It was long ago, the suffocating alleys of the docks were dirty and plagued with the curse of water-rats, cold and unforgiving, something Gorlen had to be content with. He was mushing through the sloppy remains of the previous night’s awful downpour, kicking with his bare feet at the litter criss-crossing his path; worn pieces of dirty wood, broken off from the dilapidated and storm riddled structures that sadly stood like broken teeth above the water, flying out in front him. Here and there he had to skip over an unfixed hole in the boardwalk upon which the docks were slapped on. He was hungry and knew his sister that he left at home would be waking up soon, knowing he had to go out and “make food”. Gorlen didn’t tell Henrieta what he did, scavenge the streets for what he could find, and honestly to him, there’s been a few enticingly plumb vermin he’s been considering. The one living behind their little one room cottage should be meal in its own right. He thought as he kicked stubbornly, arms clasped behind his back, at an half eaten apple stronk.
“Hey you, come over here” The command frightened the boy as he was about to turn the corner. Behind Gorlen, hidden within the many shadows the docs provided, was an obscure figure sitting upon an old crate, meticulously sharpening a richly decorated sword, running a whetstone slowly across the gleaming metal. He must have been too busy wondering about the peculiar taste of rats for him to have notice the man. “Aye?” The boy lifted his chin, brazenly challenging the stranger with juvenile foolhardiness, squinting his eyes. “Come here A’ say, or you enjoy’n yer stroll” the man retorted, sarcasm hanging like lead upon his words.
“Aye, what you want, mister?” the boy asked, standing awkwardly in front of him. The man smirked up at the young lad, seeing the boy’s nostrils fare at the smell of freshly baked bread and roast chicken. “Ya wanna help me here? Grab that dagger from that bag o’er there and run a stone along the edge. Think you’ll get it right?” The man flicked with a quick wave from his task towards an old rucksack beside him, spoken of dagger protruding from its loose confines. Gorlen looked down at the weapon distrustfully, then looked back at the man as he busied himself once again with his sharpening. “Right… ? And what’ll A’ get? Aye?” he asked, knowing he can’t spend a day just helping a stranger out and leave Hentrietta at home with no food. At least he’d have to set the rat trap before evening comes. “For a bite ta eat, or iffin you’re not hungry…” The man shrugged.
“A bite ta eat, ya say, mister?” Gorlen looked hopeful as he pulled out the long blade. It was heavy in his hands. He plunked himself with it squarely next to the man, and placing the dagger on his lap. He found another whetstone next to him, half submersed in a pool of dirty water. “Got some stew brewing for me behind here by the lass"
“Got a sister out ‘er waiten on me” Gorlen looked down, carefully inspecting the dagger's sharp edge.
The man watched the brown haired lad, he couldn't be more than seven, and was positive the lad looks kind of like him, same amber in his eyes. Lilliana's one, he was sure, had a sister as well. It could be his, who knows. Perhaps it was for one of his pangs of guilt or struggles of morality, but Gregory grinned down at the boy and ruffled his hair. "Yer're alright lad" he smirked," “Yer staying around here, aye, in the docs. Gotta few jobs for ya if yer interested. Can give you a bit of coin for a few things. Nothing much"
