Royal Reputation

Prologue

"Not so cocky are you, now that I have my blade to your throat, hm? You judged me unfairly and irrationally based on my young appearance, and you paid the price. Take this as a lesson, don't assume someone's skill level based on their age. Now pay up."

The almost seventeen year old sparrer said bitterly, extending his hand impatiently to the older man on the pavement beneath him. The man scuffed, and begrudgingly handed him a pouch of gold from his lost bet. He narrowed his eyes, opening and closing his mouth a few times, trying to decide what to say to this young despised man far above his years.

"Listen Clayton, just cause you have parents like yours, doesn't mean you get to rule the world, as much as I am sure you'd want to. One day someone is going to put you and that wretched family of yours in your place, and mark my words I will be the first to laugh." The man said accusingly, throwing his head around to emphasize his point. He gave Clay one last glare, then got up and walked off.

Clay shook his head slowly to himself, the man's words not bothering him in the slightest. He put the pouch in his pocket, with a hint of guilt. He always feels a little dirty betting money on his spars, but it was the only way he had that could make him some decent money for the possibility of getting professional training. And a chance to get out of this city, and all the bad memories that embody it.

Clay gave his attention back to the city around him, readying to leave, and noticed the crowd that had gathered to watch. They, who were now just watching and waiting for his next move, hesitantly, and a little fear ridden. Clay cringed at the sight, most of the time no one cared to watch others' spars, seeing as how often they took place. But whenever it involved him, it always caused a stir.

He started feeling nervous, crowds meant people and people meant rumors, and rumors spread like wildfire around this city. He couldn't let his pastime get out to his parents, especially because of the type of swordsmanship he is learning to use in his spars. He quickly walked off, sword in hand, ignoring the whispers and the looks, like he always did.

As Clay turned the corner to the main road, the glare from the sun caught his eyes, and he instinctively shielded the bright sun from them. It brought his attention to the gorgeous day around him. It was a beautiful summer evening, golden rays, light breeze, blue sky, there were plenty of people out enjoying the wonderful weather.

Clay wished he had time to admire the city alongside them, he loved the evening light, and how it always casts an orange hue onto the buildings that really made the city have an otherworldly glow to it. But if he got caught, he wouldn't get to see it for the rest of the summer.

As he felt his work boots hit the ground as he passed through the busy streets, he tried to ignore them, maybe focus on the pretty weather or sights, but to no avail. They were always there. People muttering as he walked by, parents pulling their kids closer to themselves, people shifted away as he passed. He pretended not to notice, to ignore them, to act as if nothing were the matter, but it still bothered him underneath his friendly appearance. Especially since he knew why everyone treated him as if he was a disease.

Even though to the guards his parents are the average citizen, even though his parents' skills can be matched by almost no one, the general town gossip circles still knew, like they seem to do everything. He was a Collins, son of the two most wanted criminals in Silvermoon. And no one would trust themselves around him, and rightfully so, seeing as he used to truly be one of them.

It was prime time for people to be outside. Not only from the nice weather, but it was rush hour as everyone gets off of work. So the roads were packed, which didn't help his need to get back as quickly as possible. There was no way his parents would forgive him if they learned he was practicing guard combat behind their back. Thankfully, his parents lived in a super remote part of the city, so the crowds lessened as he got closer.