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Niko crouched in the shadows of Rome's bustling market, his eyes keen as he scanned the crowd, waiting for any opportunity. Orphaned at birth and forced to flee his homeland of Novaria at the age of twelve after it was invaded, he journeyed hundreds of miles to Rome. There, he had to adapt quickly, learning to navigate the labyrinthine alleys of the ancient city. Now, at sixteen, he moved like a shadow through the streets, always on the lookout for a chance to survive another day.​

 

As the sun dipped below the horizon, casting long shadows over the ancient city, Niko's senses heightened. The market was winding down, and the once-bustling streets were beginning to empty. He knew this was his moment. Slipping silently through the thinning crowd, he kept his eyes on a merchant packing away his wares—a wealthy trader with a heavy purse.​

 

Thinking quickly, Niko looked at Nematode—a scrappy, grey-striped cat with a mischievous glint in his eyes—perched on his shoulder. With a swift, practiced gesture, Niko tossed a small pebble towards the merchant's feet. Nematode, leaped into action, pouncing on the pebble and swatting it playfully. The merchant, amused and distracted by Nematode's antics.​

 

Niko's heart pounded as he closed in, his movements fluid and deliberate. Years of practice had made him a master of stealth. He reached out, fingers brushing the leather pouch at the merchant's waist.​

 

Just as his fingers tightened around the purse, a shout rang out.​

 

"Thief!"