Laurence thought long and hard about what he had just heard, barely registering the commotion from inside the coffee shop. Though he had a perfect view of what was happening, he stared blankly through the open window and past the unusually tall fellow gripping another man's apron. He wondered if he could accept the offer he just received. He didn't like them, nobody did, but it was just part of the job. Could he stand being hated by everyone? The extremist actions of the kingsguard of Grandomina, though a good deterrent to crime, were too far. He had always thought that, him more than most. A death sentence for stealing a loaf of bread. Banishment for something as simple as bumping into someone of importance, which would ultimately result in death. The only difference was they got a little longer to live. A little longer to suffer. The latter was the sentence his mother received. She had simply looked to the ground for a moment, and then walked head-first into Lord Peterson (now living on the streets, due tax evasion).

His father, a good honest man so he had been told, lost his life while working in a brewery – I simple job, but with enough pay to support his new family . The building was located in the eastern district of the city: somewhere you wouldn't want to visit at night. 'You'd be safer on the other side of the walls with the rots' Laurence thought. One night only minutes before closing (to go and see his one year old son and new bride), a group of Dracks entered. Dracks, the most feared of the three rival gangs in Grandomina (Dracks,) were known by all inhabitants of Grandomina. To see one, not to mention a group, was very unfortunate. They beat him with the butts of muskets and it was not until the morning that he was found, cold as the tip of the Nefariousa Mountains.

Though he had no real friends, Laurence didn't know whether he could give up the life he had now. To become one of the kingsguard was both an honor and a curse: There may only be two hundred and fifty of them at any one time, however they were forced to live a life of solitude, only interacting with others when informing them of their imminent death. If only he could leave it all behind him, and live in the world as it was one hundred years prior to all the chaotic order. No, he couldn't do it. He couldn't give up the life he was living, with the freedom to sit in a coffee shop or a bar. He would refuse the King's offer.

The thought of a coffee shop brought him back to reality, and he glanced down at his beverage. Wait, what had he missed? He looked up again, only to be greeted with a light brown flash and a knee to the arm. He lost his balance and toppled backwards, crashing onto the cobbles and ripping the arm of his blue blazer. After a few seconds of shock, he got to his feet and looked in the direction the light brown flash was heading. The light brown trousers of an extremely tall man, jogging away holding a small sack in one hand, and something Laurence couldn't quite make out. He was about to do nothing, until he noticed it had gone: His wallet – It should have been on the table..

Then it all made sense, the unknown object in the man's hand. He turned on his heel and began to follow the man as fast as he could. He had a lot of free time, and spent some of it exercising. This meant he was in fairly good shape, and he knew he would catch the man before long. Left. Left. Right. Left. Right. In this district of Grandomina, there were a series of alleys and tunnels behind all of the main streets. Laurence knew almost every one, and had no trouble keeping up. As they reached a main street, now only inches behind, Laurence leapt forward and onto the thief. Rather than knocking the thief flat onto his face, Laurence remained on the man's back, arms round his neck. Luckily, the man seemed to be tiring.

With this in mind, Laurence arched his leg round the thief's. This sent both of them crashing into a cobblestone wall, causing the tear in his blazer to grow even larger. As they both got to their feet, Laurence knew he had made a mistake. From a distance the man had just seemed very tall, but from up close he could see the man was enormous. The large scar over his right eye and scruffy beard added to the intimidating look of the fellow, but that wasn't going to frighten him. He had made his choice, and he couldn't back down. As the thief clenched his enormous fists and took a step forward with his right leg, Laurence decided to make his move. This was it, all or nothing.

Laurence lunged towards the thief, ducking as a giant tattooed arm was flung towards him. Putting all his body weight into it, he brought up his right arm and struck the man in the jaw. Suddenly, his knuckles were on fire, and the only effect this had was causing the thief to stagger backwards a couple of paces. It seemed he had done more damage to himself. "Stop, in the name of our King!" The words made Laurence's heart sink into his seemingly spit shone boots. Kingsguard. And he knew the penalty for fighting in the streets. Death.