The best things in life were free.
Want a new coat? You needn't look any further than the coatrack in the nearest tavern! Any busy night was sure to have its fill of warm garments, most of which weren't in that dire need of patching. A bit of dirt here, a little stitch there, and even its owner couldn't truly tell the difference.
Want a bit of breakfast but haven't got the coin to spare? Well, friend, good news! It's physically impossible for one person to mind every apple in the cart. Simply take a few pebbles, aim carefully, and knock down a few load bearing fruits in the pile. The resulting avalanche will all but guarantee no one will miss the ones that end up in the pockets of your (new and beautifully fashionable) coat.
Feeling a bit light in the purse strings? Want a bit of shine and status? Something to glint and glimmer and glamour? Why, there's entire fields of treasure to be found! Pearls and gold chains and jeweled rings, all beneath your feet and only waiting to be dug up. All it required was a shovel, some strength in your back, and no pesky moral misgivings about things like "disturbing the dead" or "violating the sanctity of the grave."
They were dead, Franz. They didn't need baubles. No one was hosting afternoon tea for the maggots in their eyes.
Though, considering the complex manners that went into even the simplest of garden parties, maybe some of the musty old mummies did want to look good for their own worms.
Luka was hungry.
This wasn't anything new, honestly. There just came the expectation that his life would be a series of hungers, great and small, satisfied and unsatisfied. Such was his lot, and the short end of the stick dictated that this month be particularly lean.
Lean enough that he lingered just outside of the garden wall, tucked in a narrow alley that separated a big, fancy house from yet another big, fancy house and... breathed it in.
Pastries. Meat pies. Cheese and fresh sliced bread. He could smell it all on the unseasonably warm afternoon air. It wafted, as if on purpose, up over the thick stone walls and right under his nose, setting his stomach to rumble angrily in his direction.
Luka licked his lips, and considered his options. The front gate was a no-go. He'd seen them checking invitations, the hosts of the little party greeting each guest as politeness dictated. Yes, Miss von Himmelsrand, it was lovely to see you again, and you've brought a gift of sweet cakes, how thoughtful!
Sweet cakes. Luka rubbed idly at his belly. He didn't remember the last time he'd had sweet cakes. Thick and flaky and dripping with honey and topped with chopped walnuts--
He was getting one of those fucking cakes if it killed him.
Luka eyed the garden wall he was presently leaning against, and considered the stone. It sounded like the main gathering was more towards the back of the house. He could climb up, drop over the side, and slip in around to the food before just as quickly beelining it out before anyone could breach social protocol and ask him just who the hell he was.
Yeah, that was a good plan. Worst case scenario, he awkwardly perched on the wall like a giant dirty bird and climbed back down again. He was quick, he could outrun a few chubby servants.
Checking to be sure he wouldn't be drawing any unnecessary attention from the neighbors, Luka leapt up, grabbed hold of the rough stone, and scrambled up and over and right into what appeared to be the household hydrangea bush. Which was great for breaking his fall but not so terribly graceful to climb out of.
Luckily, it seemed his original assessment had been right. The main party was a bit away, and several of the guests were at their tiny tables, backs turned to the buffet table that was, mercy of mercies, between them and him.
Oh, yes.
Sauntering over like he owned the place, Luka eyed the offerings with a fever, quickly snapping up a plate and taking thirds of everything he could fit. When the pile became a little precarious, he carefully and gracefully stuffed several spinach puffs into his mouth, hoarding them there like the daintiest chipmunk while he replenished his plate some more.
Now, all that was missing was the beautiful, wonderful, delicious, sticky, gooey, flakey, melty pinnacle of culinary creation--
Luka's eyes locked on to the serving dish. On the last, lonely sweet cake there. And he promptly reached to snatch up his prize.
The best things in life were free. And that included some silly rich snob's finger foods.
