Adjusting
"The future belongs to those who believe in the beauty of their dreams."
-Eleanor Roosevelt
–
Keeping his word, Nolan arrived at the gates before the sun could rise from the horizon. To his surprise, the guards gave him passage and were less hostile than the treatment of him last night.
The thief pursed his lips, playing with the small piercings on his tongue. His usually chaotic hair was combed neatly. He managed to swing a black band on the way to ponytail it behind him.
He whistled, amazed by the landscape. Some of the servants, women to be exact, sent him curious gazes.
Nolan had been used to it. He knew he looked favourable among the women. But the lad had more interest in making money than pursuing anyone.
"I'd rather live a carefree life than trouble myself with someone else's trouble."
As he approached the palace entrance where the guards at the gate told him to be, Nolan whistled and looked at the massive building.