Road to an Empire: Beginnings

by **Ronan Dugal** on March 22nd, 2013, 12:36 am

Summer, 12th, Year 498

As soon as the first light of day hit the boy's face he was up and out of bed. It wasn't really good enough to be called a bed, though. A pile of softer materials, mostly torn leather and dirty cloth, stacked together to form a place to sleep. It was well positioned as the first sunrays would fall, through what was left of the roof, right on the head or toes, depending on which way one slept, of the person sleeping in it and it would wake someone up straight away. So, Ronan, 12 years old at the time, was up with the first sunlight, like every other day. For a street urchin, the boy was really very clean, especially compared with the other boys that he was sharing the house with.

The barrel that was used to store rainwater in, for drinking and cleaning, was actually only used by Ronan to do any cleaning what so ever. He took water from the barrel, using a hollowed out piece of wood which used to be part of some piece of decoration, and poured it over his head. The sudden chill of the cold rain water caused the boy to yelp out, shivering as he scooped up more water. This time he managed to stifle the yelp but the shivering continued. With the cleanest piece of cloth around, which was still a dirty piece of cloth, Ronan dried himself off, quickly rubbing his hair and body to get the cold water off of his skin.

As the other tenants of the building slowly started to wake up, Ronan closed the front door behind him. Wearing his usual torn and patched up clothes, the boy headed into the street and started running. It was quite a trip from where he lived to the merchant quarter but he had been crossing the distance twice every day for almost a whole season now so it didn't bother him as much as it used to. Still a novice when it came to street smarts, Ronan followed the main roads, which took longer to reach the destination but at least he didn't get lost on the way. The merchant street was already waking up, like Ronan, starting at the first light of day.

The boy used to have a simple routine for this. Start at the closest shop you see and ask if they need help. If they needed help, help them out and accept pay before moving on to the next shop. If they didn't need help, simply move on. Sometimes he found work after only asking a few times. Other times he wasn't so lucky and it took perhaps an hour to find even the slightest something to do. Payment varied on a daily basis as well but Ronan earned enough to keep himself alive. Sometimes only a few copper Mizas and, one time, during a busy festival, Ronan had earned three silver Mizas, all together.

With the time passing, the boy had learned which shops resented his presence and tried to scare him away or hurt him. He also learned who were the friendly owners and who weren't and who would pay and who wouldn't. All of this information had been gained with trial and error and many a slap to the back of his head. Slowly but surely, Ronan had built up a few relations with some of the owners who, of course wary at first, now seemed to like him. Sometimes he got some extra money, other times he got some left over food or even some fruit when he was really lucky, but usually the payment for his services was somewhere between one and five copper Mizas for a job well done.

One of his favorites was the baker. The man was up way before sunset and always needed a hand to move his bread and pastries to the front. Heavy duty lifting, for a boy of 12, of course, but he paid well and seemed to like Ronan, often giving him a left over piece of bread. Whenever Ronan got paid after work, the baker took a few extra minutes, trying to explain to Ronan how much he had earned. For Ronan it was simple. 2 copper Mizas equaled one loaf of bread. For one silver Miza and a handful of copper ones, Ronan could get an apple, the true treasure of foods. But it was very expensive so Ronan had only had maybe three apples in his entire lifetime, all of them since after he had left home.

So, like usual, Ronan passed by the unfriendly merchants and the ones that were hesitant to pay him for his work and headed straight for the bakery. He couldn't read the sign but he recognized the colors and the images of the bread on the wooden sign outside. Like every other day, he headed straight to the back and greeted the owner. "Good morning, Chef." The man wasn't really a chef but Ronan had taken the title from the apprentices and simply used it because they did. And also because he had no idea what chef's name was. "Need any help today?" Chef looked up from his work and smiled at Ronan. "Good morning, boy. Move those crates to the front, you know the drill." And with that, Ronan set to work. The crates were heavy but nothing Ronan couldn't handle. If he couldn't handle them, he would split the contents over two crates to help himself.

Moving back and forth between the front and the back of the shop, Ronan carried one crate at a time, slowly filling up the stall in front. Chef's wife, or so Ronan thought, took care of the selling of the bread in front and made sure nobody could steal anything, including Ronan, even though Ronan had tried to explain it to her before that he didn't -want- to steal anything. But it didn't matter to her, she still kept an eye on Ronan every time he came back to work. The wood of the crates felt familiar in Ronan's hands and his fingers were already shaped around them to hold onto them easily. The splinters that cut into his skin were ignored by the boy, as stopping to complain would mean getting less pay for the job. Chef was a kind man but very strict when it came to money.

Crate after crate was stacked up in the alley to the side of the store as Ronan emptied more crates into the stall and window display in front, stacking the bread up nicely and placing the pastries into view. As a twelve year old, Ronan did lack the stamina of the apprentices, who were all much older than him, and he stopped to rest when needed, although he didn't like it Ronan knew that if he didn't rest he wouldn't do as much work as he did now. As soon as he was finished with the crates, Ronan walked to the back and spoke to chef. "Anything else I can do, chef?" The flaring heat of the baking oven burned on Ronan's skin and he stepped back, out of the way from the apprentices who rushed to turn the heat down.

"Sweeping, boy! Sweeping, you know that." Ronan took up the broom with a smile. He just liked to confirm his job before doing it. With practiced motions, Ronan swept the bread crumbs and dust onto the street, out of the alley. Once he was finished with that he returned the broom to its original place. When he turned around, chef was standing right behind him, smiling down at him, suggestively jingling his purse. Ronan smiled back. "Today I carried..." Ronan counted silently on his fingers for a moment. "Ten Ten...Err, Ten Fifteen crates to the front with bread and pastries." Chef jingled his purse again and sat himself down next near Ronan. "It's not ten fifteen, boy. You know that." Ronan grimaced, blushing from the mistake. He didn't like making mistakes.

"Ten fifteen... issss~ ten, ten and five... ten and ten is..." Chef rushed to his aid. "Tw~" Ronan rushed even more to get the answer out before Chef. "Twenty. Twenty and five." Chef smiled and placed five copper Mizas in Ronan's hand, who quickly pocketed them in a hidden pocket on the inside of his shirt. "I think I worked hard. I did the sweeping and I only took two breaks. And miss Chef said I could get a little extra." A blatant lie in an attempt to get a little more money, Ronan quickly explained it to Chef. With a frown on his face, chef sat up straight and looked at Ronan. "Did she now. Why do I not believe you, boy? Are you lying to me?" Ronan's cheeks flushed bright red at the implication and shook his head violently. "No chef, of course not." If someone was listening in on the conversation, they would probably hear a scolding towards the boy, but both Chef and Ronan knew this as a game, something they had been doing for half a season already. Ronan always attempted to get more money and Chef always argued with him about it.

To Chef, it was a way of teaching while for Ronan it was a possible attempt at getting more money from chef for his services rendered. Unaware to the boy, however, he was slowly learning to bring up good arguments, the ones that mattered. Usually it didn't work but sometimes he would get an extra copper Miza for it. He didn't really understood why it sometimes worked and why it sometimes didn't but he started to understand that some things had more effect on chef, like mentioning extra work or less breaks, and others had less or no effect on him, like mentioning his wife or lying about how much work had been done. "I doubt she said that. But you did only take two breaks..." Chef lost himself in thought for a moment, or at least he looked like he did, before he stood up and headed to one of the tables, grabbing a loaf of bread and wrapping it up in a piece of cloth, not bigger than a handkerchief but, hopefully, cleaner.

With a smile, Ronan thanked him for it and hid it under his shirt before waving goodbye and moving on to the next job. Very early in the morning there was always a lot to do so Ronan had choice of his jobs but as the sun rose higher up in the sky, jobs became scarce and Ronan set into his daily routine.

by **Ronan Dugal** on March 22nd, 2013, 1:51 am

Ronan's morning would continue with more work. Like every day, Ronan would continue on from one job to the next. He kept a mental list of locations and shops that often required his help and also paid for it. Chef's work had been done, like every morning, and the first customers were now starting to move through the streets. The merchants and shopkeepers started pricing their wares to the customers, trying to outbit each other while still earning some profit on this day.

Ronan just slipped through the people as he walked down the merchant street. He nibbled on a piece of bread he had torn off of the loaf he had gotten from Chef as he moved to his next job. Well, it wasn't really his job, per se, but the next thing he did that would make him money, he hoped. At the end of the street, Ronan turned left into a smaller but equally busy merchant street. Here, the smell of meat and blood hit Ronan as soon as he turned the corner. Every morning it had done so and it would continue doing so long after Ronan would be gone from here. To the left and right, people were buying and selling meat; smoked, jerked, salted, sausaged, every kind of meat you could think of was sold here.

At the third shop, Ronan moved to the right and opened the door of the shop there. Not Ronan's most favorite job but he couldn't complain. "Good morning, boss. Anything I can do to help?" Ronan greeted the owner of the shop, a big and strong man made entirely out of fat, or so it seemed. With a growl and a grump the man pointed with his thumb over his shoulder to the back of the shop. Ronan made a slight nod with his head, sort of an attempt at a bow, and disappeared behind the counter into the back room. His job here was simple. The butcher apprentices chopped up some cow or pig and Ronan had to take away the slices and put them through the right process.

"Morning, Ronan." Jack, one of the apprentices, had gotten Ronan this job, so Ronan was very thankful to the boy. Jack was perhaps the best rolemodel Ronan had at the moment. A boy from a poor family had worked his way through all the shitty jobs that he could find and finally found himself working here as an apprentice. To Ronan it was a good story of how things could turn out if you did your best and worked hard. "Morning Jack. How can I help?" Ronan asked before listening to Jack list off all the meat he had to prepare. The list was not as long as usual and the boy tried to remember everything. 20 salted, 10 smoked and 15 aside for sausages. 2 roasted, which was rare, was added to the list after the boss peeked through the door and barked a set of orders Ronan couldn't understand. To him it sounded more like barking than anything resembling human speech.

On the left side of the room, Ronan's tools, well, not really his but the tools he used, were stationed. From where the boys were cutting and slashing at the meat, Ronan would carry the meat to the salting vat, the smoking rack, the table or the roasting pit and put the meat through the correct process. It had taken him quite some time to learn how to do all those things and when he first started Ronan was in charge of hauling scrap meat to the sausage maker or throw it out the back, where a bunch of animals were waiting for them. But Ronan had watched and learned and when the regular guy had been sick, Ronan had helped with his first salting, his first smoking and his first roasting. Noticing the potential, Ronan had been allowed to help out with those tasks more and more as he continued to watch the other boys working around him, trying to learn more whenever he could.

So, without further waiting, Ronan walked over to the closet in the room and took out a smelly, bloody piece of leather that would cover his torso, protecting his clothes ( a little bit) from all the blood and the smell of meat. With his face entire face frowning at the smell of the piece of clothing, Ronan pulled it over his head and got to work. From the butcher table he grabbed a piece of meat, placed it on his shoulder and wobbled his way back to the roasting pit, where he put the meat down on a big plate before taking off the roasting pin. The thing was made of metal with a cool handle on the end and weighed as much as one of Chef's crates. Like a guard with a spear, Ronan ran the piece of meat through with the pin, wrestling it onto the pin little by little. With both the pin and the meat together, Ronan lifted the contraption up and put it on the supports, above the burning fire.

With both hands on the handle of the pin, Ronan started working his arms up and down, in circular motions. He moved up and towards him, then up and away from him. From the top he would move his arms down, pushing away even more and then pulling towards him before starting over. The meat was roasting slowly as the boy continued with his job. As soon as he had started he had begun sweating and he knew it wouldn't stop until he was finished later that day. Wiping his forehead every two or three minutes, the boy's arms continued to move in the same motion. After a while, Jack was finished with his butchering and he came over to Ronan, taking over the pit. "20 salted, 10 smoked, ok?" Glad for the break, Ronan stepped back from the pit with a nod and let Jack continue with it as he turned to the other jobs still required.

Once more, Ronan moved to the Butcher table and grabbed a plate of meat, sliced off from some animal, and moved to the smoking rack. He really disliked the smoking rack although when the meat was almost finished the smell was mouthwatering. But the smell of smoke would stick to his clothes for the rest of the day. With the smoking rack right in front of him, Ronan put the plate down and grabbed one of the sticks that would go on the rack, once more pinning the meat to it, one by one, making sure that as many as possible fit on the stick. With one hand on each side of the stick, Ronan stood up, lifting the entire thing up with his hands. Standing on his toes, Ronan stood close to the fire, the heat of it pushing against his clothes and skin as he placed the stick on the top most supports, above the fire. Stepping back, Ronan wiped the sweat of his forehead and face and took the next one, adding the remaining meat to it, spreading it out over the stick before placing it above the fire as well. At least he didn't have to stand on his toes for this one. With the 10 pieces of meat hanging over the fire, Ronan moved back to Jack. "Let's switch for a moment so you can rest."

It looked like Ronan was in charge but it was simple forethought. The break now would allow Ronan to work on the salting later while Jack continued with the roasting. Back when he started, Ronan's arms would have been dead by now but the boy had slowly built up the muscle required for the jobs. All the lifting and roasting, together with the carrying of crates of bread was shaping the boy's body to cope with all of it. Grabbing onto the pin, Ronan started to turn the handle, spinning the meat around over the fire, slowly roasting it. All this meat in sight made it difficult for Ronan to focus and his stomach was growling at him every two seconds. Methodically, Ronan's arms moved the roasting pin around, the meat slowly smelling better and better over the fire, as the boy started to dream of tables full of food, all for himself, mixed with apples, the treasure of all fruits. He didn't know how long he was daydreaming when suddenly he snapped back, Jack's hand on his shoulder. "Let's switch again. You can start on the salting."

As Ronan started on the salting, Jack moved the piece of roasted meat off of the pin and pinned a new piece on it. One of the other apprentices plated the roasted meat and brought it out to the front where he was greeted with grumbling and growling. Ronan had already lost himself in his job and wasn't paying attention to anything else. In his mind, he counted, slowly. One. He took the first piece of meat and put it on the table next to the salting vat. With something that reminded Ronan of his shower every morning, Ronan scooped up a bunch of salt and simply dumped it on the piece of meat. With his hands he started to spread the salt out over the meat, flipping it over and making sure there was a thick layer of salt everywhere. Once done, he took the piece of salted meat and move it to his right, away from the salting vat and onto another plate before turning left and taking a new piece of meat. The process continued as the stack of meat on the right slowly grew and the stack on the left dwindled. Ronan's hands were full of salt and blood as he continued with his job.

With a short break from the salting, Ronan stopped his count at ten-and-one. He thought about chef for a moment and tried to remember the name of the number. Eight, nine, ten,.... elven? Eleven. With a smile, Ronan quickly submerged his hands in bowl of water, which turned red in a blink of an eye. Quickly scrubbing off the salt from his hands, the boy dried them on his leather tunic as soon as he had found a non bloody part to do so. Returning back to the smoking rack, Ronan stood on his toes and lifted the top smoking stick off of it's supports and place it on the third and lowest supports for a moment. He rushed himself as he tried to move the middle one to the top and the lower one to the middle before the fire burned the lower ones. In his rush he nearly fumbled the stick and the meat started to slide off of it. Panicking, the boy grasped at the stick and lifted it up, slightly too late as the two pieces of meat on the end had a brush with the not so clean(read: dirty) floor.

Panicked, Ronan looked around. Everyone seemed to be busy with their own jobs and hadn't noticed. Jack, however, was looking right at Ronan. Ronan froze in place, confused and panicked and he didn't know what to do. Jack smiled at him and winked before focusing back on the spinning of the roasted meat. Confused, Ronan realized that Jack wouldn't say anything. With a glance at the door leading into the shop, Ronan saw that the boss was busy with customers and hadn't noticed either. Quickly placing the meat back in order, Ronan hung the stick on its supports once more, completing the switch of the smoking meats. Glad he wasn't going to be smacked around or anything, Ronan returned to the salting table and continued his work and his counting. Twelve.

Nineteen. Ronan smacked yet another piece of meat on the salt table, grabbed a scoop of salt and poured it over the meat. His hands moved on autopilot as they spread the salt out over the meat, flipped the meat over and repeated the same process again. The plate with the salted meat had a nicely stacked twin tower of meat on it as the boy had almost finished his job. From the corner of his eyes, Ronan saw Jack lift off the second roasted piece of meat. With the end in sight, Ronan hurried the last piece of meat. Twenty. With a smile he sent a mental thank you to Chef for reminding him of the word. With all twenty pieces of salted meat stacked on top of one another, Ronan quickly washed his hands again, drying them off on his tunic and moved back to the plate. Balancing the meat, Ronan carried the plate into the shop and placed them on the counter from where the boss took over with a grumble and a growl towards Ronan.

Where Ronan normally got paid by the owner of whatever shop he helped out, here, Ronan was paid by Jack. The boss didn't feel like paying Ronan but Jack always received a little bit more when Ronan helped out, as it sped up the process and things got done quicker. So whenever Ronan helped out, Jack got a few copper Mizas more and he slipped most of them on to Ronan. Today he was happy with his four copper mizas. He added them to his secret pocket in his shirt, combining his payment today to nine copper mizas already. It looked like he was going to earn quite a lot today. "Thanks, Ronan. See you tomorrow?" With a nod Ronan disappeared out of the back room of the butchery and out onto the street. As soon as he was out, Ronan took out a large chunk of his bread and started eating, trying to end the growling of his stomach.

by **Ronan Dugal** on March 22nd, 2013, 7:06 am

With Ronan's next job already coming up in front of him, a large white building in the middle of the merchant streets, Ronan quickly finished his piece of bread, stuffing the rest away under his shirt, making sure it wouldn't fall out. His next job was a less physical one and would allow Ronan to rest his arms, which were already at their limit. The white building towered over most other buildings in the street and drew a huge crowd of people every day. Here, people bought and sold items that were considered 'rare' to find. These items sometimes went out for several twenties of golden mizas, apparently called a hundred. Ronan couldn't even fathom how many days he would have to work to even be able to buy even one of those items.

But Ronan's job was not to buy stuff here. The auction house, that's what they called it, was owned by an older couple who, as far as Ronan could tell, really liked him. They had found Ronan to be very capable and, after a while, also trustworthy. What started as a sweeping and hauling job had quickly turned into a much more important one. By quickly is meant, of course, about one season of time. Ronan walked in through the employee entrance where he was greeted by the old man, called Roland, which they both found funny. "Good Aftermorning, Ronan. How are you today?" Aftermorning was a word the old man had invented. Apparently he used to be someone very smart scie-something. Ronan had no idea what it was. But the old man was very friendly, his wife loved Ronan a bit too much and his work here made him feel important.

Every day that Ronan came here to work, Francine, that's the old man's wife aka the old lady, would spread out a nice outfit for him, which he had to wear for his job. His job here wasn't so very interesting really but the boy felt a sense of importance, like he mattered here. The auction worked two ways. On one side you had employees that sold the items off to the customers, they were very smart and very quick. The guy talking spoke seven different languages apparently and he talked so fast Ronan couldn't even follow him in common, let alone in all the other languages. This was were all the money was made. On the other side, you had the old couple who bought items from other people. This was were Ronan's job happened. Ronan, dressed all nicely in his outfit, worked as a personal servant to the two elderly people.

Of course, a servant didn't mean much to anyone but for Ronan it meant so much. It was endlessly better than being a poor street rat. The only problem was that the elderly couple only worked in the late aftermorning, so Ronan's job there was limited in time. But he was happy to help them. And it allowed him to learn a lot of things about money and its value. Here, Ronan had learned that 1 gold Miza was the same as 10 silver Miza and that 1 silver Miza was the same as 10 copper Miza. It had taken him some time to learn and understand this concept but now he was clear about it and it didn't offer him any problems anymore. 1 Gold miza being the same as 100 copper miza, however, was still a mystery to the boy.

So, on with the job. Ronan stood, as usual, a little to the side of the door. Behind the door he could hear the shuffling and talking of people, all anxious to sell their 'special' or 'rare' item on the action. Ronan waited, standing still in his spot. Here, he waited for confirmation from Roland and Francine to open the door. Upon doing so, Ronan was overwhelmed by a wave of sound and people drumming and talking and buzzing and laughing. When the door opened, it turned completely silent, which hurt Ronan's ears even more. "They are ready to meet the first visitor." A man very close to the door stood up, a leather packed bundle under his arm, and walked through the door, which Ronan closed behind him. The shuffling and the noise started again.

Ronan, as was his job, seated the man by pulling the chair in front of the desk back for him. Once he was seated, Ronan moved to the side and poured a glass of water into one of the goblets. With care he placed the goblet in front of the customer, who nodded towards Ronan but ignored him for the rest. Ronan stood to the side of the desk, near Francine, who smiled at him, and watched and learned as the two elderly people started bargaining with the customer. At first, Ronan had been completely stupefied by the events unfolding before him but the more he saw it happen the more he understood about it. It was not per se about the price offered but more of a game between the two parties to see who could get what they wanted. The customer always requested a ridiculous price for his wares and then the old man offered a ridiculously low price for it. They kept going back and forth between the two of them until they reached a price somewhere in the middle between the original prices, usually closer to the old man's price than the customers price.

After sealing the deal, the customer was invited by the old man into a side room, where Ronan quickly served them some drinks before helping Francine with the counting of the money. This was his favorite part, at least, after he had learned more about numbers and counting. Now that he had it more or less under wraps, Ronan was counting the money on a daily basis, under the watchful eye of Francine. He counted the money out loud, often getting stuck as he tried to calculate from copper to silver and from silver to gold, all the while keeping the total amount in the back of his head. Francine looked closely and counted as well, albeit in silence, to make sure Ronan didn't try to cheat. Or the customer didn't try to cheat. Once the money was counted, they both joined Roland and the customer in the room, where Ronan would serve another round of drinks and afterwards Ronan would let the customer out of a side door, away from the hassle and general busyness of the main street.

And from there, his job would start again. Opening the door, seating the customer, serving drinks, watching the trade go down, guide the customer to the side room with Roland, serve more drinks (usually wine), count the money and serve yet more drinks before guiding the customer out. When he thought about it, the job really didn't mean much to anyone, but for Ronan it was a good opportunity to learn. Right from the start he had been interested in the conversation between Roland and Francine and their customer as they talked about nothing important while constantly demanding a different price, slowly working their way up to the price they desired. It soon dawned on Ronan that the price was already set before the talking even began. Perhaps the customer had set it slightly higher than then Roland and his wife, but both parties had already a certain price in mind. This intrigued Ronan to no end as the young boy tried to wrap his mind around this knowledge. He absorbed every remark, every notion from all the people in the room every time they spoke, listening to their arguments, both pro and contra, learning, slowly, the tricks of the trade.

Why did this chip from the item lower the price? Lower the price. It had sentimental value, because his grandfather's grandfather had made it. Raise the price. It had a scratch here and there. Lower the price. The item came from some strangely named land. Raise the price. The paint was dull and without a glow. Lower the price. The item was X years old. Raise the price. The item was a piece of a set. Raise the price. The item was a set but missing a piece. Lower the price. The item was badly maintained. Lower the price. Ronan's head was absorbing every argument as it was spoken, learning which ones raised the price and which ones didn't. There were a lot of arguments that were used by many people, like the sentimental value and the age. He didn't understand how something old could be worth so much to people. If an apple was old and brown, people threw it away because they didn't want to eat it anymore. So why would they want a 200 year old statue made out of wood with dull colors? It confused Ronan to no end. But confusion or not, he simply absorbed the information.

As the sun reached it's highest point, Ronan undressed himself out of the nice clothes, which would be washed for him by tomorrow. Not that he owned them or anything, but he always wore them when working for Roland and Francine. It was a requirement of the job, they had said. Once he was back in his smelly, dirty outfit, Ronan walked out the back door, mingling with the people outside. He never asked for money directly from the older couple, he simply couldn't, but he always felt his purse to be slightly heavier whenever he got it back after work. With an educated guess, Ronan learned that he had earned another four copper that day, totaling his money on 1 silver Miza and three copper miza -or- tenthree copper miza.

by **Ronan Dugal** on March 23rd, 2013, 1:48 am

Ronan had finished the last of his bread, as lunch, and could somewhat say that he was satisfied. So far, the day had been a good one. One of those rare days. Normally he didn't get as much work as today. Usually he did a lot more walking around and asking for work instead of actual working. Chef always had something to do but Jack didn't always have need for Ronan's help. When the shop didn't have a lot of customers, Ronan wasn't really needed. Mr. Roland and his wife always welcomed Ronan, even on their day off. But when they had a day off, he only did some heavy lifting and sweeping in their storage area.

He continued his walk down the merchant street, which would lead to another street. From there, Ronan would turn right and at the next left he would go left. The difference between here and the merchant street was like night and day. There was barely any noise and only a few people were moving about. The shops here were all 'serious' apparently and there were a lot of people in long robes and with round glass on their noses. Ronan had no idea why someone would wear something like that. It only looked silly to everyone else. Except of course when everyone else was also wearing them. When he overheard people talking here, it always sounded like they were from different places, as they used words that Ronan never understood. Alchemy, gadget, magic, Djed, Gnosis, the scie word that Roland used to be. Just a small selection of words that Ronan heard a lot but couldn't understand.

But Ronan liked it here, there were shops with all sorts of... well, things. They had these wheels with...teeth on them and if you moved one, then all the others moved as well. To the boy of twelve, it was an impossibility come to life. If he had known what magic was he would have figured that this was it. But he didn't, so the things he saw were just fascinating and really interesting to the boy. But once again, he wasn't here for the difficult words or the things that people sold here. Ronan was here for work. Together with a bunch of other children his age, although he was probably the youngest, Ronan was waiting in front of one store. It had multi colored wood in front and a window as well, inside the window were images, called paintings, apparently, of sights Ronan had never seen before. A city, completely white, with a large beast in front, completely white as well, with a man sitting on top of it. And next to it an image of hills, completely made out of sand, no trees, no grass, only sand. And in it sheep, and a man with a stick, walking. Well, he wasn't walking since it was just an image but it looked like he was walking.

As the door of the shop opened, the boys got excited. Here, they would be chosen, only 5 or 6 of them every day, to help the owner out. Apparently his images... "paintings" weren't selling so he did other things as well. "Alright. I need 5 people today. Who is strong?" The man, at least Ronan thought he was a man. His voice sounded like a girl, so soft and sharp at the same time, unlike any male voice Ronan had ever heard. But he was missing a few parts to be a woman. He didn't have the bulges on his chest like most older women did so Ronan figured he was a man. But his arms and legs were fine and thin, like those of a woman. And his skin was so white, like those important ladies he had seen in parades and gatherings, in their long robes and shiny outfits. And he didn't have the fine, soft face of a woman either. But he also didn't seem to have a beard. But the lack of bulges on his chest was pretty clear to Ronan. That man was a man. He was pretty proud of that observation, actually, having figured it all out by himself.

As soon as the man voiced his needs, some of the larger and broader kids elbowed their way forward to be picked. There was a lot of shouting and attention drawing until the man raised both his hands, very theatrical like. "Shh. Quiet, quiet." The crowd of children quieted down. Then he picked three of the strongest and broadest boys. "Now, I need two tiny, little boys. Very light ones." The remaining broad shouldered, muscled kids moved back and away, looking for a different place to find work today. Now it was the turn of the lightweights, drumming forward and shouting once again. The hands were raised again and everyone grew silent. Ronan, standing a little aside from the crowd, simply watched. With so many little kids around, his chances were low at best."You an~d... You." The two chosen kids moved forward as the rest moved back. No luck today. Perhaps another day.

Ronan, unlike most kids, wasn't so devastated by the events. He already had his 1 silver and three copper mizas, which was quite a bit already. And he had free breakfast and lunch, although not super tasty, to Ronan it was more than enough. A little boy only had a little stomach to fill. Ronan started to walk away from the crowd of children as it slowly dispersed in the street. Perhaps another day. So far, he hadn't been able to work here but he had heard that you could learn to make your own images of white and sand there. That sounded like something Ronan could do, right. With nothing better to do, Ronan walked from shop to shop, crossing the street between each one and asked the owners if they needed some help with anything. "Hey, mister. Do you need any help? I'm strong." - "Excuse me, miss. Could I help you with that?" - "Sir, do you have any need for someone like me? I can work hard for little pay." - "Excuse me, sir? Do you have any work for me?" - "Pardon me, miss. Can I carry that for you?" - "Hello boss? Need any help today?"

Apparently, today was not Ronan's day, at least not in the afternoon. Most people just said no or shook their heads but some of them tried to throw him out, calling him filth and a thief, even though Ronan had never met them before nor had he ever stolen anything in his life before. One of the older shopkeepers, a woman, scared him away with a few well aimed hits of her broom, which were not too hard, but enough for Ronan to know that he wasn't welcome there. The boy was used to all these rejections already and it didn't bother him too much to be thrown out or scared off. He was just offering help. If they didn't want it, it was their loss. Little did he know that this attitude towards rejection would be one of his strong suits when he grew up.

by **Ronan Dugal** on March 23rd, 2013, 11:09 am

With nothing else to do but go from shop to shop, Ronan worked his way down the street, constantly staying polite, even when he got kicked out. It paid to stay calm and collected and besides, nothing could ruin his day. Someone would need his help at some point so Ronan continued with his quest for another job or task to do. It took him some time before someone finally told him he had something to do for the boy. The shop Ronan was in was stacked to the top with paper. Left and right paper covered paper. They looked like little bags of paper. The man opened one of the bags and put a piece of paper in it, closed it and then smacked it with a piece of wood after dripping some candle wax on it. Curious, Ronan stepped forward. "What can I do for you, sir?" The man looked up from his paper and looked over Ronan with an inspecting eye. "You know where the White Swan Inn is, son?" Ronan nodded enthusiastically. "Alright. Take this and deliver it there. Come back here for your pay. If you open the envelope or if you're not back in half a bell, you don't get any pay. Clear?" Ronan nodded once more. The man made a grumpy sound before handing the envelope to Ronan and shooing him away.

Runner walked out, his fingers clenched tightly around the paper holder. He had no idea what en envelope was or how long it took for half a chime to end but he didn't take any chances. Once outside, the boy started running. He knew how to get to the White Swan Inn from here. Take a right on the next street. The boy's feet were carrying him as fast as he could. He took long boy-strides, which were actually small steps for an adult male but to Ronan they were long strides. His feet took him as fast as they could. The boy ran and ran. At the next right he turned the corner into another street. He followed it up to the next left. On the way he dodged people left and right. "Pardon me." - "Coming through." - "Runner coming through." - "Excuse me." He kept shouting warnings at the people he was about to pass. His feet continued to move him past buildings and shops, through busy streets and through empty streets. Next right. Then left. Straight to the end and then right again. Left once more. The coins in his purse were jingling together as he ran. Next right.

For a moment, Ronan's mind abandoned him. Right in front of him two giant, probably fire breathing horse with red eyes, fiery manes and hooves made of steel were pulling a cart at full speed. Realizing neither of them would be able to stop, Ronan put in a sprint. Instead of trying to dive back and out of the way, like most people did, Ronan ran faster and made a dive forward, unlike most people. The momentum of his run took him past the horses, who galloped right past him. Rolling over the stone streets, through the mud and dirt, Ronan was missed by the wheel of the cart by a hair's breath. The wood of the wheel passed by his nose and eyes, so close he could see the small cuts in it from the stone streets. Panting and breathing heavily, Ronan sat himself up on the stone streets. His knee and elbow hurt and his entire body felt like it had been punched. Upon closer inspection, his elbow was bleeding from a scratch but his knee was fine. The paper thing was fine as well and still closed. The delivery! Ronan panicked for a moment and turned into the street, once more running.

Upon the next left, Ronan saw the sign of the White Swan Inn. He ran straight for it, once again yelling his apologies to the people he passed or bumped into. In front of the door he stopped and waited for a moment, catching his breath as he cleared off his clothes from the dust from the dive he had taken earlier. With a knock on the door, Ronan entered a room akin to a palace. Everything was nice and shiny and white and gold and clean and the smell was great and there were people working and serving food and drinks and... and... Ronan's brain abandoned him for the second time that day as he just stared at the decor. Pulling himself back from his amazement, Ronan focused on his job. He walked forward to the desk and stood on his toes. "Delivery." He handed the slightly crumpled yet still intact envelope to the person behind the desk and turned around, leaving quickly. He didn't know how much time he had left, if any, so he started running back. His breath was already labored as the boy passed by the people in the street. This time, without a cart or horses trying to kill him, Ronan made it back to the shop. "Just in time. Here's your pay." The man handed Ronan a single copper Miza. "One copper Miza? I almost died deliveri-..." Ronan shut up instantly, reprimanding himself mentally for lashing out at the man. "Thank you, sir." Ronan faked a smile, not a very good one either, as he looked at the man and accepted the copper Miza.

"Take this to Garrick's smithy, in the merchant street." Ronan had no idea who Garrick was or where in the merchant street he would find him but he accepted the next paper. Once again it was closed with a stamp. "10 chimes or no payment." Ronan ran out with the paper in his hand and turned left, only to take an immediate right in to the next street. From there he ran straight to the end and to the right again, into merchant street. Now, where was Garrick's smithy? With no reading ability to read the dozens of signs in the street, Ronan looked around, trying to determine which shop was Garrick's. The sound of metal on metal drew Ronan down the street to a selection of no less than four different smithy's in close proximity of each other. "Great... Excuse me? Are you Garrick?" Ronan stepped into one of the smithy's as he asked his question to the owner. Or at least to the man who was swinging the hammer at the red heated metal. "Get out! That thief Garrick doesn't work here." Not very helpful. Ronan quickly ran to the next one. He got a similar response but at least the man told him that Garrick was across the road. So Ronan quickly crossed the street, slipping past a couple, brushing his elbow against the man's hip. "Pardon me. Runner coming through. Mr Garrick?" Ronan yelled into the shop. From behind a stack of wood and garbage, a bearded man lifted his head up. "Wut?" Ronan handed him the letter without a word and turned to run out. He had no idea how many chimes had passed, he had forgotten to count, so he ran back to the shop, retracing his own steps back.

"One copper Miza, son. You're late." Ronan sighed and accepted the money. He had no idea if he was late or not. Ronan started to realize how little he actually knew about anything and it frustrated him. Adults like this guy would keep taking advantage of him because he didn't know if they were right or not. The boy took the second copper miza to total his purse to fifteen copper mizas. "Thank you for letting me work for you, sir." Another attempted fake smile which looked more like a dog growling than a human smiling. Ronan removed himself from the store with his added mizas. He needed something to eat. Where to find something to eat?

by **Ronan Dugal** on March 24th, 2013, 5:28 am

Summer, 15th, Year 498

Ronan hadn't been so lucky the few days after. The jobs had been scarce and his total income for the entire three days had been a mere 2 silver mizas and 4 copper mizas. Or twenty and four copper mizas. Ronan smirked at himself as he walked through the streets of Syliras, looking for something to do. There's always one place you can go if you're looking for work. The pay was never really good and the work was difficult, usually, but there was always work. Although Ronan disliked it there, he figured that with the way his income was dwindling, he had to earn some money. And where to go besides the docks. The one place were people were always needed.

With his goal set, Ronan turned a left and started walking. It was still early in the morning, the first rays of sun were barely reaching over the walls of the city. The streets were devoid of people as Ronan turned into the next one. With no real obstacles on his way, the boy started to pick up the pace, placing his feet in front of one another, faster and faster until he couldn't go any faster. He rushed passed closed stores and houses as he maneuvered himself through the streets of Syliras. His little feet and short legs carried him as fast as possible towards the docks. The wind rushed through the boy's hair, waving it behind him as he ran. His breathing was calm and collected at first but it soon turned into heavy breaths to support the need for oxygen to keep his body going. By the time Ronan reached the street that moved down to the docks, the sun was already shining over the walls and was reflected in the water as well. The double glare of sunlight had Ronan squinting as he tried to cover his eyes from the sunlight. Starting his descent towards the water, Ronan started looking for a place to work at.

Near the water and the boats, a man was unloading crates from his own little boat, barely big enough for two people. It had no sail nor an anchor and was only moved by the physical strength of the man. "Excuse me, sir. Do you need help with that?" Without looking up, the man stepped in the boat and lifted another crate off of it. "No thanks, son. I'm fine." The man spoke as he got the last crate out of the boat. With the crate lifting job done, Ronan saw there was nothing to do here. Just as he turned away and started walking, the man spoke again. "Hey, son. You know how to gut a fish?" Ronan stopped and turned, looking at the man. He was an older man, although not an old man. His body was in shape, which Ronan could tell from the muscles on his arms and chest, and he smelled like... well, fish. "No sir. But I can handle a knife and I'm quick to learn. I also know how to salt meat and fish to keep it longer." He added the salting part as it was probably needed for the fish anyway.

"We'll see about that, son. Grab one of them crates and follow me." Ronan rushed to pick up the crate, while the man carried the other two. Following the man from the boat to one of the buildings across the street, overlooking the harbor and the water, Ronan entered the man's shop, at least he assumed it was the man's shop. It smelled like fish and salt. Ronan put the crate down next to the other two and stepped back from them. Looking around he saw two tables in the room and he recognized the salting vat and the smoking rack. The other things in the room were strange and unknown to Ronan. "Let's see if you know how to handle a knife, like you claim, son." And with that Ronan was handed a knife and a fish from one of the crates. "Right, son. You hold the fish like this. And then, with the knife, you make small scraping motions from the tail up to the gills. These are the gills. Just short scrapes, to get all them scales off of the fish. You don't want scales on your fish, trust me. Your turn." Ronan watched as the man explained what he did. He held the fish by the head and brought the sharp edge of the knife to the tail. From there he made short motions towards the head, scraping the scales off, which flew all around as he did. Once finished, Ronan could see how one part of the fish was now flat while the rest was still scaly. Then the spotlight was moved onto him.

Swallowing slightly, Ronan stepped forward to the table, which was slightly too high to be comfortable but nothing he couldn't solve with an empty crate under his feet. He held the fish by the head and placed the knife near the tail. From there he applied pressure as he brought the knife up to the head. One his first attempt, Ronan cut the entire tail off of the fish, which had the man laughing. "Careful, son. They're delicate. Don't apply too much pressure on the knife, just gently bring it up. The knife will do most of the work for you." Ronan, blushing, which he hated, placed the knife near the end of the cut off tail and brought the knife up to the gills. He applied no pressure what so ever and the knife took off parts of the scales. Slowly but surely, Ronan managed to take off the scales of the fish, learning how much pressure was needed and where. The first fish took him about ten chimes, in which the man had scaled off five different fish.

But Ronan didn't give up. It might have been difficult for him but Ronan was more than willing to learn from his mistakes. The next fish was plonked on his table and he brought the knife to the tail, moving his hand towards the head and slowly taking off the scales of the fish. Still a few mistakes, but the fish had it's tail at the end of it, at least. The flesh of the fish was cut in several places, much like the previous one, from too much pressure on the knife. When he looked at his two fish and then at the pile of fish staking up on the man's table, Ronan sighed. He picked up a third fish and put it on the table. Time passed, Ronan didn't know how much, as he took off the scales of one fish after another. He watched the man descale the fish with ease, simple, quick stroked had the fish scales flying all over as the man worked. The only sound in the room was that of a knife's edge grating over the uneven surfaces of the scales of the fish. Neither the man nor the boy felt any desire to talk.

With all the fish done, Ronan had barely finished one crate, while the man had finished two crates and had helped Ronan with some of his crate, the man stepped back from the tables. "Get me bucket of water from the back and wash off the tables." Ronan put the knife down and moved to the back, where a big tub of water stood, waiting, next to a bucket. With the bucket, Ronan scooped water out of the tub and walked back into the room. Using the water from the bucket he quickly cleaned off the table, making sure no scales were left on it. Once he was done, he put the bucket aside and turned to the man. "Done." - "You sound so eager, son. I like it." With a smile the man flopped one of the fish on the table. "Now, we take the knife and place it here. And from there we cut, slowly, making small sawing motions, be careful to only use the tip of the knife, and cut all the way up to the gills, once again." He explained as he expertly cut the fish open from the tail to the head. "And then. Hupsakee! We pull out all the guts of the fish and throw it in the empty bucket here." The sudden sight and smell of the dead fish's guts upset Ronan's stomach and the boy had to take a moment to prevent himself from throwing up.

Still a little queasy, the boy stood back on top of his crate and pulled one of the fish towards him. With the knife point, he poked near the tail of the fish and penetrated the skin. Slowly he moved the knife towards the gill and the head of the fish. He imitated the sawing motions of the man as he moved the tip of the knife in and out of the skin of the fish. The knife stopped near the gills of the fish and Ronan pulled it out, placing it on the table. The next part of his job he disliked immensely. With a frown on his face, his lips curled down and his nose pulled up, Ronan reached inside the fish with his finger. "Ugh... It's so... Eww." Ronan's fingers touched all sorts of slippery stuff. And the smell. And the liquid. Making sure his mouth was tightly closed, Ronan held his breath as he hooked his fingers behind the guts of the fish. Slowly, he pulled his hand out of the fish, making sure he held onto the slippery, wet, gooey, smelly stuff in his hand. Once it was out, he dropped it into the bucket. Bringing his hand up to his nose to halt the smell, the boy reconsidered as the smell only got worse the closer his hand got to his nose.

To the man, it was all fun and laughs as he watched the boy work the fish. He gave him another one and made sure the procedure was done correctly again. Ronan tossed the guts into the bucket, the same unhappy and disgusted expression on his face. "Well, son. You were right. You are pretty good with a knife." The man chuckled at Ronan as he turned to his own table and pulled a fish on it, the knife splitting the fish in two in a split second. The guts were removed a moment later and he moved onto the next one. Ronan, not too happy about it, pulled his third fish towards him. Both the man and the boy worked at their top speed, gutting the fish. Time passed once more and the stack of ungutted fish grew smaller while the stack of gutted fish grew larger. Once they were finished, Ronan quickly rushed to the bucket to wash off his hands and the tables, without waiting for instructions. "You get used to it if you do it enough, son."

The last task was to clean out the fishes with water, making sure all the blood and scales were gone from the fish. The process was simple and Ronan picked it up quickly. Take a bucket of water and scoop water over the fish while using your hands to clean the in- and outside of the fish. At least for this part, Ronan more or less managed to keep up with the man. Once they were done with the descaling and the gutting and the cleaning, Ronan helped the man to load the cart with the fish. "Come back in the afternoon, son, and I'll have another job for you." Ronan helped him push the cart outside after which the man locked the door behind them. With the promise of more work later on, Ronan was only slightly disappointed by the lack of payment for the moment.

Summer, 15th, Year 498 (afternoon)

In the afternoon, after having found a job to keep him busy in the meantime, Ronan was patiently waiting outside of the house where he had been in the morning. He waited for quite some time, often jumping up when he saw a cart being pulled by a man appear in the distance. Just as often was he disappointed when the cart took a turn before reaching the shop or simply passing by the shop. When finally the man returned with his cart, Ronan felt a weight fall off of his shoulders. At least he hadn't been cheated by the man. "Well son, I see you're back. Ready for some more work?" He winked at Ronan as he unlocked the door. With help from Ronan, the two moved the cart inside. With a quick glance, Ronan could see that the man had sold quite a few of his fish during the day. "Did you do any business?" The man simply smiled at Ronan as he started to unload the cart onto the table, stacking all the fish neatly next to each other. Ronan rushed to his aid and together they emptied the cart in no time. After placing the cart where it had been in the morning, the man picked up one of the knives and took a fish to his table. "You said you know how to salt so I'll show you how to pickle a fish."

From the inside, the man cut off the fish from the bones, scooping up with his knife to get as much of the fish off of the bones as possible. The remaining fish and bones he put aside for some other purpose. For Ronan it wasn't so easy. The boy struggled with the fish and the bones and often had to manually take out some remaining bones. Where the man left an entire bone carcass of the fish, Ronan left bits and pieces and separate bones. After half of the fish had gone through the bone removal process, the man told Ronan to stop and leave the rest for the salting. Once the remaining fish were deboned and stacked, the man gathered all the bones in a bucket and brought them to the back, where he left the bucket. When he returned he had several jars and pots in his arms, to which Ronan rushed to help, taking some of the jars out of his hands and placing them on the table. The jars were all filled with water, probably from the tub in the back. Once they were placed on the table, the man put a pouch next to them. As he opened it, Ronan could see leaves and twigs, probably from plants. "Now, to pickle something we simply keep it in salt water, with some herbs or other flavors, perhaps some vinegar, and wait." That sounded like an easy job.

The two quickly started, opening a jar and scooping in a decent amount of salt from the salting vat, mixing it with the water already inside. Once that was in, Ronan would pluck off some of the leaves from the plants in the pouch, which smelled like nature and something strong, yet sweet. The leaves were put in the salt water as well. Then, he took pieces of the fish they had deboned and, after listening to the man explain things, he would cut the fish into bite sized portions. About the length and width of the man's thumb. The portions disappeared in the jar as well, which then got resealed and put aside. With Ronan filling the jars with salt and herbs and the man chopping up the fish in the mean time, the job ended quickly and most of the jars were filled with fish, at the beginning of the pickling process.

"Wear this, son, and start salting the remaining fish while I store these away underground." Ronan took the piece of cloth the man pointed at an, upon closer inspection, noticed that it was an apron, used to wear in front of other clothes to protect them. Ronan eyed his fish scale and guts covered outfit and sighed. "You couldn't have told me that sooner?" He said as he put on the apron. Two by two, Ronan carried the fish to the salting table, stacking them up on the side and placing the last one in the middle of the table. Afterwards he moved his crate to that table so he could work on it properly. With a scoop he took out a portion of the salting vat and sprinkled it royally over the fish. With his hands he started to rub the salt into the fish and made sure not to forget the inside of the fish as well. Once done, Ronan would place the fish on one side and pick up another one and continue the process. Same as with the meat, Ronan made sure every bit of the fish was salted, from the tail to the snout and the insides as well. The apron and Ronan's hands and forearms were soon covered in salt and blood and fish pieces as the boy constantly wiped his hand at the apron between every fish. The stack to his left, the one with the unsalted fish, quickly diminished while the stack to this right, with the salted fish, increased as the boy worked.

The man had been moving back and forth with the jars, moving them in the back to someplace underground, apparently. Ronan had no idea where it was, since he hadn't seen any doors or hatches when he had been in the back. The man remained in the back for a while after Ronan had finished with salting all the fish. He had even stacked them neatly in two crates, dividing them evenly over the two. "Well, you weren't wrong about your knife and salting skills, son." The man said as he walked out the back area once more. He was drying his hands at a piece of cloth. Ronan was busy taking off the apron and turned around to look at him. "Thank you, sir." Ronan nodded towards him. "Well, son. If you ever need more work I got fish that need gutting and salting and pickling every day so you can come back whenever you want." And with that, the man moved his hand into his pocket and pulled out a silver Miza and handed it to Ronan. Overcome with joy and surprise, mostly surprise, Ronan thanked the man over and over as he accepted the money. Ten copper Mizas for one job. Ronan smiled and thanked the man until he was outside of the shop and even for a little longer after he had already walked out of earshot from the shop. The silver Miza in his hand felt cool to the touch and was worth a lot more to Ronan than just 10 copper Mizas. It was well earned money he had gotten for doing a good job.

by **Ronan Dugal** on March 27th, 2013, 9:59 am

Summer, 15th, Year 498 (between his other job)

With the man currently not needing his skills, Ronan had nothing better to do than to wander around the docks and find something to eat. With the money he had gathered the days before, Ronan could afford something more filling than bread but, on the other hand, if he did he would lose some of his money that he made so far. Deciding on a place, Ronan bought himself some bread and some cold cut meat to go with it. It wasn't anything fancy but for the boy it was more than enough. With this he could fill his stomach and have some leftovers for later as well. The meat was a nice, yet cheap, addition to his meal. Sitting himself on a lone barrel, Ronan ate and waited. The man had said to come back after noon but not specifically when.

With not much time to go on, the boy simply wandered around the harbor, exploring a little. Although he couldn't read anything on the boards of the shops and houses, Ronan did manage to identify some places by the picture on the sign that was hanging outside of their building. He recognized a hammer and anvil one, which confirmed his suspicions of the clanging and banging he heard from inside. Further along the way, Ronan saw a sign that seemed to be a simple square, upon closer inspection Ronan could make out some of the worn out lines that used to make this square a wooden box. With no idea what it could mean, Ronan walked further along the docks and buildings.

From there the boy turned left, away from the docks and into a street that led to the upper town. It was long and straight, right to the top. But there was nothing interesting in it. Not to Ronan at least. The shops here were owned by scary people who always kicked Ronan when he used to come here for jobs. Apparently they didn't like the way he looked or something. The shops here usually sold things that came in on the ships from the trade routes. Very expensive stuff for someone like Ronan. Perhaps that's why they didn't want Ronan around. Because they thought he might steal some of it. Shrugging, Ronan turned away from the street and headed back down to the store, which he passed by after checking to see if the man had already returned.

Still having nothing better to do, Ronan walked in the opposite direction and watched as people were scurrying about to do their jobs, carrying crates or attempting to get the attention of people to their own wares. Their voices shouted over the buzz and noise of the harbor. Ronan's eyes darted from left to right as he looked at everything happening around him. The overwhelming variety of everything had the boy's mind spinning as he looked around in wonder. His mind was unable to fathom the extent of the different people here as he watched how a person was flying around with wings and the next moment a giant ape walked by, talking to someone next to him. In Common!!! Most people looked quite human although one woman had no legs but slithered over the ground like a snake. And then Ronan got passed by a group of teeny tiny statues, almost like dolls. The wonder didn't stop as Ronan wandered around through the harbor. With nothing to do but to look, Ronan started to turn back, making sure that he was back in time so he could help the man and get paid for today's work.

by **Ronan Dugal** on March 28th, 2013, 2:51 pm

Summer, 21st, Year 498

The summer was passing by slowly. Ronan managed to keep his income on the positive side, earning more money than he spent. The only problem now was that he couldn't really hide it on his person all the time, at least not without jingling like a knight in full armor, and he couldn't keep it in his room either because he shared that with five other kids like him who probably wouldn't mind the free money. So, in order for Ronan to keep his money safe he had to find a place to hide it. The only problem was that Ronan didn't know any places to hide stuff that the other kids didn't know about. Most of the hiding spots were shown to him by some of the more street smart kids. With that in mind, Ronan thought about the problem. At the moment, the problem wasn't so much the giant stack of Mizas but the fact that they constantly bumped into each other in his purse and hidden purse, causing the noise.

Like any other street kid, Ronan's clothes were simply an old outfit with added layers of patches every time the clothes were about to tear or wore out too much. The original outfit was barely visible underneath the chessboard of patches Ronan had sewn on it. The colors were also off and made it look like Ronan consisted of multiple colors and squares. At least the different layers of patches kept him warm when it as cold out. The wind barely got through the thick layers of clothing and patches combined. At first, Ronan had to ask the other kids to help him with those patches, teaching him how it was done. The basics of the process were easily understood by the boy, as it was just moving the needle in and out. Over time, with the added practice of the patches on the worn and torn clothes he got, Ronan had learned how to use a needle and thread, in combination with a small piece of cloth or leather, to patch up his own clothes.

Now, with that knowledge in mind, Ronan pondered his situation. These clothes would probably not go anywhere any time soon and would probably see more patches over time. What if he applied a patch with a Miza in it? But then he couldn't get the money when needed. As he walked out, the boy's mind started to hatch a 'cunning plan' to use his clothes as a safe for his money. By the time he had reached the nearest clothing shop, the boy had a full plan in his mind. For a few copper Mizas, he bought a set of simple sewing needles, second or third hand, he wasn't sure, and a bunch of thread. Afterwards, with his new items in his pockets, Ronan went to some of the more popular spots where people dumped a lot of their stuff and started to sift through the garbage for any usable cloth or other fabrics. After a while of sifting through other people's stuff, Ronan had gathered himself quite a few pieces of fabric, torn and old, stained and ripped. It didn't matter to him.

With his resources gathered, Ronan found himself a quiet spot and sat down, spreading the items out in front of him. He took of his shirt, leaving his chest naked to the cooler morning air, and turned it inside out. With a few extra rips, he turned one of the pieces of cloth into a semi square patch and placed it on the inside of his shirt, below the arm. With slow and inexperienced motions, he started to sew the patch to the shirt, making sure that it was open from one side while being closed from the three others. With this makeshift pack/pocket, Ronan had set his first step on the road to treasure hiding and secrecy. From his purse he took two of the four silver Mizas he had and put it in the pocket. With the silver safe in it, Ronan sewed the top shut but in such a way that a single pull on the thread sticking out would open the hidden pocket and allow him to use the money in it.

Testing the new pocket, Ronan turned his shirt upside down and shook it. To his satisfaction, the coins remained inside. When he shook the shirt roughly, their close proximity and inability to move made it impossible for the coins to clash together and creating the tingling noise of coins. Satisfied, Ronan put the shirt down and started to form a second pouch with another piece of fabric. Using his teeth, Ronan tore part of the fabric off and shaped it in a sort of square shape. They were never squarely square Ronan had found, as the boys lacked any sort of real tailoring tools or even a simple scissors. The few boys that carried around anything sharp were mean to Ronan and his companions and always tried to take their money by force. Grabbing the needle, Ronan started to sew the patch on the inside as well, using the same process as before. A sudden prick of pain had Ronan suck on his finger as the needle had pierced the skin. A silent curse to himself was all the boy uttered before continuing, making sure that he didn't bleed any on his shirt.

With his silver Mizas all hidden away on the inside of his shirt and sleeves, Ronan looked in his poor man's purse, now only containing a dozen copper Mizas. It wouldn't even feed him for a whole week if needed. But lucky for Ronan there was no need for that. He had some decent jobs lined up now that he could work through whenever needed. And the fisherman had said he could always use more help with the fish. Putting his shirt back on, Ronan tested his newest idea again by jumping around and trying all sorts of body movements that generated a lot of coin tingling. With his purse of copper Mizas still on the ground, Ronan moved around silently and the coins remained silent. Picking up all his things, the needles, the thread and fabric and his purse, Ronan put it all in place. With the annoying pain in his finger continuing Ronan started to head back to the house where he stayed.

As he turned the corner, the boy immediately knew something was wrong. Besides the fact that there was a big guy with a dumb face standing right next to the door, looking around, Ronan somehow sensed that there was trouble ahead. Just as he was about to turn two other big dumb looking guys came out, pulling two of Ronan's companions out of the house they stayed in. And they all noticed him. Ronan froze, his usually swift and dependable mind freezing and blanking out. He just stood there, waiting and watching as the group approached. After a poke from a piece of wood from one of the three big guys, one of his companions stepped forward, an obvious look of pain and fright on his face. "Hey Ronan. Don't run away. Everything is fine." Everything wasn't fine. Ronan could tell. The boy, Klep or Kep or something was his name, had motioned his hand as he spoke. Although afraid of the bigger boys and their makeshift clubs Kep, Ronan was sure that was his name, had still motioned with his hand. Stating the obvious his hands moved in front of his chest as he spoke. Both his hands were raised around the middle of his body. As he spoke, his hands moved up to about shoulder height.

When Ronan had been little and he had been away from home with friends or alone he often fell into an ambush from his father and got beat up. After a while, Ronan had made a signal with the boy living next door. When the other person got home, they would draw the attention from their neighbor, through throwing small rocks through the window or whispering really loud, and they would receive a signal. A combination of hands shown would tell the other person if their father was already asleep or not. This had helped both boys with avoiding their parents and the beatings they handed out. The signal back then had been one hand for safe and two for danger. Now, Ronan watched as Kep moved both his hands to shoulder height, his palms towards Ronan and his fingers pointing outwards. From this simple signal, barely visible to anyone not looking for it, the boys knew that things were not alright. In fact things were really bad. "Hey Ronan. Don't run away. Everything is fine." was what everyone else heard. DANGER! RUN! was what Ronan heard, or rather, saw.

With the signal drawing his attention, Ronan suddenly snapped out of it. Noticing how two of the three bigger guys had almost crossed the distance between him and them, Ronan turned around and started running. At first it was a panicked 'got to get out of here' run, straight down the street. Behind him he could hear the sound of the bigger guys following, their long legs slowly catching up to him. More quickly then expected, Ronan's mind took over, turning his entire body in its instinctual survival mode. Taking a sharp turn down the next alley, Ronan lost sight of the big guys for a moment but then they were after him again. Through the alleys the chase went, Ronan's sense of direction quickly fading, together with his awareness of where he was. The next left brought his pace to a sudden halt as he looked at the wall in front of him. In one corner there were a stack of boxes but the rest of the alley was empty. With nothing else for it, Ronan rushed for the boxes. Behind him the sound of feet stomping on the ground grew louder and he could almost feel how the hands reaching for him missed him by only a hair's breath.

His feet and light body carried him up and up over the boxes, not slowing down as the boy simply ran up to the top of the wall. His legs stretched out to the maximum as his body moved up, away from the ground. His foot touched on the roof of the building and with a small and short smile, Ronan rushed over the rooftops, running for his life. Well, not his life but at least his purse and not receiving another beating. His smile broadened as he heard the sound of wood snapping, crashing and cursing and screaming. Apparently the boxes had been unable to support one or both of the big guys. Checking behind him Ronan ran further. Seeing nobody chasing anymore he started to slow down as he focused back in front of him. But already too late. His left foot was stepping into nothingness. As the lack of support, combined with mother gravity, pulled the boy down he cursed at himself for looking back. The greeting he got from the floor of the building he had fallen into was hard and rough and everything but friendly. Black spots gathered in front of Ronan's vision as he gasped for air, trying to breath, trying to fill his lungs with anything besides the void that was there now. With no air to fill his lungs, combined with the overload of pain to the little boy's body, Ronan's vision turned completely black as he passed out.

Later, Ronan couldn't tell how much time had passed, Ronan woke up. It took him a few moments to realize where he was and to wrap his mind around what had happened. As Ronan tried to push himself up from the floor, everything protested. His entire body hurt, his jaw felt like someone had kicked it and his chest felt squashed together, making it difficult and painful to breath. Limping from the fall, Ronan started to head out, trying to find his way back to see if anything could be saved. The lace would probably be trashed, as usual, and the big boys would be gone. It happened a few times each season. They called it protection money. As Ronan limped his way through the streets it occurred to him that his limping lacked one important thing. There was no sound of coins tingling together coming from his purse.

by **Ronan Dugal** on March 29th, 2013, 5:08 am

Summer, 28th, Year 498

Stables, Ronan really didn't like being near one, let alone in one but the fact that it was the only job that had come Ronan's way today, he had persuaded himself to take on the job. Afraid and nervous, Ronan eyed the horse in the box he was supposed to clean. The giant brown animal stared back at Ronan, deep black eyes telling Ronan that he would be dragged into hell if he ever decided to touch the animal. From the perspective of the other stablehand, there was a frightened young boy who was staring at a small, barely larger than a pony, brown horse with a good natured character and a slightly naughty streak, still young but intelligent when it came to training. Or at least, that's what the owner claimed. The horse was kept here in the stables since the owner didn't have the room or the garden to keep the horse in.

Careful, afraid and on edge, Ronan reached out to try and grab a hold of the leather head piece the horse was wearing. Just as he was about to wrap his fingers around it the horse suddenly moved. Its head moved up as it squealed at the boy, the sharp and short 'EEE' sound running through the boy like a curse. His reaction was, to his own mind, natural but the stablehand that was watching was laughing about it. Ronan had retreated to the other side of the room, with his back against the box there, sitting on the ground, staring in horror at the animal in front of him. Young Ronan didn't like horses at all.

With the help of the much more experienced stablehand, Ronan managed to move the horse from its box to one across the room, which was already clean. Ronan made sure he kept a good distance from the horse and the box it was in now. With the hay fork in hand, Ronan started to shovel the horses dirt and hay out of the box and into a crate. The crate had two handles and a wheel, which Ronan thought was fascinating. It made it so much easier to move the crate. With a few trips back and forth, Ronan managed to clean out the entire box. After dusting out the box and making sure everything was clean, no spiderwebs or any other insect houses around, Ronan, following the instructions of the other stablehand, covered the floor with sawdust from a large bag in the hallway. He had to move between the bag and the box a few times, using the crate-on-wheel, apparently called a wheelbarrow. With the floor of the box covered in sawdust, Ronan got to step two of the process and started wheelbarrowing in fresh hay for the box.

Dumping it on the floor, Ronan listened as the other stablehand explained that he needed to spread it out and make sure it didn't stick together too much. So with the fork and his bare hand, Ronan started to pull apart the hay for the box, spreading the hay out over the sawdust covered floor. The last step would be to refill the water and food cups for the horse. They called them cups but they were easily bigger than any plate or cup Ronan had ever used. Filling them with water and food for the horse, Ronan finished his job. Now all he had to do was to bring that monster of a horse back to its original box. A true test of any hero, Ronan was sure about that.

A good fifteen minutes later, Ronan had managed, under the watchful eye of the other stablehand, to move the horse from the one box to the other, barely 6 paced apart from each other. At least the horse hadn't attempted to eat him or anything. With the box finished, Ronan steeled himself for what was to come next. With a two handfuls of dry hay, Ronan moved towards the box and the horse. Using his left hand, he tried to get the horse's attention while his right hand started to rub over the horse as he made sure all the dirt and sand and sweat was off. He started near the head and worked his way down to the shoulders of the beast. At least it focused on the hay in Ronan's let hand and not on the potential snack Ronan himself might provide. As Ronan worked his eyes constantly shifted between his work area and the head of the creature, just to make sure that it wasn't looking at him in any funny way.

As the hay in his left hand ran out, Ronan noticed that the horse didn't really show any interest in the boy and ha focused both his hands on the job. The sooner he finished, the sooner he could get out of there. His hands moved to rub over the horse's forelegs and torso, rubbing all the dirt away with the hay. Dropping the now sandy hay, Ronan grabbed another handful and continued. The work took him some time, as his paranoid and scared looks towards the head of the horse kept interrupting his focus and his time. Every time the horse moved or shuddered Ronan always tried to back away in a panicky, twitchy sort of way but the box never left him enough room to do anything besides a single step backwards. With all his might, Ronan made sure that he wouldn't be backed into a corner and trapped or even squished. He pushed back against the horse whenever it would trap him in the corner, using all his little might to make sure the horse left him room to escape if necessary.

With one side of the horse more or less clean, Ronan maneuvered his way around the horse, making sure to go around the front and to avoid any and all contact with the rear. The tail swishing around made Ronan more nervous than the size of the creature. On the other side of the horse, Ronan started all over again, using dry hay to rub down the horse and to take care of whatever sand and sweat had gotten stuck on it. By the time the boy had finished his job, there had been a noticeable change in Ronan and his attitude towards the horse. Although still scared and nervous, Ronan had learned that pushing back against a horse or showing that you're in charge did not mean you would get eaten. With his scared mind accepting this fact, the boy's attitude changed a little as well.

by **Ronan Dugal** on April 1st, 2013, 2:18 am

Summer, 36th, Year 498

"Hello sir, would you like an apple today? Very fresh. Very juice. How about a cherry, sir?" The man passed him by without even a glance. Well, still nothing sold. Ronan was walking around the docks with his box of fruit under his arm. A joint venture between him and some of his housemates, they had pooled their money together and bought themselves a bunch of fruit, using their young, sad, lonely boy look to get the woman to sell it to them for cheap. It had taken a few days of preparation in which Ronan had predominantly been in charge. Most of the other boys were just not smart enough to lead or they had no idea what they were doing when it came to making money.

The first step of Ronan's plan had been to find a local, preferably older, lady who sold fruit. In order to do so he had split his little band of collaborators over the merchant streets and docks, searching out possible targets. In the end, when they pooled their information together, they had cut it down to three. In all of Syliras, there were three old ladies selling fruit that looked gullible enough to trick into selling things cheap to underfed, young orphan boys. Not that they really had any of those in the group but they all could look like one. Once again splitting his team up, Ronan divided them in three groups. He would take the first group to the market and the other two groups would go to the other two women. The money had been split over the groups evenly. Most of them couldn't count anyway so it was up to Ronan to make sure that the money was more or less evenly divided over everyone.

What Ronan hadn't mentioned was the now six silver Mizas that he had sewn away in his clothing, which was safely stored away there from prying eyes and the big boy bullies. They didn't need to know. With the money divided over the three groups, they had set out, each in their respective direction, heading for the old lady they were about to con. For Ronan's group it had gone quite well. The woman was almost in tears when she saw Ronan and his friends as they came begging for some fruit. They hadn't eaten in a few days and their parents had left them and now they had to fend for themselves. The more Ronan and his friends talked to the woman the more fruit she loaded in the basket. What had started off as a three apple and four carrots basket was now filled to the brim with fruit and vegetables, including a small red ball called a cherry, which was very delicious according to the woman.

Doing their best to look overburdened and happy to no end, Ronan handed over the third of the money they had pooled together, barely enough to pay for half of the fruit basket they were carrying now. One of the other boys, Kep, overly dramatic as usual, thanked the woman to no end and even gave her a hug on top of it all. They walked out together, carrying the fruit basket between them. Finding themselves a good spot, a little out of sight, they started to divide the fruit and vegetables in two. The plan was simple. Two of them would carry around half of the stuff they got and try to sell it while the two others kept an eye out and at the same time tried to draw attention to the two others so that they would sell more. A combination of illegal tricks, often used for pickpocketing, and tricks that Ronan had picked up in the varies shops he had worked in.

"Sir, how about a nice apple? Some carrots or perhaps a cherry?" The man looked down at him and smiled before giving Ronan a kick under his butt to scare him off. Asshole... "Excuse me, miss." Ronan stood in the middle of a well dressed woman's path. "Would you like to buy some fruit or vegetables? They're very tasty." Ronan curled his lips up, trying a boyish and innocent smile. "Oh? How much for the apple?" Ronan looked at his selection and picked up one of the apples. "Only 2 silver Mizas, miss." The woman turned to one of the men that was standing slightly behind her. "Ereck, give this boy two silver mizas for his apple." Ronan looked at the man as he was handed his money and gave the apple in return. How curious, letting someone else carry your money...

The selling continued as Ronan switched out with one of the other boys in his group. He started to mingle with the crowd and point towards his friend with the basket, talking about how good the fruit and vegetables that he had were. How delicious that one cherry was. The single cherry seemed to be unsellable for some reason and Ronan wondered why. Perhaps the price was too expensive or the cherry was actually bad. He didn't know as he had never seen or eaten a cherry before. As time passed, their basket started to empty. The apples were sold the easiest, followed by the carrots, who were all bought by one guy who said he could use them for cooking. Whatever he talked about next was gibberish to the boys but at the end they all felt hungrier than before. As time passed, their basket got emptier and, even though they tried to make it look fuller by distributing their total goods over the two carriers, the more time passed the less was in the basket. The cherry hadn't been sold yet.

With Ronan's turn coming up again, he looked in the basket as he carried it. There were only a few items left. When he looked in the purse he noticed they had already made more money than they had started with. With the last onion, the only cherry and an apricot in the basket, Ronan prepared himself for a final run through the harbor. "Excuse me, sir. Would you like to buy one of my items?" With these being his last items and his selection looking so poor, Ronan brought up his poor and hungry face all over again. "Interested in a delicious onion? Or an apricot?" A delicious onion? Did that even exist? "Miss, would you like to buy an apricot? It's very delicious." - "Excuse me, would you like to buy an onion or a cherry? I got an apricot as well." - "Delicious onion! Delicious Apricot! Buy them here!" Ronan's voice got progressively worse as he continued to address people in the street but it worked as soon the onion and apricot were sold as well.

With a little money from their collective pool, Ronan send one of the boys out to acquire some lunch for the entire group. Simple loaves of bread, as per usual. Even with that cost taken from their money pool, Ronan's group alone had made a profit. He wondered how the other groups had fared. With the purse in his pocket and the bread under their arms, Ronan's group headed back to their house where they waited for the other boys. They didn't have to wait long as the hunger and the sold out goods brought the other two groups back as well. They had all made profit, around the same amount as Ronan's group. They handed the purses to Ronan and received loaves of bread in return for their hard work. While everyone was eating, Ronan was dividing the money over everyone. For every silver Miza the boy shad put in the pool, Ronan was able to return them an extra 7 copper Mizas. After dividing everything up, the remaining two copper Mizas that were undivideable were handed to Ronan after the group had decided it had been his idea and his plan so he would receive a little more than the rest. With his two copper extra, Ronan pocketed all the money.

Flashback Road to an Empire: Beginnings