A young boy, just twelve years old, stepped out of the dilapidated orphanage. His clothes were worn and shabby, his brown hair and eyes unremarkable. At first glance, he seemed like any other child from an orphanage. But appearances could always be deceiving.
The young boy made his way down the street, his feet carrying him with purpose towards a tavern a few blocks away. The boy pushed open the heavy wooden door, the familiar scent of food and drink greeting him. The bartender nodded in recognition as the child approached.
The child frequented the tavern after all. "Good morning, Mr. Baldorn." The young boy greeted the bald bartender who was busy cleaning the insides of a glass cup.
The bartender paused his cleaning and raised his head, his eyes meeting with the boy's, "good morning, young Turai."
Mr. Baldorn, the middle-aged bartender quickly dropped the glass, pushing it aside before looking at the boy once more. "What can I get you?" He asked.
"A glass of warm milk, please," the boy requested politely. "And a loaf of bread with some warm meat porridge."
'Again, huh?' The bartender raised an eyebrow but said nothing as he prepared the order.
The boy counted some pieces of coins carefully, placing them on the counter. Once his meal arrived, he ate with a quiet intensity, savoring each bite.
It was a short but satisfying meal for the young boy who quickly ordered abot r glass of milk when the first glass finished. When he finished his meal, he slipped out of the tavern without a word and only a nod to the bartender to show his appreciation.
Outside, the town bustled with its usual mix of activity. It wasn't the worst place to live, but it had its share of troubles.
Turai made his way to another shop, this time ordering a large box of food. "Good morning, Mrs. Lena, I'm here to pick the daily order as usual." Turai stated upon arriving at the door of another shop.
The door quickly opened and a middle-aged woman's head popped out.
"Oh my~, if it isn't little Turai." She looked quite busy and her breathing was unusually raspy. "I didn't think you'd be here this early so I got caught in the middle of something. Ohh~"
Hearing the sound at the end, Turai frowned as he knew it all too well. Still, he said no word but only sighed.
"Give me a few minutes and it'll be ready. Thank you~" As though pulled back inside, the lady vanished and the door closed. Then came a suspicious thud and Turai was forced to shake his head. "It's too early for that. Especially in your place of business."
As promised, ten minutes later, the door swung open again and a bulky man walked out with a victorious grin. He felt like a king who'd just conquered an enemy kingdom. He didn't even spare any glance at Turai and simply walked past him.
Behind him was Mrs. Lena who held a large boxed package. "Thank you for waiting a little. I'll be sure to compensate you next time." She winked at him as she handed the box to him.
Turai nodded, receiving the box and walking away without another word. She was sure to understand that he wasn't interested in anything she wanted to compensate him with.
It was almost comical to see him carrying a package nearly half his size as he headed back towards the orphanage.
As he neared the familiar building, something caught his eye. A group of men were entering the orphanage, their faces hard and intimidating. The owner greeted them at the door, ushering them inside with what looked like nervous energy.
"Who the hell are those?" Turai murmured to himself.
Seeing how the owner looked both left and right before closing the door behind the stranger's, the young boy's heart raced. He quickened his pace, determined to reach the orphanage before anything serious could happen. The weight of the box seemed to disappear as adrenaline coursed through his small body.
Thoughts raced through his mind as he approached.
'Who were these men? What did they want? And why did the owner seem so anxious?'
Despite his young age, the boy knew trouble when he saw it. He had learned early on that in this world, danger could come from unexpected places.
He reached the door, pausing for just a moment to catch his breath. The box of food was heavy in his arms, but he couldn't leave it outside. Whatever was happening inside, he knew the other children would need this food. Taking a deep breath, he pushed open the door and stepped inside.
The usual sounds of children playing and chattering were eerily absent. Instead, low, gruff voices drifted from the owner's office. The boy set down his box as quietly as possible and crept closer, straining to hear what was being said.
"You promised us this place," one of the men growled. "We've been patient, but our boss isn't known for his understanding nature."
The owner's voice quivered as she replied, "Please, just a little more time. The orphanage barely has enough to feed the children as it is." She was a middle-aged woman of average looks with black hair and little strands of white due to the stress from taking care of over twenty children, none of which were even hers.
A harsh laugh cut through the air. "That's not our problem, old woman. You made a deal, and now it's time to let go."
The boy's mind raced. He had always suspected the owner was involved in something shady, but this confirmation sent a chill down his spine. He looked around at the other children, huddled in corners or peeking out from behind doors. They were scared, and rightly so.
At that moment, the boy made a decision. He might look ordinary, but he was far from it. He had street smarts, courage, and a fierce protective instinct for the other orphans. He couldn't stand by and let these men threaten the only home he and the others had ever known.
With determination in his eyes, he stepped towards the office door. He didn't have a plan, not yet, but he knew he had to do something. The other children watched in a mixture of awe and fear as the seemingly ordinary boy prepared to face the dangerous men.
As he reached for the doorknob, he paused for just a moment. But then he thought of the other children, of the food he had just brought back, of the life they all deserved to have. With renewed resolve, he turned the knob and pushed open the door with a stern expression.
The men inside turned to look at him, surprise and then amusement crossing their faces. The owner's eyes widened in fear, silently pleading with the boy to leave. But the young orphan stood his ground, his ordinary appearance belying the extraordinary courage within him.
"Good day, gentleman," he said, his voice steady and his expression straightforward. "As the oldest child of the orphanage, I believe I should be a part of this conversation."