I love these! I take a satisfying crunchy bit out of the smoked vine dew. These things are cheap, plentiful and really good. Id make them myself if we had a fireplace and a proper pan.

  I take a closer look at the photo, I'm assuming that hairy man's daughter considering she's already got a few white beard whiskers, before putting it in my pocket.

  If I see him again, I'll slot it in his pocket. If not, well Lill keeps asking for doodling paper. Not sure why though, we don't have anything to doodle with.

  Anyway, with a slightly filled stomach and good hopes for the day I get back in the crowd to do it all over again.