Somewhere in the East Blue Sea, a certain island baked in the sunlight of the day sky. Covered in rocks and weeds, the once pristine island of Patron Gulch was once a beautiful kingdom, but the onset of the Pirate Era seemed to bring that to an end, when endless raiding was incompetently managed by poor rulers. Now, the massive former capital of Sol Scotch is in ruins, its towers and castles being occupied by any strong enough to hold them, while any with sense followed their ruler to small hamlet on the other side of the island, away from any seas. Patron Gulch was weaker, yes, but not completely gone.

Roving bands walked the streets of Sol Scotch, merchants setting up and selling wares, hoping to catch some eyes, while the few regular civilians just went about their daily business, trying not to be in the wrong place in the wrong time.

"Let me get this right," the shopkeeper said in a way which made it clear the words would be followed by something ludicrious. "The crate you were supposed to deliver to me, the crate filled with valuable merchandise from West Blue, the crate I have already paid a considerable sum for, was stolen from you while you were transporting it from the harbor by a gang of circus performers?" His employee nodded awkwardly. His employee, named Boy Barnes, had felt his own recounting of the events to have been more colorful. Unfortunately, the shop-keeper had no sense of drama, and found his story difficult to believe.

A few minutes later, Boy found himself in the street one job poorer, totaling his number of jobs to zero. The crate had been stolen, and it hadn't been his fault. Everyone were thieving now-adays. Even circus performers. Yet Boy strolled around in the street carelessly. Losing a job felt strangely fantastic. It was a relief of sorts, to be freed from the restraints of work. He never could remember what had made him take the job to begin with. That was, until he became hungry, which by the growling sound erupting from his stomach was just about now. No job, no money, no food. Living in a dump of a city didn't help, either.

Maybe he should start thieving too, he mused. Seeing as everybody else did it, one more scoundrel in the mix couldn't hurt. The honest citizens were the suckers, really. They just stood around, waiting for pirates and the like to steal their stuff. What good was working if it was all ultimately in vain? Boy had never stolen anything, but then and there it felt like the right thing to do. He looked around for the closest possible thing he could steal. Preferably food, his stomach added.

He leaped at the closest food stand and grabbed a foot-long piece of bread. The merchant shouted something Boy couldn't hear, but Boy was already running down the street with the bread in hand. On his heels, though, was the merchant's guard. All merchants had to have guards in this town. Much taller and with longer legs than him, the guard soon caught up to Boy, pulling him up by the scruff of his neck. Panicking, Boy yelled out. "Help! He's trying to take what I've rightfully stolen! I'm just an innoccent pirate!" He didn't know why he added that last bit, but it had felt right.

“Ahaha! Did you hear that little runt?” Came a voice from nearby the scene. A trio of pirates that happened to be walking by had stopped, watching the merchant guard and boy struggle. The largest one, wearing a loose red shirt and tan, ankle length pants and sandals, a sword at his side, laughed again, “He thinks saying that’ll keep him outta trouble, huh?”

One of the others, his head bald, his chest bare, a pair of pistols at his hip, wearing long pants and boots, shrugged, muttering quietly, “Well, he’s got a point, don’t you think, Corny?”

Grimacing, the third pirate, the shortest of the lot, wearing a baby blue bucket hat over his orange hair and a matching jacket, with white shorts and sandals and a pair of black tonfas at his hip muttered, “Don’t you dare call me that again.”

As the other two pirates laughed, the guard had hesitated, eyeing the pirates warily. He tensed as the one dubbed ‘Corny’ approached, hands in the pockets of his shorts. Suddenly, the orange haired pirate ripped his fist out of his pocket, jabbing it at the guard, stopping just short as he flinched. The guard cracked a cautious eye open as Corny said, “Yeah, he’s with us, so drop him if you know what’s good for you.”

Angrily, the guard looked between Boy and the three pirates, before reluctantly putting him down. Corny grinned, unfurling his fist and patting him in the chest, not even blinking as he subtly slipped a couple of Beri coins into his breast pocket. Heading back to the other two, he snapped his fingers, saying, “Oi, kid, come on.” The other two pirates looked between themselves, but didn’t complain openly as they walked from the scene as the guard returned to his post.

Corny asked, “What’s your name? Where’s your parents?”

The larger pirate behind the pair scoffed, “You’re way too soft on brats...”