The day was bright, birds chirping and the wind howling ever so gently.
Elior woke up and hurriedly put on his clothes, dipping his face in a bowl of water - all because he needed to be on time for work at the restaurant. Elior had been scolded times without number about lateness by the head chef… but what could he do? He was just a simple waiter trying his best to survive.
He walked out of a scraggy-looking building - quite big, with lots of rooms for rent. Such buildings were called quarters. Elior stormed out of his room, running hurriedly through the hallway.
"Hey Elior! You up for a game tonight?"
A lousy voice greeted him. Peter. A lousy-looking guy everyone liked to stay away from - but not Elior. To him, Peter was his only friend, the only one who never saw him like some foreigner or cursed child.
"Sure, Petey! I gotta hurry!"
Elior waved as he rushed out of the hallway, storming through every corner of the street until he reached work.
"Thank goodness…" he panted. "I made it just in time."
He was grateful - the head chef was standing right at the doorfront. If Elior had arrived a few minutes later, he would have heard the scolding of his life… and probably gotten fired.
"You're right on time, boy… you should thank your God," the head chef said, staring at him with a look that sent chills running through Elior.
Whack!!
A sharp hit landed on Elior's head.
"Well, what are you waiting for? Don't keep my customers waiting - I'll lose me money!"
Such a hard hit for an old man, Elior thought.
But it was expected. The head chef was a retired pirate. As a former head pirate and pirate chef, he had experience from vast seas… and he usually bragged about his sea expeditions to customers.
Elior tied his apron around his waist and got ready for another long day.
Taking orders after orders, dashing through the crowded restaurant full of hungry men.
Bang!
The door slammed open.
Three priests marched into the restaurant.
"Bring him out," they said. "That treacherous bastard. Bring him out!"
Garrus came out, glaring at the priests. Garrus never believed in God, so he had a grudge against them - and they had one against him.
"What do you filth want in me restaurant?" Garrus asked with disgust.
"What we want is that you bring that criminal out," they replied in the same tone.
"What man? Look, if you think a criminal is here, go ahead and take a look."
Garrus shrugged. "But if you just decided to cause a commotion… you best know you won't make it out alive, mates."
His tone was scary enough to silence the room.
"Alright," the priests muttered, and moved deeper into the restaurant, searching.
Meanwhile, Elior was still taking orders. Then he reached a certain seat - someone had been sitting there for a while, hooded, silent. His cloak was worn-out, and bandages wrapped around his arms.
"What can I get you?" Elior asked lightly.
"A bottle of Scotch… if you may," the hooded figure replied, dropping a gold coin on the table.
"A gold coin?" Elior thought.
In Volradis, the currency was pearl. Gold coins were rare, only used by the wealthy… and the holy priests for their ornaments.
Then it hit him.
"Gold coin… and criminal…"
Could it be that this person was the criminal?
Before Elior could process his thoughts, a voice shattered his mind.
"You there!"
One of the priests pointed straight at him.
Elior froze. Everyone shocked.
They were pointing… at him.
But he was innocent! Not that anyone would believe him.
"M–me?" Elior stammered, pointing at himself.
"No, not you… nobody.
The man behind you."