Luca had finally saved enough money, which meant he could eat meat again. That was if he didn't get stabbed first.
The boy, 17 years old but hardened by life, had black hair and bright blue eyes that gave him a catlike appearance. His slim figure let him slip through narrow gaps and move faster than most grown men expected.
He darted into Carinthia's back alleys, sticking to the shadows. The city was a maze of crooked streets and blind corners, perfect for someone like him. He had learned long ago where to vanish and where to reappear.
The air always felt heavier here, pressing down like an invisible weight. It wasn't just the smoke from the forges or the stink of factory waste. The cottages of his childhood had been torn down gradually, replaced by taller and taller buildings that blotted out the sky.
Some people said it was a proof of prosperity or that it was evidence that the Sun Father's gaze never left Carinthia.
Luca didn't really believe it. Or rather, he didn't care. The only god that mattered was money.
The purse at his side weighed on his thoughts more than it did in his pocket. Twenty silver sterlings. It was enough to feed him for months, or in his case buy multiple books which he intended to do to accomplish his goals.
"What have you got there, Lu-Lu?"
Two shadows peeled off the wall ahead and blocked his path.
"Fuck," Luca muttered under his breath.
That was the problem with shadows. He wasn't the only one who used them.
Vito and Jonny. Rats who robbed because they were too useless to do anything else.
Not that Luca thought himself clean or innocent. He stole when he had to. But these two were parasites, bleeding people for "taxes" no one agreed to pay.
They stood there smirking, arms crossed, acting like the coins were already theirs.
Luca stepped back, eyes darting for an opening. He had taken a new route today to avoid them, but somehow they still found him. Like they could smell silver.
His back hit the wall. Nowhere left to run.
"Heh, how are you fellas doing?" he asked, forcing a smile.
Vito stepped forward. He was a big man, brown hair under a ragged cap, with a beard like a rotting rat clinging to his jaw.
"Doing just fine. Praise the Sun Father and all that. You're in quite a hurry, aren't ya, lad?" Vito's grin showed yellowed teeth.
His heavy hand landed on Luca's shoulder. Behind him, Jonny loomed in silence, taller and broader than Vito. A solid wall of muscle and meat.
Luca squirmed, but the grip was iron. He wasn't breaking free.
"Yeah, the usual. Old Humphrey sent me to grab more scrap metal."
"Hmmm? You're empty-handed though."
Luca cursed inside. Wrong name to drop. But he recovered quickly.
"Nothing good today. Had to hurry back."
Vito wasn't listening. He never did. His hand slid into Luca's coat, tugging out the faded red purse.
"There it is. I knew my nose wouldn't twitch for nothing," he said smugly. He peeked inside, then tucked it into his coat.
'This bastard really can smell the gold.'
"Well, what are you waiting for? Go help Old Humphrey," Vito sneered.
Luca bit his tongue and brushed past them. With no purse now, there was no reason to linger. At least, that was what he wanted them to think.
Once he was a safe distance away, the grin he had been choking down burst across his face.
"Bahahaha, those idiots!"
He bolted down the street, his laughter sharp and wild.
"Good thing I planted the decoy where I knew they'd check. That fool is too predictable."
The purse they stole held twenty sterlings, but only seven were real. The rest? Useless scrap metal melted and stamped into crude coins with Old Humphrey's forge.
The true silver rested in a hidden compartment in the soles of Luca's shoes. It rubbed his feet raw, but it was worth the pain. The rest of his stash was split into several secret spots back in his room.
If Luca had anything, it was foresight and creativity.
He laughed again, picturing Vito and Jonny trying to spend the fakes. Guards wouldn't ask questions before cracking their skulls open or tying them to stakes.
And if anyone pointed fingers at him, he'd just cry about being tricked by a wandering merchant. Who would doubt a 'kid'?
"I'm seven sterlings down, which leaves me with ninety-three. Still enough," he muttered, turning onto the cracked street he called home since his parents died.
The road was lined with leaning shacks and mold-stained brick. But one building stood out. A parish of the Sun Father. White brick, freshly painted, with gold trim shining even in the grime of Carinthia. A peaked dome sat on top, and above the door, three golden stars circled an eye with a burning sun for its iris.
Luca kept his gaze low. A bishop sat outside on a birchwood stool, robes white and gold, the emblem stitched onto his chest.
"Praise the Sun Father," Luca mumbled.
The bishop's thin lips curved into a smile, but his eyes seemed to look right through him.
Luca quickened his pace. He had no reason to be afraid of the church, but it always set his teeth on edge. Like there were eyes watching him.
At last, he reached his door. The lock clicked open, and he slipped inside.
Then he froze.
A woman stood in the center of the room, her regal purple robes now torn and stained. Her chest rose and fell in ragged breaths, one hand clutching a wooden staff.
Her eyes flicked up at him.
"Who the hell is that?"
****
Author's Note:
Welcome! For this journey, patience will be required. I suggest reading the first 5 chapters to get an idea of the story that lies ahead. If you enjoy reading, please vote with power stones, as they help a lot.