Everything from those who have nothing at all

Lumière had gone to the bank of Leiden early in the morning, exchanging the boundless envelope of coins for thirty square-shaped iron pieces with the face of the Emperor of the Nation carved into them - Lune coins. They were a simpler and larger denomination of the hundreds of trest coins given to him by the Madame; they were circular copper coins with the symbol of head royalty engraved on their surface.

After he had left the middle borough, he had made his way to Etten-Leur, the stacked district of the lower borough. He spent fifteen trest to procure a hardened clay strip that was smaller than his palm, engraved with symbols to indicate that he had paid for a return trip by boat through the waterways. He walked until he came to a small dock at the edge of a street, where a small wooden boat had been tied up at the edge. He didn't speak a single word to the attendant of the boat, instead flashing the hardened clay strip to signify he had paid, before stepping into the boat. It rocked a slight bit as he stepped into its interior, sending churning black water splashing up around him.

The attendant nodded slightly to confirm Lumière's readiness, and soon they had set off. It was dark in the waterways of Etten-Leur, illuminated by small lamps that were manually lit by the boatmen each morning. The waterways mimicked the streets above, which were stacked endlessly on top of one another like sky bridges. They were all reinforced by wood and concrete, the product of one of the middle borough's craftsmen. All craftsmen in the Forger Empire were servants of the orthodox deity known as the 'Architect'. Of course, any craftsman would prefer to refer to her by the name of the master of their craft. For those who worked with stone, she would be the 'Stonemason'. For those who worked with wood, she would have been a 'Carpenter'. For the purposes the craftsmen had been hired for by the leaders of the criminal groups to build Etten-Leur, she was the 'Architect', and it was sure that she had formulated the blueprints for her craftsmen to meticulously assemble by her will.

After he had exited the boat and slightly bowed to the boatman, Lumière began walking through the bustling streets of the lower borough. The magician flipped a coin haplessly in the air as he whistled. It spun through the air, expectant to land flat in his palm with a satisfying slapping sound, but it seemed to suddenly vanish from the air as a shadow passed him quickly by, brushing against his sleeve.

Lumière quickly extended his hand in a quiet motion behind him and pulled a square object away from the shadow that passed him inconspicuously. It had a rich leathery surface and was filled with the jingling sounds of a handful of coins. It was a common occurrence in the lower borough that anything not stuck against one's skin would be stolen away from their person, and more so if it was wealth that carelessly cascaded through the air.

He had never thought himself a thief, but more a bastion of fate's exacted karma. So, for the coin he paraded openly, the wallet of the shadowy thief had been stolen in turn, a ten-fold return of his lost wealth. He did not mind the concept of theft- it was just a way for one to survive. Although, he too needed to survive, and he had a lot of people depending on him to live as well. So, he didn't view thieving from him as a personal slight, but a slight against the people he cared for, so he didn't mind stealing from the thief in return.

Lumière let a satisfied smile creep up his face as he waltzed joyfully amidst the crowd, eventually arriving at a small wooden stall illuminated in the evening lamplight.

There was a tall woman with a face as soft as a full moon, of round gently-curved cheeks, and a beaming smile that radiated cheerfulness. She had a joyous sense of life about her that wasn't fleeting; she was like a sunrise.

In her presence, Lumière felt his heart grow warm, and he smiled back in turn.

"Good afternoon, Mrs. Hammond."

She immediately walked from behind the stall, wrapping her arms around Lumière tightly as she lifted him into the air. She had the strength of a bear, and as he wrapped her arms around her rotund form in return, he thought it was wonderful that his hands could not touch each other.

She was a woman like a cloud, so inviting in her mannerisms and bright atmosphere. In her forties, she still carried an air of young and graceful beauty.

"I'm here to purchase potatoes, Mrs. Hammond." Lumière smiled softly, looking down at the woman who still held him up high in the air with her bear strength.

Her aloof and happily distracted gaze contorted with wonder and confusion upon hearing Lumière's words.

"Potatoes? Is it a particularly special day?" Mrs. Hammond wondered aloud.

"Father Benedict would have me believe that every day is such a special day." Lumière spoke gently. "If that's the case, then today of all days is a good day to eat potatoes in the monastery."

"Surely you can't afford to feed the entirety of those in the monastery?"

"One day, perhaps I will feed the entirety of Cobbler's street potatoes for supper. Today, however, the luxury is reserved for those closest to me." Lumière laughed. "Now, I'm more than happy to spend the day in your embrace, but I'm sure your arms will quickly grow tired. I'm not so much a child anymore, Mrs. Hammond."

Her face flushed with realisation, and she quickly set Lumière back onto his two feet.

"Don't doubt my arm strength for a second, little Lumi." Mrs. Hammond winked. "And you'll always be a small child in my eyes, just as you were when you first came to us."

Lumière averted his glance in embarrassment and continued speaking.

"Three potatoes, Mrs. Hammond, how much will that be?"

"Ten Trest, but I'm sure my boys will have something else to say about that matter, as would I." Mrs. Hammond grinned.

Her towering figure immediately turned towards a shop behind her that seemed carved into the depths of the stone building, and with a lively and booming voice, called out into its halls. Without hesitation, pots, pans, and the clattering of glassware seemed to erupt from the shop as two men came bolting out into the street.

They were both about Lumière's age, the twin sons of Mrs. Hammond, Artier and Letis. Artier had a thick and bushy black beard and bright green eyes, and Letis had a clean-shaven face and darker eyes obscured by crystalline glasses. Despite the handsome appearances of the two, which looked as if they would catch the eyes of both women and men walking by, their aesthetic was messy and misplaced, likely from their mad sprint to the door of the shop. With faces covered in dust and debris, they looked over to the woman who towered over them with kind but weary expressions.

"Yes, Mother?" They spoke curiously in unison.

The two of them saw the form of the magician standing before them, and their eyes widened with joy as they shot forward.

"Lumi, you bastard!" Artier shouted, wrapping an arm around his shoulder as he forced Lumière's head towards his chest playfully, ruffling a hand through his already messied chestnut hair.

Letis immediately stole Lumière's gaze away from his brother, holding the magician's head by the side as he pressed his forehead against the former.

"You fool, never writing or visiting… do you know how much mother worries?" Letis chided before pushing Lumière away.

"I'm sorry." Lumière smiled softly as he looked at the three standing before him with a pervasively joyous aura. "I've been a bad ward, haven't I?"

"Former ward." Artier joked. "You're a little churchgoer now, aren't you, Lumi?"

Lumière shook his head in response with a guilty smile, looking over towards Mrs. Hammond as he spoke once more.

"Three potatoes… the cost will be ten trest?" Lumière asked again to confirm the transaction.

Artier and Letis looked at the man before them with confused expressions.

"Cost…?"

Letis looked back towards Lumière, his expression seeming a little frustrated as he spoke.

'Free, damn it." Letis spoke in a huff. "The cost is free for you, of all people."

"No, I surely can't-"

"If it's what my boys say, then it's what's going to happen." Mrs. Hammond smiled with a sense of self-satisfaction.

'This woman… if it was just her, maybe I would be able to deny the offer after a lengthy back-and-forth, but with these two fools, maybe it wouldn't be so easy to pay them.' Lumière lamented inwardly.

Even despite their cheerful dispositions, Lumière knew well that the Hammond family was still a part of the miserable reality that all within the lower borough faced. He was sure that their financial situation was taut, so any goodwill offered was harshly at their expense. This was why he was so hesitant to accept it, and would then persist in wanting to pay remuneration.

He looked over towards Mrs. Hammond and smiled softly.

"Then, should we settle this the old way?"

Mrs. Hammond laughed at the suggestion.

"Didn't I tell you not to doubt my arm strength?"

Quickly, two stools were brought over to the wooden stall in front of the shop. Lumière opposed the towering woman, his elbow flat against the surface of the stall as he raised his hand upwards. She grasped it in turn, and as the two men watched on, they began a struggle of strength for their pride.

Of course, a struggle is what Lumière desperately sought to call it in his mind. In each instance, despite his pleas to think himself a match for the giantess, his hand was slammed hard against the splintered surface of the stall.

In the end, Lumière was left with a reddened hand and a sack of potatoes he didn't pay for. He was appreciative of the gestures the Hammond family would often show him, but he couldn't help but feel protective over them. Such kindness could be well-taken advantage of in such a cruel world, and so he was left to worry.

If Lumière were to think of any woman as a motherly figure, it surely would have been Adjest Hammond. For half a year, before Lumière had been given away to the monastery to assist with their duties, he had lived alongside the two twins and Mrs. Hammond, who had been widowed by the war.

So, they all held a special place within his heart. He bid the three goodbye, promising to visit more often, lest he be tracked and caught by the two men, and be forced to visit regardless.

'It's a strange world, to think badly of myself for accepting the kindness of another.' Lumière lamented humorously as he continued down the bustling suspended street of Etten-Leur.

He later arrived at a lamplit shop at the side of the street, where steam seemed to pour out in droves, carrying the heavy scent of spices. Dozens of people gathered around the storefront stall, tentatively avoiding the commuting crowd and the few horse-drawn carriages of the lower borough by packing together tightly, enjoying and lusting for the tantalising allure of the food.

Lumière waited patiently by the side, and after a short time, the crowd had all but adjourned with sadness and unrequited desire left in their hearts. In the hours after daytime work had ended, large swaths of people would congregate at the various shops, led by the scents of spices and glazes that would stir their hungering stomachs. Most labourers of the lower borough, who only made twenty Lune a week, would be unable to afford even the cheapest dishes at any of the shops, and so the shop owners themselves subsequently often suffered from lack of customers.

Even Lumière, who made twice as much as an average labourer by being allowed to work in a show hall in the middle borough, considered potatoes a delightful delicacy, mostly because of his somewhat obligatory contributions to the church. If only industry would come sooner as had been promised, then surely every man could enjoy more than porridge, bread, and scraps of meat.

Still, today was a special day, like all days, and so Lumière approached the man behind the stall with a smile on his face.

"Seventy-five grams of harsh butter, please." Lumière requested of him.

The man looked with harsh, uncaring eyes towards Lumière, and before he reached to prepare the ingredient, he turned around and called out into the shop.

"Esme!" He yelled to seemingly no one. "Mr. Croft is here!"

The clattering of pots resounded out, and a small girl appeared from the shop with a wide and excited smile on her face. She didn't look towards the man who called out for her, her gaze immediately locking onto the magician behind the stall like a magnet.

"You know the deal, Mr. Croft." The man spoke with an unmoving expression.

Lumière's smile tensed up.

'Ah, I wish I could just pay normally…'

He reached into his jacket pocket, pulling a performer's glove over his left hand as he let out a sigh.

Lumière then reached his other hand into his pocket, pulling out a handkerchief he had procured to replace the one he lost during the show. To be losing another so soon made his heart ache.

'I'm just a dancing little monkey to them…' He sighed inwardly.

"Alright Esme, keep your eye on the handkerchief," Lumière spoke with a gentle tone of voice.

The little girl standing before him nodded adamantly, her fists curled up in front of her in excitement.

Lumière took a deep breath, and with one swift motion, he whipped the handkerchief through the air. In the darkness only illuminated by lamplight, bright flames burst forth with dazzling sparks that fell towards the ground before burning out.

A red rose appeared within his gloved fingertips, and past its grace, he could see the excitement of the young girl bloom like its petals.

'Even still, as long as I perform, I can make smiles appear, can't I?'

Despite his lack of passion, in recent days, that had been the only upside to his choice of career. He handed the rose to the young girl, who accepted it gleefully and then looked up towards the callous man. Like every instance he would visit the man's shop, after his little performance, the man's expression would brighten up. Whether it was because of the trick, or his own child's joy, Lumière could not tell.

"You said one hundred grams of harsh butter?" The man asked with a calm expression.

"I said seventy-five."

"I heard one hundred." The man spoke once more, his face continuously still.

Lumière let his heart rest and simply nodded. This was the tradeoff for his child's smile. For the same price, the man would always include a little extra. However, when it came to harsh butter, not much was lost in including such a thing. Harsh butter was the remnants of churned butter, scooped from the sides of the churn after being left to sit in the hot sun. It was more sour in comparison but still had a rich and hearty taste when warmed, and so it was worth the five trest that he handed over to the shop owner.

He couldn't quite complain, either. The shop owner's kindness wasn't apparent on his face, but it was quite out of place for the time. After the war, it had become harder to procure certain imported goods, and with greater necessity for local foods like butter and potatoes, the prices had skyrocketed. To try and meet the costs for themselves, landowners had raised the prices on rent for buildings, and so many had become homeless, forced to go hungry and wander around- becoming Dwindlers in mass. So, the kindness of Esme's father, and Mrs. Hammond was almost too much for him to readily accept.

"Mr. Magician…" The girl named Esme spoke out suddenly, tugging at Lumière's shirt sleeve from below.

"Yes, Ms. Esme?" Lumière spoke with kind eyes as he knelt. "Is there something the matter?"

"With your magic, can you deal with anything?" Esme asked with a somewhat worried expression.

"I can do many things, although I'm not sure why you're asking such a question."

Esme furtively shot a glance towards her father, but he was busy preparing Lumière's ingredients, so there was no help coming from his way. So, she steeled her heart and spoke out towards the magician.

"There are monsters in my room at night." She whispered close to his ear.

Her eyes shook, and her small body seemed to tremble slightly as she spoke out her words. Lumière simply looked towards the child, and after a moment of thinking, responded in turn.

"That flower I've made out of the flames for you is filled with the brightness and goodness of the world. If at any time, there are monsters, all you need to do is hold it close, and everything will turn out alright."

"Is that really true? What if the flower withers?"

"Even a withered petal is enough. If at any point, those petals crumble too much, then a doll, a dress, or even simple lamplight is enough. There's no need to worry about the dark, for the monsters that sit within it always fear such a thing. They surely fear beauty, don't they? Otherwise, they wouldn't be described as being so ugly, right?"

Lumière smiled towards the girl, and with eyes that widened excitedly as if they had received a revelation, Esme's mood seemed to immediately brighten, and she let out a laugh while thinking of Lumière's description of monsters.

Of course, Lumière was talking made-up truths. After all, he was a career liar. But as always, those lies were fine as long as they produced smiles in others. So, he held a finger to his lips, and Esme's eyes shimmered. She immediately nodded her head, as if she had been privy to the true secrets of a magician- a revelation that was the banal crime of a performer.

He then stood back up, ruffling through her hair as he received a small paper bag from the shop owner.

He nodded his head to bid farewell and waved at Esme as he stepped back into the crowd.

As he walked, Lumière looked up towards the near-night sky which seemed to pool with grey crowds and began to sorrowfully ponder.

'In all my interactions, am I a fraud? Is lying all I can do to make people smile?'