A gust of wind surged through Dorman Pass. In mere moments, the gale reached the walls of the city held within the branches of a colossal tree. Equilium - the City of Life and Balance. The gust rushed over fountains and magnificent walls made of thick, crawling green and yellow ivy. The air flowed around gigantic palaces made of thousands of overlapping vines, then continued up massive pathways all leading to the top of Sylvirian Cun Moor - the Tree of Birth.

Blowing through the branches of Sylvirian Cun Moor, the gale knocked loose thousands of multicolored leaves, all drifting to the ground below. When all the other leaves returned to the soil, one particular red leaf continued the journey southeast. Sailing along over the vast landscape below, the leaf remained ever-rotating in the firm grasp of the wind.

The red leaf sailed along the wind over an area where all the trees acted like mirrors. They reflected anything that passed by, creating a maze to get lost in. Many giant white elk roamed around searching for food, carefree. Continuing the journey, the leaf drifted over a thick bog where a giant birdlike creature lay in the murky water, slumbering in the hot midday sun. Before long, the leaf was passing over the large bustling town of New Dawn. Smoke arose from the busy town, almost blowing it off course but the gust of wind carried the red leaf southeast, ever forward.

Drifting downward, the current of wind that carried it for many leagues died moment by moment. As the wind died, the leaf floated into a walled camp full of rotten wooden shacks, all numbered. Descending until it rested against the muddy ground, the leaf's long journey came to a close. Back into the mud, right under the tattered shoe of a young man with spiraling black tattoos.

* * *

Celibrik led Ansel out of the prince's massive tent by the arm. Ansel scanned around for Sven and the scarred man but they were nowhere in sight. I need to watch out for those two.

He looked up, seeing movement. A red object floated on the breeze toward him. He squinted his eyes to get a better look. It's a leaf. Where did that come from? It floated under his shoe while he followed along. It had a distinct pattern, light red lines ran through the center. The lines were pulsating softly.

"Are you listening to a damn thing I've been saying?" Celibrik asked, pulling Ansel around to face him.

He'd spaced out the whole time Celibrik spoke; exhaustion caught up with him. He needed food and rest but neither was coming anytime soon.

"To be honest, no I wasn't. Can we skip the part where you beat my ass and move to where I get some food and rest?"

The grim-looking man studied him, his lip twitched a little. Celibrik took a deep breath and peered around the area. He bellowed in Ansel's face, "You will pay for saying that!" He reached forward before Ansel could react, and grabbed him by the neck. Celibrik dragged him around the corner of one of the vacant wooden buildings. What is wrong with this guy? He struggled against Celibrik but the man had an iron grip.

Celibrik held him by the throat against the wooden wall, out of sight. He leaned forward and whispered in Ansel's ear. "I needed to get you alone. The prince will be visiting you in the coming days with specific questions in mind. I want you to report to me those questions and how you answer them. You do this, I will make sure you don't get killed. The other prisoners will be looking to get a reward from you dying when they catch you 'escaping'."

Ansel's eyes widened in confusion and then narrowed with the realization of what this meant. A small hope to hold on to. How can I use this information to escape? His mind raced with possibilities.

Ansel kept his voice low. The last thing he needed was more attention. "Why do you want to know that?"

A hot pain shot through his abdomen. He bent over, reeling from Celibrik's punch to his stomach.

"Did I say you could ask questions, Foundling? I could say you attacked me on the way to Building 49 and have you killed. The prince would be enraged, but I would get away with it. Remember that, boy. I'm the only one that can help you here." He stared at Ansel, not breaking eye contact. A strange deadly light filled his eyes.

Ansel leaned back against the wooden wall, keen not to have his throat grabbed again. I need to play along for now. I need a plan. He put his hands up in surrender."Okay, I will. You better hold up your end of the bargain, or you'll get nothing. I can't tell you shit if I get stabbed in my sleep."

"Don't make demands. I will find you tomorrow and hear what the prince asked. Don't fail me. Or I'll make sure you die writhing in pain." Celibrik motioned toward the street, then waited for him to start walking first.

The rest of the walk to Building 49 was a quiet one. Ansel kept his head down while prisoners and Crimson Guards spat at him. "Foundling scum" or "long live the queen."

I've got to escape this place.

The sun was high in the sky, marking midday. The heat felt good on his skin. The grimy smell of months-old dirty men was thick in the air, the sun's heat only making the aroma more pungent. They passed row after row of rotten wooden buildings with numbers posted above their doorless entryways, counting up to 49. Grubby men stood in small groups outside of the different buildings, all trying to dodge the gaze of random Crimson Guards or Celibrik. They all looked at Ansel like he was the cause of their woes.

He sighed, the dark feeling of hopelessness threatening to rear its head. I doubt there's a worse place to be when everyone's your enemy.

After a short time, they arrived at Building 49. The shabby wooden building was packed to the brim with men and was the worst of the shacks he'd passed so far. Men slept on the floor between two flat planks of wood. They fashioned them into makeshift beds with rotten-looking pillows on top. How they figured out who got a "bed" and who slept on the floor was something he'd find out. The whole room reeked worse than outside. The bitter, pungent stench choked him until he had no choice but to wipe the water out of his eyes.

The room was alight with chatter, but as soon as Ansel and Celibrik walked in, silence descended. The men's faces ranged from horrified - from seeing a high-ranking official like Celibrik in their midst - to murderous rage, all aimed at Ansel. Celibrik noticed this as well. He coughed, breaking the silence.

"This prisoner is one you have all heard about. Prince Dayne has decreed he must not be killed. He wants that vengeance for himself. I know you are all good patriots so you will follow the law." Celibrik paused for sarcastic effect while he looked around the room. "But if for some reason that is not enough to convince you, remember this. He also declared killing this man equal to the level of crime of attempted escape - meaning death to you and everyone in this building." Celibrik grinned.

Stark disappointment and shock spread throughout all the prisoners in the building. They realize they're stuck with me and can't kill me. But that doesn't mean they can't hurt me in other ways. His stomach fluttered.

Celibrik turned to leave but stopped at the last second and looked back at him. "Remember what we talked about. See you tomorrow, Foundling." He left.

Aware of the eyes on his back, Ansel turned around slowly. Every man looked at him with hateful eyes. They started to spread out. He ran a hand through his matted hair and scanned around for a spot to sit. "No bed for me I guess." He walked over to a small space in the back right corner and sat down on the floor. The chatter started up again but his instincts told him everyone still watched him.

A dingy man stood in the middle of everyone. He had dark brown hair, an unruly beard, and wore a tattered brown shirt with breeches full of holes.

He pointed a finger at Ansel, a glint in his eye."Why should we allow this Foundling to sit in here? We can't kill him, but we don't have to be kind to him either. I say we leave him in the alley like the dog he is." "Aye." A chorus erupted around the room. All eyes still on Ansel.

One man rose from the back wall, furthest from the entrance. Ansel hadn't noticed him before, but he was the obvious leader. He was well over six feet tall, heavily muscled, and had tan Revenian skin. His long black hair was tied in a ponytail, a singular silver-gray streak showing. His long black beard also had a small silver-gray streak on the right side and he had a tie on the tip of the beard, making it pointed. The man carried himself with an air of authority, no stranger to danger. Living on the streets of Reven, Ansel learned to gauge who was trained to use a weapon and who was in charge in a room. Poised against the wall, the man looked like he could unwind and strike in a moment.

The hulking man strolled toward him through the crowded group of men. The crowd parted with respect as he strode through. Ansel held his breath, anticipating what was about to happen. I can't catch a break.

He peered upwards as the fearsome figure arrived in front of him. The man towered over like an enormous sturdy tree.

The man crossed his arms. "Leave the boy alone."

"Why Zeer?"

Another voice in the crowd piped up. "Since when did you start loving the Foundlings so much?"

"We should listen to what he says."

The group of men all yelled over each other, all with questions and opinions. The man standing in front of Ansel continued to study him as if they weren't there.

Through the throng of yelling, the man with the dirty brown mop of hair from before yelled, "Bad call after bad call. I'm not sure you should be the one calling the shots anymore Zeer."

Complete silence met the man's words this time. No one dared to back him. Some men even started to scoot away, afraid of association of proximity.

Zeer turned around calmly to face the opposing man, his arms still crossed. "Are you challenging me for leadership of this group, Kerene?"

Kerene looked around at the men all peering at him, not supporting him but wondering what he would do next. He looked back at Zeer. "Aye."

All of the men stood up and huddled back against the walls as much as possible, allowing Zeer and Kerene to walk outside. The two men didn't take their eyes off each other.

The crowd all followed out the door. Ansel followed close behind, curious to see why this older man was fighting to defend him. I didn't ask for his protection. What is he going to want in return? He better not die or I'm screwed.

The dirty men crowded around Zeer and Kerene, anticipation heavy in the air. The combatants stood on opposite ends of the crowded circle staring daggers at each other.

Without warning, Kerene sprinted full speed at Zeer, roaring as he charged. Zeer relaxed into a stance that Ansel had seen many high-ranking Crimson Guards use back in Reven, a move they used when they lost their weapon. Legs spread apart shoulder width. One hand lower, one hand higher, both in fists. Kerene rushed to slug Zeer in the face with all his might, but Zeer's top hand deflected the punch, throwing it off from the inside arc of the swing. Kerene reeled from the force and stumbled backward to gain his composure, face red with anger. The surrounding men chuckled, some stood behind Zeer and patted him on his back in a congratulatory manner.

Zeer again took his combat stance, ready.

With another battle roar at the top of his lungs, Kerene sprinted toward Zeer. At the last second, he shifted his weight to his left leg and swung his right leg around to kick Zeer with all his strength. Zeer lifted his right arm and blocked the kick without moving an inch, and punched straight at Kerene with immense force.

The blow caught Kerene in the neck, shattering his throat. He held both hands up to his neck; his eyes bulged out of his head. He sputtered breathless words and scanned all around for help. The men turned from Kerene and walked back inside. Kerene fell to the ground, grasping at his throat. Blood dribbled out of his mouth slowly until his last breath.

Ansel stood over the man until the light left his eyes. What a brutal way to die. He gulped, feeling at his own neck. Zeer stood nearby, watching him.

Suddenly, Crimson Guards on horses with their longswords unsheathed surrounded Zeer, Ansel, and Kerene's body - all shouting questions. The men from inside Building 49 came back out, but Zeer made a quick gesture with his hand at his side the Crimson Guards didn't see. They all went back inside. He cares for these men, even after one just tried to kill him.

"What is going on here prisoners?"

Zeer pointed at Kerene. "This man talked of escaping. I killed him or risk punishment for us all."

The Captain of the Crimson Guard in charge - identifiable by the four golden suns pinned to his chest - took this as an acceptable response. The Captain examined Kerene staring lifelessly at the sky. He gave a curt nod to the other guards and rode toward another group of prisoners fighting. Before the other guards reeled their horses away, they cast deadly looks at Ansel as if Kerene's death was his fault. In a way, it was. All he'd done was exist.

As the area outside of Building 49 cleared, Zeer walked over to Ansel. The hulking man studied him, trying to figure out something. Zeer glanced at the spiraling black tattoos on his arms.

Zeer motioned with his head to walk to the side of Building 49. "You and I have some things to talk about Foundling."

Hopefully, this won't end with my throat getting punched out.