Chapter 1: Chapter 1

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"Hello. My name is Dil—" "No." "Hey, anybody who happens to be reading my—" "That's just stupid." "To whom it may concern, if you are reading this, then…"

Letting out an annoyed sigh, the thirteen-year old placed the pen down. 

Starting his first journal entry was much harder than he thought. 

The beginning was the most important part of anything, and already, he was screwing that up. 

At least the carriage wasn't going over bumps.

"Regretting your decision, kid?" the driver asked as they passed Wall Sina towards Wall Rose.

"No," he answered. "Just trying to figure out how to start this journal."

"With the frustration I'm hearing, sounds more like you're writing an essay."

He simply shrugged. "Well, it's more like an autobiography… just in case something happens."

The carriage driver glanced backwards at him. "How old are you, twelve?"

"Thirteen."

He sighed. "Kids writing memoirs. Definitely a screwed-up world we live in." He paused for a moment as he mulled over the kid's plight. "If you're looking for some advice, I've got some for you."

"…I'm listening," the boy replied after some hesitation.

"Save the introduction for later. Start off with explaining what led you to enlisting."

That sounds logical, he had to admit inwardly. "Thanks, sir."

"Hey, your parents paid me a hefty sum. Least I could do."

"Fair enough." Taking a deep breath, the boy began writing, feeling a little more confident this time.

"It all started in the year 845. It was a day like any other in the Interior. Actually no, it wasn't. It started off with something interesting. I mean, not to say that—."

This is going to take while. The boy thought as he grimly crumpled up the piece of paper and pocketed it.

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(845; Yarckel District)

Living in an inner city was considered by many to be a dream come true. 

In the districts of Wall Maria and Rose, making ends meet was a difficult task, but within Wall Sina's districts, provided taxes didn't eat them alive, the more fortunate dwelled. 

From the upper class to the obscenely rich, from the hard workers to the spoiled brats, they came in all shapes and sizes. 

The one thing these people had in common with the rest of their country was that they could enjoy a beautiful day. 

While the sun beat down upon the city, there was a pleasant wind in the air, balancing things out. 

So, a stroll throughout the district seemed to be on the minds of Yarckel's residents.

Amidst the busy streets, a boy sat at a vacant table, reading the daily newspaper. 

His well-groomed, brown hair was one of the giveaways that he was of the upper class. 

His brown eyes were fixated on the paper, yet his ears were alert for something or someone. 

Normally, boys his age would either be playing in the streets, working, or sitting around at home like a prissy noble, but he was in the middle of something far more important.

His waiting was rewarded when, out of the corner of his eye, he noticed a particular man walking down the street who furtively glanced left and right as he went. 

Unlike the civilians that came by, this person wore a uniform with the emblem of a green unicorn apparent on the left side of the chest and more so on the back of the jacket. 

He was one of many Military Police officers, the ones that were supposed to be protecting the people and enforcing the laws, but those kinds of officers were too few in Sina. 

Abuse of power, black market trading, drug trafficking, and all sorts of things were what most MPs were engaged in. Anything to get far in their lives.

Our finest scum in uniform, he thought with a barely-concealed sneer. Question is: what kind of scum is he?

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The officer glanced around, checking to see if he was being watched, but the boy busied himself with the newspaper. 

It wouldn't do good for anyone if he got caught. While he was keeping up appearances, a thought occurred to the boy. 

He was in the prime position to get the information he was looking for. All he needed was the find the right one.

Unbeknownst to anyone, the eyes of the child began to emit a silver glow. 

While he looked at the paper, his focus was completely on the officer, who was trying to hail a carriage.

Okay, Trey, take a deep breath, he heard in his mind. It's almost over.

He gets on a carriage, I'll lose him, the boy realized. Looks like I'll need to dig deeper.

His eyes shined brighter as he began searching. A thought attached to a memory would be the best thing he could look for. 

Sure enough, he began to hear words that would easily land him in jail. Deal… can't get caught… coderoin...

Drug deal. Wonderful, but where's the deal taking place?

The boy began to feel a headache come onto his mind about the same time as the officer felt it. 

He could mentally force his way in, but it would result in internal damage that couldn't be explained. 

Last thing he needed was to be found out due to his impatience. That being said, there was a memory linked to his thoughts, and he needed to unlock it. 

His eyes glowing just a bit more, he found it: an address and a time. Sealing it away in his own mind, the boy ceased his mental infiltration.

Trey massaged his head as he was hit with a migraine, but he needed to fight it off, especially since a carriage finally pulled up. 

Quickly, he entered it, muttering something about police business and a vague location. The carriage driver proceeded down the road, none the wiser as to his true intentions.

Once he was out of sight, the boy tossed the paper into the nearest bin and proceeded down the street. 

Paranoia flowed through his veins as he began to wonder if that officer had any friends that were keeping an eye out for suspicious activity, like a curious boy trying to get to his own meeting place after watching an officer take off. 

Logic kicked in as he realized that there's no way the MPs would make a convoluted strategy that would expose their intentions. Still, it paid to be careful when it came to those bastards.

"You look like you have a stalker on your tail," a voice stated after a few minutes, taking him out of his thoughts.

The boy halted in his tracks, facing a table with a woman sitting at it. 

Brushing the black hair out of the way of her face, the woman's eyes gazed at him in a way that sent him on edge.

"There's no one following me… I think," he replied hesitantly with a dry throat.

"No one's following you," she assured, gesturing for him to sit down. "What have you got for me, Dillon?"

"Officer Trey is heading straight for that warehouse that burned down a couple of years ago," Dillon explained after taking a seat. 

"Considering how he was checking for anyone suspicious, he's probably making his move now. But there's one more thing: whatever he's doing involves coderoin."

Her eyes narrowed. "Are you absolutely sure about that?"

"I heard him use that word, Kyler," Dillon answered. "Could be referenced to something else, but it might not be."

"We don't have any active stings involving that damn drug. Even if there were, it's not a chance I'm willing to take." Kyler stood up, nodding in approval. "Nice job, Dillon."

A wave of pride washed over him as he grinned at her. "Thanks. Can I—?"

"Go home and not get caught instead of coming to a dangerous location where you'll be put in more danger?" she interrupted with a smile. "Why, of course you can!"

The grin was replaced by a frown, but she had him there. The downside to being a temporary snitch was that he couldn't watch the arrest take place. 

His mom already made the MPs their enemies thanks to her job, and he would make it worse. 

Which was a shame, because watching them get their comeuppance would've been quite satisfying. "Yes, ma'am."

"That's Corporal to you," she corrected, ruffling his hair. "Now get out of here."

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