A Knight's Rage [May change name later]

Chapter 1: Five

Hooves clicked on the stone road made from the sound of horses steering carriages around, merchants and travelers going throughout the large city of Lav under the setting sun. It was the capital city of Telonia, the human country. Amongst the chatter and bustle of the busy street market, a blue haired boy with a black eye and dirt everywhere on his face and body innocently walked around before getting noticed by a large burly man, suddenly pointed at the boy. "You...!" The boy looked over at the market. "Oh... hey mister! How's it going?" He said, a smile on his face, his short body tensed up after he saw said man get from his butcher stall. "You still owe me from that slab you stole!"

The boy rolled his eyes. "Please, you already beat me over it, do you need much more payment? It's not my fault you tackled me and ruined completely good meat with mud." He said, turning his back on him and took off. The man had to squeeze his largely built body through crowds while the boy hid below the crowd, ducking into an alleyway beside a tailor's shop and ran down. "Why doesn't he just stay at his butcher shop...! More people can steal other than me if he does that...! Whatever's going inside of the pig's brain it can't be anything smar..." He widened his eyes as he looked at a dead end in the alleyway. "Damnit..." He quickly turned around to run out of the alleyway, only to fall backward with a resounding thud. "What the-!?" He looked up to see the man glare down at him. "What did you say about me, you brat?" The boy gulped. "T...That you were a very intelligent and good looking man?" He tried flattery... He knew it wouldn't work. It never meant much from an orphaned child to flatter an adult in that city.

Sounds of soft flesh being hit repeatedly didn't make it that far, but even if it couldn't be heard that well, it hurt. Hurt bad. Well, that's pretty much what the boy with brilliant blue hair had thought. When the man went back to his market stall, the boy was quivering and spat out some blood. His arms, legs, body, and his cheek were bruised. "F...Fucking bastard..." He cursed. He wasn't that old, definitely not over 8. Why did he have to go through all of that?

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'Why...?' Warm tears began to fall down from his eyes as he curled up in a fetal position on the cold late autumn grounds, now alone. His hands clenched as his stomach let out a growl. "Not now..." He said, frustrated at the unfairness of his life. "I'm just a kid... why do I have to deal with this...?" He closed his eyes, using a bunch of old clothing the nearby tailor threw out as something to keep him warm for the time being. His tears soaked some of the pieces of clothing as he felt his consciousness slipping, exhaustion and the physical trauma he just endured catching up to him. He gritted his teeth in anger before he finally fell asleep.

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The bluette boy was running away from two men, holding a small loaf of bread. He looked at the wall, seeing a bunch of papers listing some propaganda about 'human supremacy'. He didn't really get it, but whatever. "Get away from me!" He said as he tore a bunch of the papers off the wall and threw it behind him, the wind instantly slamming them into their faces, obscuring their visions. The boy used that to finally get away, hiding in a different alleyway he knew better than the one he was chased into the other day, and began to run through different corners the alleyway led to, leading his way out to another exit while hugging the bread close to him. And once more, he ran into a man.

He immediately began scooting himself backwards away from the man as he finally stared up to look at him. The man was probably in his early twenties if not 20 exactly, and had no facial hair except a stubble on his almond skin, with hair a mint green color. He wore light armor and had a sword at his hip. In any case, a nasty glare was set on the boy's face at the man. A guard, he assumed. They never treated him well, being just as abusive as the butcher. He stood up, beginning to take off back where he had come from. The man stared at him, his eyes matching his hair. "Hey, wa-" He was calling out to the boy, thinking he was about to leave but instead saw him back up once again towards him. Two men, seemingly annoyed, grabbed the collar of the very dirty and torn clothing of the boy, not even bothering with the supposed guard. "You damn..! Give us the loaf back!" The man in armor stepped forward with a small thud from his boots on the stone ground. "Hey. Let the kid go." He said, reaching into his pocket for something. One of the men scoffed. "Tch, what do you know? This... BRAT stole from us-" He was cut off from a stinging sensation directly in the middle of the forehead and a silver coin fell into his hand. "There, the bread is paid for. Now leave the kid alone!" The two men looked at the coin before dropping the kid on the ground. "Y-yeah!" they said, immediately leaving, the man holding the silver coin with a red circular mark right where it hit him.

The man sighed as he looked down at the boy. "Heh. You good kid?" The boy's brows furrowed. "I-I guess but why... did you help me?" He gulped. "Did you want something from me?" The man looked up to the cloudy sky. "Hm..." He smiled, squatting down so he was at the same level as the boy, his forest green eyes looking into the blue haired boy's light grey –silver– ones. "I want you to tell me where your parents are so I can return you to them. I'm sure they won't be happy to have lost you and found you stealing bread..." He said, a sinking feeling appearing in his chest once he said those words. 'Unless...' The boy looked down, seeming even more frustrated now. "Ah... I see..." He breathed out. "Come on kid." He said, standing back out. The boy looked up at him. "Huh? To where?" The boy asked. The man smiled as he looked at him. "Home." The boy widened his eyes. What...? He was never told that. "What...?" The man set a hand on his head and gently roughed it up. "We're going home kid. I'll make you something good and get you cleaned up." The boy didn't know what to say, he felt his eyes water and nodded. "Y...You better not be tricking me..." The man laughed. "Don't worry, i'm not."

They walked down the stone road together, and the boy ended up grabbing his hands. "Oh yeah. My name is Vincent. Vincent Veril. What is yours, kid?" The almond-skinned man asked. The boy looked up at him. "... I dunno." Vincent nodded. "I see... Well in that case..." He used his free hand to grab onto his chin. "... Montgomery." This earned a disapproving look from the small boy. He obviously did not like that name. "Haha. I'm kidding!" He said, chuckling a bit. "... Lance?" The boy perked up at that name and nodded. "I like that one." Vincent smiled. "Alright then. Let's go home... Lance."

-Chapter 1 End-