The Gale Kingdom

I crawled through a small gap I had scraped at within the black sea of this rubber-like texture.

After barely fitting my body through I allowed myself a quick break.

My body was tired.

So tired that I found myself falling off balance.

I held onto the black wall behind me but...

It was not there anymore.

So I merely fell on some short,neatly cut green grass.

The grass was normal again.

The sky was a balmy blue and the flocculent clouds flocked over me.

Ahead of me, I saw a path.

It was of a grainy beige and it contrasted with the dull green that surrounded it on all sides.

I went ahead on this path, carrying my sack on my back and taking a few bites of dried meat along the way.

I soon reached a Kingdom.

Or rather, the outskirts.

Just outside the Gale Kingdom, there is a place known as the detritus ruins.

Every person there is starving,thin and bony.

Rags are the new fashion trend.

Not a single house has windows unsmashed or doors on hinges.

The entire region is covered in black,brown and depressing colors.

I now find myself walking through this place.

I pinch my emerald green coin between my thumb and fourth finger.

This is it.

I get numerous stares from people as I walk down the middle of the streets.

Every person that I can see is crouched,slumped or dead.

That's right. Dead.

The whole area reeks of a putrid corpse stench.

My ears can only hear faint yabbers and drunk splutters.

There is no wind. Only the wafting of horrendous odors.

Oddly, the Detritus ruins hug the wall of the Kingdom.

The Kingdom.

I rose my head to the right and took a good look.

My hand passed through my dry hair as I moved it out of the way for a proper look.

The walls were of a strong and fortified grey.

Numerous columns of different grey shades were present all over the walls.

There were 4 towers, a tower for each corner. Each one was fancy and rich with rare metals.

I now noticed that there were people present on the walls.

Many.

The walls were also incredibly high.

I could barely see the top of them from my position.

And the walls were unblemished.

Multiple banners hung down from each end and as I pulled closer, the kingdom's gateway was present.

No moat, though.

As I drew closer, I could peek into a conversation between two of the I presume, guards by the gates.

Their armor was of a classic, knightly silver and was covered in leather straps.

By their waists were short swords and their faces were only half visible due to their turtle helmets and the distance between us.

"Rydro still needs some more work though."

"Honestleh."

Nice. They speak English. I feel a small chunk of anxiety crumple within me.

The second man has a bit of an accent and the first has a concerned tone.

As I get closer, I keep my sword behind my back and raise my hand lightly.

"Hey."

They stop their light chatter and look my way. Their faces instantly hardened.

Their postures straighten and an uncomfortable look grows on their faces.

"I said hey."

They don't seem to acknowledge my presence.

Annoying.

Should I just blast my way through?

As I think along these lines they make one simple movement.

They point their swords at me.

The intent is clear.

I think of accepting their challenge when I look up.

A man far beyond my caliber is there.

He wears a glorious suit of imperial-silver armour. Something within me is scared of that man. Primal instincts you could say. The world-energy around him constantly shook and trembled with every movement he made.

Numerous fancy scriptures are etched into its metal.

His eyes are of a haunting blue and his grand helmet covers everything apart from a small slit where his eyes can see.

A golden cross has been implanted on his breastplate.

He reeks of power.

So much so, that I feel my muscles instantly tense.

I slowly step back and he watches as I go.

The two guards slowly lower their swords and begin talking again.

This time much quieter.

The Knight on top of the wall is now gone.

I re-enter the ruins.

I stand by an abandoned house, pulling out a small strip of dried meat.

It's one of my last.

As I prepare to bite I meet eyes with a man across the street.

He has brown hair that is thinned and balding.

His eyes are sunken so far that it looks like makeup.

His eyes themself, are faintly colored.

His clothes are molding rags and his hair covers every edge of his skin.

He has no muscle. Only a loose layer of skin and some frail bones.

He looks at my meal with intense eyes.

Whilst I look at him I raise the meat to my mouth.

Swoosh.

My blade lays at the hem of a man's neck.

"Stop."

My voice is unnaturally clear and authoritative.

My crimson eyes are all he can see clearly from the blend of colors within the slums.

My blade has an ethereal gleam as it reflects in the sunlight.

Centimeters from his neck, a man with long black hair that covers his face and rides down his bony back is ravenous.

I slowly eat the dried meat before him as my left-hand keeps the blade ready.

My instincts barely saved me from this attack.

After I swallow the last chunk, I edge my blade slightly forward.

I need to pass a warning atleast.

Just so it makes the smallest bit of contact.

Blood.

A thin red slit appears on his neck.

Blood drips down from my sword to the ground.

His mouth quivers and he begins to hyperventilate profusely.

I think he got the message.

"Away."

I keep my stance calm as I wait for him to leave. My voice was much darker now.

Shivering and trembling he quickly ruins off, his rib cage is presented fully as he turns the corner.

What is this place?

I hang my sword upside down so that the fresh blood can slide off.

The man from earlier is also gone.

Everyone in this town seems to have a common goal.

Food.

I gulp down some cold and icy water before I make my stay.

Arranging numerous abandoned items I make a little hut inside a particularly derelict house.

I sleep on my sack.

The apparatus inside poke my muscles but I don't think about it too much.

I now notice that the surroundings are much more empty.

Probably due to my earlier display but, all the drunks beggars and street urchins are now gone.

It's just me, my sack and I.

And then I wake up. The sun is limpid and the grass is freely swaying.

The town looks the same if not worse as its worst features are highlighted in a golden hue.

The emerald coin is gone.

My hands feel all around me.

It's gone.

All I can feel is the hard wooden-tiled floor.

I stop for a bit so that I don't catch splinters.

I take my sack with me and head out.

I'm running around.

Stopping by corners and lifting my head over.

I'm going fast because I have to.

That coin could be spent any second.

I check the people on the ground's hands when they look away.

Finding no results I check alleyways.

No luck here either.

Isn't this a great start to a new life?

I then found a child.

Only around 6 or 7.

His state is awful. His rags are oversized and hhe'scovered in cuts and bruises.

His hair is of a dirty blonde.

And his face is polluted with joy.

For in his hand is a coin.

An emerald coin.

I stop running for a moment.

My morals pull me back with all their might. I feel uncomfortable. Guilty even.

My vermillion eyes scout him.

I head towards him in violent strides.

He turns his head in my direction as he sees my figure.

A light ah escapes his mouth.

"Ah."

It's not realization more like childish fear.

Well. Doesn't matter now.

I'm gonna need that coin back.

I grasp his neck and lift him up, striking with my right to yank the coin from his hand.

I meet no resistance. Just a tired boy's struggles.

He's helpless and fighting for air.

His legs flailed weakly.

I dropped him lightly as he massaged his throat and crawled back on all fours. Trembling.

I inspect my coin in the sunlight and smile in satisfaction.

Noticing his presence I give him another warning.

"Scram."

He leans a tiny bit closer. Desperate for the coin I assume.

I unsheath my sword and meet his green eyes. He sees the blade and a wave of green instantly washes over his face.

I look slightly closer.

His face is mixed with horror and fear.

After making sure I'm not going to attack he turns around as slowly and controlled as he can.

He then runs with all he can before he's out of my sight.

God. What's with this place?

I feel bad for attacking a child but stealing is a crime.

And a crime needs a punishment.

Not much happens in the next week.

For better or for worse.

My stomach cries in pain in long lapses.

I have to continuously apply pressure to alleviate the torture.

My lips are so dry that cracks have sprouted all over.

My stench now matches that of the region.

My face is now covered in dirt and my hair has darkened.

This sucks.

But I keep hold of the coin.

I need that house after all.

Although numerous people tried to steal my coin, the interactions were short.

No one expects an 11-year-old to be carrying a blade or to be skillful with it I assume.

It was shocking however, to the lengths people w toent.

I almost chopped off a man's arm due to his persistence.

It was with great effort that he finally went sprinting for the seas.

My stuff has slowly depleted.

Not from use.

But from thieves.

As I go on slowly I give in to the hunger.

It hurts.

There's no way to get food. I tried believe me.

There are no animals for miles.

So I head to the only food stall in the ruins.

They sell aged molded fish.

The kind that gets thrown out by the places that sell throwouts.

The line is empty.

The keeper is barely awake in some sort of stupor, I assume.

So I walked up to him.

Scared of the hunger and the pain. Wishing it to end.

It may seem dumb.

But at that moment it was an escape.

It was the apparent only option.

So I placed my coin on the table.

"How much can I get for this."

My voice strains and it holds an uneasy tone of apprehension.

How much? The whole store?

The man barely keeps his eyes open as he holds out a finger.

1 finger.

1 single finger.

My voice quivers.

"W-what."

He grunts as he lazily slopes on the wooden stand.

"One."

I didn't know what was happening.

So all those people. Did they fight for one moldy, rotting and putrid-flavoured peice of fish?

Some even had fungi growing on them.

"Th-that can't be."

That's right. He must be drunk or senile.

And then a man walks behind me.

He is tired and pushes past me.

He puts two emerald coins identical to mine down.

The keeper passes two fish atrocities.

He leaves.

Too tired to speak or communicate.

He chokes on the fish as he eats it and splutters.

But he swallows.

I feel my world falling apart.

"Fine."

I took the piece myself.

I rose it to my tongue.

"Guragh."

I hold down vomit.

My mind is shaky.

My throat constantly regurgitates.

I want to vomit so bad but I keep it down.

I can't afford to pick off a single piece.

I take the biggest bites I can and hold my nose down tightly.

I feel my back giving in.

As I feel the last bit get swallowed I cough.

I cough and drool unpleasantly.

I massage my stomach as the fish only worsens its condition.

My tongue feels lumpy and flared.

I'm still coughing.

And it was from that point on.

That my life in the slums truly began.

(Royal Road Verification Note:

Sailset.)