The streets were slowly coming back to life. The oppressed citizens of Solterra were slowly creeping back out into the dusty streets, filling the stone alleys with life once more. With every day that passed since Raum was removed from all of their lives, the capitol was slowly losing the look of a city abandoned, home to only the ghosts of the damned. No longer were the streets filled with the mournful wails of wind and silence, but instead with the growing chatter of people trying to figure out what they were going to do and how they could repair the lives damaged by Raum’s madness.

Roshan, for his part, was attempting just that.

He didn’t give two shits about Raum. The fool was dead and gone and the world was a better place for it. Hopefully now Solterra could heal, even without a sovereign to lead them. Throughout the terror that had been his reign, the thief stuck to the underground, stealing and undermining the pitiful excuse of a king, using his unique skillset to fuck the fool over time and time again beneath his very nose. Food reserves? Stolen. Water caskets? Disappeared. Wines and jewels? Fucking gone. His biggest heists yet, and no one had been around to see them. What a pity.

Shame Vendetta also happened to disappear, because Roshan liked to believe that even the Red Rose of the Markets would be pretty damn proud of him. Or maybe she would just call him a fool and finally slit his throat to be rid of his idiocy forever. He didn’t know.

What he did know, however, was that the amount of orphans that lived within Solterra had greatly increased after Raum took over, and his heart ached for the hungry children that skulked about in the shadows. It was a lifestyle that he knew all too well, remembering the aches of starvation and the fear of punishment for stealing, and so shouldering a large bag full of the food reserves that he had stolen from the dead Usurper’s larter, the thief took to the streets. Bandit soared overhead every step of the way, the Ferret-Dragon quite happy to be out and about in the public eye once more.

Roshan did not think of what he had learned. He focused on finding the latest hideouts for the orphan boys and girls, the crest of the sun upon his chest hidden away beneath the thick canvas of a rugged scarf. The words echoed in his ears; ’You are the son of Zolin, the Boy King.’ The mark upon his chest confirmed it.

He would not, could not accept it. Raum and Zolin had been far too similar, and Roshan? He didn’t want to believe that he could be the son of the Boy King Zolin, true heir to Solterra’s empty throne. How easy would it be for him to simply waltz up and claim the throne as his own? How easy would it be to follow in the footsteps of his cursed father, falling into the inescapable depths of his own self-fulfilling prophecy?

No. No. Roshan was not his father, but more than that, he was not Raum.

So, Roshan simply did not think about it. Like water dripping from a leaf, the thief let it all fade away for the time being, losing himself among the streets that were slowly beginning to bustle with life. Bandit soared about, darting from place to place with the natural curiosity that came to one of his breed. It didn’t take long to dart into a back alley, shrouded in shadow and hidden away in the deepest corners of the city. Already a group of young colts and fillies had gathered; five in total. They watched him with fearful curiosity, ears pinned and tiny legs ready to bolt in a moment’s notice before recognizing him. This was not his first delivery.

He smiled warmly as Bandit came to rest upon his brow. “Here. There’s a little more than last time, so help yourselves.” With great care he removed the bag from around his neck and shoulders, laying it out for the youth’s to take. Inside were various foods and skins of water which they tucked into with agusto, devouring everything within seconds. Through it all, Roshan relaxed against the nearest wall which was still still cool from the nighttime cold, his gaze shifting from the alleyway to keep watch and the thin, malnourished kids.

They offered him back the bag and Roshan took it, slipping the far lighter leather around his neck. “Go on. Lay low for awhile. Hopefully things will improve from here, but I’ll be back again tomorrow.” The children quickly scampered off after a word of ‘thanks’, hurrying down the alley and disappearing into the streets once more. Roshan watched them, his honey-brown eyes taking on a look of mournful understanding.

“Everything’s still fucked no matter which way we look at it, right Bandit?” Even though the evil was over, who was to say that the next ruler wouldn’t be the same way? The thought made him shiver from a chill that not even the rising sun could get rid of.

"Speaking."