Ardel walked through the dark cold ally until at last he found his slightly comfortable spot next to the wall. The cobble stone was smoother here, giving it a more relaxing position. The boy curled into a ball, settling into a slumber. Slowly, as the sun sank into the sky with a pinkish hue, the murmur and activity of Lomedor square faded away with the day. Once all was silent, the child managed to drift into his normal sleep.

He awoke at first light, once the square's activity had begun once again. The normal roar of the crowd flooded to his ears. He rose, stretching his arms in a tired yawn. He turned down the ally towards the direction of the square. He moved slowly, rubbing his eyes as he went. As soon as he reached the exit of the ally, he stopped, just barely avoiding a women with a very large basket.

"Watch were your going, runt!" exclaimed the women. "Oh, excuse me!" Ardel said, remembering his manners. The women merely lifted her head high and continued walking the direction she started in. "Nice meeting you!" Ardel yelled over the crowd. The women ignored the noise, inspecting the fruit on a nearby stall. "Oh well," the boy said to himself. He headed to the center of the square, squinting his eye's to find what he was looking for.

At last, Ardel found what he was looking for. Dagrhinna, a massive, brawny man, somewhat chunky from the homly life, was buying loaves of bread for his family. "Dagrhinna!" exclaimed the child, sprinting towards the stocky man's direction. Ardel threw his arms around the man, squeezing him tight. "Hey Ardel!" greeted Dagrhinna. "How was your night?" he asked, as he did every morning. "Good!" lied the boy. He always answered with 'good', not wanting Dagrhinna to worry about his hardships. The man couldn't afford to take in the child, yet was the closest thing to a father the child could ever have.

Dagrhinna paid for the bread and swiftly placed it under his arm, and then handed his hand over to the small boy. Ardel merely shook his head. "Sorry Dagrhinna. You'll just have to go home yourself. I'm gonna catch myself a rat today!" the boy said with excitement. "Oh really?" asked the man with mock disbelief. Ardel randomly decided to embark on his own 'adventures', abandoning Dagrhinna for a day to have his chance to play.

"Yup," the boy responded, "I'm sure you can make it home by yourself though," he said thoughtfully. "Don't worry, and good luck!" Dagrhinna said with a chuckle. The man waved his hand goodbye and disappeared into the crowd and towards the direction of his house. Ardel went the opposite direction, back to his ally. There, he found the normal rats scurrying around the gutters and trash bins.

He plopped down next to one of the trash cans, directly across from it, his arms within snatching distance. The rats scattered as soon as his bottom hit the ground, but after several minutes, they reappeared. The boy then snuck forward, and then lashed out, trying to snatch the rat. Of course, they would retreat before he could grab them. Ardel repeated this for half an hour, completely enthralled by the animals. Every time he missed, he would giggle, clapping his hands. Always, he would whisper to the rats, "Next time! Next time your mine!" with an excitement in his tone.

It was the day before the eve of Yenearsira and the streets lay crowded with over a thousand traders like ants scattered across a wide stretch of land unto the horizon. The sky was bright with the heat of the sun scorching from high above. The exchange of voices dominated over the random foley of foot falls, metallic clangs and hollow collisions of clay pottery. The air was filled with a dusty mixture of scents from sweat to dried fish, from pungent perfumes to fragrant oils. It seemed that all the world was preparing for a grand celebration. Left and right, coinage was exchanged for little trinkets while others delved into a vast search of ingredients for a wealthy evening feast.

It was in the midst of the rush of such affairs that Melandro wandered the streets, armed solely by the Deathbringer that hung upon his belted waist. Not a single piece of armour adorned him, nor any kind of special clothing for he had not intent in granting war in a day of celebration. Yet where all splurged upon extravagant gifts, there were some, still less fortunate.

Lomendor was a prosperous capital. It is home to the largest of mansions, the grandeur of the Parmamar Library and the primary seat of power among mortals within the land of Arda. Many monumental structures were build there including a great fountain that stood sprouting crystalline water. It was the epitome of all that was bountiful yet in its shadows dwelled beggars, thieves and orphans. Many of which, most of which could not even afford a typical day’s meal what more those that are worthy of a feast.

Where the crowds were aplenty, in a district littered by tailors and rolls of linen, he began unclasping from his side, a pouch of gold. It was not adorned for greedy eyes. Its contents were merely sufficient for a meager purchase of last-minute trinkets before the eve of Yenarsira. A hundred and fifty five gold pieces, he paid unto the grubby hands of a wealthy merchant with an air of certainty as if he had in a long time been eyeing a pair of leather boots that had been on display for quite a while. It was no different from any other; simple, strapped and a sturdy brown for a female’s soles yet its price was extraordinarily high for a pair so atypical.

“Many thanks good noble.”

The trader replied with much glee as he tipped his hat before tucking his profit away from sight within the confines of his stall: between a pile of silken fabrics which were, in his perception might have been the best hiding place against thieves.

“Your lady friend must be quite a climber of walls… my stock of which has remained untouched since you came.”

“Aye, she does have quite a talent. I could not think of anything more suitable.”

Melandro spoke in turn.

“There are more decorative alternatives ya see m’lord. They say diamonds are a girl’s best friend!”

To the man’s words, Von Mortem could be no less amused. Casting a smile, he shook his head only to look far into the distance where a boy and what would seem like his father were exchanging speech. He would not dwell upon this image for long before returning his gaze unto the old merchant.

“Nay… she is one of a kind. I would be beaten into a pulp if I were to gift her with anything as priceless as a piece of jewelry.”

“I hope that I am not prying, but I am curious… what is your lady’s occupation?”

Ymir, quite surprised, could not help but ask, a question that Melandro with wit, immediately responded with an eye reduced to a squint.

“If I were to tell, I would have to kill you.”

Both men fell into laughter before exchanging their farewells and from there Obsidian was on his way to purchase items that were still yet to be found. It was then that by chance, while he wrapped the pair in fine linen, that the boy he had once seen earlier came running past. It seems that the lad was rather excited as he sped with all his might towards the alley from where he had once emerged. Once again, he thought little of such an event and proceeded towards the nearest baker he could find.

"I would like to purchase some of those sweetcakes please..."

Ardel's tiny palm struck out, aimed for one of the rats scurrying around the trash bin filled with garbage and old, discarded food. The boy ignored the overwhelming stench of garbage to continue his game. Each time he managed to grab one's tail, he would immediately release the critter, and then jump up and down in overwhelming glee. After playing this game for quite a while (or at least it felt that way for the seven year old), Ardel began to get bored.

The movement around Lomedor Square reached its climax, the noise and bustle of the city creating a rushed and hurried atmosphere. The boy got up, and left the dark alley, in search of something to do. Immediately when Ardel stepped out of the alley, his destination was shown to him. A man clothed in dark attire was at a stall, laughing with a man.

The man then said farewell, turning over to a baker, ordering something from that stall. Ardel's mouth watered at the sight of the purchase. "Sweetbread," said Ardel as if saying the word would produce a tiny bit of the bread's flavor in his mouth. Instantly, Ardel sped over to the man purchasing the bread, not the least bit intimidated by his size and stature. "Hi there mister!" shouted the boy, waving up at the man.

"I love sweet bread!" he roared. The boy didn't expect to receive the bread, nor was he begging for it. Ardel had a habit of telling random people random facts about himself. He was sociable, and always wanted to test the extent of his friendliness. It was difficult as an orphan though, for most of the Lomedor citizens didn't take much care for the homeless children and adults alike in the city. Ardel hopped up and down next to the man, his obvious excitement bubbling over.

"My name is Ardel!" the boy said with a girlish giggle. He extended his hand, moving it at a somewhat upward angle so that he could actually reach the other man's hand. "Whats your name, uh, mister, uh, mister, uh" the boy retracted his hand, itching his head in confusion instead. Dagrhinna's words floated through his head, "Alway's treat adults with respect, Mr. and Mrs. My wife would be Mrs. Agrnial," Ardel stood in confusion for a good thirty seconds (which was actually quite longer for the boy.)

Then, in a moment of understanding, the boy leapt up, extending his hand out once more, this time even farther towards the man. "Hi!" he said, ignoring the fact he already introduced himself already, "I'm Ardel! Who are you Mr. Sweet bread buyer?" he asked, replacing his last name for the only thing he could think of at the time, and at the time, sweet bread was dancing in his mind, the smell practically taunting him.

Quite interesting, this young lad who had suddenly appeared out of nowhere. The incident itself reminded him of a forgotten past. Somehow in his innocence, he had recalled a scene so familiar almost hauntingly similar to his youth. It was long ago, enshrouded by the clouds of his memory. Few had ever known how life had unfolded two hundred years ago when he was nothing more than an orphan, a victim to the likings of seasoned thieves as their apprentices. The scene itself was still vivid in his thoughts. He was walking in the eyes of Ardel only he grew up naught in Lomedor but in a distant land that was hardly of any difference in comparison to this. With the death of his mother, what little provisions he had inherited, a few pieces of jewelry, of coinage, what meager fruit of an impoverished life was soon spent save for the last gift she had bestowed upon him upon her death bed. It was just a toy, a plain insignificant wooden carving of a knight, a profession that he had so idolized. He had always wanted to become the idealized soldier, every boy did. Thus he kept the little figure wherever he went so that in trying times, when he had felt such loneliness and isolation, he would find in reminiscence, his mother and the dream that he had aspired to become.

The memory flashed before his eyes within a blink of an eye. The passing of two centuries has yielded a man so different to the child who was induced the life of thievery. No longer was he the lad who stood barefoot and draped with rags for then he was fortunate to have met a man who would later become his mentor and father, a tale for another time perhaps.

By then in the midst of his trance, Ardel had extended his scruffy hand for the second time. The boy was almost like an adult for doing so. For some reason he had inherited the likeness of a polite gesture.

Gloved, he would not permit the youth to shake a palm encased in leather. The act would have been a reflection of rudeness and of distance in reply to the friendliness that such an urchin had presented in greeting. Obsidian was once a son of the streets. By heart, he would always remain as so even if he lay clothed in aristocratic garments. Tucking his purchases away, he relieved his hand of its gloved confines. The gesture would reveal several scars born from the wounding of knives. With thus he accepted the young man’s introduction uncaring if soiled fingertips would smear unto his own.

“I am Melandro. Did you wish for sweetcakes, Ardel?”

He offered politely as it seemed that the child was obviously hungry from the glistening of his eyes whenever his view had shifted to the cloth-wrapped ration. Nonetheless he would have the boy acquire the entire loaf. It was after all likely that he had not had his first meal.

“Was the man from earlier your father?”

He inquired with curiosity for he knew that the streets were not the kindest of homes. He would find verification in this as soon as he felt a certain stir upon his belt. With a swift swipe, he withdrew his touch from Ardel’s grasp. The speed of the motion would cause a stun as he claimed without lending a gaze, the wrist of a young girl not a year older than his new acquaintance. It was highly apparent that she was attempting to steal with her iron hold upon the loosely hanging pouch upon his side. Fear and panic had marred her. It was evident by how she stood there, almost frozen. However, she would regain presence of mind within seconds. The blade by which she would have cut the pouch free came to view as she with much urgency came to draw his blood with a childish slice. He gritted his teeth as the back of his hand bled a crimson mortality. With all the wars he had fought that yielded more punishing wounds, this was insignificant. She would not be released but instead, disarmed. For then he shifted his grasp to the armed hand, forcibly taking from her, the weapon she had defended herself with. She stirred, but he would not yield.

“Let go of me—“

“That would be enough…”

He lashed at her firmly yet still she sought for her freedom. She pulled herself from him with all her might to which he could do nothing but shake his head in reply. He released her. She would trip, face first upon the cobblestones where she would graze her knee. Nonetheless she rose and without having to look back, she sprinted into the crowd.

He trailed her for a moment with his orbs, deep with a brilliant hue that mimicked that of the ocean. Soon, she would vanish into the far off distance, never to be seen again. Blinking as if the event had not transpired, he lent his gaze to the nearby fruit trader.

“Noble sir…”

He called, attracting the man’s attention.

“In case your knives grow blunt.”

Skillfully, he hurled the blade into the air with his wounded hand. It spun progressively in complete revolutions, increasing in speed as it sliced through the air. The vendor smiled, raising a melon in reply. A succulent sound of a thump followed. The blade had struck its mark upon the sweet indulgence, leaving a pleased merchant who would nod in appreciation for the gesture. From there, the man would continue with his trade, slicing melons and skinning oranges for the new arrival of patrons.

Ardel waited patiently for the man as he removed the glove his hand, then accepted the small toddlers. It seemed this person was very polite, treating Ardel as a equal, not some scoundrel thief or begging child. “I am Melandro. Did you wish for sweetcakes, Ardel?” asked Melandro. Immediately, Ardel's face light up remarkably. The thought of such a treat brightened him to the point were he was actually hopping up and down with excitement. He hadn't had his first meal yet, and neglected to find himself dinner the previous night as well. Ardel accepted the sweetcakes, not bothering to answer Melandro with a 'yes, I would love sweetcakes!'

Ardel took the whole loaf, assuming that Melandro was offering the entire entity. He took a large bite out of it, allowing himself to truly enjoy the flavor. The sweet, sugary, bread was tough to chew, and very dense, but was defiantly an enjoyable treat for him. He put the rest of the bread away in his pocket, deciding to save the rest for another day. Ardel wiped his hands free of crumbs, brushing his pants off as well. "Thanks so much Melandro!" exclaimed Ardel, starting to throw his arms around the man for a hug. But he stopped immediately, waiting for Melandro's second question. "Was the man from earlier your father?”

Ardel shook his head, still smiling brightly. "Nope, that was Dagrhinna. He's my friend," he said, crossing his arms across his chest similar to the way he had observed Dagrhinna do. The child's gestures made him seem even the more childish, trying his hardest to mimic the adults around him. "He's really nice. He said if he didn't already have children of his own, he'd adopt me!" exclaimed the boy, jumping up and down, "but I prefer to live out here!" lied the boy.

Ardel fell on his bottom at the surprise of Melandro spinning around, grabbing hold of a girl. The young orphan wasn't even a year older than Ardel. But it was immediately apparent to Ardel what was happening. The girl's hand was locked onto the coin pouch of Melandro. But the warrior had grabbed her hand before she escaped. The small boy gasped as the girl drew a small dagger, cutting a wound into the flesh of the boy's new friend. "Stop it!" exclaimed the boy, tears streaming down his face. "Your not supposed to do things like that!" he yelled sobbing.

Melandro released the girl, who tripped at the sudden force. She grazed her knee on the hard stone, quickly rising and fleeing. "Your a bad person!" roared Ardel, tear stricken. Ardel turned back to Melandro, who was heading towards the girl. He jogged towards Melandro, not willing to lose a new person to talk to. He stopped, ending his futile search. Then Melandro stopped by a melon vendor, asking the man a question Ardel was unable to hear. All the boy could do was watch in awe as the vendor raised a melon, allowing the spinning blade thrown by Melandro to slice it in half. Ardel sprinted towards his new friend.

"That was amazing!" he squealed. "Why did that girl do that?" he said quickly after, tilting his head in confusion. "You see, she was breaking the law! And she hurt you!" he said glancing at Melandro's small wound, "Dagrhinna told me that when you pull a knife," he told him seriously, pointing at the small dagger located at his belt, "you need to make sure that no one is in your blood circle by going like this," he said, spinning his arms around him, sending the tiny limbs straight to playfully hit Melandro.