Chapter Text
Kevin knew he was fucked.
Like—beyond just fucked, really. Royally fucked. Utterly fucked.
You don’t just pickpocket a noble and get away with it.
He thought he could, because as far as he was aware, a noble was just a schmuck with a coat of arms and some delusions of grandeur located right where their brain would be. That’s why he’d snuck his way to Erebonia, past security, through the throngs of people who just felt so sad for the little orphan boy, sad enough that they’d look the other way when he held up a finger to shush them when he was caught in the luggage compartment.
That’s why he’d wandered the streets of Bareahard, looking for the easiest mark he could—and he’d found it, in some blue-haired bozo creepin’ up toward middle-age…at least, Kevin presumed; the guy had two hangers-on that looked way younger—siblings? Kids? Didn’t matter. They were making the mistake of slipping through an alleyway to avoid the massive, mid-day crowds. Kevin slipped behind them, keeping his footsteps silent.
All he had to do was bump past the guy, snag the sandwich the man had shoved haphazardly into a coat pocket (really, a sandwich ; shouldn’t folks with fur coats be buyin’ caviar or somethin’?), and book it.
Apparently, though, Kevin had forgotten the first rule of survival on the streets.
Don’t make eye contact with your prey, or you’ll become theirs.
And boy, oh boy, did those eyes look none too pleased.
A burly hand gripped his arm, and a deep sigh rumbled from the man’s mouth. Kevin knew in an instant the Goddess had sent someone to smite him.
Except, the next words out of the noble were not, as Kevin expected, “What do you think you’re doing, you cretin?”
Instead, they were, “I’m sorry you’re so hungry that you gotta resort to this, kid.”
Kevin’s flight or fight response broke down instantly. “Huh?”
“What’s going on? Why are we stopping?” One of the kids—a girl with long hair—peered back, her eyes widening. “Hey, punk! What’re you tryin’ to pull?”
Kevin grit his teeth, his hand refusing to relinquish the sandwich even as the older man stared down. “I—I was just—you don't get to ask me shit!”
The other kid, an older boy, rolled his eyes and elbowed the girl in the side. “I told you we should’ve just waited for traffic to clear. He must’ve been following us for, like—”
“—a couple of selge.” Kevin withered under the man’s scrutinizing gaze. “I saw you goin’ after a few other marks these past couple days. Was wondering when you’d try fer me.”
“S-so what?” Kevin stood his ground, returning the look with a biting glare. “You been stalkin’ me or somethin’?”
“Sort of.” The two siblings recoiled at the phrasing, but the man continued. “It’s hard to ignore a kid goin’ around a city of the rich and famous and not worry he’s gonna get himself thrown in jail—or into a ditch,” he muttered, “Depending on which asshole caught you first.”
“Which’re you sendin’ me to, old man?”
“...” The man’s expression softened. “Where’re your folks?”
Kevin saw his mother every time he closed his eyes. “...they ain’t here.”
“...I see.” The man bit his lip. “Shit. Last I recall, the only orphanage nearby is way out west…” Of course. Disdain spread across Kevin’s face. Of course, the bastard would be trying to chuck Kevin into the nearest orphanage. Out of sight, out of mind. The man knelt down, the sandwich sliding out of his pocket as he moved to Kevin’s eye level. “Hey, look. I’m about to offer somethin’—somethin’ a little handier than just a sandwich, but somethin’ I know is probably gonna be tough for you. I’m sure you think you’re a hellraiser, or that if you get the right score, you’ll be set for life.” The man’s gaze darkened. “This country’s full of people who would take advantage of that, and I…”
“Get to the point,” Kevin snapped.
The man winced and used his free hand to scratch his bushy beard. “Shit, I’m no good with speeches. Look, how’s this sound: you come with me, my brother, and my sister. You spend the night in a warm bed, and we’ll get you as much food as you need to take care of that hunger.” Kevin’s eyes widened as the man spoke—he searched the man’s eyes for any sign of ill-intent, any hint of malice. All he found was a very familiar look of understanding. “From there, if you wanna head out and never lay eyes on us again? You’re more than welcome to. For what it’s worth, though, we can try to help. How’s that sound?”
“...you’re shitting me,” Kevin drawled. “I know you are.”
“You really wanna take the chance I’m not?”
Rather succinct for a guy who dressed like he’d be speakin’ in thous and wherefores.
Kevin thought about it for a moment.
His stomach rumbled, and he knew the man could hear it.
“...fine,” Kevin muttered. “I’m still gonna leave if I wanna.”
“Of course.” The man stood up and let go of Kevin’s arm. He let the young boy hold onto the sandwich. Kevin looked down the alleyway and saw his chance, his window of opportunity, beginning to tighten up. “What’s your name?”
All Kevin had to do was run.
Instead, the only thing that ran was his mouth.
“Kevin. I’m Kevin.”
“Good name,” the man replied. “Don’t see many Kevins around. I’m Don—the surly one is Kyle, and the little spitfire is Josette.”
“Yo,” Kyle waved, utterly disinterested.
Josette merely turned her nose up at Kevin. Don shrugged. “Don’t worry about ‘em. They’re in a rebellious phase,” he chuckled.
“...right. So, where are we goin’?”
“Back to our hotel,” Don replied. “From there? Well, that’s up to you.”
This was how, by pure chance, Kevin Graham met Don Capua, at the time the Baron of a small village by the name of Leeves, though he would not stay that way.
This was how, by a twist of fate, he met his brother Kyle and sister Josette, who would become his closest confidants and allies against the machinations of the world.
This was how, by what he’d later attribute to divine intervention, Kevin Graham became Kevin Capua, and how the world would turn on that quirk of universal causality.