"Why won't anyone talk?" Elias grumbled in frustration as he took a bite out of his honey-dipped lamb dough which he later found out to be called lamb-bites.
Elias had been going from shop to stall, asking everyone he could about the flares situation, but no one would talk, and those that did had nothing tangible to say or they would make up some obviously false facts just so he could buy the wares they sold.
A little boy walked up to Elias, his eyes wide and imploring. "Good sir, can you please spare this hungry child something to eat? I haven't eaten in days" he begged, his voice small and trembling
Elias, taken aback, reached into his pack and pulled out a lamb bite, handing it to the boy without hesitation. The boy's face lit up with a smile of pure contentment. Before Elias could react, the boy threw his arms around him in a grateful hug.
Elias stood there, puzzled by the unexpected gesture. After a moment, he gently patted the boy's back and smiled. He didn't quite understand the boy's reaction but decided to brush it off, thinking it was just the innocence of a child.
Elias decided to call it a day. The sun was beginning to set, he would continue his search the next day. For now, he needed rest and a chance to gather his thoughts.
As he made his way back to the castle, Elias could not help but stop by a lamb bite vendor's stall, his mouth watering at the sight of freshly cooked lamb bites. Since his arrival in Elaris, he'd found few foods that pleased his palate, but lamb bites were a notable exception. He couldn't help but think they were arguably better than the meal served at the palace.
Elias instinctively reached for his pouch to pay the vendor for the lamb bites, but his hand met only the rough fabric of his trousers and then a cold wave of realization washed over him...his pouch was missing.
He had carried three silver shillings and fifty copper coins in that pouch. It wasn't a fortune, but it was still money that was not easily replaced. Elias's mind raced as he retraced his steps in his mind. He had it at the market, he was sure of that.
His thoughts flickered back to the little boy who had hugged him,
"Damn it, I've been had," He said as he palmed his face, "No use crying over spilled milk, I need to find the boy before it's too late. [Perception]"
Elias used his heightened senses to pick up the boy's scent from when he hugged him, whilst also actively using his enhanced hearing to locate the sound of the boy's voice, it was unmistakable as it had a slight nasal tone to it.
"Jackpot" He muttered as his nose traced the boy's scent and his ears locked on to the sound of coins clanging against each other as the boy counted the amount of money in the pouch he stole
Elias finally spotted the boy in a narrow alleyway. The child was huddled near a stack of crates, his small fingers eagerly counting the coins he had taken. An excited expression lit up his face as he tallied the silver shillings and copper coins.
Elias stepped out of the shadows, his voice calm but firm. "You seem to be enjoying my money," he said, his eyes fixed on the boy. The child's head snapped up, his expression shifting from surprise to fear.
"I—I didn't mean to," the boy stammered, clutching the pouch tightly.
Elias gave him a stern look. "Didn't mean to? You took what wasn't yours. That's called stealing."
The boy's eyes darted around, looking for an escape. Without warning, he bolted, but Elias was ready. He blocked the boy's path with a swift move, his hand outstretched. "Don't think about it," Elias said, his voice steady.
The boy tried again, darting to the left, but Elias anticipated his move, stepping in front of him. "Just hand it over," Elias warned, his patience wearing thin.
Elias was never planning to hand the boy over to any body, in fact, he planned to let him go and give him some money to sort himself out. But since the boy's fear got the better of him, he might as well use it to his advantage.
Elias looked up and noticed the evening sky morphing into a deep indigo, stars beginning to punctuate the darkness. The streets were gradually emptying and the sounds of the city grew quieter.
Elias nodded in agreement. "Lead the way, and stay close."
"The sooner I act, the better," Elias muttered to himself, his resolve hardening.
The boy glanced back at Elias, sensing his determination. "This way," he said, leading Elias through a series of narrow alleys that seemed to twist and turn endlessly until they reached what appeared to be an abandoned house on the outskirts of the city.
Elias hesitated at the entrance, the wooden door creaking softly as he pushed it open. The air inside was stale and musty, with dust motes dancing in the dim light filtering through cracked windows.
"Quiet," the boy whispered, his voice barely audible. He motioned for Elias to follow him cautiously through the darkened corridors, their footsteps muffled by worn carpets and scattered debris.
They arrived at a small room tucked away in the farthest corner of the house. The boy paused beside a large, threadbare carpet that seemed out of place in the otherwise bare room.
With a glance over his shoulder, he reached down and lifted one corner of the carpet, revealing a fist-sized hole in the wooden floorboards beneath.
"Look, I've never seen so many of them before" The boy urged Elias
With cautious movements, he leaned forward and squinted into the darkness below. As his eyes adjusted, he could make out a room, poorly illuminated and surprisingly expansive.
Elias saw a congregation of people, at least fifty strong, gathered in a circle around a raised podium, flares and all of them uncollared. Upon the podium stood a figure draped in a hooded cloak, their presence commanding attention from the assembled group.
The hooded figure slowly raised his hands, causing the murmuring congregation to become quiet instantly. With deliberate movements, he reached up and pulled back the hood that concealed his identity, revealing a man with a horizontal scar etched across his face.
"Freedom comes to those who take it," he suddenly shouted, his words echoing off the walls.
The response from the group was immediate and unified, their voices rang out in unison, "And we are takers."
"A rebellion, or perhaps a revolution," Elias murmured under his breath
"Aye, that it is, my friend," came a voice from behind him, low and gravelly.
Startled, Elias spun around to see who had spoken. In the shadows of the chamber, illuminated faintly by the torchlight, stood four figures clad in simple, worn clothing. They appeared to be common folk, their faces weathered and determined.
One of them, a massive, imposing figure held the boy in his arms, his hand clamped firmly over the boy's mouth. The boy's eyes widened in fear, his muffled protests barely audible.