Fate dealt him a bad hand. The Kingdom of Everlin's tyrannic succession coursed through the slums like a torrent in a storm. A cataclysmic reign swept away the impoverished, including his father, and his mother's life ended when his began. Orphaned at birth, the street raised him. Bangkok has him now.
Everywhere, the poor and sick waited to die. Layle knew no other sight. In the distance, a gleaming castle towered over the region in its glory. How could a Emperor watch his people die off? What is a kingdom without her people? Imprisoned where the people are forced to keep their agonizing pain a secret, if not, her protectors surround, waiting for their captain to deal the final blow. Then the rest would flock like vultures. Picking on the weak made them feel strong. The other citizens would run, wanting to help, but fearing for their lives. They let the soldiers do what they wanted.
"Hey! Knock it off!" Layle shoved an Everlin soldier aside, preventing him from striking an older man who stole from the soldier. "Why you little-" the soldier retaliated, twisting his armored gloves in Layle's wheat-colored locks and ripping him from his feet onto the ground, so fast, only a silent grunt escaped his throat. With a loud thwack, Layle's skull met the stone cobbles. Disoriented, he sloppily clawed at the ground, trying to pull himself up. As soon as Layle found his footing, the soldier brought his knee into Layle's gut, and pulled him to the ground again. Layle laughed weakly, "Is that all you got?"
"You pathetic scum are nothing more than thieves and need to be punished," the soldier replied, justifying his cause. "In the name of the Emperor!" The soldier cried as he pulled his sword, ready to thrust it into Layle's chest. People flocked to their windows, in hiding. Women looked onward while covering their children's eyes. They watched, but did not help. Layle gritted his teeth, waiting for the cold steel to enter his body and drink his blood.
Then, fate dealt him a new hand.
A rock flew to the soldier's head, causing him to miss, and the sword cut under Layle's right eye. "RUN!" a figure cried out, jumping from the alleyway to Layle's side, pulling his arm up with force, and dragging him out of the area.
"After them!"
Layle followed the figure, hurdling over stone hedges and diving into alleyways. The figure obviously knew the streets well- better than Layle did. The soldiers gave up on the chase, vowing next time that if they saw the two again, they would strike without warning. Layle heard this threat behind a wall, as he tried to silence his panting breaths.
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"I'm Hope."
Layle smiled at the boy two years his junior, an orphan like him. The two discussed their options and decided to leave the kingdom. Layle smiled and opened the palm of his hand. Jewelry he pilfered off the soldier when he first shoved him. Together they started new lives as thieves, stealing from Everlin's 'protectors' as retribution.
This was five years ago.