I don't own anything. Really. It's not like I have a job and can buy stuff, so how could I actually own anything?

Tell me how it is. Familiar?

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Chapter 1

"Come on, Allen. You gotta try to eat something, at least." Lavi gestured toward his untouched plate.

Jerry, the castle's renowned chef, had really gone all out, cooking up all of their favorite foods. It was a delicious feast, and rare that they could eat as much as they wanted, but, despite his normally abnormally large appetite, Allen just couldn't find the will to shovel food down his throat like he usually did. The figurative butterflies squirming around, eating out the inside of his stomach and possibly his brain matter, prevented any thoughts of partaking in the meal to be met with anything but forceful vomiting.

Tomorrow was Choosing Day, the day that would determine how he spent the rest of his life. Every year at Redmont Fief, castle wards, orphans taken in by the lord of the Fief, in their fifteen year were given the opportunity to be chosen by a Craftmaster. One chosen would work under the Craftmaster, learning skills of the craft, or trade, in the process.

Those not chosen were assigned to a farming family in the nearby village and sent to work in the fields.

It wasn't a life to be looked down upon. Farmers nurtured the crops and animals that the rest of the kingdom depended upon for food. But to Allen, this is existence was one he feared the most.

A sharp blow to his back brought his out of his thoughts.

"Aw, you're nervous, huh!" Lavi said, continuing to abuse his body with his display of "friendship" by smacking his back in a decidedly uncomforting manner. "You gotta suck it up, man. Tomorrow's not gonna be any better if you starve yourself tonight. What if you pass out or something!"

Of course Lavi would thoroughly take advantage of this opportunity. His plate, his third plate actually, was piled high with as many types of food as he could think to name. The chicken legs and noodles at the top were precariously stacked on. A few pieces fell with every move Lavi made.

"I'm fine, Lavi," Allen said, trying not to grimace as a piece of grease covered meat narrowly missed his hand. "Just not very hungry right now."

"That's a shame. This food is the best! Jerry really outdid himself this time. Besides, you got nothing to worry about. Tomorrow'll be a piece of cake."

By then the tables were mostly empty. Most of the other wards had finished eating and were probably going to go around town for the next few hours before retiring late tonight. They didn't have anything to worry about.

One person stood up a few tables away. His rather enormous height and muscular build made Allen notice him immediately. He was another ward, the same age as Allen. His name was Horse, or Horace, or something similar that Allen frequently failed to remember.

Horace's eyes met his, and Allen felt the nervousness he had been feeling all day be replaced with a cold fear. Lavi might be inconsiderate at times, be he was still a friend, and far more agreeable than many of the other children.

Allen smiled politely as he excused himself and started walking towards the door. Glancing behind him, he saw Horace follow his movements and begin stalking towards him like a hunter. He waited until he was out of the room to start running.

Out of the building and through the grassy field that surrounded that side of the castle, Allen pushed his legs as fast as they could go. He wasn't really in the mood to get the shit beat out of him today.

He heard the pounding footsteps a few yards behind him and urged the aching in his chest to stop as he sucked in quick breaths. He was lighter and faster than his opponent, but Horace was considerably stronger and would show no mercy once he was caught.

Just as he thought the burning in his lungs would force him to surrender, he saw his salvation ahead of him in the form of a tall fig tree. He sprinted the last few crucial steps and jumped into the branches as fast as he could.

The alarmingly close cursing he heard below him prompted him to climb a few branches higher. He was lucky this time. Horace wouldn't follow him up this high, and would give up soon.

"You think you can get away that easy, freak?" Horace spat as he clawed angrily at the trunk. "Just you wait! It's not like you're going anywhere anyway! Who would choose a freak like you, anyway?"

Allen sighed in relief as the words became more distant. He saw the boy crash away furiously and knew he was safe, for the moment.

Growing up as an orphan in Castle Redmont hadn't been easy, especially with kids like Horace around. He never had close friends, and most adults didn't want to become associated with him.

His unusual characteristics were the cause of this. He knew that people shouldn't judge solely on outward appearances, but his naturally snow white hair, the scar on his face, and his left arm usually left people thinking he was cursed by a demon, or a demon himself. It was difficult to be polite to these kinds of people, but he did it anyway. He did it for Mana.

Horace was right, though. It was unlikely that any of the Craftmasters would choose him. There wasn't really anything special about him, aside from his physical flaws. Nothing particularly useful. He didn't have a chance.

Sighing discontentedly, Allen leaned back into the stable branch he had settled onto. His head rested against the rough bark of the trunk. He would go back to the castle in a few hours, after everyone had gone to sleep. Memories of Mana filled his head as his eyes drifted shut. The gentle rustling of the leaves in the evening breeze guided him into a blissfully unaware sleep.