Men, women and children everywhere started their daily journeys. Some to work, others to market and various places of learning and some returned home after a hard nights work. Not everyone worked on the day shift after all.
The streets bustled with activity, the shouts of merchants, the creaks of carriages, the general noise of the people making their way to whatever it was they were doing or going to do.
Down by the docks, where the river which ran through the city met the sea, various workers reached their places and went about their jobs. The general greetings of the day chorused out, consisting in general of "Mornin'", and "How ya doing", and "Get back here you little thief".
The latter of course, was heard often, but usually said with more emphasis and usually only if they had indeed been called upon by such a character.
As it was, this had just occurred.
"Get the bloody hell back here right now!", yelled the merchant shouting again and running after the cloaked figure. It dashed down the length of the docks, the tattered cloak billowing behind it, and then quickly turned into a side alley and vanished from view.
He only managed a few more short steps before he stopped, hands on knees, panting for breath.
It wasn't that he was a particularly fat man, it was just that he was, as it were, not built for running any distance beyond what it normally took to cross the street in rush hour.
As he stood there, panting and red-faced, two guards approached him.
"What appears to be the trouble sir?", asked the first guard in a deep voice, muffled by the helmet.
"It's... That damn... Street filth again!", wheezed the merchant, stopping every couple of words for a breath.
"They're always around... Taking things from my stall... Disrupting my business!"
"Didn't seem like much was stolen, sir", said the second guard, voice also muffled slightly.
He looked up. A woman, the shopkeeper noticed, the uniform covered the entire body, head to toe, but a man could certainly not fill out a breastplate of that, certain, shape. He though he noticed something happening behind the guards but as they shifted in front of him his mind ignored it and immediately refocused on the still relatively fresh memory of the stolen goods.
The streets bustled with activity, the shouts of merchants, the creaks of carriages, the general noise of the people making their way to whatever it was they were doing or going to do.
Down by the docks, where the river which ran through the city met the sea, various workers reached their places and went about their jobs. The general greetings of the day chorused out, consisting in general of "Mornin'", and "How ya doing", and "Get back here you little thief".
The latter of course, was heard often, but usually said with more emphasis and usually only if they had indeed been called upon by such a character.
As it was, this had just occurred.
"Get the bloody hell back here right now!", yelled the merchant shouting again and running after the cloaked figure. It dashed down the length of the docks, the tattered cloak billowing behind it, and then quickly turned into a side alley and vanished from view.
He only managed a few more short steps before he stopped, hands on knees, panting for breath.
It wasn't that he was a particularly fat man, it was just that he was, as it were, not built for running any distance beyond what it normally took to cross the street in rush hour.
As he stood there, panting and red-faced, two guards approached him.
"What appears to be the trouble sir?", asked the first guard in a deep voice, muffled by the helmet.
"It's... That damn... Street filth again!", wheezed the merchant, stopping every couple of words for a breath.
"They're always around... Taking things from my stall... Disrupting my business!"
"Didn't seem like much was stolen, sir", said the second guard, voice also muffled slightly.
He looked up. A woman, the shopkeeper noticed, the uniform covered the entire body, head to toe, but a man could certainly not fill out a breastplate of that, certain, shape. He though he noticed something happening behind the guards but as they shifted in front of him his mind ignored it and immediately refocused on the still relatively fresh memory of the stolen goods.
