Snippet #2386008

Three orphans flew though the streets and wards of Iracot, they were like sparrows to the naked eye, just quick enough to blur but too slow to escape anything that took an active interest. The first child was dressed in scrappy black clothing with a belt bearing a rusted sigil of the the God-Queen's knights and a small dagger was hidden in the small of her pants. The second had enshrouded himself in a sickly green colored shirt and ripped slacks. The final urchin had a small hood perched upon his black shirt that was backed with old fox-pelt, and looked to be the oldest of the lot.

Anyone with a proper eye might notice that some of the finer clothing on these children of the streets were the old and rusted equipment of a certain disgraced knights. Anybody that knew of the merchant who ran a house for the street urchins would definitely know better, not that anybody wanted to socialize with someone who vexed the God-Queen.

The first orphan stood at the gates of the palace and signaled to the others and begun to tug at the knights. "Hey, oi knight sir! Milord knight! Hey!" The orphans almost sung in unison, circling around the two guards with smiles. "I need somefin'." echoed the female urchin, smiling.

A figure stood away from the orphans, leaning against a wall with a hand on the khopesh tied to his left side, watching his orphans at work. Sven coudn't help wondering if he was even allowed nearby anymore, if so, the merchant bet he could outrun the fools. It's what running after a bunch of grubby orphans did to you.