Heart Of Iron: Praecordia Ferri [ON HOLD]

Four - The Lost Son

YAYYY

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Chapter Four

Deep in the heart of Smithfield Market, a young girl snuck behind the cart of a chicken wagon. She looked up at the seller, but he was too busy brandishing his filthy hands towards his poultry, trying to compete with the many other chicken farmers. Slowly, she wedged herself between the stacks of cages before she stopped right at the massive man's buttocks. The child smirked upon seeing a ring of keys loosely tied to his belt and all too easily slipped it off and quickly ducked underneath the wagon. It was impossible for the big farmer to hear the jangling of keys and squawks of his chickens over the babble of the market.

By the time he had turned around, a whole cage was open and his prized livestock were causing disaster everywhere. He let out a roar of disbelief. Sweaty messes of men struggled to catch the chicken dancing and flapping across the crowds, the masses all too much for the blundering farmer and in a sudden crash he fell on the remaining cages, setting the rest of his live income free and destroying his wagon.

In the midst of the chaos, nobody noticed the little girl heading in the opposite direction, briskly walking behind a stall and emerging as a tall young man clutching a bulging object hidden in his jacket that was suspiciously clucking and feathery.

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James stopped on the outskirts of the fight. He grabbed a random farmer and asked,"What's going on here, man?"

"I dunno, sir. One momen' I was settin' up me stall and the next fing I know Big Barty ova there screams murder for losin' 'im chickens! Can yeh imagine 'ow many blokes'll be claimin' them birdies as theirs now? Hah!"

James reluctantly let the man go before turning to Niccolo, "Wait just a moment and stay very still." With that his eyes gazed off and he cocked his head to the side.

Niccolo watched him as he turned about as if listening for something. Must be his sensor, Niccolo thought before his friend grasped his arm and pulled him quickly around the mess towards the east exit. He understood immediately and quickened his pace. James had found a trail.

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The young man slowed down before reaching the east exit. Pleased as he was with his latest conquest, he still had to flee first.

"C'mon, almost there," he mumbled to himself. This exit was less crowded than the rest of the market, however that did not make a difference to his escape. The chicken under his arm was now stubbornly resisting and he cringed whenever it nipped at his arm.

"Bloody bird. Just you wait 'til I put you over a fire."

That comment alone set his stomach growling. How much longer did he have to starve before sinking to the level of common thieves, again? Frustrated, he ran a hand through his thick brown locks and looked to the exit again before stopped abruptly.

Just my luck, and so close too, he grimaced as he spotted two constables beginning their patrol shift around the area; two constables particularly larger than him and ages evidently beyond his eighteen years, judging by their bearded faces. He swore loudly before swerving into a dark corner behind a particularly lazy seller who had left his intestine cuttings in the open. Swallowing the growing bile, he looked out again. The policemen seemed to be distracted by a passing carriage adorned with the seal of the House of Paxton.

The young man looked through the open windows to see a handsome and blonde middle-aged woman. At that moment, her eyes snapped up and narrowed in his direction. He gulped and had a feeling that woman was no ordinary lady; her gaze seemed to pierce through him and see straight into his soul.

Had she seen the chicken smuggled under his battered jacket? Knowing the pompous rich families, he feared she might've, but she turned her head away. It's now or never, he thought.

He let out a deep breath and felt the immediate change. He knew his features were morphing into a slight, ginger farmer a little shorter than he was. If anyone could see him, they would be gaping at his ability to transform at the blink of an eye. He looked out of the gap quickly and was relieved to find every body preoccupied and easily melted into a crowd of dirty men passing through.

What he did not see were the shocked gazes of three adults, one blonde lady and her dark companions, leaning against a nearby wall.

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"Did you just see that?" Esme turned to her brother. Niccolo looked just as surprised. Her brother however, shrugged - of course he knew. She had joined them at his signal and Jaes had pointed to the stall where the thief she saw, not a few moments ago, hid.

Thinking about it now, she had a nagging feeling she knew him from somewhere - no street urchin would have such aristocratic features that stood out like a sore thumb amongst the working class folk. With the stature of a well off boy, brown hair and eyes and if not for the general unkept appearance of the youngster, she would've thought he was born into nobility. He looked remarkably like the young version of her dear friend, Arnold Wal-

Esme gasped suddenly and gripped her brothers arm.

"It can't be!" she exclaimed. He looked down at her, a little confused. "We have to follow him, now!"

And with that she marched off in the direction the red head went, leaving the two men struggling to catch up.

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Not far away from the three companions, the ginger-haired farmer ducked into a secluded alley and adjusted his now quiet, feathered prize under his arm. He breathed and felt his normal features grow out again.

He suddenly felt a sense of fatigue and slid down to the wet stone floor against the wall; poverty definitely did not suit him well. He realised how stupid he was to exhaust himself. It probably was not necessary to undergo that last transformation into the small farmer. He sighed and threw his head back, cursing when it hit the hard brick.

The longing for his father to be here supporting him hurt him more than the bricks though. Just a few months ago he was playing polo with the only person he called family, and then he was gone - just like that. Of course his father's wicked mistress, 'stepmother', she called herself - but the world knew she was nothing but a money hungry whore, wouldn't stand for him getting the majority of the inheritance. She ended up running away with everything, including deeds and her new lover.

Haven't eaten in days now, not that anyone cares, he sighed bitterly and looked to the entrance of the alleyway. He was startled to find three figures standing there looking at him, and jumped up, effectively losing his chicken and falling unconscious due to a particularly large gas pipe he did not see.

He awoke some unknown time later with his head propped up against something soft. He opened his eyes groggily and felt the immediate effects of gravity. He was actually lying on something, leather by the smell of it. Sitting up, he noticed by the swaying motion he was in a carriage - a moving carriage. Someone gave a little cough and his eyes widened at the trio sitting across from him, the lady in the middle being the same he saw earlier, except her expression was kinder, less judgemental if anything.

He gaped at them, but years of experience told him to school his expression into a blank mask. He sat up properly, not keen on showing how much his crown hurt, and looked expectantly at them. To his surprise, the lady started tearing up.

"You're Benjamin aren't you?" she said and this time he was very much taken by surprise, but felt lost when she started getting very emotional. She reached out as if to touch his hand, but was restrained when her sharp-eyed companion spoke up.

"You are Arnold's son." His tone stated this as a matter-of-fact and the young man nodded. "Well Ben Waltier, it is a pleasure to meet you, especially given your little performance earlier. Very handy, shape shifting, isn't it?"

Ben continued to gape at these people "I'm sorry, but who are you?"

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Benjamin Waltier - Ben Barnes