Eryn begged for food in the streets of Veldria. He had been doing it for years. Once, he would wake up and stare at the stars. He used to wonder about the world. But that was six years ago. He didn't stare anymore. He didn't wonder. He didn't hope.
The streets of Veldria were in the lowest part of the kingdom of Hemric. They were narrow and rough. Sharp rocks littered the ground, cutting the feet of anyone without boots. People said the rocks were lucky. Long ago, invaders threw boulders at the kingdom. They landed here, but no one died. No buildings fell. The people thought it was a sign. They called it a blessing.
But Veldria wasn't blessed. It was dangerous. At night, men killed and robbed each other to get by. The smell of filth and death hung in the air. No one who had a choice came here.
Above the chaos, Garran's Tavern stood on a crooked street corner. Inside, boots pounded, doors slammed, and swords clashed. It was a loud place. It didn't stop.
Eryn sat at the bar. He was thin, his body all bones and scars. His skin smelled like the streets, and the smell never left him.
"Garran," he said as he reached for a glass of ale.
The tavern keeper looked up. He was fat, and his cheeks were always red. He smiled the way drunks smile. "The streets have been noisy since the king's decree," he said.
Eryn nodded. "I'm lucky I didn't wake to those heretics shouting about saving us."
"They're all the same," Garran said as he cleaned a glass. "Claiming this and that. But luck's thin these days."
Eryn stared into his empty glass. "Alyssa wasn't a heretic," he said. "She wasn't anything. They burned her anyway. Left her body in the street like garbage."
Garran stopped smiling. "Captain Garrick," he said. "He couldn't stand her saying no to him."
Eryn's knuckles went white around the glass. "I buried her," he said. "Behind the inn. Under the tree. No one else would do it."
Garran sighed. "It's always the same. Men like Garrick throw their weight around. And we're nothing to them."
Eryn stood. He looked around the room, the bright light of the tavern and the noise of the crowd. He tightened his jaw.
"Don't let them touch her grave," he said. Then he walked out, slamming the door behind him.
The streets were dark and empty. He ran through them, his feet pounding on the stones. He stopped at a broken door. It leaned against its frame, splintered and weak.
"This was the place I came to when the cold was too much," he said. He touched the door, his hand brushing the splinters. His voice was coarse and quiet. "But now there's no one left. Not you. Not Mother. Not Father."
He stood there for a moment, staring at the door. Then he walked away.
Eryn's chest tightened.
"Your life is a lie," a cold voice said. "But deception is your strength. Use the system. Change your fate."
[Illusionist System
Health: 10
"A thread, thin and frayed. One blow, and it snaps."
Stamina: 10
"Energy to move, fight, run. Every step burns it. At zero, you collapse."
Mana: 20
"The power for tricks and shadows. Without it, you're just another beggar."]
Eryn stared at the numbers. They didn't mean much. He wasn't sure they meant anything.
"The heretics got to me first," he said. His voice was flat. "Before I could reach you, I was already your target."
[Active Skills:
Veil of Shadows (5 Mana): Cloak yourself in darkness.
Echo Mirage (8 Mana): A copy of yourself.]
[Passive Skills:
Tongue of the Illusionist: You speak and it exists.]
Eryn didn't care, he only saw in front of him. He had ran toward the soldier barracks. Rocks pushed toward his small ankles.
He had one thing on his mind, "They wont get off easy," Eryn said as his boots tore and filled with blood. "Not with Alyssa."
The boy ran left and right through Veldria. The blood soaked pavement followed him. The cold breeze chilling the air.
When the cold froze his fingers in the past there was bone soup. The warmth of fire to melt the ice off his brow.
The barracks only a street away. The boy took his worn shirt and wrapped around his ankles. The leather frayed and he stepped forward. He was young but the scars on his body numbered many.
"Wake up boy," a deep voice said. "You'll find yourself under the tree with a body like that."
"Get away Garran," Eryn replied as he pushed the big belly man. "She's dead."
"Yes," the drunk replied as he stepped into the light. "You want to be next?"
"It doesn't matter."
"Nothing matters."
"Come inside and eat. You can't hurt nobody looking like bones." Garran replied as he stepped in front of Eryn. "Alyssa wont want a dead corpse next to her."
"Alyssa and her family want you with a round belly like mine, a smile, and long life."
"Garran, they killed Alyssa, they killed before." The boy said stomping and cutting through the cloth wrapped around his ankles. Then he clenched his knuckles.
"They always kill," Garran said reaching in his pocket to hand Eryn a knit scarf. "Yet you are still alive."
The eyes of Eryn focused on the knit scarf. Then he released his grip and tightened his jaw.
"What is this Garran," Eryn snatched the scarf. "You cant stop me."
"No," the drunk replied as he smiled. "Alyssa and her people will do that for me."
"Who gave this to you?" Eryn looked up at his smile and down at the scarf.
Who else but Alyssa, the drunk thought. We've toasted to many passing friends old and young. How could I not remember who this belonged to? Worse, why would she hold on to it for so long?
"Let's talk at the tavern," the smiled drunk said. "The scarf and those boot of yours cant hold up the night in Veldria."
Garran wrapped his arm around the boney boy. They had talked and gotten out of the blistering cold into the warm tavern. The fireplace melted the frost over their clothes. Eryn rolled the knit scarf in his hands left and right, between his fingers and around his knuckles.
"There is no better spell nor wish than a glass of ale at times like this," The jolly drunk approached and handed Eryn a glass. "That makes me the doctor in these parts." Garran smiled.
Eryn grabbed the full glass of ale. He had not eaten since yesterday but the smell of honey ale wet his mouth. He gripped the glass and stared at the fire. He had not lived long, but in a place like Veldria friends were short and many would find themselves buried under the rocks of Veldria or under the tree behind Garran's tavern.
His fist have clenched many times through the years that they have become fragile, so fragile that it pained your eyes to see such a feeble attempt of anger from a boney teen.
"They will come for me soon," Eryn gulped down the sweet ale. "I was touched by those heretics. I don't know where, nor when, but they got to me."
"I know."
"There is no one else here besides you."
"They will get you and you will run."
"No, I'm not running anymore."
"Then you will be lying next to Alyssa and leave this tavern to myself."
"I wont die neither."
"Thank you Garran," Eryn said as he stuffed the knit scarf into his pocket. "Although I wont run, nor will I die. I was not meant to be here long."
"Boy, if you have some sort of plan then you stop now," Garran stoked the fire. "Power rules this world, even those heretics have little."
"You wont last long fighting the decree of the king."
"I wont fight the king," Eryn stood up and walked upstairs to an empty room.
The room was empty with only a bed and candle.
"System," Eryn whispered. "What is my passive skill?"
The system popped up and displayed, "Tongue of the Illusionist: You speak and it exists."
"Garran said that those with power rule," Eryn closed his eyes. "If it takes such few words then it shall be."
In the morning when the smell of the streets lingered with the melting of frost, the tavern became busy once more. The tavern was full of soldiers wearing toughened steel and swords.
"Show me where the boy is," The soldier in front commanded. He spoke the same he yelled. "Let him be the last."
"Captain Garrick, the boy ran last night." Garran wiped the glass cup and poured a drink. "He wont join those from before."
"No," Captain Garrick pulled up a stool and smiled at Garran. "He will be a problem of the past."
"Not even a pile of gunk between my boots."
"The boy ran out yesterday and hasn't come back, I tell you." Garran placed the glass and poured ale to the captain.