July 13th 1994, The Outer District, Liverpool

“Little child, be not afraid,” an old woman crooned to the screaming bundle of cloth in her hands, rocking it back and forth in an attempt to stop it crying. Her old face was worn and covered with wrinkles, so much so that her face looked very much like the gnarled bark of an old sycamore tree. She was dressed in plain, poor cloth with several holes, mended patches and stains on it. Despite her obvious lack of riches, her sienna eyes were soft and hopeful, gazing down at the bundle with no small measure of love and pride in her eyes.

“Though rain pounds harshly against the glass,” a young man accompanied, walking into the room with a sad and broken posture. He, too, was wearing the terrible cloth that covered the older woman, along with holey, no longer waterproof boots. His voice was soft, but not in the way hers was, his was more soft because he could not speak any louder. Tear tracks had weaved their way down his unshaven face, his blue eyes seemingly even waterier with the other, unshed tears at bay.

“Like an unwanted stranger,” she continued, not missing the flinch he gave at that line.

“There is no danger, I am here tonight,” he replied, his voice breaking slightly as he got to the end of the line. It was fairly obvious that all he wanted to do was break down and cry, but would not allow himself any more refuge than the tears on his chin and cheeks. The bundle’s wails began to quiet, causing a tiny smile to appear on the man’s face. Unfortunately, it did not reach his eyes.

“Little child, be not afraid,” the woman whispered, finally taking her eyes off the man and to the bundle again, her eyes showing a flash of tiredness. The wails turn to whimpers, and the whimpers to sniffles, until finally a soft snoring filled the air. The newborn was finally asleep, and the old woman relaxed slowly against her chair, the slow swaying of her arms halting in exhaustion. Still, she was not allowed her rest.

“He will be leaving in four days, as to not arouse suspicion of who we are,” he said, his voice sounding as tired as she looked. He had argued long and hard about this, the reason his voice was so soft, but he had not won. The woman merely glanced up at him, nodding a little at his words, her face hardening slightly. A small sigh passed through her lips, her eyes slide shut; her tiredness and the absolute futility of the situation seem to have finally gotten to her.

“Do you want to hold him?” She asked from nowhere, jolting him from his thoughts. His eyes wandered to the small bundle, and slowly, with the tears in his eyes swelling, he shook his head.

“It would be better for me to not get attached,” he whispered, his voice broken and tainted with the unshed tears. She nodded slowly, once again, but tears of her own come to her eyes as she looked down at the little baby, the love that was in her eyes still there, but sadness and pity threatening to overwhelm it.

“Yes, perhaps it would,” she replied before an awful silence settled over the room, only to be broken by the snoring of the baby and the two adult’s heavy breaths.

***

It was a dark and stormy night, no rain falling but the clouds above rumbling loudly and filled to the bursting point. The streets were eerily silent on this night, all bar one either inside or as far away from this place as possible. The one left was a woman, moving along the street in a mad rush, her head not looking up from the floor she was intent at starting at. Her clothes were tattered and filthy, as was the cloth she held firmly in her arms. That, and a cloth she wore firmly around the bottom half of her face, spoke clearly of what she was doing on this dark night. The clouds roared at her again, as if to dissuade her from doing this, but the noise only made her move faster towards the door along the street - the only door open in this kind of weather. It would shut at the first droplet of rain, however, and the woman near sprinted as she felt a wetness attack her hands.

Just as someone came out to shut her salvation, she stopped in front of the door, startling the man before a sly grin was put on his face as he glanced down to the cloth in her arms.

“Ah,” he said, glancing up at her panicked and weary eyes, “do come in, m'lady.” Whilst the title was mocking for someone as poor as she obviously was, she seemed to ignore the jibe and rush into the room.

The room was fairly simple, only one poster hanging on the plain white walls, one for The Academy, placed directly behind an expensive looking desk. Two chairs were around the table, opposite sides, and a scale was placed in the middle of the desk. There was a pencil and sheet of paper perfectly placed in front of the seat facing her, three quarters of it covered in writing. The rest of the room was empty of life, nothing else but the door she had come through and a second door directly across the room from the entrance.

“Sit down,” he smiled, putting on an innocent, happy facade. The woman obviously was not convinced, as she took her time getting to the seat, but she had come here for a reason and sat across from him. The being in her arms began to stir. She brought it closer to her chest, arms curling a little more around it. A cruel smile twisted on the man's lips as he teased, “Changing your mind?” Her head snapped up at that, releasing the bundle with everything but a loosely stuck hand.

“No!” She spat, defensive. The man only let loose a small chuckle at this, his arm stretched across the desk for the bundle. She glared at his hands, choosing not to trust him. “Not until I get my gold,” she promised, her tired eyes still very sharp. His smile grew at this.

“I was only going to weigh him, m'lady,” he chuckled, pointing towards the scales. The woman cursed under her breath at something, before releasing 'him' and sticking handing him to the man. The smile shrunk slightly at her cooperative behaviour, used to something more defiant, and he placed him on the scales. A small squeal erupted from the cloth, the thing inside not liking the chill of the metal scales. It shifted in its blankets, clawing at the cloth in front of its face to try and look out. The woman looked at it with a measure of both pity and heartbreak in her eyes, but the man just looked at the scales for a reading. Finally, just as the creature tore the cloth away from the front of its face, the man scribbled the weight down on the paper, turning to look at the being in the bundle. The baby looked up at the ceiling, its glassy green eyes barely open and yawning loudly. The man laughed at this.

“So, the baby is five pound, five ounces and fairly feisty,” he smirked, threading his fingers together as he looked over at the woman. “What do you think he's worth?” The woman glared at the man, shifting in her seat slightly as his eyes bore into hers. The staring contest lasted for a few minutes, neither blinking nor looking away from each other. The woman did not seem ready to just lie down and submit to the man's demands. Nevertheless, when the baby began to hiccup, her eyes darted down for the slightest of moments, causing a triumphant grin to appear on the man's face. Still, he had a job to do. “Five thousand, five hundred gold?” He asked, watching the woman as she stared at the baby who had turned to look at her. Hesitation was clear in her eyes, but slowly she nodded. The man grinned at her, sharply standing and walking to the second door in the room. Before he left, however, he looked at her over his shoulder and smirked, adding, “Just make sure you’re certain that The Academy is the life you want him to have.” With that, he walked through the door, leaving the woman to think about what he said.

“The Academy…” She whispered, watching the baby boy murmur and look around the room. Everyone aside from the deaf had heard about The Academy. It was a place of great honour and yet a place of shame and disgust. Orphans were stolen from where they lay, mothers sold their sons, the world was turned upside down for the amount of money the Government were willing to pay for baby boys to send to The Academy. The Academy was were young boy grow to men, becoming stronger, faster and smarter along the way, eventually being sent right into the City’s personal army. The boys got no choice in the matter, and those who were weak or disabled were killed young. However, the amount of money that the Government were willing to pay for these children were astronomical, enough to become rich out of absolute poverty.

The woman stared down at the baby boy, imaging all the fighting and pain it would have to go through in its life. She did not even notice when the man came through the door, only realising when a heavy bag of money was set in front of her face, on the desk before the baby. She glanced at the money, wondering if it were truly worth it.

“Five thousand, five hundred, m’lady,” the man said, although the woman only heard him vaguely as she looked between the money and the babe. Finally, she reached a decision, tears welling up in her eyes as she reached over the desk and grabbed the large bag of money. The man chuckled as she stood up and walked towards the door, picking up the discarded baby. When the door slammed shut, signalling the woman’s departure, he looked down at the baby and said, “Hello, two eight four. Welcome to The Academy.”