The boy cowered in the corner of the dark alley as the searchers came closer. He clutched a loaf of bread in one hand, and in the other the knife that had been thrown at him. He was cold, his shirt ripped and his arm bleeding. He slowed his breathing and crouched farther into the shadows as he heard one of his pursuers curse.

The guards had been more alert today. George hated to steal but he and his mother had had no money since his father, the Rouge was killed in a knife fight. He had sworn to avenge him when he heard. His mother had cried as she held him, keeping him from running out to defy his father's killer then and there.

"What good would it be for you to die as well? Wait, your time to avenge your father will come. He is our king now, and we must servehim well, or perish." It was the first time he had ever seen his mother give in. The wealth his father had once had slowly dwindled, leaving he and his mother to starve in the cold Tortallan winter. He had taken to stealing bread, though he hated the chore. But he knew he was the man of the house now, he had to bring home food for he and his mother. His mother cried the first time he brought home their meager fare, but as any human will, they both grew accustomed to it.

Eleni Cooper was a healer, a good one, and wanted to leave the path her husband had put her and George on. George smiled grimly. It was what she had intended, but as the months passed there was less money and less food. They could not leave the Rouge, never would they be respectable as his mother had told George she once had been, before his father, the king of the Rouge had swept her off her feet.

George abandoned these thoughts and held his breathe. One of his pursuers had stopped to lean against one of the walls forming the alley trying to catch his breath. George could see his glittering mail and the giant broadsword that hung at his waist.

"Gods, haven't we spent enough time searching for the boy?" The guard panted, "We'll never find him in this rat's maze. We must've ran the entire Lower City!" George didn't know how but he knew the other guards were nodding in agreement. He watched them as they all turned and began to make their way through the twisting streets of the Lower City, always on the lookout for thieves much more dangerous than he.

After waiting what he estimated to be one hour he ventured carefully out onto the street. Checking for guards he quickly made his way home vowing never to be seen stealing again. Slipping the dagger in between two loose bricks in the wall he tried his best to cover the wounded arm. Then he slipped quietly through the mother was sitting at their tiny table, head in her hands. As the door shut she raised her head and rushed to wrap her arms around him.

"Where in the Mithros' name have you been?" She asked her voice shaky with unshed tears. "I've had Swiftknife searchin' for you high and low and not a glimpse of you! What possessed you? And what happened to your arm?" George hid a smile as his mother's healers instinct took over and she helped him to strip off his shirt. "Goddess!" She exclaimed as she saw the knife wound. "What'd ye' do to earn this wound George?"

Hesitatingly, he told her of the nights events. He handed her the slice of bread and the wedge of cheese which had caused him such trouble. His mother sighed and put the provisions aside. She kneeled and wrapped him in her arms once again. "This is not what I had planned George. We were to get out of this rat hole. We were to get a house in Corus and become a respectable family. I never wanted it to be like this." George hugged his mother as she wept, feeling her tears wet on his shoulder. He knew they would never become respectable but he had to protect his mother. He had to become a man, even at his young age.

"Someday we will ma. Someday no one will sneer at the name Cooper again." He never let his mother know his plan. To her it would be simply the path of fate. To him it was a carefully guarded secret. He would take the place of his father as the King of the Rouge, something he would never have been able to do had not his da' been murdered. He would lay awake at night, thinking of the paths to his destiny the honorable and the dishonorable. He knew he would one day take the throne and wanted to be honored for it. But he knew he could never tell his mother. It would tear her apart; she had always blamed herself for what he had become.

Years later George had many friends and followers from the Lower City. Lightfingers, his first companion and dearest friend had helped him to gather them. He stood beside George as they looked down on their homes from the rooftops. George looked at light fingers and smiled, his friend was laying on his stomach, watching the younger boys practice wrestling. "I want to learn to fight 'Fingers." George said to him. "I'm sick of being afraid my mother will be into danger some day and I won't be able to do anything. Do you know of anyone who can teach me the thieves fighting?" George had grown up through the past years. At age 10 he could read, write, and he had never been caught stealing since that night he hid in the alley. He had stolen from merchants from under their noses. Soon he and his mother would be able to move to the house his mother had desired in Corus.

'Fingers, as most called him waited a few moments before saying, "If it's a teacher you be wantin' I know of one of your father's men. He doesn't approve of the king and would be willin' to help a boy grow up to be the next king more honorable than this one got there." George looked inquisitively at Fingers. "He be livin' in Corus, goes by the name o' the Shadow. Guess since yer wantin to be goin there anyhow I could introduce ye." George toyed with the knife he always carried, the one thrown at him by the merchant before the guards started chasing him. His heart was racing with excitement, but by now he had mastered never showing his emotions. 'Fingers was the only one who ever knew his plan and George considered the older boy's advice invaluable.

George smiled wickedly and clapped Fingers on the shoulder. The markets are packed today Fingers, lets go work our magic!" The boys laughed as they raced over the rooftops of the Lower City all the way to the marketplace where they would pick the pockets of many an unsuspecting nobleman, raid merchant stalls, and possibly enjoy ale at Solom's tavern, The Inn of the Dancing Dove, where the king's throne was.