The boy gave a faint, bitter laugh before answering. "Kill me if you want," he said defiantly, "but I won't stoop to begging for my life." As he finished speaking, he spat on the ground before him, his eyes blazing with misplaced pride.
Jamie didn't relish the thought of harming someone whose motives he didn't fully understand. Yet, if this was the only way to stop the relentless attacks, he wouldn't hesitate. His gaze hardened, a resolve settling over his features as he pressed the dagger more firmly against the half-elf's throat.
Thomas watched the scene unfold with a mixture of confusion and disbelief. He had seldom seen someone so ready to take a life without hesitation. But Jamie remained resolute, his grip unwavering as he prepared to cut the boy's throat.
Just then, before Jamie could plunge the blade, another figure burst onto the scene—the other youth who had been tailing them.
This newcomer was tall and heavyset, more so than one would expect for someone associated with the Cutpurses. Yet, like his companion, his bulky frame was shrouded in threadbare rags. An oversized coat hung from his shoulders, patched in numerous places, and the shirt beneath strained over his rounded belly.
His face, still bearing the softness of youth, wore an expression of hardened resolve. Dark, disheveled hair framed skin smudged with the dust and grime of the city.
A tumult of courage and fear flickered across his features. Despite the tremble in his legs, he rushed forward and threw himself to the ground before Jamie without hesitation. He pressed his forehead against the unforgiving cobblestones, his voice breaking as he spoke.
"Please! Please, spare his life!" the heavyset boy pleaded earnestly. "As idiotic as he is, he meant no harm. He's just too foolish and proud for his own good."
"Interesting," Jamie replied, his voice icy as he held the dagger against the half-elf's throat. His sharp gaze remained fixed on the defiant youth. "And what have you to say for yourself?"
Although Jamie could see the flicker of fear in the half-elf's eyes, the boy's jaw tightened with stubborn resolve. He refused to speak, his silence a muted act of rebellion.
With a swift, calculated motion, Jamie withdrew the dagger and delivered a sharp kick to the boy's backside, sending him sprawling to the ground. "You're far too proud for someone so weak," Jamie remarked coldly. "Such arrogance is nothing more than foolishness."
Jamie stepped forward as the two youths lay before him, his shadow looming over them like a specter. "Now," he commanded, a hint of impatience in his tone, "explain yourselves. What exactly are you after, and who are you?"
The half-elf looked like he might retort with another burst of anger, but the stout boy quickly placed a large, calloused hand over his friend's mouth. "Don't make our situation worse," he cautioned, his eyes pleading.
The half-elf's fiery gaze flickered, and after a few tense moments and deep breaths, his shoulders sagged ever so slightly—a reluctant surrender. "Fine," he muttered grudgingly. He met Jamie's gaze with a mixture of resentment and resignation. "My name is Aldwin, and he's Bertram. We both worked for the Cutpurses."
"Pleasure to meet you," Jamie replied dryly, a hint of sarcasm lacing his words. "I suspected you were affiliated with them. Now tell me, what do you want with me?"
Aldwin clenched his teeth, the muscles in his jaw taut as he struggled to maintain control. "We want the item that bears our names—the one that was with the leader of the Cutpurses," he said, his voice strained.
"And what item might that be?" Jamie inquired, one eyebrow arching skeptically.
Aldwin seemed on the verge of an outburst, frustration evident in his clenched fists and flushed face. Sensing this, Bertram hurriedly stepped forward. The young man's robust frame belied a gentle disposition, and he spoke with a sincerity that was hard to ignore. "There was supposed to be some sort of scroll or contract in their possession," Bertram explained earnestly. "It should have our names on it."
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"I can assure you," Jamie declared firmly, his voice echoing in the narrow alleyway, "we opened every safe and turned over everything in their chambers. There was nothing bearing your names."
"That's impossible! You must be lying!" Aldwin exploded, his face contorted with rage. He surged forward from where he knelt on the ground, intent on confronting Jamie. But Jamie was quicker. With a swift motion, he delivered a sharp kick to Aldwin's face, sending the half-elf sprawling back onto the grimy cobblestones.
"I owe you two no explanations," Jamie said coldly, standing over Aldwin as he writhed in pain. "But rest assured, there was nothing there except for some purchase and sale contracts and deeds to properties. None of them mentioned either of you."
Aldwin struggled to rise, his hand pressed against his bleeding lip. His fiery red hair fell in disarray over his eyes, still burning with defiance. Nearby, Beltram's eyes filled with tears, his stout frame shaking.
"They were lying to us, Aldwin," Beltram murmured, his voice thick with emotion. "We knew it was a possibility."
"No! It can't be, Beltram!" Aldwin shouted, his voice strained. "We saw it—the leader showed it to us!"
Jamie observed the two youths with a mix of curiosity and detachment.
"What exactly did they promise you?" Jamie asked, his tone shifting to one of genuine curiosity.
Beltram drew a shaky breath, hesitating before he spoke. His voice quivered as though he might break into sobs at any moment. "Three years ago, we struck a deal with the Cutpurses," he began. "We were to pay them a gold coin in exchange for a scroll of RE:Spec."
"RE:Spec?" Jamie echoed, tilting his head slightly.
"It's a legendary spell that its myth resurfaces on the streets from time to time," Thomas interjected. He stood beside Jamie with his arms crossed, his eyes narrowed thoughtfully.
"No, it's not just a myth," Aldwin insisted vehemently, wiping the blood from his lip. "We saw them use it—a scroll, right before our eyes."
Jamie regarded them steadily. "And what does it do?"
Beltram sighed, the weight of the world seeming to rest upon his shoulders. "The nobles have been using RE:Spec to reset their levels," he explained. "But it also grants the chance to choose a new class. Both of us... we have awful classes, ones that make it impossible to become anything meaningful. The Cutpurses promised that after we paid them a gold coin, they'd give us each a scroll."
Understanding dawned in Jamie's eyes. "So you hoped to change your fate with that. In exchange, they got free labor," he said quietly.
"Rest assured," Jamie said firmly, his gaze steady upon the two youths, "there was no such scroll among the items we found. And I doubt the Cutpurses ever possessed it."
"But—" Aldwin began, desperation creeping into his voice. Jamie raised a hand, silencing him.
"I don't believe they had it," Jamie continued, his tone unwavering, "because a single gold coin is far too little for such a powerful item. For you, a gold coin might be a fortune, but to a noble, it's a mere trifle. A scroll of that caliber could easily fetch fifty, perhaps even a hundred gold coins."
Aldwin and Beltram stood before him, their expressions shattered. The weight of Jamie's words pressed heavily upon them, extinguishing the flicker of hope they'd clung to. Perhaps they'd harbored a desperate dream, but Jamie had been direct and honest, leaving no room for illusions.
Jamie regarded them thoughtfully, sensing a resilience within these boys—a latent strength he couldn't quite articulate. Something about them stirred his curiosity, a potential waiting to be unlocked.
‘Courage they have, but could they have more than that?’ Jamie regarded. Two-thirds of his mana would be a lot, but he wished to know.
He focused on Beltram, allowing the [Legends of the Future] to drift into his view. Beside the young man’s face, ethereal words began to shimmer, forming a luminous poem.
Beneath this bulk, so broad and wide,
A noble heart does yet reside.
A Paladin, both true and bright,
With justice burning, shining light!
He turned his attention to Aldwin. The same script materialized next to the half-elf's stern features.
Beneath the rage, so fierce and bright,
A fighter stands, prepared for a fight.
With steel in hand and steady grace,
He’ll strike with power, none outpace!
Jamie felt surprised at how entwined their destinies appeared. A smile tugged at the corners of his lips as he stepped toward them. Retrieving two of the flyers he had been distributing earlier, he licked the backs and affixed them to their foreheads.
Startled, the boys quickly peeled the papers away, their eyes scanning the printed words in confusion.
"I may not have the RE:Spec," Jamie said, his voice carrying a hint of mischief and promise, "but I can offer you this and much more."
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