It was still hours away from sundown, and Abell was tired of waiting by the same wall. He didn't want to wander too far and risk getting lost in the unfamiliar city, but the boredom was starting to get to him. He had no particular destination in mind, but he knew he needed to get moving.
"Let's see if I can find a place to fight," he muttered, a grin spreading across his face. "Yeah, that's an inventive idea." He paused. "I'll just walk in this direc—"
Before he could finish his sentence, someone bumped into him with excessive force, knocking him back. "Hey, watch where you're going!" he snapped, rubbing his shoulder. Then, his heart skipped a beat. His sister's hilt and sheath—the one thing that always stayed with him—was gone. Abell's hand instinctively went to his back, but the sheath wasn't there. His pulse quickened.
"Aahhh, whoever took that sheath is gonna regret it!" he shouted, his voice rising with rage.
The marketplace grew quiet as people stared, and Abell quickly scanned the crowd. He spotted a hooded figure darting away through the crowd, moving fast. Without hesitation, he broke into a sprint, pushing past startled bystanders.
"Come back! You don't know what you're holding, damn it!" Abell yelled, his voice sharp with fury.
The hooded figure glanced back briefly, a mocking frown pulling at their lips. "I'm sorry…" they said sarcastically.
The comment stung, but it only fueled Abell's anger. I'm sorry? He thought, shaking it off as he locked his eyes on the figure. He wasn't going to let them get away with this.
The chase grew chaotic as Abell surged forward, weaving through market stalls, dodging crates, and knocking into a woman carrying baskets of apples. The apples fell to the ground, rolling in every direction. "Watch where you're going!" she yelled, but Abell didn't slow down. His focus was entirely on the thief.
The figure was fast—too fast. Every time Abell thought he was gaining on them, the thief would dodge and reappear, slipping effortlessly between people and obstacles. Abell's legs burned, his breath quickened, but he kept going, refusing to let up.
He was close now. The figure leapt onto a cart with fluid motion, swinging over it in one smooth motion. Abell tried to follow, but as he hurdled over a wooden crate, he stumbled and nearly tripped, losing precious ground.
"Damn it!" he growled, forcing himself back on course. The figure was rounding the next corner. The chase wasn't over yet.
The crowd thickened as Abell pushed through, the tight spaces forcing him to slow just a bit. People moved quickly in and out of his path, some oblivious to the chase unfolding in front of them. Abell's focus sharpened as he approached the last turn. He was almost there.
As he pushed past a group of traders, he saw the figure glance back at him, their eyes meeting for the briefest moment. That spark of recognition between them made Abell's anger flare, and in that instant, he found a second wind. He pushed forward, faster than before, just as the figure was about to make another escape.
But then—the figure ran into a dead-end.
Abell slowed, puzzled. The hooded figure rushed headlong into a wall, the space ahead completely blocked. "Check your eyes! You're heading straight for a damn wall!" Abell yelled, stopping a few paces behind, his voice dripping with confusion.
"Yes, I know," the figure responded calmly, their tone unfazed.
Then, in an instant, the figure slammed into the wall, but instead of crumpling or stopping, they dissolved into an afterimage, vanishing completely. The real thief was nowhere to be seen.
Abell froze, staring at the wall, his brain trying to process what had just happened. "Wait, what the hell? Where did they go?"
His eyes scanned the area—no sign of the real figure. All that remained was the fading afterimage of the thief running into the wall.
"Dammit! I lost them!" Abell cursed, frustration building as he desperately searched for any sign of the thief. The crowd continued to move around him, oblivious to the confusion and anger boiling inside him.
As he stood there, confused, two guards appeared from behind him, closing in from both sides. One kept his distance while the other moved in quickly, surrounding Abell.
Abell, still caught off guard, tried to strike at the advancing guard, but the guard easily dodged his attack and retaliated with a swift hit, sending Abell crashing to the ground. The guards in Hallion were far stronger, and Abell wasn't prepared for their experience.
"Finally, we caught one of you troublemakers," one guard sneered, standing over him. "Where's the other one?"
"I don't know!" Abell snapped, struggling to push himself up. "He stole something important to me!" His frustration was palpable. "Let me go! I've gotta find that sheath!"
"Yeah, sure, kid." The guard motioned to the other. "Take him in. Let's get him to the holding cells."
"First day in Hallion, and already causing trouble," the guard muttered, shaking his head. "This is why we stop letting so many outsiders in. No self-control."
"Cedris always makes the right decisions," the other guard added, as they dragged Abell away. "Even if we don't understand it. Look at this kid. Acting like a wild animal, tch."
The last words stung. "Damn, get off me!" Abell shouted for the last time before the guards knocked him out.
Meanwhile, above the city, on a rooftop:
The hooded figure watched from a distance, their eyes fixated on Abell, as the guards dragged him away. They glanced down at the sheath they had taken, now safely in their possession. Slowly, they drew it out, only to find that the sword was broken, the hilt the only thing intact.
"How am I supposed to make cash off this garbage?" they muttered, holding the broken hilt up to the light. Then, after a brief pause, they added, "Seems like it's important to him, though…"
They tucked the hilt back into their cloak, already calculating how to turn this into something valuable.
Abell awoke to the cold stone beneath him. His head throbbed, and for a moment, he couldn't remember how he had ended up in a cell. The faint clink of chains and distant murmurs of prisoners filled the air as he slowly rose, his mind still foggy.
His gear and money were gone. Worse, his sister's memento—the sheath with the broken sword—was nowhere to be found. He cursed under his breath. Luckily, the guards hadn't noticed his ability, so he could still defend himself if needed.
Abell stood up, legs unsteady from the cold ground. The damp stone walls and stale air made the place feel even more suffocating. A few guards stood at the entrance, talking in low voices. Other prisoners paced, muttering to themselves.
He looked up, and the crest of the Benedict family stared down at him—the owl's piercing gaze felt like it was judging him. "Dammit," he muttered, "in jail on my first day in the city. What's next?"
Frustration flared again as he thought of the memento—his sister's sheath. The hooded thief had taken it, and now he was stuck here, unable to do anything. He clenched his fists and scanned the room for a way out. But there was no window, no weak spot in the cell. Brute force seemed like the only option, but something told him that wouldn't work here.
Then Hugo's voice echoed in his head: "You gotta start using your brain, you can't be an idiot forever."
Abell scowled, shaking his head. "Shut up. You're no help right now," he muttered, trying to think. His anger clouded his thoughts, leaving him with the same useless idea: break out by force.
Just as he was about to pound on the bars, the creak of the door interrupted his thoughts. He turned sharply, expecting a guard. Instead, a burly man stepped inside, his presence commanding attention. Abell immediately recognized him.
It was the bulky guy—the same man who had been collecting sols from the old man in the village.
"Well, it seems like we meet again, young one," Wido said with a smug smile, crossing his arms. His tone was mocking, clearly enjoying Abell's discomfort.
Abell narrowed his eyes. "It's you—the bulky bastard from the village." His voice was thick with frustration.
Wido's smile widened, but his voice turned cold and commanding. "Yes, although please watch your language. You're in the greatest city in the country, Master Cedris's creation. Kindly refrain from soiling it with your crude words."
The mention of Cedris made Abell's blood boil. He was sick of hearing the Benedict name. "Whatever. Let me out of here. I didn't do anything wrong, Mr. Bulk-Up," Abell shot back, sarcasm dripping from his words.
Wido didn't flinch. Instead, he leaned forward, his voice taking on a more dangerous edge. "My name is Wido, the leader of the city guard, and I demand your respect." He paused for a beat. "You're not leaving this cell until your guardian comes to pick you up."
"Ugh, who knows how long that'll take?" Abell snapped, feeling a sense of helplessness creeping in.
Wido chuckled, clearly enjoying the situation. "Be grateful. If not for Hugo, I'd have you tossed out of the city, or worse—working in this prison until your sentence is up." His laughter echoed around the room, mocking Abell. "Consider yourself lucky. People like are trash, like most of the city, they shouldn't even be allowed to step in here and walk the same streets as the Benedict family."
"And remember don't try to break out, if not for Hugo, I could've killed you kid." He said walking away.
Abell's frustration surged again, but he held his tongue. He wasn't done. Whatever Wido's game was, it was just beginning.
Abell paced the cell, fighting the urge to pound on the walls. He had to think—getting out of here wasn't going to be easy.