One late, quiet night, engulfed in the fog of despair was a baby boy bound to be abandoned by his mother—a mother who was still too young to be one, all because she made a mistake in her life by trusting the wrong man. But she had a better reason to leave her child when he was only a few days old in front of the only church in a tiny village in Italy. She cried as she left her fragile infant and walked back into her horse-drawn carriage. She couldn't help but to look back, while the church seem to grow smaller and smaller. Sitting beside her in the carriage was a man, ready to give her words of comfort.

"Stop crying, dear sister. I promise that he'll someday get back to you," he soothed the woman.

At the same time, a man dressed in a long robe opened the church's front door. He was sure he heard the sound of horse gallops, yet he didn't see anything. And that was when his feet accidentally touched a bundle, revealing a baby.

"A baby!?" he gasped as the baby started to cry. Then he slowly took the little one into his arms. He went deep inside the church towards the small monastery carrying the infant to give him something to drink. Now, Mikael wasn't a priest yet, he was still a pupil under the teachings of Father Giuseppe D'Angelo. Once the baby had calmed down, Mikael nudged the baby with his forefinger gently. Much to his surprise, the baby laughed as he grasped Mikael's forefinger tightly. His forefinger was now wrapped with tiny, but strong, fingers.

"Ow, ow, that hurt," he pulled his hand back and smiled at the baby. "You have such a strong grip for a baby. I'm going to name you 'Knuckle'."

Knuckle was raised by pastors and brothers living in the monastery for seven years. Mikael was like a brother to Knuckle and taught him everything he knew of God. Eventually, the boy became religious, although they never forced him to follow their path. Knuckle was optimistic, energetic, and healthy, since he ate a lot and was really fond of exercising. But there were times when Father Giuseppe would see him praying in the church, and those were the only times Knuckle would seem sad, but peaceful. The priest didn't have to ask to know that the boy had always wondered about his real parents. Because no matter how he treated Knuckle like his own son, he couldn't lie about the fact that Knuckle was left at the church by his real parents.

One day, Knuckle was tripped during a morning run. Somehow, a pebble hit his nose. It wasn't that bad, but was enough to create a small scar on his nose. Knuckle acted quickly to take some water and bandages. Being an energetic kid, he learned how to care for his wounds. But a wound on the nose was something new.

"Knuckle, you're covered in dirt. Did you fall?"

"Mikael?" Knuckle turned his head to see the young man approaching him.

"Oh! Your nose hurt!"

Knuckle snickered before responding, "I'm extremely fine! It's just a scratch. But, say, how do I look with a bandage on my face?"

"Hmm. Actually, it looks pretty cool, you look tough!" Mikael joked and punched the boy's small shoulder lightly.

"Then I will keep using bandage on my nose. Since I like the 'Boxing' sport, it fits me to the extreme!" Knuckle shouted out as he punched his fist into the air.

"Hey, be quiet!" Mikael shushed. "It's a church! Father Giuseppe will kill us if you keep shouting like that!" the boy only chuckled, and so did Mikael. They had a firm bond like real brothers, despite their ten years age gap. But those happy moments were not to last.

"Mikael, do you really have to go far, far away?" Knuckle asked as he and Mikael were hugging each other. Mikael had already been inducted as a priest for a month. He was appointed a missionary task to serve the people of another small village in Lipari, near Sicily.

"I'm sorry, Knuckle. But it is my duty to God to serve and help those in need. I promise we will see each other again someday," said the new priest while staring into Knuckle's eyes with a frown. Mikael stood and continued, "When you're older, you can visit me, Knuckle."

With a hopeful smile, they exchanged fists for the last time.

~ Җ ~

A year later, in a land of farmers, where small cottages were separated from each other within miles, a girl was struggling for her life. Her dress was filthy and tattered as she was lying on the ground and panting hard, gasping for more air.

She used to live in a small house in the middle of a field, being the daughter of a farmer. That was until her parents got infected with a disease that caused death within a week. Another fellow farmer had already died from it and that was probably how her parents first got infected. After her father's death, the sickened mother told her to escape as far as she could, before she got infected as well. It was a dilemma; she cried and screamed, for she didn't want to leave her mother alone.

"Celia! Listen to your mother! Do you want to die in vain!? Do you want your parents' death to be in vain!?" screamed the mother of the girl whose name was Celia.

"B-but! But I can't just leave you!" she answered with sobs and went on crying as she sat on the floor near the door.

"No buts! Just go!" she yelled and started to sob. Tears rolled down from her pale and sick face—that used to be bright and lovely. In her hands was a broomstick to keep her daughter away, only to protect the girl from being infected.

"Wh-why? Why does this happen!?"

"Run away, child! This house, this land, and I will infect you if you stay! Just go until you reach the next village!" she swung her broom towards Celia. The young girl was thrown out of the house.

"M-momma, I-I-I'm s-sorry! I'm so sorry!" She stood rashly that she almost slipped and was about to run away. "Forgive me for leaving you!"

She ran as fast as she could through the cornfields and the green meadows. The wind wiped her tears gradually. Still, her cheeks remained wet. She fell and tripped several times, but this didn't stop her. And when she was finally out of breath, she looked back with her teary, swollen eyes. Her house wasn't even visible anymore. Falling down to the hard mattress of green grass, she clenched her fist on her chest. She wept and wailed; in her mind was only regret.

"We couldn't even hug each other before separating."

The sorrow and grief in her heart were incredibly painful that her bruised arm, caused by her mother's broomstick, didn't hurt at all. She cried on and on and finally drifted into sleep.

~ Җ ~

"How much ye think she'll worth?" A heavy, coarse voice was heard vividly.

"Hmm, I don't know, she's still so young. She'll only worth a slave." This one sounded like a young man's voice. From his way of speaking, it could be guessed that he was smoking a pipe.

As she started to gain her consciousness, she felt a rope tying her limbs. Luckily, her hands weren't tied on her back. A cloth was gagged in her mouth and she couldn't see anything with a blanket covering her. The darkness of the night made the situation even harder for her to predict. She only knew that she was carried along a rocky road, as it made her body jounce and hit the sides of the carriage she was in.

"Or… We keep her to ourselves. What ye think?" suggested the first guy whose tone of speaking sounded nasty and foul. "Ye know, like an infestation. Bet on yer death bed, she'll be a real beauty in a few years."

"I like your thinking, but—we need this money soon and it cannot wait another few years!"

"What should I do now? What is going to happen to me? Why am I wasting my parents' death? I must fight, but—I don't have the strength anymore."

Her stare was empty and she was pale. Cold, hunger, thirst, sore, and wounds were all she could feel.

"Someone… Please… Help me."

Suddenly the road wasn't as rough as before. It was smooth and she could see some lights through. After another few minutes, the carriage was stopped. And then the covers were taken off from her abruptly by those two men. She scanned her surroundings and figured out that they were stopping in a back of an alley. They pull the cloth gagging her mouth and gave her a flask.

"Finally awake, eh? Drink this before you die from thirst."

She drank from the flask eagerly and choked when she found out it didn't contain water, but something strong, something a girl her age shouldn't be drinking. They laughed.

"We're sorry, girl! We haven't got any water!"

The man with his smoke pipe knocked the back door of the house where they stopped. A man opened the door and then soon they were negotiating. The stout man who gave her a drink seemed less intelligent, giving her an idea to fool him and escape, using the very last of energy she had left.

"I need to drink water—please." Her voice was thin and weak.

"Sorry? Can't hear you," he said.

"I need… I need water, I'm… dying, sir."

Although she was acting, it was partly true. The man was easily convinced after he finally looked at her carefully.

"Come to think of it, this gal has bruises and wounds. Judging from where we found her, she probably haven't even had any water—or food," he thought and glanced at his pipe-smoking friend. "He'll kill me if she dies. But if I leave her here—well she don't have the strength!"

"Ye wait here, ye understand?" he then hurried his way out of the back alley.

She took this chance to quickly release her feet from the ties, carefully—so the other man would not notice. Once the rope was released, the man with the pipe noticed the situation and charged right away, but he was not fast enough as she was already off the carriage and ran.

"STOP, YOU BRAT!"

She kept running with all her might with her life at stake. She simply couldn't let herself caught. However, she was only an eight-year-old girl, with bruises and wounds, and no energy. So she got caught before she even reached the town's square.

"Gotcha!" he exclaimed as he grabbed Celia's arm tightly, causing her to jolt. "Now you'll listen to me carefully, little girl! If you run away again, I swear I'll-ARGH!"

Celia bit his hand hard and then fell as the guy let go of his grip. All of a sudden, a hand took hers and pulled her quickly, so quick that her mind couldn't process the series of events.

"What are you waiting for!? Run to the extreme!"

The man yelled out curses from her behind while he was starting to run again. It was a boy—a boy with a black hair and a bandage on his nose—that took her running and guided her to the safe part of town where her captor lost track of them.

"Please, stop! I can't run anymore!" she cried.

With heavy breathing, he answered, "I'm sorry. It's fine now. They won't find us here."

They were hiding under a big, stone bridge where the only light they could see was the starlight, and the moonlight.

"I'm Knuckle," he continued. She didn't answer; she could only pant and sat on the ground with her head hung.

He ripped a small part of his already tattered shirt and went to the riverside. He poured a bit of water on the ripped cloth before he went back to sit beside her. With the damp cloth, he cleaned her wounds gently.

"I accidentally saw the carriage where you were in when it entered this town. I thought the pile on the back was odd, so I spied on them. I was about to help you when you tricked the fat guy to leave. But wasn't quick enough. Sorry."

"…"

She stared at him and was about to speak when she realized that she was too thirsty that she couldn't let out a voice. She mouthed the word 'thirsty' with her chapped lips, which was, fortunately, understood by the boy. He helped her walk to the riverside and there she scooped the fresh water eagerly and drank it from her hand. She drank again and again, so eagerly that her dress became wet. It was no wonder, for she hadn't had any drink since she ran away from home, except the liquor given by the two criminals. Her dried throat was finally refreshed.

The night breeze chilled her to the bone through her damp dress, thus making her shiver. So Knuckle hugged her and said, "Sorry. But I don't want you to catch a cold 'cause that would be extremely troublesome."

Finally able to speak, she answered, "Why bother helping me?"

"Why? Well, I guess… It's because I thought we were kind of alike, somehow."

"Hm? Alike? You lost your family too?"

He nodded. "Twice."

Twice? She couldn't understand what he meant by twice, but it must be something awful.

"I'm Celia."

They sat for a long time by that riverside and spoke of many things. The fact they were sharing the same fate made them close in one night. At first they were just joking and making fun of the two men who captured her. They laughed as they cuddled to keep themselves warm. As the night got older, they started to run out of 'jokes' and once silence fell upon them, the two kids shared their stories.

"I've just lost my family, Knuckle. I don't know if it's today or yesterday. I ran away from home because my land was infected with plague. My father died, and then my dying mother chased me out so I wouldn't be infected. I didn't want to leave her, of course, so she hit me with a broomstick," she showed the bruise on her arm.

"But it didn't hurt at all. She just wanted me to live, so I finally ran as fast as I could. I fell and tripped a lot, which is why I have so many wounds, and once I'm out of breath I passed out in the middle of a meadow.

"I woke up in the carriage and figured out soon that I was going to be sold, as a slave, I think."

As she finished, it was silent once again. The boy was just speechless, unable to imagine the terror she had in one to two days.

"What about you? Are you going to tell me your story?" she smiled.

He, too, smiled as he nodded before staring at the stars.

"I was abandoned by my parents in front of a church in a small village. A priest found me—well, I mean, not exactly a priest, Mikael was still learning at that time. I grew up with priests and Mikael was like an older brother to me, he was the one who introduced me to God. Father Giuseppe, the high priest, was also very nice to me. He told me my parents did that, probably because they couldn't take care of me, not because they didn't love me. But he was extremely strict, though," he chuckled. He then held the cross hung around his neck and showed it to Celia.

"This one's from Mikael. A year ago, he was finally inducted as a priest and the next month—he was given his first task," Knuckle frowned.

"He had to go to another small village and serve God there. So he gave me this before he left. I wish I can visit him someday," a smile returned to his lips.

"Then? What happened next?"

"Umm, just a few months after Mikael left, a riot happened. I can't remember exactly what happened. But, Father Giuseppe told me to hide under the cellar with some other kids. Ah, I forgot to tell you. I was an acolyte; I helped priests during masses along with the other kids," a spark was shown on his face as the boy recalled of his old, peaceful days. However, it didn't last long; his expression—once again—turned serious.

"Anyway, the cellar was full so the adults couldn't hide with us. Hours passed by and when I came out of the cellar, I saw nothing but the church's debris and remains. Somehow it burnt down as well as some houses in the village. I lost all hope but one; seeing Mikael once again. So I left the village, wanting to reach his place by feet."

"So, Father Giuseppe was… gone?" Celia asked.

Knuckle only replied with a nod.

"I'm sorry to hear that."

He laughed quietly and patted her shoulder, "It's fine. You've had your hard times too. I say, we look out after each other from now on!"

She was once again filled with hope and smiled widely.

"So where is Mikael now?"

"Well, he's in Lipari, near Sicily. It's too far from my old village; I don't know when I will get there."

"I'll come with you!" she chirped cheerfully. Her adventurer's soul was awakened for she was no longer afraid of being alone. She had Knuckle and Knuckle had her. He grinned and gave her a thumbs-up.

From then on, they ventured as kids by feet—or sometimes by wheels—and their destination was Lipari. They would hop on a stranger's carriage secretly or trick a locomotive guard into letting them ride for free. Life was an adventure for them; it didn't matter if it was a rainy, sunny, windy, or even snowy day. It was Knuckle and Celia against the world.

Author's Note : This story is of course, before they met Giotto and others. And as you may have guessed, the words in italic are thoughts. Also, I'm terribly sorry because I'm unable to provide a cover picture for now. I will post it along with the second part, though. In the meantime, you can check Celia's picture using the link in my profile. However, it is her when she's grown bigger, she used to have long hair and wear dress just like any normal girls (Which I will be drawing later on).