Marcus looked up at the towering walls, the orphans helping him move past the gates of the city as they entered through a side gate much smaller than the large gate doors that stood five stories high. In the city, they moved along a stream that flowed through the many buildings in the ward. The water was stale and dark, and if he looked closely, he could see all sorts of debris floating in the water. At one section of the stream, he watched as a man lowered his hose and pissed in the murky stream, and he soon realised how old and back in time the city was.

  They turned another corner, and a group of ragged orphans came to a stop. Marcus looked up at a stall where a man with a swollen eye was haggling with a boy not much older than orphans who had found him.

  The two cursed angrily at each other, talking as they held onto a broken shield. However, they did not notice the group and Marcus until the small girl, Clara, stood next to the stall alongside them.

  “Levin, get lost if you aren’t selling anything,” Clara said as she stepped next to the boy and looked up at him.

  Levin was a halfbreed like any street urchin in the lower city, he was tall like a goliath, and his eyes were golden like those of the Aasimar lords, along with his lean body; this gave him an intense look. He was a tide or two older than Clara, but even he knew to keep his distance from the girl.

  “What do you want, Clara “? Levin turned to her and crossed his hands as he looked down at her.

  “I have come to talk with the old man.”

  The old merchant, who wasn’t any older than forty tides, looked aghast at Clara, and he pretended to be hurt.

  “Hey, young woman, I am one of the youngest men you will see around here,” he said, folding his arms.

  She ignored the merchant and stepped closer to Levin, making the larger boy uncomfortable. Glaring at him as though she could look straight through him, she shook her head.

  Levin took a step back and raised his hand. “Fine, do what you want," he said, walking over to a wall and leaning against it, looking at the girl and her ring of orphans.

  “What do you have for me?” the merchant, Jethro, asked, rubbing his hands together with a mischievous expression.

  “Gabe and you,” she pointed at one of the boys who held the wheel, “bring the wheel over and put it on the table.”

  Jethro watched patiently as the two dirty, thin boys came over and, with some effort, lifted the wheel and placed it on his table. “Okay, let’s see what we have here,” Jethro said, moving his hands over the chariot wheel.

  “How much?” Clara asked.

  “It’s a nice wheel you have,” he pointed at some etchings. “Here you see this looks like a sigil of one of the nobles. I can sell it to someone with a wagon as a replacement wheel. I can give you four small coppers.”

  “Seven small coppers,” Clara countered, and to the side, she heard Levin scoff, she ignored the jab.

  “Seven! What do you take me for?” Jethro crossed his arms, not willing to touch the burnt wheel.

  “Six then.”

  From the corner, Levin scoffed again.

  “Five and I see what else you have.” Jethro said.

  “Fine,” she puffed out her cheeks and gestured for the other wheel to be put on top of the shabby table.

  “Another one,” Jethro moved his hands along the wood of the wheel and placed his finger on his chin, thinking.

  “Three,” he began to say but was quickly cut off by Clara.

  “No four,” she glared at the man.

  “Fine.” The shady merchant rolled his eyes.

  “Hey are you in charge here,” Marcus asked, wincing in pain. This caused Clara to turn and glare at him.

  Marcus tried to take a step forward, but the hands of the two Goliath children held him back, causing his bent foot to flare up in pain.

  Jethro looked around and finally pointed at himself with a smug bashful face “Me, of course, am incharge,” he said walking past Clara and towards the boy “I have seen everyone of these ahm customers but not you,” he looked him up and down at Marcus “never seen you before”.

  “Leave him be.” Clara said.

  Levin raised an eyebrow, noticing Marcus for the first time. “What, did the orphanage finally decide to throw him out?" he asked, moving closer and trying to get a good look.

  Jethro was like any human man—not too tall and not too short, either. Yet as he leaned his face towards Marcus, the boy frowned and glared at Jethro, causing him to notice the boy's eyes.

  “Oh my, another half blood. the Aasimar lords sure know how to keep themselves entertained.”

  “What are you talking about? Asmor?” Marcus tried to say the word,” What is that?”

  Marcus had been short growing up and, like many, took on the bad that came with it. When he hit his growth spout, he was simply lucky to put all that behind. So when the shady-looking man left his stall and leaned over him, he felt angry. The way the man looked at him reminded him of being weak.

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  “You boy, you are Aasimar,” Jethro said, “at least half-blood,” looking intently at Marcus’s right human eye.

  “His none of your business,” Clara stepped between them.

  “Tell you what, he shifted his eyes to look at her with his mischievous grin,” Your friend needs healing, and I can heal him,” Jethro said

  “Can you really fix my leg,” Marcus asked, still unsure if the man was a doctor or not or whether the magic that the children had spoken of would be what he would use.

  “Yes, I can but It will cost you.”

  “I don’t have any money.”

  “Manney! What is that? I need coins, and don’t worry; I am sure Clara is willing to pay,” Jethro said, extending his open hand in front of the girl.

  “Are you trying to cut me?" she glared at a shady merchant in rugged clothes.

  “Hey boy, if I pay for him to fix you, will you join up with me?” Levin, who had been ignored all this time, stood eyes focused on Marcus with a look Clara did not fail to notice.

  “What?” the boy asked.

  “I can pay Jethro to heal you and in return you help me and my friends.” Levin said.

  Levin was one of a few orphans in the lower wards and districts with the blood of the Aasimar lords in his veins, and it was this very blood that the orphans of the Aasimar were known for, half breeds like him who kept the eyes of the Aasimar lords were known more specifically for one thing. Like Levin, they were well known for being wild cards because they were either good at magic or they would show a basic ability for the craft, a gamble most of those who hired them were willing to take.

  “No, I found him and he is with me,” Clara said, blocking Levin’s path. “How much?” She turned to Jethro.

  “Seven small coppers,” Jethro showed her his hands, waiting for her to place the coin.

  Levin and Marcus both scoffed at the shady merchant and his blatant thievery. He had bought the wheels for nine small copper coins, and now he was asking for more than half of that. Clara was too stubborn to see it.

  She looked down at the hand, asking for her coin. She wanted to do the right thing, but it would mean giving up the coin she would use to feed her friends. Jethro and Levin knew this. They knew that beyond the rough facade the girl put on in front of everyone in the ward, she would do anything for those she considered her friends. She looked down at the coins and hesitantly placed seven of the small coins in the man’s hands.

  Levin scoffed and walked back to the wall and leaned back against seemingly content to watch.

  Jethro closed his hand around the coins and beamed, “Well, follow me and bring your friend along,” he said, heading back to his stall.

  Marcus grunted as the two half-Goliath kids lifted him and led him towards the stall, where they proceeded to place him on the cobblestone.

  “How are you gonna fix my leg?” Marcus asked as he sat with his mangled foot stretched out.

  “Am going to heal you. I may not look like it but I have a minor ability to heal,” Jethro said.

  Marcus was skeptical as he looked at the man’s swollen eye. " Then your eye,” he gestured to his own. “Why haven’t you healed yourself, then?”

  “Because I'm a merchant and people are willing to pay for magic.”

  “Magic! You can’t be serious,” Marcus tried not to roll his eyes.

  “You two hold him down,” Jethro ordered Zek and Geneve.

  Marcus felt the arms clump down on his shoulders. Then he watched as the shady merchant grabbed his foot and yanked it back roughly to its normal position. Marcus screamed and tried to kick and get up. This surprised the two Goliath children, causing them to push down on the small boy even harder.

  “Now,” Jethro said, and his hand glowed with a faint light as runic symbols floated above it in small circles and hexagons. Slowly but painfully, the ligament in his joint mended in a piercing pain as he clenched his jaw.

  And when the deed was done, the two Goliath half-bloods quickly let go of Marcus and stepped back, worried and uncertain looks on their faces.

  “He is mighty strong! Thought he was going to throw me back. Are you alright Gevene.” Zek asked, feeling out his fingers.

  “Am alright," she replied to her brother.

  “Isn’t healing magic rare?” Gabe looked inquisitively at the merchant, who simply shrugged and moved away from the group to catch his breath.

  “It is, but I also have my secrets," he turned to Marcus. “Well I’ve done all I can, you can’t run around,” Jethro said, breathing heavily, a thin shin of sweat on his forehead.

  “You…You used magic,.... real magic….it actually exists. What place is this?,” Marcus muttered to himself.

  “Can you stand,” Clara asked, standing in front of him and placing her hands on her hips.

  “Yes, I can. I think so,” he said, raising to his full height for the first time and standing a head taller than the girl. By his standard, she was about five and a half feet tall.

  “You owe me for this," Clara said. Looking at him, Clara's body tensed as she put on a brave front.

  Marcus scratched his head. " Sure, but I don’t know what I can pay you back with.”

  “You can come work for me.”

  Marcus looked at the young girl and then at everything around him. For the first time, he realized he truly was not on earth. What would someone do in his situation? He needed information. He needed to find out what was going on. He needed to survive, and he needed to understand what this place was and if he was still on earth.

  He looked back at the girl sceptically, “And why should I work for you?”

  “Because I have magic and I can protect you.”

  “Isn’t that what the cops are for?”

  Seeing the confused look on her face he amended his words to be more fitting of the medieval times. He hoped it would work. Because the roads here were made of cable stone and the people wore clothes he had only seen from pictures in his renaissance history classes.

  “I meant guards, isn't that what the guards do?”

  Everyone but Clara burst out laughing at him. Even the merchant laughed from where he stood, packing his stall on the wagon.

  “You are funny, boy,” Jethro said, shaking his head in amusement.

  “The guards don’t care about anyone down here in the lower wards beyond the fourth wall.”

  “Then I will go to the fourth wall.” This time, no one laughed, not even the shady merchant Jethro, they simply looked at him with pity while others just looked down avoiding his eyes.

  Clara looked at him and spoke, her voice could have been placed between fear and anger, “If the guards find you out in the fourth wall after dark they will tie you to the pole, and you will be whipped fifty times.”

  “She’s right boy, fifty lashes will kill you. If I were you I would follow her. She is one of the good ones.”

  A pole and lushes with a whip he was disgusted by the thought. Marcus gave a shaky smile as he imagined someone taking fifty lushes, but he could not bear the thought. He looked down at his young body and knew that the merchant was right; he would die if he was subjected to fifty whips. After all, he knew that such a whip in good hands travelled at nearly the speed of sound. Marcus closed his eyes and nodded towards the girl in front of him. He would wait and watch.