A 12-year-old kid was dozing off in a narrow alleyway in the slums of the Empire when, suddenly, he heard someone call his name.
"William! William! William, are you there?"
The kid woke up in shock, sweating all over his body. The 12-year-old kid was William. He looked quite different from the other children his age in the slums. He was thin, but that was the only thing he had in common with the others. He had long, jet-black hair with streaks of red covering most of his forehead and his ears.
The boy ran towards the voice. The voice he heard was from an old baker.
"You want bread, boy?" the man politely asked William.
Old man was an 81-year-old baker living in the slums. He often saw William wandering around.
"Yes, please," the boy spoke, still sweating.
"You had a bad dream again?"
"Uhhh... it's nothing," William replied.
William took the bread and started mumbling to himself.
"Where should I sit today?"
Crunch, crack.
Will proceeded to step on some eggshells.
"I miss home," he said, a gloom covering his face.
"I'm starting to get used to the smell here. I guess that's a start."
The boy sat with his back against a wall in a narrow alleyway, munching his bread with a faint smile.
"Maybe things aren't so bad as they seem," he muttered. "It'll work."
Suddenly, William heard someone screaming his name. The moment he looked outside the narrow alleyway, he got punched in the face.
"Hahahaha! Stupid Willy!"
"Who gave you bread, huh? Gimme that, or I'll break your jaw!"
William looked petrified. He couldn't even speak without stuttering.
"I-It's uhh... m-mine! The old man g-gave it to m—"
Before he could finish, William was punched again, this time in the stomach.
"You think I care, huh?" said the muscular teenager, who looked about 14. He was a popular bully in the slums; his father owned an illegal fighting ring not far away.
William clutched the bread and ran. He ran again and again, not daring to look back. When he finally grew tired, he sat under a tree.
"Why am I so pathetic?" he whispered.
"I'm a coward," he added, his blue eyes beginning to water. "I miss Mom and Dad."
"Maybe I should get washed up near the river," he thought.
He started walking through the slums. The river was situated at the edge of the slums. Everywhere he looked, people were begging for food and basic necessities. Trash littered every corner he passed.
"The lord of this region must be sick to keep his people in such pain," Will thought to himself with a serious look.
All the houses were just combinations of mud, stones, cloth, and wood. He could feel everyone's unfriendly gazes on him. He didn't look like he belonged in these slums.
He finally reached the edge of the slum and briskly walked down a small hill to the river. He jumped into the water with a smile.
"This'll be fun," he thought.
But then he exclaimed, "Why the hell is it so cold?!"
He ran out of the river shivering.
"Maybe I shouldn't wash up today," he muttered.
Will sat beside a large boulder. It started to rain, and the sky grew dark.
"My shitty luck," he said. "This sucks."
Will bent his knees to his chest and tried to sleep.
Life passed like this, but after six months, he began to see a new, glimmering light.