1 Chapter 1: Hope for the Hopeless

In the early afternoon heat, the sun's long rays stretched out on the cobblestone pavement as the townsfolk bustled with activity. This small town nestled within the valley, surrounded by hills and mountains, is known as Silvermoor. A long thin road led away from the village to the grand gates of the Silverwood Manor, home of the peaceful king, Marcus Shawcross.

Shopkeepers shouted deals from behind their stands as people passed by, hoping to gain some customers. No one took notice of a small child with long brown hair running among the shadows, pressed against the walls of the houses before turning into a neighborhood.

The child walked up to a damaged house and sat on its stairs, removing a loaf of bread from her torn apron pocket. Delighted, she closed her green eyes, breathing in the delicious scent, enjoying the warmth spreading throughout her cold fingers. Just about to take a bite of her lunch and dinner, a crash and shouting startled her.

A figure narrowly dodged a wooden bucket and stumbled into the neighborhood, panting with brown eyes darting frantically. The man's appearance was poor, with dirty and tattered blue clothing. He had messy brown hair with sweat and dirt sticking to his face.

"Are you okay, sir?" the small girl asked uncomfortably, gaining the man's attention.

"Oh, ah, yes, I'll be okay," he replied, straightening himself upright and dusting his clothing. His brown gaze landed on the bread and shyly approached.

The young girl caught on to his actions, "Do you want some?" She hesitantly held out the loaf to him.

"I-I don't mean to be a bother," he swallowed uncomfortably, "but my sister is very ill, and it's a difficult time finding food,"

The child sat tall, "I can share some with you, sir," and began to tear her loaf in half.

The man's brown eye's widened in shock at her actions. When the loaf was in two halves, they were not equal in size.

The girl hummed in thought as she inspected the two pieces before nodding. "Here you go," she handed the man the larger half.

The beggar crouched at her level in shock. No words came from his open lips as his shaking hands took the piece. "Oh th-thank you, miss! You've shown me a kindness that I can never repay!"

The girl only smiled at him with her bright green eyes, "You don't need to repay me. Your sister, did she drink the bad water?"

The man seemed confused, "Bad water?"

"The water that's in the lake. Ever since the storm came through, the water has become unsafe to drink. A lot of people have fallen very ill because of it."

"That must be why they were telling me not to gather water there," the man fell distraught. "If only I'd have listened, my sister would still be well! Once, more I thank you for your kindness. How can I repay you?"

"Oh, but sir, there's no need to repay me!" the girl insisted.

"Oh, but I must! Will you tell me your name, miss? I must know the name of my savior,"

"My name is Rosabella. Rosabella Pierson," the girl introduced proudly.

"Pierson? Is your father John Pierson?" the beggar asked, leaning forward.

The girl nodded while tilting away from him, "Yes, he is. Do you know him?"

The man realized he was making her uncomfortable and returned to his original position. His eyes glittered as he reminisced on memories, "Oh, I remember him fondly. He was such a nobleman. Do you know why?" When she shook her head, he stared at her in disbelief, "Why, you don't know the legend? Your father was a knight, and he was called John the Lionhearted. He went on many far-off quests and earned a reputation among the land. He was the guardian of the king when he was just a prince. He then found a beautiful woman and went to live with her, far away from his famous lifestyle."

Rosabella's eyes were wide in awe, "Did my father really do those things?"

"Indeed he did, and he's become quite the legend. Where is your father now?"

Rosabella's bright face downcasted and stared at the floor, "My parents passed away because of the storm," she looked behind her into the darkened house. "The rain was pouring so much that the roof collapsed on them while they were gathering supplies. My grandparents are in a neighboring kingdom,"

"I'm terribly sorry for your loss. Your parents were good people," the man responded, feeling uneasy with the subject he brought up.

"But I'm okay. Some of the shopkeepers leave extras or rejects for me to have. The water's not that great, but it's something," the brown-haired girl chirped, trying to raise the man's spirit.

"That's no way for a beautiful young lady like you to live. It must get quite lonely being all by yourself," the man retorted.

When the girl was about to respond, a shout sounded from the alley, "Rosabella! What are you doing with him!"

The two looked at the neighborhood entrance, staring at the heavy elderly woman. The woman's silver hair was tied up into a messy bun with pieces sticking out and a cross expression on her face.

"Mrs. Anderson," Rosabella responded as the elder rushed over, dragging her away from the beggar.

"I thought you knew better than to be with strangers, especially these liars! He could be dangerous!" Mrs. Anderson exclaimed, shooting the man a harsh glare. "All beggars do is sit and beg while we work, while terrorizing everyone who passes them! They say one thing, but it's not true! What did he tell you, sweetheart? Does he have a terrible disease? No home? Or he can't work?"

"He said that his sister was ill, so I gave him a piece," the girl explained, holding up the bread.

Mrs. Anderson huffed, "Is she now?" She quickly tried to take the piece of bread from the man's hands, but he was quicker. Outraged, she cried, "Are you really that low to steal from a child! She has no one to look after her, and it's hard to support ourselves. The so-called relief aid that the government is sending us is worthless! It can barely feed a family for a day, and the water here is tainted, making family members sick."

"Is it that bad?" the man whispered to himself, not meaning for the woman to hear.

"Of course it's that bad! You act as though you never lived here! Come along, Rosabella," the elder hissed, lifting her nose in the air and walked off, the girl following after her.

"Wait, Rosabella! Please, meet me here tomorrow in the afternoon. I must repay you for your kindness!" the beggar cried, outstretching his hand as if to stop her from leaving.

The girl turned around and gave him a small smile, "I will and tell your sister I said hi! I hope she recovers soon!" and waved goodbye before she disappeared behind the wall.

The man drew his hand back to his side and smiled, "I finally found you, John, and I promise that I'll repay your daughter," He turned and found himself facing a tall man with a bald head in royal servant's attire, "You always know where to find me, Tobias,"

"If I couldn't, you'd have lost your head by now. Did you find out what you wanted to know?" Tobias asked.

"Yes, I have and something else," the beggar replied and stared at the bread in his hand. "We must be off quickly to make preparations for tomorrow's evening!"

Tobias looked confused at the departing man, "Make preparations for what if I may ask?"

"I must repay an old friend," was his curt reply.

The two men left the small cluster of damaged houses and submerged themselves into the bustling crowds, trying to make their way toward an awaiting carriage.

~~~~~

The evening sun cast long shadows on the ground. The slanting rays of the setting sun gave a warm orange tinge to the sky. The demanding crowds and tired shopkeepers began to start the journey home. The cobblestone streets seemed much more vast with all the carts and stands gone.

Rosabella could hardly keep her excitement to herself. She was excited to see the beggar again, but at the same time, she was scared. Would he hurt her or steal her away? It didn't seem like it while he was with her. She was thankful for Mrs. Anderson's intervention but also saddened by it as well. It wasn't his repayment that sparked her interest, but she sensed something about that beggar or was he a beggar at all. She groaned as her head fell onto her pillow.

Her bed consisted of a thin mat, two torn blankets, and one pillow with feathers coming out. It wasn't the most comfortable, but it was better than the cold wooden floor and waking up with splinters.

Begrudgingly, the girl blew out the flame of her candle and forced herself to sleep.