Chapter 4
"Hear what I say about the greatest evil of all, the one called woman! They may look like angels on the outside—soft, gentle, and well-formed, enough to turn even an honest man's head. But under this pretty skin, there's evil lurking, who only cares for trinkets and finery and thinks nothing of stealing or whoring to get them all. And don't think this one or that one may be different! They're all secretly in league, one covering up the wrongdoings of the other! Return to the Seven. Pray and beg them to protect you from this evil desire that they present!"
Markets were always full of people. Most were trying to sell or buy something, but a few wanted their voices to be heard. This one was just another crazy priest trying to convince everyone that evil lurked all around them and that they should turn to the gods for forgiveness and protection.
Forgetting to mention how much it would cost for the gods to hear their prayers. It was always one ridiculous thing or another that, on a grand scale, didn't make any sense. Women were evil, gold was evil, wine was evil—one could choose anything and call it evil, and there would always be a few fools who believed they had sinned.
Locke couldn't wrap his head around how superstitious some people were, as if there was nothing better to do than believe this bullshit. Well, all the better for him. Those fools who didn't care about their coin were easy targets; some even had a few copper coins.
Locke was fine with copper. As long as he could buy some food and water, he was satisfied. So, he focused on saving every bit of silver and gold he could. One day, he would need it to make his goal a reality.
The market was filled with coins and trinkets no one would miss for too long. Now, with a knife, it wasn't too hard to nick a coin purse from someone's belt without a sound or anyone noticing.
There was no mistake in Locke's movements. He waited for the perfect opportunity and the perfect target before moving fast and silent. One cut, and the purse was in his small hands. Its contents vanished under his shirt, and Locke was nothing but a passing shadow.
But it wasn't his targets he had to watch out for the most. It was the other thieves—and the Goldcloaks. Locke wouldn't repeat the same mistake. He made sure to disappear the moment someone's eyes lingered too long.
Three escape routes were always in his mind. If one got blocked, he'd fall back on another. A few hideouts were prepared if he needed to vanish for hours or a night. So were his caches, in case he had to ditch loot quickly.
Preparedness was the key to survival. Getting caught was a death sentence. In that regard, nothing had changed. Locke had only grown more careful in time, more afraid, and far faster than he used to be. After all, a month had already passed since he got trapped in this life.
Nothing much changed, really. Day in and day out, Locke just tried to make do. But he no longer struggled to survive. He learned, especially after that day when he met those monsters of men. He learned to keep his head down, play dumb, and look pitiful when needed.
He had seen many things now. Children like him are beaten to death. Women were violated and slaughtered. Sadistic gangs or bored nobles dragged away men. Locke had once followed them.
He had heard of dog pits. But seeing one with his own eyes gave him a whole different perspective. Being forced to fight a vicious beast for entertainment wasn't something Locke wished to do. But even after witnessing all that, that day still scared him the most.
It now occupied his dreams as much as his mother's death. Seeing those teeth and that tongue descend on his flesh was never a nice way to wake up. It never failed to make him shiver in cold fear.
Now, he either woke up trembling in fear or shaking in rage. There was nothing in between. But he used those feelings to move, focus, and stay careful. He was starting to think that always being angry and afraid wasn't healthy. Then again, living in Flea Bottom wasn't healthy either.
"Cabbage! Two coppers for one head!"
Just as Locke turned his eyes to what was quite a good deal, he quickly hid himself and tried to get to the market's exit. If he hadn't been in the thieving business, he might not have noticed three street urchins moving in on the cabbage cart.
Kids like them often used chaos and confusion, and just as he expected, as the trio passed by, they broke one of the cart's two wheels. Cabbages rolled into the market, and some people were laughing at the vendor's misfortune; others were cursing him as they had to watch their step.
"Cabbage! My cabbage!"
Either the vendor was overselling his love for vegetables, or he was paid to attract attention. Locke didn't think a wheel would just come off with a little pull from a kid. It didn't take long for him to spot the kids rummaging through other stands once all eyes turned away.
They were quick and organized, with selective targets and a decent escape plan. But no plan was perfect, and they failed to account for the Goldcloaks. They weren't observant enough, and that would kill them one day.
Most of the Goldcloaks were stupid or didn't care. But even they couldn't pass up the chance to look good in front of the city's people. Catching a few street urchins wasn't difficult. And no gang would dare to take vengeance on the city guards.
"Stop right there!"
Well, Locke wasn't wrong about them being stupid. He had never seen anyone actually stop when the Goldcloaks shouted. So, the kids ran, bags of loot in hand, little legs sprinting toward Flea Bottom.
The worst part? They took the same path Locke had planned to use. And there he stood, watching the trio run toward him with half a dozen Goldcloaks behind them. Would they care if Locke said he wasn't with them?
He didn't need to think to know the answer. He bolted.
But Locke knew he couldn't outrun grown men so easily. So, he was forced to use his escape plan even though he wasn't technically caught. He threw a handful of silver into the crowd. More than half of his hard-earned silver, gone.
People dove for it without hesitation—desperate to feed families, drown sorrows, or buy a warmer whore for the night. The sudden chaos blocked the Goldcloaks, or maybe they joined in the crowd for the fight for a silver coin. In the end, it didn't matter as it gave Locke the seconds he needed. And he didn't want to risk it by taking a look.
Still, it seemed his actions had drawn some unwanted attention.
Once he felt safe, hidden by the darker alleys, Locke pulled out his knife and thrust it behind him, keeping the trio who got him involved at a distance. They still had sacks filled with various knick-knacks and were cautiously approaching.
"One more step, I dare you," Locke warned, controlling his shaking as best as he could.
They were all a year or two older, barely any bigger, but there were three of them. Still, Locke had a very sharp knife in his hand. That seemed enough to hold the line. But he didn't want to get into a fight; it was always better to avoid it as much as possible.
"You fuckers already cost me too much. I might be tempted to take what's inside those sacks. So don't test me."
"You're the new kid," said the tallest. "Thanks for the help."
"Well, it wasn't like you left me much choice," Locke snapped. "Your stupid plan would've landed me on the next carriage to the gallows or the Wall if I were lucky."
"Hey, it wasn't a stupid plan!" said the smallest one, their voice still uncertain with youth. Boy or girl, it didn't matter.
"It was. You overreached and didn't watch the Goldcloak patrols. If you had, you could've done the same thing an hour later without anyone chasing you."
"What do you mean?" asked the third, curious.
Now Locke realized: they were just kids. Not hostile. They probably followed him out of convenience. Just children trying to survive. And maybe it was time to make some friends.
"Do you have any food?" Locke asked. Still, nothing was free.
...
They did have food. And the amount and variety made Locke envious. Bread, meat, fruit, and even sweets. Everything looked fresh and clean enough to eat. Locke didn't hold back.
"Like I said, the Goldcloaks are lazy. They leave their shifts early and arrive late," Locke explained, stuffing another sweet roll into his mouth. "You would've had a full hour with no guards in sight. Unless you went where they drink or eat."
"How were we supposed to know that?" the girl of the group asked, frustrated.
"How else? By observing," Locke replied. "Your plan was too hasty. You want to rob a market? Spend days watching it. Vendors. Customers. Most importantly, guards."
"We don't have that kind of time," the oldest said.
Locke didn't ask their names. He didn't want to get attached. He realized immediately they were from a gang. Locke didn't want to get involved. But he couldn't refuse an easy meal. So, he shared what he knew.
"Protection fees?" Locke asked, more curious about how gangs worked than anything else.
"Aye, but not just protection. We pay for food and shelter, too," said the oldest.
"And bribes," added the second. "So, if we're caught, the guards might forget to lock us up or look the other way."
"It adds up," the girl muttered. "And if we get sick, we can't work. Medicine's expensive."
"It ain't that bad though," the oldest explained. "Wren makes sure other kids don't bully us. And no other gangs dare touch us."
"Wren?"
"Oh, she's super cool," the girl said excitedly. "Only a couple of years older than us, but she's the strongest in the gang. She only listens to the old lady. She's amazing with knives. You can't even see her move."
"And if you don't pay?"
"We're kicked out," the oldest said. "With nothing but the rags we wear."
Locke understood. As long as they paid, they were safe and had a place to sleep. But once they couldn't, they were discarded. And kids kicked out wouldn't last long, especially if they had already made some enemies with other gangs.
"How much do you need to pay?"
"Twenty coppers a week," the girl replied. "But we need more because our mom is sick."
"And only the old lady can help her."
"Will your haul be enough?" Locke asked, knowing the price of medicine was something that would be useful one day.
"For this week."
Looking at the sacks of clothing, trinkets, and jewelry, Locke estimated their street value—maybe three to four silver coins. Risky job for such a little reward. And they could only sell it because they had a gang. Locke couldn't move goods like that. Nobody would buy it from him.
"Where do you get all this food?" Locke asked. This was the best food he'd seen since coming to Flea Bottom.
"From the kitchen," the girl replied, as if he'd asked something dumb. "We got lucky and got to work there. The old lady doesn't pay us, but we can take whatever we can carry."
"From now on, you'll sell it to me," Locke said. "Bring it to me every three days. I'll pay you a silver coin for each haul."
"A silver coin?" The oldest's eyes lit up.
"Aye," Locke said. "But no one can know. If you bring trouble, the deal's off. You won't see me again. And if you try to cheat me, I'll kill you. I might not be as fast as your Wren, but trust me—I can and will gut you."
His knife glittered in the sun as he slowly moved it before their eyes. Connections were useful, but trust was earned. A little fear would go a long way with kids like them. And they didn't look brave enough to test him.
A.N. Sorry for not posting for a while. I got really unlucky, and my PC died. Then I got scammed and lost almost all my money. So, now I am working with a shitty pc. On the bright side I won't be gaming any time soon, yay.
As always, thanks for reading and supporting me, so I can continue writing without any concerns, and if you want more, up to seven more chapters, you can support me on pa treon. com \ ironwolf852.