Humble Beginnings (Backstory 1)

[A few weeks earlier]

Dusk was approaching in Pari. The sounds of merchants peddling their wares started to subside in this rural town of 5,000. As the air cooled and the lights of dusk began to paint the evening sky orange, so too did the many activities of the citizens grow quieter. Soon there would be only the comforting stillness of a prosperous, peaceful town, pierced occasionally by the laughter of energetic children and their parents chasing them around the house to go to bed.

Pari was a peaceful little town in the lands of Uro. It was a peaceful town in a peaceful empire; though rumours spoke that the world of Urth would once soon face troubled times.

Yes, a peaceful town, with citizens both noble and common, rich and lacking yet living in harmony. Memories of war were still fresh; with the Great War having ended less than 50 years ago. The people wished only to live - with the warmth of their hearths and houses, the gentle nagging of a concerned wife (or nagging husbands, depending on who you ask), and the carefree laughter of children. They themselves had never seen war – but their elders had.

But children knew not how childish discrimination could be the spark of malice; leading to misunderstandings and bitterness. In these innocent hearts, already planted were the seeds of selfishness and bias that had covered the land with the blood of men, orcs, dwarves, beastmen and elves.

In an alley off Maine street, just a turning from the apothecary, a group of children none a day past 15 summers played. The setting sun glinted off the window panes and wash basins along the alley, and along the riverside, the smell of bread and potatoes could be found.

And off Maine street, outside that very same alley, stood a reed of a child, unremarkable in appearance as any other, though certainly not ordinary. Dirty and scruffy; all that was seen was a short haired 9 year old child – who was always alone.

There, a story begins. Not the beginning of the story, but a beginning nonetheless!

* * * * * * * * * *

The shouts of play and laughter could be heard from two streets and three doors down. The children were playing kick-ball with a hardened cabbage, on the dusty dirt floor. The dry season kept the ground from being muddy; instead it would just be dusty. Dust was better. It kept the mothers from being jailed for murder (You got mud on your clothes AGAIN??).

This was the boys' game. Not that the girls couldn't play; but by the age of 10-11, the girls would be taught the beginnings of being a lady. Not my cup of tea, you know, but whatever floats their boat.

And so the girls watched from the verandah of the nearby common house, pursuing their own means of entertainment, with the older ones keeping a surreptitious eye on the most dashing, strong or handsome of the boys. There were two teams playing, being differentiated by their shirts. One team wore shirts, the other didn't.

The girls here were those with no trade to pursue, or else those who had already decided to pursue well-to-do men instead of trade. They giggled as they half-heartedly made small talk, whilst sneaking glances at the mayor's son, Reeve.

Both teams were evenly matched with a score of 2 points a side. As two dozen boys scuffled and kicked, trying to get the ball, the voices of the girls began to increase in proportion to their boredom, with yawns being stifled. And then, excitement grew as Reeve managed to wheel away from the other boys with a deft side-step and skip. None of the other boys could keep up with him; it was just him against the blocker. With a deft flick of the feet and a sharp kick, he buried the ball into a barrel designed to be a goal, then leaped into the air triumphantly, to the delight of his teammates. This point would be the deciding point, the boys could already hear the referees (mothers) voices calling for dinner.

Reeve, brimming with confidence, smiled in the direction of the girls, causing each of the girls to make even more of an effort to stand out, to the resentment of the other boys. He furrowed his brow when he realised that the face he was looking for was not among the crowd. He then scanned the area, looking for someone. Upon finding her, he waved and smiled at his sister, the only girl he paid any attention to. And then he paused. Silence fell as the children saw what Reeve had seen.

* * * * * * * * * * * *

"You shant play with us!" shouted Bob, a large, burly boy with a mind as simple as his name, yet with a streak of meanness inherent to all bullies. "Not even watch us! And stay away from Lily! Know your place, ditch maggot!"

Sam, as always, could not understand why Bob and the rest hated her so. She had just been standing at the mouth of the alley, wishfully watching the others play. Then to her surprise, a bell-like voice had greeted her from behind. A slip of a girl, as pretty as an angel, shorter and smaller than Sam, addressed her! She was perplexed as to how to reply.

"What's your name?" the sweetness of her dear little heart carried through her voice. For the first time, someone other than grandpa smiled at her, causing Sam to be dizzy in a way she had never been before. Before Sam could reply, she was dragged by her collar and slammed into a wall - startling the girl who had been talking to her.

Unable to even ask what she had done wrong, Bob's companions had then started to slap her, kicking the places her arms could not cover. Their blows were light, nothing compared to when grandpa smacked her palms when she was naughty. Yet grandpa's strikes could never hurt the way these blows hurt.

She knew that her skin was not the same colour as anyone else's. She knew she was smaller and her eyes different. They called her a beast, an animal. And she also knew that, despite her best attempts at friendship, she had no friends. Short and thin even among her peers, Sam was barely 9 years of age last Wednesday. Seeing Sam inching away from him, Bob smiled in wicked satisfaction, pressing on with the bullying.

As Bob stepped towards Sam, the gang of boys parted, and they held Sam firmly as they made way for their leader. "I'll make you a cripple, you turd!"

Bob unsheathed his new town guards short sword, advancing menacingly towards the object of his ire. As he was still an apprentice, his sword had no edge – it was merely a wooden practice sword filled with lead, made to the weight of a real sword and meant for disciplining thieves, robbers or drunkards.

The thought of resisting or striking back at another child not being known to Sam, she merely stared back unblinking at Bob. Bob, to the cheers of his cronies, hefted his sword and clumsily waved it in the air in a way that he probably thought was dashing, and gave a glance to the girls, ignorant of the looks of horror on the faces of the other children.

Using his left hand, Bob pulled Sam away from the wall, that she might make an easier target for the sword and swung with all his might at Sam's shoulder.

Sam looked on at the slow-moving sword that she could dodge - or shatter - with no effort; wondering why Bob was not using any strength. But remembering grandpa's words; Sam made no move to avoid it.

Clumsy as Bob was, the weight of his blow causing a sickening "thunk" as it veered higher – into Sam's neck. Thrown by the weight of the blow, the slender boy literally flew away; tumbled to the ground, rolling a many feet to his right, sprawled on the dirt.

The children gasped, realising that with the difference in size and age, the queer boy might not survive. Bob himself merely laughed out loud, a barking Ha-ha-ha. And then he was floored by a tackle from Reeve. Though Bob outweighed Reeve by a good 2 stones, Reeve was far more muscular; and stronger; the strongest among all the boys despite being only 13 years of age.

"Stop this madness! Do you think you can kill people just because they are different from us?" Reeve exclaimed in outrage. "If he dies, banker's son or not, my father will see you hanged, Bob." Reeve spat out the last two words, as if though equally disgusted by both the thought of hanging and Bob. Bob turned pale, but from his expression, he was obviously not happy at the threat. Yet, he kept quiet – this time.

Reeve then turned to Sam, who still lay on the floor, but who was starting to come to. His little sister Lily, the same age as Sam, had run over; and it rent Reeve's heart to see tears flow down her alabaster cheeks – it rent his heart to see her cry, and rent his heart to see her cry for someone like Sam.

Lily was clutching Sam's head tightly to her chest, her golden hair covering Sam's face. In her ignorance, she was probably worsening the injury.

Reeve snapped out of his reverie. Now was not the time to take note of such petty things, he was the mayor's son! In lieu of his father, he would see to it that Pari grew in peace and prosperity, and if peace were threatened, the perpetrators would be dealt with.

"Jones! Call for Father Tristan! Quick! Stella, you are apprenticed to Father Tristan, are you not? Come quickly and do what you can for the boy!" Reeve barked out commands to the other children.

Rushing over to his sister's side, Reeve gently put his arm around Lily, coaxing her to calm down and release her tight hold on Sam's head. She was distraught, believing the whole episode her fault.

"Now!" snapped Reeve, seeing their hesitation to help the beggar boy. Stella approached gingerly, kneeling by Sam's side, across from Reeve. She had mentally prepared an incantation and started chanting the lesser healing spell while approaching.

As Bob slowly got to his feet, Reeve looked him dead in the eye once more, cowing the big but cowardly boy.

"Am I injured?"

Sam was looking straight at Stella, recognising the words she chanted. Stella stopped mid-chant, then let out a gasp as she saw Sam's lucid stare. Bewildered, she hurriedly grabbed Sam's head to confirm her surely mistaken eyes. She let out a gasp, as murmurs of fear started to be heard.

Sam's head was untouched, as if though nothing had happened. Not even bruising marred her skin!

"Thanks to the God! You answered my prayers, oh I'm so glad you're okay, strange boy! It was all Lily's fault, I'm sorry!" Lily exclaimed in her child-like speech. She did not realise the oddness of what had happened, but as she continued to profess her relief and how sorry she was, the stunned silence of the crowds turned to uneasy muttering. Though they whispered the words, Sam could hear the name they had given her. As she stared on through her piercing, smokey grey eyes, she could hear them very well.

Demon-child.