Chapter 2 - The Friend of a Theif

A ray of sunlight travels through the windy air, through the warm-colored, clean kingdom situated in the middle of Alliyon. There is only one kingdom in the center of Alliyon, the Pure Lands. The ray of sunlight travels through the populated city, traveling down and down, till it shines on Dylan's face.

Though it was unbelievably hot that day, Dylan still trained his usual six hours. Hitting the battered wooden pole with a splintered wooden sword. Swish-BAM. The sword was quick and nimble, traveling through the air. SWISH, until it hit the wooden pole with the same sound as a hard punch to the face. BAM. It was sheer determination and companionship that kept him going. He didn't want to be left behind, because if he had taken a break for even a single day, Zeke would get ahead.

They promised each other that they would once become a Lorian Knight one day and fight for the king side by side. It was on the first day of winter when they first met, and a year after, on the same snowy day on the bridge above the blue vibrant canal, became true friends. That was where they made a promise that they were brothers in arms and each one of them would defend the other when needed without question. Of course, like true brothers, there was a small rivalry between them. This was also the true reason why Dylan was so determined to train—even though the injuries and spintlers— was because he wanted to outperform his dear friend in the prestigious tournament situated in the heart of the pure lands.

It was an important tournament that would provide thousands of gold coins and an esteemed title for getting the top positions. But that was not the most important prize nor what all the competitors would focus on. It was the first place prize that aroused everyone's attention. The first prize granted the winner a large piece of land and the Letter of Recommendation to the most prestigious training camp in all of Alliyon. The Royal Lorien Training Camp.

The Lorien training camp housed dozens of tents and a nearby village for the trainees to sleep in. Those who lost or were insubordinate were required to stay outside and sleep in a tent with no blankets in the freezing, harsh weather of the Lorian alps. This was the harsh but effective method to harden those who enlisted in this prestigious camp for battle. They would sleep for a hundred nights there to truly feel and reflect as to what they had done.

On the other side of the camp was a dueling class where two people will duel it out. The duel was won if the opponent surrendered or was bleeding so much that they might die without medical attention. While the duel was mostly about skill, it was also about honor and turning the tide to the defendant's favor. If Trainees did not meet those requirements and show that they can achieve this, they would be kicked out of the training camp no matter how good their skills were.

Then there was archery class where the archers on and off horseback tried to expertly and accurately hit their intended targets. Talented Lorian mounted archers are fearsome and deadly foes. Although ranged magic was a severe weak point for them, mounted archers were still incredible assets to Lorien. Those who failed initiation will have a chance at joining the Lorians normal Archer Legion as making it to initiation itself is a very impressive feat.

Most chose to duel and wield longswords as they wanted to be in the heat of the battle claiming the glory and those that did, considered archery as cowardice. Scholars or teachers who transferred to the military school would most likely choose archery or a strategist position as they did not know how to wield a heavy sword or could not handle the heat of the battle, but all in all, they were very nimble and apt.

Dylan wielded a longsword, though he was more fitted for the role of a military strategist. He had to work and train every day, trying to get in the habit of wielding a heavy sword, and that he did. He continued to swish and hit the wooden pole aggressively, panting and gasping until he suddenly stopped. He was exhausted. Heavily exhausted. Though he wasn't the greatest at using a longsword, he knew that he had enough talent that with perseverance and dedication he might stand a chance against the intimidating competitors.

He wanted to gain the recommendation letter by winning the acclaimed tournament. His reasons were not because he wanted glory or power, but because he wanted to become a Lorien Knight, helping all in need. With that goal in mind, he would attempt to swing again at the wooden pole. Nonetheless, he knew it was tedious, but with the ultimate goal in mind, it pushed him to swing again and again and again.

Sunset came too soon for Dylan and the air turned colder. He could no longer feel the heat on his face from the sun. It was nearing dinner and Dylan had decided that he was done training. The moment he heard his stomach rumbling, he dropped on the ground like a dead snake, slithering back into his small house, out from the training area in his backyard.

His parents were sleeping, however, he knew that there would always be food for him on the table, at times leaving a few potatoes to collect dust. His family was poor by social standards and they kept getting poorer, therefore they only had enough left for a pitiful piece of bread on the table and a cup of milk. Dylan groaned, knowing that it wouldn't sustain him through the night, but he appreciated his parents caring for him. He crawled onto the rough carpet on the floor, his bed. He would take a rest to regain his energy after eating his small meal. He brought the bread onto the carpet, practically crawling all the way, and ate slowly so as to savor the tangy taste and the crunchy texture of his meal. When the horizon finally swallowed the bright warm sun, Dylan slowly woke up still feeling the fatigue from his last training session.

Even though Dylan was training continuously, he knew that even at the age of sixteen, he could not enter the tournament without a mentor to train him and coin to gain access to the tournament. Yet, he still trained nonetheless, hoping still that a miracle comes so somehow, he can join the tournament. That miracle that he wanted would unknowingly come today.

In the middle of all the hustle and bustle in the market, Dylan walked quickly to a shopkeeper selling bread hoping that he had good prices. The economy was still recovering after the Great Magic War which took a great toll. Now, prices have risen up, meaning poorer families like Dylan's can afford less and less. The market itself looked and looked smaller than it had been before the Great War. Before, there were dozens of shops and a big bazaar in the middle of the market. Currently, the bazaar is destroyed and only a handful of shops remain.

The shop had crooked wooden floor boarding and looked just a little better than the slums. However, only a little. He headed to the only cheap shop there, which had a skewed sign with a poor carving that seemed to resemble bread. The sign was so worn down that it was hard to tell what it was, Dylan only assumed it was bread. The atmosphere was dyed yellow, with only cheap oil lanterns lighting up the dark morning sky. Though it gave the place a warm, calm, feeling.

Dylan approached the shopkeeper and asked him, "Do you have any bread for sale? I would like to buy a loaf for a good price." Dylan was shorter than the shopkeeper and had to tilt his head up while talking.

The shopkeeper replied, "Name your price boy. But don't make it too low. It's troubling times now with all the rumors and prophecies about a new war and all."

Dylan couldn't care less. After all, how can the possibility of another war make his family worse off? They had little food to begin with anyway. Since he could remember, they had lived in that tiny shack of a house since he was born and had bread and potatoes every single day and night.

Now, with almost no coin earned, they had barely enough to buy bread every day. Soon, their coin supply will keep dwindling until there is nothing left.

Dylan continued, "How about a gold coin and a nickel."

The shopkeeper laughed, "A gold coin and a nickel. Aye, you must be crazy. The lowest I can go is 3 gold coins. I'm sorry, but these are tough times boy." He said with a hoarse voice and a typical Agra accent, with flat vowels and clipped endings.

Dylan reluctantly took 3 gold coins from his smooth leather sack and was about to drop the coins at the small stand, but then he noticed his crafty friend Zeke motioning to come to him.

Dylan while running said to the shopkeeper, "I will be back. I need to do a little errand first."

At first, Zeke looks like another one of the homeless thugs that Dylan sees every day nearby his house. Zeke did look the part. But unlike the others, he was crafty, sneaky and unusually handsome for a homeless eighteen-year-old boy. Zeke was Dylan's best friend and helped him cope with any problems, especially with food. While Dylan tries to haggle shopkeepers to get a cheaper price than normal for bread, Zeke usually snatches the bread swiftly under the shopkeeper's eyes. Most of his attempts were successful without any problems or unnecessary chases. But, when a chase occurs, Zeke, knowing the town better than anyone, swiftly runs through all the alleyways and secret passages that he knows, outwitting his opponent. Once, he outwitted an entire patrol of Lorian soldiers chasing him through the alleyways. He often bragged about what he considered was his greatest achievement.

The reason why Zeke motioned Dylan to come talk to him in the first place was that he wanted to help him out, albeit in a slightly unorthodox way. Zeke was going to help Dylan steal, but not from the usual shop, but from an unsuspecting baker on the other side of the crowded Bazaar. It had better quality foods, but the downside was that it was more expensive. That meant that only the slightly wealthy citizens passing by in the slums of the Pure Lands could enjoy the muffins that were sold without guilt for wasting coins.

Zeke's black hair, dark clothes, and brown bag blended with the dimness that engulfed the shop, and it helped as slight camouflage. Even so, Zeke's bright green eyes shone in the night, brighter than the lantern in the baker's shop. Dylan was not as stealthy as Zeke, so he was the bait. He would distract the baker who was currently handing over a tasty-looking muffin to the long-haired girl in a black hood.

After the hooded figure left, Dylan talked to the Baker.

"Hey! Can I buy a few muffins?" Dylan said, hoping that this conversation would buy enough time for Zeke to sneak past the baker into the bakery, take some food out of the storage, and escape through whatever backdoor Zeke could find.

The baker turned towards Dylan to talk, and before even a syllable was uttered, Zeke flew past the baker into the shop, with the baker's back turned on Zeke. Zeke ran out from the shop and jumped high, like a bird, and landed like a feather, graceful and silent.

Zeke kept running, head looking back to see if the baker caught him or not. The baker did not notice, however, someone else did. Zeke crashed into a skinny figure, the Baker's son, who was bringing in boxes of dough for the muffins, and the Baker turned his back to see the commotion in such a quick motion that his back could've snapped.

Zeke ran and ran, grabbing and stuffing muffins from the storage room into his brown leather bag. After approximately a dozen muffins, the bag was puffy but light enough to be carried with ease. Zeke ran out the backdoor that thankfully was in fact there, and the baker looked enraged.

"You crafty boy. Come back here!" The baker shouted with a look that could kill. The baker turned around once again, this time to meet Dylan face to face to interrogate him, but he had already run. It was now a chase. A chase of death.