“Since he offered—he might as well pay for the rest of the month’s meals as well.” It was rather embarrassing having to fall back into old habits but indeed, this was the simplest way for him to get some food and exercise. 

With regards to socializing and attending such gatherings, although Roa planned to enter the academy, he found no need to play with these children. His sights were aimed at a much higher goal, beyond the regular students’ social circles. And besides, he knew that a year from now, there would be no point to such things.

Future plans began to take form in his head. His path needed enormous funding, and he had to think of ways to earn mir. 

Comparatively, if he kept on going with petty thievery, he would at least have to rip off all of the noble’s kids within the Kingdom of Luveris even to have the barest amount. Not only would that be time consuming, it wouldn’t be worth the effort. Roa immediately dismissed that plan.

At an alley he passed while mulling over his financial troubles, Roa came across a familiar face. He scratched his head, wryly smiling at the latter’s predicament.

This first brick for his plans was right here waiting to be picked up?

Long, pointed ears peeking through vermillion hair; a dull luster in her hooded, emerald eyes, and the loud growl of a famished beast coming from her stomach—Ariene Diadora, the Seed of Fire; future 1st, seat of Sirius. 

Her status? Starving.

Although enrolled at the academy under the recommendation of Forest Riviera, the woodlands’ princess received no support. Ariene was basically exiled, but placed under discreet surveillance. How she earned enough mir to live was up to her.

Why this was, Roa had no idea, Ariene had never gotten around to telling him. She knew how to hunt game within the woodlands, but nothing of the concepts of currency and economy. At least, back when she was under house arrest, the academy felt it mandatory to take care of her so she didn’t have to worry about food.

The result of Roa’s tampering? Ariene was slumped down lifeless in an alley, with her cushy cheek as her pillow, and the night sky as her blanket.

‘Hah! What an incredible coincidence! To run into each other in this large city!’ Roa was delighted. In his memories, it was around this time that she was under sanctions and house arrest while he had just gone under a knife, heavily sedated.

“Oh Ariene! I missed you! I’ve been looking all over for you!” Roa smiled and widened his arms in a way such as a shifty merchant would.

“Who–urgh. Shoo! I don’t know you, go away!” Ariene saw Roa and replied weakly, unwilling to part with the patch of pavement she had painstakingly warmed with her body.

“How could you say that?” Roa endearingly asked. ”Were you here all along? Have you had anything to eat?” The usually ill-tempered lady only replied with a deadpan stare and a weak groan.

Roa pursed his lips and scratched his head before unceremoniously picking Ariene up off the ground. With both arms, he carried her like a princess—you would have assumed, but no, Ariene was hoisted like a sack of potatoes on top of Roa’s right shoulder.

“Hey!? B-beast! What are you planning!? Let me down! I’m gonna kill you!”

“Hoho—A growling stomach is a silent scream for food,” Roa chuckled. “What? Don’t you want to eat? I’ll treat you somewhere.” 

Initially, Ariene struggled like a cat not wanting to be held, but relaxed slightly at the mention of food; she quieted down, but still kept a modicum of vigilance.

A firm grip on Ariene’s waist, Roa led the way down a few stairs, past dark alleys, past darker alleys, where the city’s brick pavements had become akin to a balding man’s head–with patches missing here and there–while the tone of the surroundings gradually turned gloomy as they neared the slums. 

At one random alley, Roa coincidentally picked up another collapsed person wearing a gray tie.

Two puzzled faces met on his back as Roa hoisted them both in less than comfortable positions. The first potato sack shook her head at the latter as even she was perplexed at what was happening. Roa eventually placated them both with the sweet temptation of food.

Moments later, they made it to Bellona District, otherwise known as Lyria’s pauper town.

Roa kicked open the doors to a dilapidated establishment—a worn, medium-sized tavern that in its heyday surely garnered a fairly decent number of customers. The wooden sign outside depicting an outline of an eye rocked vigorously from the force of Roa’s kick. Gold Eye Tavern, it read.

A musty scent filled their noses as they entered, cleanliness didn’t seem like it would pass the city’s standards. It was heaven and earth compared to the restaurant Roa had eaten in awhile back. Of the scant number of people inside, none gave his entrance much of a reaction, except for the taverner standing behind the bar counter. 

“Ha! Roa Fariche, my boy! Since when were you in the kidnapping business?'' The man guffawed and pinched Roa’s chest. 

The man’s appearance told a far more intriguing story than what his façade let on. A burly figure; white hair, eye-patch, and one golden eye. He held himself in an intimidating posture, and crossed his arms to accentuate scars running all the way up his rolled sleeves. 

“Shut it, Morrow!” Roa grinned, and dropped his baggage onto the wooden stools in front of the counter. “ I picked up a pair of strays. Have you anything to eat back there?” 

“Of course, I do! Long as you got the coin!” the taverner Morrow replied.

Five bronze coins fell on top of the counter. “Fifty mir! Two meals!” Roa requested.

Morrow clicked his tongue, his jolly tone changing to contempt, “You tryin’ to be funny, kid?”

A damaged coin fell atop the first five. “Fifty-five!” Roa raised.

“What are you, a dog? Can’t even get scraps with fifty mir!”

Roa’s hands trembled as they held onto a sweat-stained burlap pouch—his personal coin bag. He bit his lip and furrowed his brow, looking to be in great pain as if parting from his dearly beloved. 

“Haa! 350 mir! And throw in something to wash the bitterness of my mouth!”

“Gotcha, kid! Three orders—everything’ll be 600 mir!” 

“Three? Bull! Two! Three’s too much! I already ate!”

Morrow guffawed, “What? Two meals for the pair of ladies, and a drink for you and me! Today’s haul seems pretty heavy, don’t it?” On his palm suddenly appeared six silver coins, plucked from an adorned pouch that magically appeared on his opposite hand. 

The carefree action elicited an immediate loud hiss from Roa, “Son of a—! Old man, give that back! Don’t take my stuff without permission!” 

“Your stuff? Heh! Ain’t got no interest stealing loot from a kid! Unless you want to give me it?”

Roa’s eyes almost bulged from its sockets. Morrow’s hands were quick. He didn’t even notice becoming the victim of his own trade. What an embarrassing thing for the one who was once called a ghostly thief. 

Roa casted a doubtful stare at the taverner. It seemed that Morrow was hiding more than just scars up his sleeves. Thankfully, he didn’t seem keen on keeping the pouch, and the burly man let out a snort before tossing it back to Roa.

Roa hissed again, “This was an unexpected find. There’s no way I’m giving this to you!” He grabbed the pouch and slid it between his clothes, letting out a light cough before regaining his composure.