[Other Original] Em

[kaitli1]

"Capture the boy thief, and with lethal force!"

With a feeling of most certain finality, he knew everything would be over soon. And with the way things were going, the finality that he felt was most likely his final breath.

-Em is plagued by a hard life, albeit one common in the Marketplace of Caria. Armed with his smarts and luck, he does his best against the cruelty of life although it may just not be enough.

Hello! I'm the author and I hope you enjoy. Please leave any of your criticisms or thoughts you have in the comments- anything and everything is greatly appreciated!

CHAPTER ONE​

Lively people filled the open market, a seamless ocean of interaction as per usual, on a common day sweltering like any other. At the farthest corner were jovial drunkards at the local pubs, mightily red in the face, and mightily laughing, their loud barks of enjoyment like a background noise of unsteady drums. Children marched, fell, cried and screamed in delight as they tend to, messing around with frantic parents chasing them about. Elders sat at the sides of the market, some entertaining and some being entertained. Merchants flailed wildly and yelled over the noise about this amazing product in their hands, that in reality, was most likely only just an ordinary product. Bags of an assortment of things were being toted this way and that, the weekly groceries being scooped up, and occasionally ripping or falling with the objects inside tumbling out.

For those from lesser townsides, or the country, it could be an amazing sight of the vastness, of the largeness of the modernized area, of the freedom and electric way the interactions all seemed to flow, of the magnetic laughter that came from so many sources, so happy and breathy it was. Perhaps, the city dwellers wouldn't be impressed by the rambunctious people, the common goods being sold, or the number of people that the market contained.

Most all could be awed, however, by the sight of an impressive calvary crashing through, breaking up the market in a heartbeat, the thunderous crashing hooves of horses and angry, violent orders being given in a most unhappy, silver spoon manner. "Capture the boy thief, and with lethal force!"

A smallish boy of 9 or 10 came through the panicking people in a bumbling burst, desperately weaving in and out of the crowd like a weasel. He was never still and his movements slippery, although perhaps not smooth as it would suggest but rather, in a more clumsy and hopeless way.

The hot breath of horses burned the skin of the boy's nape, sweat drenching his back so much that he felt that it was all he was. His fumbling steps were a hair's width from the mob of king's men behind him, it being more than a miracle he hadn't been trampled to bits and pieces yet. His eyes were swimming with exhaustion and it was a while back that he stopped having sensation in his body. With a feeling of most certain finality, he knew everything would be over soon. And with the way things were going, the finality that he felt was most likely his final breath.

Thankfully, for the young thief, he was pulled into a cramped alleyway right before they managed to catch him. So very much so, one of the riders in the front was shouting in victory, before he looked at his hand and found in his grasp was not a boy, but a ordinary purse.

The chaotic cavalry was entirely confused as they regrouped, albeit poorly and very loudly. Likewise, the boy was also very, very confused. To the extent that his little head was absolutely blank, unable to process that he was being dragged out of trouble by a tall, gangly man who seemed as thin as a string. He kept murmuring 'this way, this way' like a protective mantra. The boy didn't think the man did this often- the larger, boney hand around his was clammy and twitchy, with man himself as tense as a brick, rigid with nervousness and ready to snap, to shatter in his intensity.

In their ragged run through the emptying streets, the boy did his best rushed investigation of the person. They seemed in a similar state to himself, surprisingly. A face gaunt from a lack of nutrition and sleep, with clunky glasses somehow staying on stubbornly. A baby beard attached and growing, much more than a generous 5 o'clock shadow and not taken care of- the man had to be no older than his early twenties, and his unhealthy state probably made him look older than he was. His body looked frail and he was wearing a lab coat- a doctor, or something similar? The man was in such a messy appearance that the boy felt it was unlikely there was much money flowing around him. Perhaps a villager doctor, or common medicine man. Pale to almost a translucent level and the boy couldn't help but wonder if the man was okay.

The boy shook his head. A thought like that at a time like this was absolutely unbeneficial to him, he knew. Survival first and foremost. He could have these thoughts later.

They ran hard and through some alleyways that even the boy didn't know existed. They squeezed through brick enclosures and ran and ran- somehow, even with all their short cuts and footwork, the soldiers seemed to be lurking about too near for comfort.

The boy honestly started to wonder if they were going in circles. Marketside never seemed too big or maze-like until just then, with so many buildings so much larger than him, and they were all beginning to look the same- everything around them was blurring together, and the boy was surprised when they slowed down at a corner and the world became legible again, after greedily gulping in air and regaining his composure. The man finally faced him, giving him an oddly warm smile. "I'm going to need you to put on my jacket for a moment. To get to my house, where you can rest till nightfall, you'll need to disguise yourself for a moment. That way the-"

"-soldiers won't become suspicious, right? Got it." The man seemed a little startled by the boy's abruptness, but easily went back to his previous demeanor and handed him the sweaty, dank white coat.

While trying to disguise himself the best he could with the coat, his body became aware that his hand felt strange without the contact, after being held for so long. It had been a while since he had human contact. The effect was puzzling as it was useless, so he filed it away.

They worked together well, and the two seemed to pull off the act of an elder man being assisted home, the nearby soldier being none the wiser as they closed the door behind them.



a/n: I'm aware the tenses are awful awkward and I'm eventually going to fix this in the future, after I finish the story.

 

[kaitli1]

CHAPTER TWO​

For some reason, a closed resturant hadn't been what the boy had held in mind when the man spoke of the shelter they were going into, but it made him feel safer than if it had been a home or more public workplace. The man was scoping out the windows and shutting the blinds quickly after locking the door.

The boy asked, "Why?"

The man seemed to suddenly remember the boy and quickly turned around to face him- although, he turned with far too much momentum and the boy barely saved him from a face plant, struggling under the man's weight. Well, perhaps it was better to say bones, as that was what mostly comprised the man. "Get... off..."

Finally standing, he faced the boy with... a face of excitement?

"How are you psychically? Mentally? Hot? Cold? Are you thirst-"

"No." The boy grumbled, unconsciously scooting away. He wasn't used to being anyone's focus of attention, much less concern. The sooner he could get away with no strings attached (hopefully, unless the man wanted something from him) the better. "Why?" He repeated in a deadpan voice, beginning to feel the pain of his muscles, just a little.

It seemed likely he was needed for something. Why else would an entire stranger save him? The boy wouldn't have even bothered asking, but he needed to know if it was within his power to grant. If not, he would leave at the soonest moment possible to prevent himself from being tangled into a debt.

"Why...?" The man asked aloud. "Oh! I took you here because this is where I live. I live in the back with my best friend. My family owns this place. No need to feel alarmed here- it really is a friendly environment."

Somehow, the man who seemed about to faint in overexertion any minute also seemed sunny, like the sweltering day in the marketplace. Slowly, the boy shook his head. "Why did you help me?"

The man seemed like an idiot, for sure, but the boy wouldn't put down his guard. It could be a cover up, of course. The man seemed startled into a short silence before opening his mouth, but any words that would've come out were stopped short by the loud whining of the boy's stomach.

"Don't mind it." The boy growled, rubbing it gingerly with one hand, and a unreadable expression on his face, expecting an answer out of the man.

Seconds later, the boy was being pushed into what seemed like a soft, giant couch, and a filled plate shoved into his hands. He was completely, and utterly, dumbfounded. "I don't need this." He said, stonily, despite the ravenous way he watched the food. Not that the boy would tell the man, but he was imagining eating it, wondering if that would perhaps make him feel fuller.

"Nonsense. Not unless you want to die a slow, excruciatingly painful death. Haven't you heard not to look a gift horse in the mouth?"

The boy didn't react to the kindness of the man, and the man could visibly see the nervous energy of the kid, restraining himself.

The man took a deep breath. He was an adult, right? He could probably get this kid to eat. He was great with kids. Probably. He took the food from the kid, who seemed to keep his poker face masterfully, somehow, and took the bread and nibbled on it. "It's not poisoned, see? Don't be so difficult."

The boy didn't even react when the man tried to spoon feed him by bringing the bread to the boy's mouth.

Ohhhhh, you little... The man, had not his trained elegance and sensibility, would've thought some unkind names for the child. But no. He was a man of much grace, and a son of nobles, he was the absolute best product of breeding and teachings, he was an honest man of earnest goodness.

"Don't bother with it." The boy said, stonily and growly, as if he were trying to be a bear.

"Just eat it, will ya?!" the man shouted and somehow managed to unhinge the boy's rigid jaw and shoved the flour product in there, using all his amazing knowledge as a scientist to... make the boy chew and swallow bread.

That had sounded a little more heroic in his head.

The boy was shocked and forcibly coaxed into eating, and eventually made to take the food from the idiot man and ate it himself, figuring he'd just have to find a way to pay him back. If nothing else, it made the boy feel much stronger and sure in his movements- running what was at least half a marathon for one's life likely made them weak and dizzy, he mused.

Looking back on the events of the day, the boy found that the man had yet still to answer his pending question. Taking a deep breath, he marched up to the man. "Why did you save me? Answer."

The man himself was a little taken aback, and only slightly amazed. The boy was certainly brave or stupid, to incur the wrath of their king like so. Completely tactless, or so far his blunt and short words had impressed on the man- and most assuredly stubborn. The man was thinking it was more on the stupid side- what sort of mind refused free food to that level of such obstinacy?

Not to mention the demanding tone the boy treated the noble, kind, elegant man with. The child was almost literally biting the hand that was trying- and on some miracle, succeeded- to feed him. The hand that had led him away from his death, to the boot. The man was almost completely sure the boy was stupid, without a doubt. For heaven's sake, the child could barely make coherent sentences!

"Do I have to have a reason to help someone?" The man sighed. The boy was beginning to wonder just how cushioned this idiot man's life was- if he were to be caught, the man had to have known that he would've been given a death penalty, right along with the boy. It was an act of treason, after all. And then to say such a stupid sentence- the boy wasn't sure the man had ever even stepped foot out of the restaurant. Life in the small kingdom of Caria was hard after all, the idiot man must've known. He had to. The boy wasn't sure he could believe otherwise, really. It was a golden truth of Marketside.

Maybe the idiot was caged in the restaurant or something. It would explain his physique. Maybe the man was hoping the boy would rescue him. Or, government attention, if they were caught, and the man could be saved. He could say the boy threatened him and escape the death penalty.

The man- the man ruffled his hair and smiled at him, of all things. "Maybe you noticed my birth and upbringing, then? I guess the compassion of the aristocratic would astound commoners, with no virtues taught to them, like purity and generosity. Yes, I saved you out of the goodness of my soul, uh, er..."

The idiot man seemed to have paused, looking like he only just discovered he didn't know the boy's name, and it was not in fact, 'you' or 'kid'. Heaving a heavy sigh of his own, the boy's game face of unimpressed stone stayed intact as ever.

He wasn't even sure why he was telling the frivolous man his name- perhaps it was because the man saved him from the army, or because of the nightmarish event of the food that he did not want repeated. With distaste, the boy said, "Em."

The man gave him a befuddled look, almost astonished, with such a comical expression. "Do you not know your own name, child?"

The boy put his face in his grubby, hard little hands. "Em." He groaned, wondering if the man could be such an enormous dork. "Em is my name." How the man had survived to this point in his life, the boy was completely unsure.

An awkward silence settled between the two- or at least, for the man. The boy- er, em, Em, was just so uncooperative. Really, just so rude and lacking any fundamental goodness. Stubborn as a mule, and talked about as elegantly as one, too. So difficult, the kid seemed to want to accept nothing. Not even a word of thanks out of him yet, not for anything. Although, it wasn't why the man had done this in the first place. Gratitude in return hadn't been anywhere on his mind while he did anything that he had done. Although, it was annoying that the little prick was a completely ungrateful hoodlum. "My name is Tate Willows of the Oaktree family." There.

Now, at least one of them had properly introduced themselves wholly and well.

"That's... unimaginative." Em remarked blandly, hardly paying much attention to the idiot- well, now, idiot Tate to be specific. Other thoughts were beginning to concern him more.

Tate felt his face visibly twitch- this kid somehow just pushed on all of the buttons he seemed to own. He was rude, could barely talk coherently, couldn't accept a gift, and could not be polite once so ever. Perhaps it was the exhaustion taking over, but Tate was done, thoroughly. "You want to know why I saved you?!" Tate howled, becoming unable to care that his demeanor was slipping.

Em took a large and slow step away from the idiot. Maybe it was infectious? He hoped not. And, proud as a hardened and tough member of the Marketside streets, he was only somewhat terrified of the string man's agitated state- he could see some of the veins visibly protruding. He figured that saying no, just to piss off the guy, was not in his best interests. And he did care, still. The matter of debts and what he needed to do or rather, what he could do if asked was still urgent.

"I nabbed you because you looked like you were about to die an awful death! That's all, you rude, inconsiderate little runt!"

Em blinked for a moment, stunned. It wouldn't process. It couldn't, not really. Em wasn't built for something like that. So simple, so naive. It was starting to get a little dark out- he kept noticing the lengthening shadows.

"Why?" He asked again. Em hoped the guy would cough out a real answer, sooner rather than later. Em wasn't good with whatever the idiot's type of humor seemed to be.

Tate looked utterly defeated and fell with much aplomb, crashing onto the cushioned couch. Tate had heard records before- they were popular, although very expensive in the capital city. His mother owned the gadget that played it and several records. He remembered when they first bought one- Tate went to check it out after his mother had left and had scratched one up in the process of playing it- afterward, it had played the same bit over and over again- much like the brat was doing now. Almost everything that had came out of the boy's mouth was 'why.'

Fresh in his memory, Tate could see the look of real, true desperation on the kid's face, literally being chased by a small army. Sure, he had seen worthless bums and alcoholics driven by greed and unnatural addiction being chased to be slain for their debts. But a kid? That was in poor taste all around.

Children were to be loved. Protected. Watched. Cherished. Doted on. Played with. Treasured. Punished when unreasonable. Soothed when broken down. Children were precious.

Not toothpick thin like Em, with a adult look in his eyes way beyond his years. Not with a look of knowing death was a breath behind him, with grown men on horseback praying for his swift elimination. And most definitely not strong enough to deny what he wanted and physically needed right before them.

Sure, the kid could step on his buttons. But, looking at the calculating, distrusting eyes of the young child... Tate couldn't help but hope the kid would, in all honesty. If it would make Em be more childish, Tate wouldn't mind being the butt of a joke for someone he just met.

Buzzing with a semi-pleasant burn in his body, Tate Willows excitedly and quickly formulated a plan. "Em, I want you to be my friend!"

What were these naive, stupid words coming out of the idiot science man's before Em? The boy couldn't quite believe he heard them with his own ears. "Hah? Were you dropped on your soft spot on your skull as a babe? That's all I can think of that would make a man your age this stupid."

Who wanted to be friends with a toothpick scrawny kid with a bad mouth and a worse personality? Em didn't know a single person who would be. It was something to be thankful for that his own mother could put up with him. "Maybe the running made you brain dead." Em mused out loud, slightly enjoying the outrage expression on the Tate person's face.

Tate realized he hadn't really thought enough about being the butt of a few jokes- he felt enraged, as if tickled in a way that fired his irritation. He couldn't say he hated the kid, but the promise of friendship seemed quite far off. "Damn you, you unsociable brat." The scientist murmured. "The longest sentence you say to me, only to annoy me." He wanted to help the kid, truly- but damn the gods if it wasn't irritating to be near him. "What on everything that is good and holy did you do, anyways? A mere pickpocket doesn't stir the king's interest."

The fixed face of the boy seeped into a small smile; not shyly, but a minimized grin that exuded arrogance and a hint of pride. The language of his body relaxed the littlest bit and he seemed to gain an amount of confidence in his actions. "No mere pickpocket can steal from the king's royal pharmacy."

The scientist brought a hand to cover his mouth that seemed to unhinge of its own will, akin to a codfish as he gasped in surprise. He hadn't exactly known what to expect- but the pharmacy was well protected and one of the small kingdom's best features that let them compete with the more lavish countries, despite Caria's small state and obvious poverty. He was a man of smarts, of elegance, and of knowledge, but he still couldn't help finding himself unable to see anyway for a child to be capable of the crime.

"How?" Was the only word he was able to utter, rendered effectively speechless in wonder. His brilliant, scientist mind still couldn't think of anything- Em was only a child, after all. No child was strong enough to defeat a trained guard- not to mention at least a squad's worth.

The boy was annoyed by the man's countenance- a slack face of disbelief. It was only to be expected, but it was one of the few things he had ever done that made him feel proud of himself- that he had bested a whole platoon of men and more. And he did it swiftly and well- they had never caught on to him, and they never would. Em had made sure he didn't leave a trace- he made sure thrice on thrice and then some. He wasn't usually such a perfectionist, but he made absolutely sure, every time. "Does it matter?" The boy snapped, wanting to scratch the moon-eyed face of awestruck befuddlement off the idiot man's face. He hated being underestimated.

Tate was a little shaken by the harsh reply, but his drive as a scientist- the intrigued need to understand, the unrelenting force of fascination- did not let him flinch nor mind the slightest bit. "They have 24 hour guard of Caria's finest caliber- the entirety of the building is built to be open- they even have evil eyes for surveillance! If you wanted to disarm the eyes, you would be seen by the guards- and vise versa, which would only call more to come at you, which, at your young scrawny stature, makes me doubt you could take one, much less a troop. Not to mention, they caught possession of your purse. I don't understand."

Em was tired, the endless stream of words coming of out the idiot scientist's mouth like the runs were making his head throb violently, and the sun was going to set soon. He worked his index finger and thumb together to lessen the anxiety beginning to take hold, but it wouldn't help the problem. "I need to go."

The man wanted to know to satiate his ravenous wonder, but the lit of the boy's words held earnest panic that only came with fear- the scientist nodded and quickly wrapped a loaf of bread in cloth and shoved it in the boy's thin, wispy arms. Em obviously was lacking in the food department and the scientist was going to make sure he would help as he could. "Will you come back, tomorrow?"

The boy wanted to throw the yeast product back, to refuse it, but he had neither the time or the will to- with food in him and a body so exhausted, sleep was going to claim him soon by choice or not. He knew he needed to repay the favor sometime- even if it was only telling the man the plan he made. "Fine. And, thank you. I guess." Em threw over his shoulder, bolting out the door, leaving the sighing Tate alone to his own devices.

The scientist smiled as the door shut loudly, slumping onto a couch with a aching tiredness he had never felt before- he had never run so hard before in his life. His head still spun from the enigma that was Em, a boy either luckier than a clover piece or wonderfully clever. Rude as a wild horse, and stubborn as one too. It was like dealing with a difficult, tricky math problem. The man had a sneaking suspicion- perhaps were he not a scientist first and foremost, he'd call it a prenotion- that the boy would not return.

Tate was excited to tell his friend the events that had transpired that day- which in reality had mostly been running for his life, but it was alright all the same. But first, he would nap.

 

[kaitli1]

CHAPTER THREE ​

Em calmly listened to the drunken elder bark in his face- it reminded him of that devil-dog with pointy ears and the yappy mouth. The man was shriveled in age, with a load of scars with even more stories that went with them- he'd heard each tale at least thrice, he was sure. He had been terrified the first time he came here, but now it was like a second home to him. "Oh, just fork it over already, Gramps. The kiddo did have a hell of a day, and we all know your stories by heart. Let him get back home, will ya'?"

He turned his head to see the guy he knew as Uncle Robin, another local thief. The guy was everywhere and anywhere at once; the only times he was still was when he was asleep or damned drunk. Lo and behold, a foul stench of liquor followed not more than a moment later.

Em scrunched his nose at the gross smell, but he was thankful they weren't bringing out the smokes. That was enough.

"Aw, bu' thurs' 'n fun 'n 'at..." Gramps pouted, sighing. "F'ne. No'un likes 'n ol' man 'nyway." He grumbled, weathered hands forking over dull coins.

"Thanks, Gramps." Em nodded quietly, counting the coins quickly before shoving them who-knew-where. "And Uncle Robin, how d'you hear, anyway?" The boy shot a quizzical frown at the wispy, bearded man.

The guy grinned, showing off a horrendous display of teeth from their position. "Hehe, lookie." He showed off the purse that Em had held before, proudly swaying in his hands. "I had some fun of my own today, squirt."

The boy rolled his eyes. "There's nothing valuable about the purse, you dimwit. It was just a diversion."

The man slammed his fist on a table, causing a mug of alcohol to spill in the eldest's lap. "Damn it all!" Robin complained, shooting a dirty look at the silently smug child.

"Wroooar, y' fu'ker!" Gramps yowled with a wet stain on his middle and crotch, unsteadily standing, clutching playing cards as he drunkenly and weakly wailed on the middle aged thief.

Em grinned before fleeing the scene; it would make his mother laugh, for sure. He was excited to hear it for he had almost forgotten what it sounded like.

*​

It had been a full moon cycle since the scientist had seen the boy. His friend, Ruby, didn't even believe him by then and he was beginning to wonder if she was right to not. He was worried. Marketside wasn't small, but surely after a month of investigation he would've spotted the boy. Even the people he eventually found seemed worried, too. It was as if the boy named Em had been a myth, only alive in a handful of people's words with nothing to even prove he existed.

No parents he could find nor family relations; the only people who seemed to know him were gamblers or fellow thieves.

Among the thieves he had interrogated, they all seemed to envy the boy, for none of them were included in his heist that now was evidently the bimonthly wonder and none of them seemed to know how he did it. Only a couple of the people he talked to even knew the boy personally.

"Why are you even spending your time on this?" Ruby snarled at him as he got lost in thought during work.

"Why aren't you?" He joked, although finding no solid reply for her afterwards. "I don't know, Rubes. The kid just concerns me a lot. I hope he's alright, y'know. He's smart- dangerously smart, to be honest." Tate took a deep breath, looking at his friend.

He had yet to tell her just how he and the boy met, only that they had. But he couldn't put it off for much longer, with her questions growing as he went to shadier and shadier places in his search. He'd have to tell her in letter, however, because he was sure her violent tendencies were going to explode once she learned he had endangered himself by helping a thief.

Sighing as the comfortable silence between them stretched, he added more clothing to his luggage. He needed to get a move on- the carriage was going to be there at noon. A sad, uncomfortable feeling was piling inside him. The kid had done everything but ask for help- and yet, Tate felt the kid needed it. Badly. He was sure he'd completely forget about Em after a few weeks at home, with his cats and experiments, but for now, he could still see the eyes of a child with his death about to catch up to him. All too much bone and too little wonder in his eyes.

*​

Em was exhausted. His body shook as he moved, and his head felt too light in a way that made it hard to think. He was sure his body was supposed to be hungry but he had no appetite- that had long ago past. It was hard to think, his brain was pained every time he took a step, and he was probably a strange sight, but he was too tired, too sore, burning inside all his muscles, that he could not muster up the energy to do anything about it. Right now the only part of the mission he was concerned about was getting there. That was all: it was absolute.

*​

Tate was vaguely subdued- he wasn't a huge fan of the reigning crown prince. He was already feeling lonely after two days without seeing Ruby, and he missed the freedom of being on his own in Marketside. Plus he couldn't stop wondering about Em- was the kid eating okay? Did the kid have a good at home life- if he was a thief and even stole medicine from the royal pharmacy, he severely doubted it. He thought about it a lot, honestly. Did Em steal the medicine for money? Or worse- for his parents? And the worst one he tortured himself with- was Em an orphan?

"Hello, Tate Oaktree! You've finally arrived, and it is most pleasureable to see you in good health."

Tate bit back the glare, the retort, everything that he had become used to in the restaurant- and blanketed it with the politeness and slimy pleasantness his upbringing had drilled into him. "Greetings, Prince Caun. How does this fair day treat you?"

The prince's face lit up with a eager grin that boasted superiority, perhaps without even knowing. "Just perfect! Now, come on to the castle, lunch will be served soon and then perhaps I'll tell you about the recent cases plaguing me."

Tate knew the prince was generally cold and talked with honey dripping to most of his guests- Tate could only wish the prince would see him that way too, honestly.

*​

Em woke up on a side street, cold. It was like his blood was laced with ice- and he was so tired, really and truly, that he was pretty sure he had slept for a full day. His body ached painfully and he wanted nothing more than to crumple back into his curled ball on dusty, dirty brick, but he had to move. He was so close- only a little more thinking and walking until he got there.

Only a little more, he thought to himself miserably as he shook heavily into his cloak.

Only just a little more.