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"Deril?" Lurik asked his brother. Deril raised an eyebrow. "Do we have any royal blood in our veins?" Deril laughed, but coughed at the same time. "Why do you ask such an absurd question, Lurik?"
"Well," Lurik replied. "I've always wanted to live in a castle, or dress in fine robes made from the best tailors in the kingdom! And if we were royal, we could afford it!"
Deril sighed. "I'm afraid not little brother. Now go to sleep. A boy like you needs sleep!"
Lurik asked. "But what if we do have royalty? And if we don't find out soon, we might not get the money from an heirloom to pay for a physician for your disease! You might die!" Deril smiled.
"I will be all right. I won't die."



Five years later
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Lurik woke up to the sound of a crow. KAW! KAW! It screamed. He sat up, and began his daily routine. But before he could get out of his bed, he heard voices.
"Are you sure he's the one?" one of the voices said.
"Of course. Do you think Gaurikal would mess up?" the other said.
The name "Gaurikal" he flinched. Who are these men? Lurik thought. If they were sent by the ruler, they must be important!
He got out of bed, dressed up, but then quietly crept out of the house. There he saw a soldier talking to a Bakra. Bakras were assassins, rich, and deadly. Lurik glanced uneasily at the Bakra's knife.
"There he is!" The soldier shouted when he spotted Lurik.
To be continued...