The Boys

Armand: The Con-Artist

May 4th 1881, Victorian England. The day started like any other. The cobblestone street lay wet with morning dew. Grass blades shot between the stones feebly trying, in vain, to take back the Earth's lost ground. Industrialization had finally begun its sprint in human culture, and with it, greed became the norm. As a Lord, I was already born into a small pocket of wealth. Proper schooling and breeding had given birth to the age of the gentlemen. I found myself amongst these select few. I was raised by my mother Emily and my father Christopher Lioncourt. Our name carried some weight and I was given an easy passage to a prestigious school. This was my mother's pride. She often spoke of how she wanted me to become her talking piece. She expected me to go to school for law but with my request, and my father's blessing, she eventually settled on my preference of medical school.

I was always interested in medical and anatomy. In honesty, I never thought of being a doctor. I think my mother had always suspected that. My interest was more in the alchemy I would learn at the medical school. I loved mixing concoctions and studying their effects on the human body. See, I have a dream to one day create something…anything. Perhaps some kind of all in one tonic. I knew something like that would be profitable. Yes, even I had been bitten by the new century bug of fame. I walked the streets this morning with pockets full of my newest invention. In the twilight hours, it happened. I was reviewing my notes when a small bout of sleep hit me. My elbow had hit a vial I was working on and it spilled in a nearby flowerpot. As the minor heart attack settled in my chest, I was shocked to see the pot become overflowing with luxurious flowers. Petunias and painted ladies burst into bloom in a rainbow of color. Like colorful waves, they crashed upon each other trying to prove their own superiority. I bottled the remaining mixture in what vials I had left. As the sun finally broke free of the horizon, I began my walk.

Dressed in my 3-piece suit I left my home and headed for Center square. Many people often went there to sell their wares. I had a small cart where I too would sell what I could. The path I took was one that I had taken many times and the dirt was scarred with the soles of my shoe scuffs. I rounded the corner and reached my quaint cart, unlocked the door, and grabbed a long parchment from inside. I began to scratch out a new advertisement. It read:

Armand Lioncourt

Presents:

Lawn in a Bottle

Have you ever had that woebegone feeling of a dry or disastrous garden? Are your roses a hidden laugh amongst your friends?

Then look no more!

Lawn in a Bottle promises a lawn that even a king would approve of!

Grab one today for only 1 Gold piece!

Only sold at the Lioncourt's Lioncart!

As I finished the final lines, a small smile slipped across my face and I began to hang the scroll on the side of the cart. I heard a small scoff from the cart nearest me. It was Brutus. He was not necessarily a competitor, but he was vocal on his opinions of my shop. "Good morning Brutus," I began, "I see your wares look fine this morning." Brutus let out a small growl that I could only assume meant he had not had a good morning. His shop 'The Brute Spot' made all types of metal trinkets and swords. He was honestly a skilled blacksmith and trader. Brutus emerged from inside his large cart. He's a tall and heavy-set man. He once sported a head of black hair. Well, if you could call it that. The strings that were clinging for life unto his scalp are all gone now. He blames me for it of course. I had once sold him a tonic, a hair tonic that I had invented. It may have needed more testing, I admit, the tonic did not work exactly the way I had intended.

See, the tonic did in fact give Brutus a large and lively head of hair, but it made him completely bald after 2 days. His hair never grew back…same for the family dog, my mother has not let that go. With all things considered, I think I did him a favor. The failing facade of hair he clung unto made him look much older. Now, at least, he can sport a shaved head that looked reasonably better. I lost Brutus as a customer that day. Since then, he has tried to disprove any of my inventions. It usually backfires. His vocal dismay only makes me look better when something actually works. He crossed his arms as he read my new finished scroll. "Gardens? You're a gardener now?"

"Not exactly, I am still an inventor. My newest…"

"Your snake oils?" he interrupted.

"Tonics" I corrected. His face screwed up in half disbelief half annoyance. This single word obviously striking a chord.

"You still on about that nonsense?"

"Nonsense? This is my livelihood!"

"Ha, now that's a laugh."

"Excuse me?"

"Your livelihood is being the child of a rich Lord." I was aghast. How dare he assume my world revolved around my parent's wellbeing.

"I will have you know that..."

"What?" he interjected, "That one day you will actually make something of these snake oils you sell to tourists?" he barked. I would have retorted, however, people began to walk into the market area. Soon a group had walked over to Brutus' shop and a few eyes passed my way. I wanted to begin with a demonstration. So, I took out my trusty crate and stood on top. After a few curious stragglers decided to give me their attention, I began.

"Ladies and gentlemen, I give you the marvel of the age. You there!" I pointed at a lady donning a pin striped dress and lacy hat. She looked taken aback but nodded in acknowledgement. "Tell me miss, do you have the gift of the green thumb?"

"Well I…" she began but a man, who based off their matching wedding rings I could only assume was her husband, let out a tiny laugh.

"Something funny?" I asked curiously. The man stood acock as he answered.

"Sir, my wife has had the pleasure of destroying any potted plant that has come across her hands." he held her hand as he rubbed the top of it with his spare. "I daresay, you may want to remove her for this presentation now or I fear your little ...demonstration will go all but astray." My smile grew ever larger as the opportunity of this moment couldn't have been better.

"Sir, my I borrow your wife?" I stated holding a hand out to the woman who now looked as if she wanted to faint.

"I beg your pardon!" he remarked in an offended tone.

"For the demonstration" I clarified. He looked me in the eyes with daggers for pupils. His wife placed her hand on his shoulder and sweetly said,

"Darling, allow me to humor him. If this goes according to his word," she pointed at the advertisement, "then perhaps I needn't worry about you making light jest of my plants. At least then buying them will no longer be a financial burden for you." Looking into his wife's eyes he relinquished her hand as guilt began rising in his face. I took the young lady to the front and stated so all can hear,

"You no longer need to worry, my dear!" I pulled out a vial "Lioncourt's Lawn in a Bottle." I showed it to the small gathering of people. "Here." I placed the concoction in her hand, hold this. I went to the back and pulled a potted plant from inside my cart. It was a gift from my mom a few months back and I had never shown much love to it. I pulled out the withering plant and placed it in front of her for all to see. Everyone hushed as I continued. "Now mam, if you would please open the bottle and pour its contents into the p.."

Crash.

As she went to open the vial, her gloves did not give her the grip she had hoped for. It fell from her hands and spilled on the floor. A few people laughed. Her husband looked desperately at her moving his head in a beckoning way. She was completely flustered. "I'm so sorry!" she exclaimed. Though I must say I could feel the annoying swell within me, I simply continued.

"No worries milady. I do have more" I dug within my coat jacket, but almost suddenly, the madam gasped, and it became obvious why. The stone floor, which normally laid flat due to the even terrain, had now gone lopsided. Long strands of grass and thick leaves poured out from between the stones. Tangled flowers peaked from the masonry. After a small gathered view and even a disjointed applause more people became curious. Soon I had a small line of folks wanting to take a chance to purchase.

"People please form a line," I said. "Madam," I said helping her to return to her husband. "For your help, I would graciously love to give you a sample free of charge." I handed her a vial and gave her husband one last smirk as I made my way to the front. "Now, one at a time!" I said happily.

"And what of its aftereffects Armand?" said a familiar grunt of a voice. Brutus, no longer with customers, parted my crowed with his intimidating demeanor.

"A lovely garden." I said coyly. He didn't look impressed.

"I wouldn't buy his snake oils" he exclaimed to the rest of the crowd, "his word isn't able to carry much weight, if you ask me."

"No one did ask," I replied in a matter of fact-like tone. There was a small laugh at that comment somewhere in the small crowd and Brutus shook his head.

"I am only saying, if ya want yer monies worth, don't buy anything made by a Lioncourt." With this he strode back into his area. A few people seemed to take his warning to heart and leave. However, I did still have a few buyers. I was content. Besides, buyers big or small are always welcomed. With my shop closed and a few gold in my purse, I made my way to the local bar, "The Beggar".

It was a bar in a more questionable side of town. 10 tables, a bar, and a stage of which some entertainment rarely sat. It was there I was to go see my friends Orian and Dimitri. We have frequented the establishment since boyhood. Well us and Lagarus. Lagarus was not to be there though. He had gone off to war a little over a year ago and was not due for some time. I walked the streets on my way to the bar when I was stopped. A small child was crying in the corner of the street. This was not an uncommon sight; however, it was unsettling as the child was completely naked. He looked no older than about 7. I walked up and after trying to ignore, like my breeding would have taught, I turned and went straight for him.

There was something about children that had always been my weakness. I felt it my obligation to help whenever I could. "Are you hurt?" I began. The boy just covered himself and looked down, tears still streaming from his eyes. I took off my jacket and wrapped him in it. He seemed to be calming down but could barely speak though his hiccupping sobs. An officer walked over, drawn by the commotion no doubt.

"Get out of here child and give back that coat before I throw you in jail." roared the officer. I was taken aback.

"Sir can't you see this boy is in distress?" The officer straightened up importantly.

"I'm going to have to ask you to stay out of this." He grabbed the boy by the shoulder. "See this one is part of a gang. Runs around swindling people for money." He looked down at the boy. "Isn't that right? So, what's your story this time?" The boy seemed to have collected himself a bit. His tears had stopped; his eyes were still fixated upon the floor. He still did not answer, just quiet sniffles here and there as he continued to regain himself. "See sir? He is alright now, aren't ya boy?" he said leaning down to eye level with the child. "Now we are just going to go to the station for a little chat." barked the officer.

Everything happened very quickly from here. The officer was shocked as he felt a tug. Someone had removed his gun. It was pointed at the two of us as the figure of a fourteen-year-old boy grabbed the child's hand. We both lifted our hands in turn. The boy whose black hair lightly grazed his shoulder began to walk backwards. He stared intently on us both as he continued toward the alley. Things were very tense, and I could see the fourteen-year-old was standing on the precipice of a decision.

When he had gotten far enough back, he picked up the little one, emptied the bullets and gunpowder from the gun, tossed everything unto the ground, and ran disappearing into the ally. The officer hurried to grab his items and swore as he tried to reset his weapon. It's strange how out of body a life or death situation can make you feel. I stared down the street as I went over again the scene that just unfolded. As my consciousness began to fully click back, it dawned on me. I had put my money in the pocket of my coat jacket.

Dimitri: The Playboy

The sun began to beam from the windows. The warm rays gently caressed my cheek. As I stirred, I felt the warmth of a body next to me. I smiled and pried my eyes to see the vision in front of me. Her golden hair a tangled mess as she lay soundlessly asleep. My eyes traveled down the length of her body. She was tall and athletic. I stretched and silently raised myself from the bed. Our clothes a mess amongst the otherwise neat surroundings. I picked up my items and began to dress. As I slipped on my pants she began to stir.

"Dimitri?" she asked in a half haze.

"Shhh" I replied as I sat back on the bed. "Yes, my dear. It's me." She rubbed her eyes with the base of her hand.

"I have to admit, I'm shocked." she sleepily said as she now sat up using her free hand to hold the blankets up over her breasts.

"Why?" I said back as I leaned in to kiss the exposed side of her neck. She let out a small noise that balanced on shock and excitement.

"Well," she continued, "I half thought you were the kind of guy who would leave in the middle of the night." She smiled down at me. I continued kissing down her chest. Navigating my way through the soft delicate hills of her body.

"Whatever gave you that idea?" I lazily asked continuing my path around her exquisite sculpt.

"Well it's a good thing you're still here." she said, running her fingers through my hair.

"Why is that?" I said, wrapping her in my embrace.

"Because now, you can meet daddy." she smiled. Now, I admit…I may have shown the slightest pause. "To ask for my hand." she said with concern swelling behind her words, "Like you said last night…remember." I lifted my head and smiled.

"Of course I do," I softly replied. I looked deep into her eyes as my thumb began to rub the sensitive top of her nipples. "How could I forget something like that?" Her expression softened then contracted in pleasure from the new sensations I lapped over her.

"I'm glad. The stories I heard of you…well I was beginning to worry."

"Stories?" I said as I now maneuvered her back into a lying position.

"Yea that you're nothing but a scoundrel." At this I did slip out a small chuckle.

"Who would say things like that?" I joked, running my hand down her belly toward her most sensitive spots.

"Dimitri, we really should stop, daddy will be here soon. We should be presentable." She sat up and rearranged herself out from under me.

"He will be here…soon?" I asked. "How soon?"

"Well, he should be here before breakfast can end. Isn't it wonderful?" She smiled sweetly. I rose to my feet and grabbed my things. I began to dress…hurriedly at that. "Is something wrong?" she asked, eyeing me as I scrambled into my shirt and buttoned it down.

"Nothing my dear," I said, putting my socks over my feet. "Just a very important meeting I forgot I needed to attend.

"A meeting." she repeated to me before swinging her weight on the left side of her hip. She had already placed on a wonderful nightgown. Her arms crossed and I could see the spark of anger trying to ignite. "Let me guess, you really are a scumbag, aren't you?" she stated in an accusatory tone.

"Scoundrel, actually, by your words" I smiled but I could see the tell tale signs of a woman scorned. I finished putting on my shoes and grabbed her hand. "Melinda, please, what I…"

"What did you call me?" Here was where I realized I had fucked up. Her face screwed up into an ugly face of hatred. "Dimitri, what is my name?" I searched my brain, but the booze I drank the night before must have erased it.

"Does it begin with an M?" Her eyes widened in disbelief. She looked as if she was about to scream. I grabbed her by the waist and kissed her. She pushed me away. "Don't forget life is full of moments." I smiled as I walked backwards. I think, at this point, it was the sheer disbelief that caused her not to scream. "and this moment will be one I will always cherish, my little Miss M." Before she could say anymore, I jumped out the window and onto a nearby hanging tree. "Also don't let this moment ruin your life…Technically, the only ones who know of your sullied virginity are the two of us." I slid down as she turned over in her head the fact that she would be considered a scarlet letter should any of this get out.

Like a cat, I escaped the house and strode down the street. M was a beautiful woman. However, her unmemorable name was not something I could honestly tie myself down with. I was born the only surviving child of my mother's 13 pregnancies. As a whore, it honestly came with the territory. However, I was born with a bigger ambition in my mind. I knew I was a cut above the rest, even if I was born with no money or name to toss. I could feel it in my bones, that one day they would all remember me. With a pep in my step, I began to prowl the streets. I was keeping my ear to the ground when I came across Bentlit.

He was a no-account boy about 13 ...maybe 14? He looked concerned. "Yo Bentlit," I began. "What's up?" Bentlit looked at me for a moment as he broke from thought and quickly realized who was calling to him.

"It's Johnny."

"Who?"

"Little guy" he gestured with his hand to about his stomach height.

"Ah yes, the little one. What about him?"

"I woke up this morning and the others said he had went off."

"Went off where?"

"With a cop." His face turned much older as concern stretched across it.

"If I see him, I'll let you know," I said, beginning to walk away. "I'll tell him to get home, after all, his mom is worried," I said with a grin in my voice.

"Very funny," he turned to walk away but then remembered something, "oh, from what I hear, soldiers are on their way home today. Your friend, he may be on one of those ships. Just a heads up." With that he continued his journey to find the missing child and I continued my way to...Hell I'm not sure.

I was recently fired from my job working as a waiter. I had punched a patron after all. But, he had it coming. His mouth was too smart for his own good. I may be uneducated, but I know when I'm being talked down to.

Regardless, I found myself a free man and would make a buck where I could. Seeing how high the sun was, it would be hours before my friends would be at the neighboring bar, so I decided to let my day unfold. I walked the markets and ran into James. He was about 10 and was well known as one of Bentlit's pack of strays. I eyed as he began to prowl the streets for an unsuspecting victim. He seemed to have picked a poor target. Markus, the older man I myself learned, was very perceptive.

James tried the oldest trick in the book and walked into the man in full "innocent" run. As he apologized and tried to run off, the Markus hooked him around the shirt collar with his cane. "Not so fast, boy." He grunted in his saggy throat. James was pulled back and a few people began to look.

"Hey, let me go!" he said, trying to pry the cane from his shirt.

"You must think me daft boy." He said dryly. "I must be daft to think you bumped into me by chance." The old man wrapped his hands onto James' shirt. James was new to the street and a recent acquaintance of the Bentlit gang. As such his skills were bare minimum. From what I heard; he was the son of a once rich lord. However, after a duel his mother remarried, and the rich bastard took their funds leaving his whole family on the street. His mother died shortly after of pneumonia in the whore house. It was her last option to feed her family.

A lot of good women have been subject to this lately. Though the rich deny it, the gap between us seems to get wider. They get richer, we get poorer, and the innocent die. James kicked and wiggled but Markus' grip was a tight one. Any seasoned street rat knew not to let him grab hold. A small crowd began to form as they gawked and laughed at the spectacle before them.

Now I normally don't play the hero card, especially not for a kid like this, but I knew James was a newbie and not ready to be set into the police's hand for questioning. Honestly Bentlit, you should know better than to let one of your pups run unsupervised. Now the question was how to not fully jump in, as Markus knew my face due to a few encounters on my own. I slunk into the crowd. I found a voluptuous woman who seemed stern. The kind I knew you would need to take it slow with. I walked over, positioned myself between her and another fellow, then proceed to grab and squeeze her hard on the bum. She yelled in a way that would make skin crawl. I turned to the man on my left and looked at him appalled. "HOW DARE YOU" I screamed. The woman was furious but confused as to whom to yell at. The poor man, from shock stared agape in the mouth as he tried to piece together what happened.

His uncertainty combined with my appalled expression gave enough evidence for the woman to turn her fury in his direction. The mob now doubled in size as the woman exploded in an angry way. The shock caused Markus to be temporarily distracted for only a second loosening his grip. This was enough for James to break free and run unseen into the alley.

Snapping to himself the young man stood up tall and tried to defend himself. "Now see here!" he began. But I interrupted.

"See here?! See here?!" I yelled back, "see that you would lay a hand on a woman, UNINVITED to her touch?!" The crowd gasped in shock.

"I did no such thing!" he said.

"No?! Then who did it!?"

"I…I am not sure" he responded, "I was not looking."

"Oh, a likely story then!" the lady stood to my side.

"Sir, I know it was him, I could tell." I grabbed her hand and gave it a light tap.

"Milady I know, I know. That is why I will defend your honor. A young and beautiful woman such as yourself should not be subjected to this in such a way. Here we have an angel grace us with her presence as this FIEND tries to steal her gifts away without the courtesy to ask her to dinner!" People started yelling a few remarks against the man. He pleaded that he was innocent. As I counted the minutes in my head, I knew the police would be here soon. Seeing as I have a record, it would be best to not be seen in this situation. I said to him,

"Well then, are you a coward or a liar?" The man looked confused.

"I beg your pardon?" he asked.

"I challenge you to a duel. One shot to prove your innocence. Or you can apologize to the lady now." He looked shocked and afraid.

"I'm not a skilled marksman sir, is there no other way?" he pleaded

"There is no other way, and I am very good at hitting my target" I glared at him. He turned it over before looking down on the floor defeated.

"I'm…sorry mam. I apologize." He said. The crowd booed him as he got up and ran off. I turned to the woman who looked very pleased with my heroic feat. She gave me her card with all her information. I gave her hand a kiss. I saw from the corner of my eye a policeman speaking with Markus and disappeared into the leaving crowd leaving her mystified.

I walked my way to 'The Beggar.' I'm sure I could kill some time there before the guys came. Besides, maybe then I can convince old John to let me do my thing on stage.

Orian: The Spoiled Brat

"Wake up sir" said the old frail voice of Gertrude. She was one of the servants whose family had served my family, the Dragnils, for generations. As the only living member of her family, she knew she would be the last. Regardless, we were never short of funds nor servants. Not to mention Gertrude was sure to show all the new hires how to wash and clean the house to our liking. She opened the curtain and let light into my room. It was a boring room, though some may call it very extravagant. I blinked lazily and looked upon her tiny frame. That's one thing I have learned as a Dragnil. Most people are very short. We had money, height, and power.

I stretched and sat up as Gertrude laid out my clothes. You know, I don't understand how some people can be so short and do so much sometimes. Gertrude was old and frail yet everyday she would keep up with everything without fail or complaint. She must really love her job. Although, we would fire her if she didn't. I got up and dressed myself in my laid-out clothes and met the staff downstairs.

I sat at the table and saw there was an array of fruits laid out for me. I sat down at my breakfast and called a maid to me. "you there" I said, eyeing her.

"Uh….me sir?" she replied

"Yes, you" I said half annoyed. She looked nervous. "come here" I spoke. She walked over keeping eyes to the ground.

"Y-yes sir?" she said

"Feed me." I said. She looked taken aback.

"I'm sorry?" she questioned.

"Do I need to repeat myself? I don't like to say things more than once." She shook her head and began to grab the grapes. She placed one in front as I watched her follow orders. I liked it when a woman knew their place. Being of high status, power, and money I knew that a woman was more like a pet. You pay for them to be pampered and most times they do as you say. I envy their simplicity.

"Leave the maid alone already" said a distracted familiar voice.

"If I remember correctly you're the one who showed me to be this way." I waved a hand and dismissed her from my sight.

"That was a long time ago" said my father, his eyes stuck in a book as he continued on his way to his study.

"Yeah, what happened to the fun-loving father I had when I was a kid?" He paused and turned to look my way.

"That man died with your mother." He continued up the stairs. His comment left a lingering feeling of dread. My mother died many years ago. She passed away when I was 5. She had gotten very ill. Her cough was hard, and she had gotten the worst fever I had ever seen. She died such a slow death. It remained burned into my memories. She contracted Scarlet Fever from her many charitable doings with the orphans that ran around the city. After struggling and suffering she finally passed with complications of her kidneys. Admittedly my father was never the same after that.

I sat at the table and tried to decide what to do with my day. As a young Baron of my town, I had already seen all the sights and found most of them…rather boring. I finished my breakfast and was about to head out when Gertrude came to fetch me. "Master Orian!" she exclaimed, "you father wants to see you in his study." I must have been a bit, taken aback as Gertrude then stated. "It's rather important."

I turned on my heel and walked upstairs. My father had not requested my presence in a very long time. We only really talked in passing these days. Like what had just transpired a few moments ago. I was intrigued as to what he needed me for. I walked to the oak doors which were hand carved and stained. The Dragnil coat of arms engraved into the door's face. I knocked and heard my father's dry "come in."

I walked into the rather large space surrounded from floor to ceiling with books. The fireplace on the left and the floor to ceiling windows on the right being the only walls barren of the kaleidoscope of colorful texts. "You asked for me?" I said.

"Yes," he replied though his eyes did not leave the scrolls that lay in his table and hand. He gestured toward a chair and I sat down waiting for this meeting to end so that I could bother myself with something more entertaining. He finished with his notes and lifted a letter up toward me. I took it from him and read the words:

Good Morning and well met,

We cordially invite Orian Dragnil to the "Coming of Age" mascaraed tonight 5/4/19.

I looked up at my father. "Are you sending me to a coming of age party?!" My pulse raced as fear and dread planted me on the spot.

"Yes. Now you should bu…" I interrupted.

"But I don't want to start looking for a bride. I am still young and in my prime!" I stood up upon this proclamation.

"I know how you love your brothels but there comes a time…"

"I refuse. I don't want to settle down yet."

"Well you have no choice in this matter."

"Like hell I don't…I will just not choose anyone."

"Then you will be thrown out of this house." My father stood upon his emphasis of these words. He had never yelled at me before, nor was he ever this annoyed.

"Just tell me what the hell is going on" I shouted back. He may have been my father, but I would not back down on anyone.

"Enough Orian."

"No, what the hell is going on with you?!" I said feeling my hot blood beginning to boil over. I watched as the last embers of the passion I once saw in my father's eyes dwindled to emptiness. He looked much older and weaker than the man I had in my memory. He sat down.

"I'm just getting old Orian. Indulge me…if only for tonight. Just go to the damn party, we can talk after." If it were any other person I would have pushed further, but this was my father and he looked so beaten. I took the letter and began to walk away. "Orian." He called as he stood up once more. "I worked out that you wouldn't want to go alone. I can't control what Armand does, as his family chooses this." He grabbed a letter and placed it in my hand then looked me stern in the eye. "I don't like that…that…Dimitri boy you hang out with…but as he has no parents it should be relatively easy for him to say yes…and, I don't think he would pass up a free invitation to a party." He stopped for a moment, almost second guessing what he was about to do. "So I got him in as well. Remind him that these are high class people he will be around. Don't let him embarrass you."

I nodded and took the letter then proceeded to walk out. "Oh and Orian…" he said, looking smaller than I had ever seen him.

"Yea?" I said back. He looked as if he wanted to say more but then simply said "good luck and know that I am doing this for your own good and our family's best interests." I nodded then continued on my way. I pocketed the two letters and decided to stop at 'The Beggar.' The day was still early, but who knew when the others would join me. Besides after my morning, I could use a stiff glass to mull over the dreadful night I was to have ahead. Don't get me wrong, I loved having so much power in my world, but I try to keep to myself mostly. Parties were just not my thing.

Not to mention I would have to spend it with Dimitri. We were friends, but only because we both were friends with Armand. I really didn't understand most of what Dimitri said half the time. He talks about all the things he does to rob items. I just don't understand why he would go out of his way to take food from the market when he could just go to the fridge like a normal person. It is always stocked after all.

Lagarus: The Hero

"Sir, we can't hold them back anymore!" The young nobleman shouted. He grabbed unto my arm. He was bleeding from a wound to his head. I watched as his eyes strained with fear. He didn't appear to realize how bad his condition was. His raw meat and bone were exposed on his temple and a lot of blood was beginning to spill out. His name was Jeffery. We had started boot camp together. I guess you may have called us friends.

The blood began to pool down his face, and I watched as his eyes grew wider. "You'll be fine." I said to him in a dead tone as I turned my eyes back to the battle in front of us. The loud deafening sounds of explosions and gunshots all around mixed with the drum of war was too distracting for Jeffrey and his bleeding skull.

A man crawled over to our side of the trench. His clothes are a sign of the enemy. He did not seem to notice us in the hole as he scrambled to find shelter from the battle above. The fear behind his eyes as he came to the realization he was not alone. He put his hands up in submission. His face dirty from the wet ground and refuse he traversed to get here. He could not have been older than about 17. His young eyes screamed of images he should have been forced to see. He cried pitifully. "please…please don't shoot."

I lifted my gun and watched as his life dangled in my wake. I gazed into the face of death and watched as it stared back, cowering. Waiting for me to finish my tightrope walk of decision. The boy threw his gun to the ground and again pleaded "please," he choked back a sob "don't shoot." Jeffrey was finally snapping back to reality as he called to me to stop.

"Lagarus, leave him be," Jeffrey urged. I lifted my gun, taking better aim. "Lagarus stop!" he screamed back at me. I steadied my breath and watched as the boy frantically began to cry. "Lagarus! Please let's fall back." I felt my muscles tense up. "Lagarus, don't!" I squeezed the trigger as I heard the boy softly praying between his sobs. "LAGARUS, NOoooooooooo'' Click.

I was in my room on the boat. My gun in my hand and staring out into the standing mirror across the way. Confusion, at first, gave a nasty aftertaste to these…episodes. As they occurred more and more I began to get used to it. Flashbacks they called them. These flashbacks caused me to go home early. Here I was honorably discharged and on my way from the war back to civilization. The war left an unseen scar. I slept with my gun unloaded as I would often have these flashbacks during the quiet nights.

What was waiting for me back in my country? How would I be able to assimilate back into their lives? I felt like I was born to fight for my kingdom. I always did have a pleasure in making others suffer. The rush I got when I controlled if someone lived or died was addictive. With war I simply became more of a hero for every kill. A praised predator. Now they are asking the lion to lay with the lambs. I put my gun away and got up from the bed. I proceeded to get dressed then look at the bottles on the table.

I grabbed the smallest which contained some pills prescribed by the doctor to help with my condition. I spilled one onto my hand and put it in my mouth. The taste was bitter but felt better as I washed it down with ale. I then took out a self-rolled cigarette and lit it. I sat on my bed then laid-back staring at the smoke as I exhaled. I watched as the smoke swirled and danced above me. The silky streams of smoke crashed upon itself causing images in the ceiling. I watched as the figures danced back and forth.

A knocking came from the door. I was only half aware of it. I didn't turn my head toward it, even after the door opened. I stayed fixated on the smoke figures which were born from every breath I released. For a second I thought if that is how God made us. With his breath swirling uncontrollably as he watched these figures move without hesitation to the slightest of winds. Were we made by accident the same as how I now made these figures? I had almost forgotten someone had walked into my room when I heard Jeffrey speak aloud.

"We are all to come up to the deck, Lagarus. We are docking in about 2 minutes sir." I didn't move but Jeffrey left sure I was aware of what had been relayed. I glared at my dancing figures one final time before I destroyed their world with a wave of my hand. When I left the room the smell of the docks and saltwater hit me like a wall. It had been some time since I had been on the shores of my hometown. I had once thought it to be dirty, but the trenches of war proved a formidable opponent. Comparing the two, the dock looked like a luxury.

"Will all discharged please meet at the dining hall." I was just about to leave when that announcement sounded. With an about face I marched toward the dining hall. I despised any idea of being called the "discharged" but at the very least I know how to follow orders. I walked in to find the small group of guys all being sent home. A few were missing body parts and one jumped at the slightest sound. We waited till the General came in. With respect we stood straight and gave salutes. He said "at ease, gentlemen." In his definitive tone.

"Gentlemen, we want to thank you for your service. As you know, you are all being honorably discharged. See this as an honor, as you all fought valiantly on the field." He proceeded to hand out a letter to each of us. No one dared to open it.

"You have all fought for your country and have proven yourself men. As such we would like you all to relax as a man." He opened a spare letter and read the gist. "For your service and bravery on the field I, Edward VII, king of England, grant you one entry to the night festivities on the 4th of May. Herein is 1 entry into the coming of age party which should be available the 4th of May as described earlier." There was a bit of confusion amongst the poorer of the group.

"What does it mean exactly sir?" The general refolded the letter as he explained.

"It means that you are invited to a Coming of Age party for young men and women. As such, you may find a suitable wife who would benefit a man." The room stayed silent but there was a definite electricity in the air as the war-ridden men thought of all the pleasures a woman could bring. All this heart ache for tender hands which could relieve a man of the stresses they had pent up from their months in hell.

I left the ship in a weird melancholy. I walked the street and the crowds of people seemed to have grown since I had last seen them. Navigating amongst them made me reminisce on the tight spaces I needed to cross in war at times. I felt the odd floaty feeling I usually had before a flashback. I forced my way through the crowds till I got to an empty alleyway. I leaned against the wall catching my breath and reminding myself of where I was. After a minute or two I was able to calm down enough to continue on. I walked home with no further issues.

The house was not the way I had once remembered. The white fence was grey and chipped. The door to it swayed unwelcomingly in the wind. The one tall house seemed to be hollow of life. The weeds had overgrown, and the lights were dim. A boy was playing in the street nearby and I called out to him.

"You," the boy looked up. "What happened to the family that lived there?" The boy followed my finger toward the abandoned house.

"Oh that one?" He said not really looking for an answer. "That's the Moon Manor."

"I am aware." I said in a disinterested tone.

"oh…" the boy seemed a bit nervous about my presence. "Well they died sir."

"Died?" I repeated.

"Yea. The whole lot died…scarlet fever and all." I stared at the empty house. It was not a place of good memories per say, but it was where I had once laid my head. I was not born into this family of nobility. I was an orphan and adopted by the lord and lady as a small child. This upbringing led me to appreciate my adoptive mother's love and to play indifferent to my adoptive father's disdain. I contemplated my next steps and decided that It would be best to visit the nearby lawyer to see if there was anything I would gain from a will.

I made my way to the lawyer's office of Michael De Lapointe. He was the family Lawyer since I was a boy. The streets seemed to be a bit clearer than earlier. From the looks of it, there was some kind of commotion which was taking most peoples attentions. Someone was yelling and the crowd booed a young man in the center. From what I gathered the young man had touched a woman inappropriately without permission. The gathering was troublesome, so I was glad to make my way undisturbed into De Lapointe's office.

Michael looked as if he had seen a ghost. He was drinking tea which he immediately lowered upon sight of me. "Lagarus?" he said, half doubting the words which had left his lips. "Is that you?"

"Yes" I said uninterested in returning his emotions of shock. He got from his desk and gave me a hug. He felt the tension of my muscles and released them. He tried his best to clear his throat as he asked.

"So, how long are you home?"

"Indefinitely" He looked a bit shocked again. This time looking agape as his eyes glazed in a way of thought.

"Then someone will need to tell you about your…"

"I know," I interrupted.

"Ah…" he said with an awkward pause. "Well, then shall we settle your estates?" I looked at him and asked plainly.

"Are there any estates to settle?"

"Oh yes…. actually, your family has left you everything." I guess at this time a normal person would have been shocked or happy. However, this small gesture that my father had left was not enough to pay the years of hate he grew in my heart. We spent hours going over the logistics of the will. It was prime time to see my old friends. With nothing to do I decided to head to 'The Beggar.' It was our bar after all. I wondered if they would still go there everyday as we did years ago, but it was better than opening an abandoned house and reviewing all the work I would need to do for it to be back in running order. So I lit a cigarette and watched as the smoke danced once again, alive in the dying sky. Then I began my walk toward 'The Beggar.'