"Get back here, you bitch!" yelled the man as he ran after the small girl who had just stolen from his fruit when he wasn't paying attention.
The girl wore ragged clothes.
She wasn't older than six. Yet she was agile.
By the Vita, she could run around.
No merchant so far has managed to catch her.
And neither did he, as he gave up after a while with the small girl running between the rows of houses, making him lose sight of her.
The girl was all alone now.
With a father whom she never knew, and her mother recently deceased due to fever and sickness, she had to leave the small village she was born into; otherwise, she would risk starvation since not one person would want to take care of her.
Another mouth to feed, especially in this part of the Empire, was a serious consideration.
And people barely had food for themselves and their children.
So, they pretended they did not know her when her mother passed.
That's why she went from village to village, stealing whatever she could and hoping she would find another place to sleep for the night.
She cried on the nights when she could not find a warm place to sleep.
And as the world would have it, when she did not manage to find a place to sleep and was forced to sleep under the open sky, it would always rain.
As if the world itself hated her.
Why was it?
What was her mistake?
She did not understand it. How could she?
She barely understood that she was alone now.
But her empty stomach kept her going.
A good thing and a bad thing at the same time.
Her hunger for food and life was the only thing that she had on her mind.
And years of such a life kept her alive until she became a teenager.
She developed skills that she did not have before.
Lockpicking, combat, killing.
Stealing food was not enough anymore.
Small and rugged clothes had to be replaced over the years.
And stealing food was considered just as bad as stealing money or jewelry.
If she were to be caught and put to death, would it not be best to make sure that she at least had stolen something worth giving this horrible life of hers for?
With a new goal and help from questionable people who, as she grew, met their end sooner or later, she understood how and what to steal as well as what not to.
She had enough to get by.
But her character was getting darker day by day.
Because her worst enemies were those like her.
They were monsters, savages.
The people she stole from were at least honest folk.
She would put her to death if they caught her, yes.
But at least they were in the right to do so.
But these… animals were the worst kind of people.
She tried to leave such a place as soon as they began noticing her.
But sometimes that too was difficult.
So, as jokes slowly became threats and threats became attempts on her body or her life, she had to do what one could do in such situations.
She fought.
She bit.
She kicked.
But she never gave in.
And as soon as something sharp came into contact with her palm, she killed.
Killed for her life.
Killed for her survival.
What was she supposed to do?
She did not let herself get caught when she was younger.
She ran.
So why should she give in now? For all her surviving to become the enjoyment of others? Dictated by others?
No.
Of course, she fought.
Of course, she killed.
And such skills were noticed by different kinds of people who traveled the cities she now used as her place of 'activity'.
In recent years, she noticed many people who were in her situation usually disappeared from the streets after a while.
They were not executed for being caught.
No… that would surely be seen by all.
After all, they would hang you and put you on the walls as decoration just to scare off the others.
These kids were not being killed.
They were vanishing in the air as if they never were.
And soon, it became known why it was so.
There were men in every city looking over the people who were doing illegal activities and approaching them if they considered them worthy enough of their attention.
And one could expect that at some point, they would approach Miyanna as well.
And they did.
She was fifteen now.
Using the port city of Jala of Blood Hetan's domain as her base.
She had enough coin for herself to eat proper food now.
From inns, but still, proper food with a proper bed to sleep on.
A meal she was not eating at one of the corner tables, away from prying eyes.
Except for those two older men who kept looking at her from the other side of the room.
She knew they were watching her.
She did not know why, though.
Perhaps old grudges?
That couldn't be. She did not remember their face.
No matter. They weren't the first, nor the last.
So she kept eating.
But as fewer people remained in the room as they finished their meals, the two approached her.
By instinct, she grabbed the knife she kept in her boot and held it ready in case they decided to attack while inside the inn.
But the men stopped feet away from her and grabbed two chairs from empty tables and placed them near her own, but keeping their distance enough to let her know their intention for a conversation and not a fight.
"What the fuck do you want?" she hissed at the two men.
"Young lady, how long do you think you can live like this?" Asked one of the two guys.
He was old.
Not a threat if it came to a fight.
"And why do you care?" she asked.
"Would you be interested in working for a greater, honest, more honorable cause? Instead of rotting here in these streets like bloody rats?" the old man asked.
Miyanna chuckled at his words, "And what is this honest work you speak of, old man? Selling my body?"
"No," the old man shook his head, "Join the High Monarch's Iron Line."