Prologue
"Stop, Thief!"
I was running away from a very angry baker. I pushed past a few surprised people, a small loaf of bread tucked under my arm. My scraggly black hair and slightly dirty clothes and coat blowing in the wind. Fear was in my eyes as the adrenaline pumped through my system. I wasn't much of a runner without it.
I weaved through the pedestrians that were in my path, made up mostly of evening strollers. While I wasn't one hundred percent certain, I was pretty sure that it was around 8 to 10 'o clock
When I'm nearing a rather large building that I don't recognize, I take a swift glance behind me to see the baker wasn't relenting at all, pushing people out of the way. "Stop him!" He yelled at the top of his voice, which I considered impressive since he had all that breath for a large shout while he was running.
I look back ahead, but I look too late and run into someone. He stays up, but I'm not as fortunate, losing my footing, falling and rolling a few feat away in a heap, the bread flung from my arm.
The man I ran into started to say something, but the baker caught up. Thinking fast, I tried to get up and run, by the barker firmly grabbed my arm before I could even so much as walk away.
He scoops the bread with his other hand, talking to the man almost simultaneously. "I'm so sorry about this boy, sir. He'll get his just desserts when I take 'im down to the yard."
The man tips his top hat that I just noticed atop his head to the baker. "Not at all, good sir. Although taking the young man to the yard will not be necessary."
Both the baker and myself blink at this he then turns to me, a calm yet stern look on his face. "Mark, my boy. I've been looking everywhere for you. And what have I told you about stealing?" While he said this, we locked eyes for a split second. During that moment I realized what he was doing, so I played along.
"I'm sorry, Father." I reply, looking down at my feet, mustering up the most sincere and convincing tone I could. I look back up to him, continuing. "When I saw that bread in the bakery…well, it just smelled so good. But I promise it won't happen again. Honest."
While we were having this exchange, the baker was exchanging looks at both me and 'Father.'
"This your son, then?" He asks 'Father' gruffly.
He nods, bringing out his wallet. "Yes, and I'm terribly sorry about all of this. Here, I believe that this should compensate for the stolen bread." While he was offering the money I noticed that it was a bit more than what the bread was worth. I didn't say anything though.
The baker seemed to notice the same thing. He looked down at the slightly dirty bread, then back o the man's hand. After thinking it in his head for a couple more seconds before trading his bread for the money.
"Too dirty to sell anyways." He said to himself. He let go of my arm, and I not so subtly moved away from him, still maintaining a calm demeanor. After the baker was gone, the man turned to me.
"A true gentleman shouldn't steal." He simply says, still having his calmness. I detected another emotion in his voice though: compassion. I want immediately filled with shame, looking down at my feet.
"…I'm sorry sir." I began, forcing myself to not break down. "I just… I didn't know what to do. I had lost everything. I have nowhere to go, and no one was willing to hire a twelve year old boy." I felt myself close to breaking right then and there, my eyes still looking at my shoes. A couple seconds later, I felt a hand on my shoulder. I looked up to see he was kneeling down, looking at me at eye level.
"I've suffered loss, too." He tells me. "And I know how difficult it can be to carry it on your shoulders. Which is why I'd like to make you an offer." He smiles at me. "Would you like to become my son?"
I was extremely surprised at this. It must have shown on my face, because he just chuckled. "I'm not pressuring you. You can turn down my offer. I'm going to be honest with you, though. I rather enjoy company, something I rarely get anymore.
I tried to speak, but no words came out of my mouth. When they did though, they were all in a garble. "I-you mean-I thought-I'm- uh-!" I stopped, took a moment to recollect myself, and spoke calmly, although excitement was laced in my voice. "Yessir!" He chuckles again.
"I'm Hershel Layton. May I ask your name, my boy?"
"My name's-!" I'm about to reply immediately with my name, but I realize something and stop myself. That was the boy who lost everything. His home, his parents, his only friend. I wanted a new start, one that might lead to a better future. I answer him again. "-My name is Mark. I guess now it's Mark Layton."
That is the beginning of what I'm going to call the Layton Chronicles (original name, I know), and right now, unless people really want it, I'm not going to be rewriting the games with Mark in them. If people really want it, then I I'll with a few minor to major differences, but it will overall be the same. No, right now it's going to time skip 11 years, 1 year after lost future. Stay tuned till then!