Chapter Five

“I was seldom able to see an opportunity until it had ceased to be one” -- Mark Twain

 

It was dark. She normally enjoyed the dark, but this dark pressed down on her. This dark was the kind of dark that children are afraid of. This was dark that she was afraid of. This dark brought a memory: a nightmare she had tried to forget"

Her father got up from behind his desk, welcoming his friend. "Wynn, how are you?"

As they embraced, Kyari watched Wynn slip a dagger from his sleeve. Too struck with fear and shock, she said nothing as he put the dagger into her father's spine, pulling it out just as quickly. Her father crumpled to the ground, his legs limp and helpless. His eyes searched Wynn's questioningly. "Why?"

"You lost."

"I warned you that it would be my last fight. I told you I was going to lose."

"I didn't think you would really do it."

"Have I ever given you reason to doubt me?"

Wynn fell silent before continuing with a snarl in his voice. "You were at the top, Kaden. The odds for you were the highest ever. I bet everything on you winning. And you lost." He punctuated this last statement with a slash across her father's cheek.

"I trusted you," her father said quietly. He was picked up and thrown into a chair. He stayed quiet, biting his tongue to keep from screaming.

Kyari turned away, unwilling to witness the torture of her father.

As soon as Wynn left, she went to her father. "Father?" she cried, falling to his side where he now lay on the floor. His eyes opened slowly. "Father, why?"

"Revenge and blame make a man do things he would never consider otherwise."

"How could he hurt you so bad?"

"I don't know, Kyari. But you must get out. He's going to burn the house. It's his last form of torture for me. Do me a favor"grab the white packet out my desk."

She complied. He took it and motioned for her to sit down. "Get your weapons. Go. Somewhere"anywhere. No one knows who you are, and you need to keep it that way." He sighed, "At least you take after Adelaide. Listen carefully. There's money in the usual spot, and a pair of boots for you. They were supposed to be for your birthday...but, oh well. The bottoms are made of emory, so they'll keep you from slipping on your ice....Trust no one." He smiled, slipping the white powder in his mouth. "Now go, dear child."

She nodded, saving the tears for a time when she could afford to cry. With one last kiss to his forehead on a spot where no blood showed, she left, gathering her things and leaving the house"

Oh, the dark was so much better than the nightmare...couldn't she return to that. Asa, she cried. Please save me from this dark!

Kyari awoke in a hospital bed, her arms hurting and bandaged. "Seth?" she cried, sitting up quickly.

He wasn't there or anywhere near her.

He's getting better, she smiled wryly. He managed to land me in here this time...though I could say it was my own foolish mistake. I still won, she reminded herself.

She was tired and sore, beyond that she couldn't exactly react to much else. Perhaps sleep would resolve both of those.

*           *           *

No matter how hard he tried to block it out, that piercing white light was picking its way through his eyelids.

That, and his body felt like it had been tossed around like a ragdoll. His stomach in particular felt as if"“Ok, what kind of mind numbingly retarded stunt did I try pulling this time?” Seth mumbled painfully to himself as he cracked an eye open. White. Yep, he was the hospital all right.

Groaning again, he tried to push himself into a sitting position. A sensation akin to a giant clawed hand constricting around his chest washed over him. Wincing, he abandoned his efforts and decided that maybe trying to move when he didn’t know the extent of the damage done to his body wasn’t a good idea.

Lying on the rather comfortable, if a tad too stiff bed, he gave his ribs a wary poke before hissing and leaving them well enough alone.

“Hope those are just bruises. Really, really bad bruises.” He tilted his head left, then right. His room was empty, save for his equipment which was lying on a small table next to him, much the same way it had the last time he had been here.

“I wonder where Kyari is,” he mused before chuckling. “Heh,” he winced, suddenly regretting his moment of mirth, “she probably didn’t even need any healing at all. Knowing her, she’s probably beating some other poor sod right now.” So thinking, he closed his eyes and slipped back into the realm of dreams. Perhaps he’d feel better when next he woke.

*           *           *

One moment darkness and the next light. No wading through a half-world of muted feelings and disconnected memories. A clean, crisp surfacing into the land of the living. He spent a moment savoring the sheer novelty of it. It was during that moment of contemplation that he noticed that something else was off.

Turn left.

Turn right.

Sit up.

“Huh, my body isn’t screaming obscenities at me. I guess miracles do happen,” he chuckled before giving his stomach and experimental poke. Wincing lightly, he resolved not to do it again. Ok, so maybe he wasn’t completely healed, but at least he was only sore and he didn’t feel like making an attempt at the ‘largest amount of expletives uttered in a minute.’

And he could move. That was always a plus.

Swinging himself off the modest cot, he collected his gear, making use of the attached bathroom to change into his regular clothes. “Well, that fight went better than I expected,” he said to himself as he swung his pack around his shoulders and clipped his staff back into its holster. “I’ve still got a long ways to go though.” He gently placed his palm across his still bandaged stomach. “A long ways to go…

“Well, it’s not like that path’s going to get any shorter if I just stand here,” he smiled. “Best get back to it. I’m on a schedule after all.”

Exiting the hospital wing after tracking down and giving the appropriate thanks to the medics that had taken care of him, he made his way back to the arena proper, intent on hunting down Kyari for another bout.

*           *           *

"Oh dear," Kyari muttered, waking up. "I forgot an extra change of clothes."

Oh, how she loved the healers. She whispered a silent prayer to Asa, thanking him for the blessing. The pain was mostly gone now, and there seemed to be no permanent damage.

Within minutes she was out of the hospital, still in her bloody clothes, having paid for services rendered, also finding out Seth had already left.

Her first stop was home. She changed her clothes, leaving the dirty ones in cold water in the sink to soak.

Why was Seth so interested in my past? she wondered, heading back to the arena. There's no real reason...Unless he's working for someone else. She was suddenly worried, but shrugged the feeling off. He wouldn't do that. I trust him enough. He wouldn't betray that trust.

*           *           *

Upon his arrival back at the arena, it didn’t take long for Seth to discover that Kyari was not in a fight. In fact, the record keepers informed him, she hadn’t been seen in the arena since her fight with him. “Hmmm, not around here kicking butt, so she’s probably hanging around the market district.” His enthusiasm dipped a touch. “That place is enormous, there’s no way I’d be able to find her.” He grinned, “Well, in that case, I just have to wait somewhere she’s guaranteed to show up, so that means"” the grin turned into a frown. “Her house? Does she even have one? I always thought she had quarters here or something,” he mused, looking around the arena’s reception area.

“Well that sets me squarely back to square one,” he pouted, slouching over to a nearby chair and collapsing in it. “Here’s as good a place to wait for her as any.” Swinging his pack from his shoulders, he started doing an inventory of his equipment. Everything seemed to check out, save for his cards and his cigarettes, both of which he was running out of. Maybe he’d ask Kyari about a good weapon smith the next time he saw her. A competent apothecary too, while he was at it.

Looking up from his various belongings, he looked boredly about, trying to catch a glimpse of the tell-tale glasses or black hair, but to no avail. Where was that girl anyways?

*           *           *

Kyari took back roads and alleys to get to the arena, taking her own sweet time. Seth probably wouldn't mind waiting"besides, she really wasn't in the mood to fight right away. Maybe they could do something else. Her arms still hurt; the cuts were still red and sore.

Perking up when he noticed Kyari making her way through the crowd of the entrance, Seth hopped up to meet her. “There you are, I was wondering when you’d show up,” he grinned. “Hope you weren’t bored while I was conked out.” He rubbed the back of his head sheepishly. “And I’d really like to have another match, but I was wondering: you wouldn’t happen to know a good smithy around here, would you?” he asked. “It’s just that I’m starting to run low on a couple of supplies, my cards in particular.” He withdrew what remained of his deck to emphasize the point.

"Bored?" she smiled. "I was in the hospital the same as you were." She glanced down at his cards. "It's not exactly a smithy, but I know a place that specializes in strange weapons like those. "

“In the hospital?” He raised an eyebrow. “Hah, as if. You don’t need to lie to make me feel better you know, I’ve gotten used to it.”

"Seth, trust me. I don't know how, but you managed to land me in the hospital, probably right across from your own room." She pushed her shirt off her right shoulder, showing him a now unbandaged cut. It was healed, guaranteed not to break open, but it was easy to see that it had been painful. "And that's just one of them," she said quietly, putting the shirt back in place. "Let's go to the apothecary first. It's on the way to the weapons shop."

He was stunned, and more than a little torn. On one hand he felt like celebrating; all he’d been hoping for was one solid hit, much less land the girl in the hospital. On the other hand he felt like apologizing profusely; he’d landed her in the hospital, the person who, as far as he was concerned, was his closest friend. Deciding that figuring out which emotion he should be feeling probably wasn’t the best choice at the moment, he just nodded acquiescence to her suggestion. “All right then, lead the way.”

The apothecary was off the main road, closer to the river, and a distance away from the arena. "If you can't find what you want here," she let him know. "There's a much higher quality place closer to the center of the market." She sat down on a stool near the stall. "And if you don't mind, I'm going to rest for a minute."

He frowned slightly as she sat down. Perhaps her wounds were a bit more serious than he had previously thought. Momentarily banishing the though from his mind, he made his way to the counter of the apothecary.

“Ahhhh, good afternoon, how might I help you?” a middle aged man asked from behind the counter, adjusting his circular spectacles.

Reaching into his bag, Seth pulled out his small box of cigarettes. Sliding open lid of the wooden cube, he withdrew one of the rolls and placed it on the counter in front of the man. “Do you have anything similar to this?”

The man’s eyebrows knitted and he adjusted his glasses again. “Do you mind…?” He asked Seth, gesturing to the small roll of herbs.

Receiving a nod, the herbalist proceeded to unravel the tube and sift through the contents. He picked out one of the leaves, held it up to the light, and then rolled it between his fingers before taking a whiff of the crushed herb. Stroking his small, brown beard thoughtfully, the man took a wary bite of the leaf and chewed it experimentally.

The apothecary sighed. “These… are custom made aren’t they?” he asked Seth. “It affects the entire body? A faux-panacea?” he added before Seth had a chance to respond.

“Yes. It was designed to take effect rapidly. Not exactly the subtlest of remedies, but it’s for use in combat.”

“I’m afraid I can’t help you there,” he sighed, re-rolling what was left of Seth’s cigarette back up. “The primary herb in there is rather obscure,” he glanced around the store before lowering his voice, “and rare. There aren’t many who know how to find it, harvest it, and use it, and consequently few can afford it.” The man raised an eyebrow meaningfully. “Best watch yourself kid, your youth doesn’t guarantee you protection, even here.” He slid the cigarette back to its original owner.

Seth had an intense urge to bite out an acidic remark, but held his tongue. The man was being kind to him, giving him that warning, and he was right. “Then would you have any pre-made healing salves in stock?” he asked, his politeness a touch forced. “And disinfectant. I tend to get hurt a lot.”

The proprietor of the store said nothing, though an amused glint formed in his eye. Turning to the rows of shelves behind him, the apothecary carefully selected two jars and set them down in front of Seth.

He paid the asked price for both bottles, which, he was annoyed to see, intensified that amused glint. Placing both salves in his bag, he bid the man a faintly terse ‘Good day’ and strode over to the chair Kyari was sitting on.

“They didn’t have everything I was looking for, I’m afraid,” he told the resting girl. “I’d be grateful if we could stop at that other establishment you mentioned.”

She stood up slowly and carefully, leading the way to the center of the market. The day was busy, and people filled the center square, appreciating the sun. "I'll be right back," she muttered, first pointing to the shop he needed.

She disappeared from his view, making her way towards a house tucked away in the corner of the square. She knocked once, and then entered. "Jalen?" she called. "I need some help."

A tall, sullen boy came down the stairs. "What's the trouble?"

"I don't think the healers did a good enough job,” she complained.

“Let me take a look.”

She showed him the scar she had shown Seth. “It still hurts, like it just appears to be healed on the outside, but on the inside it’s still cut.”

He wrinkled his nose, laying a finger on the slash. He closed his eyes, drawing the muscle together. “There. That’s how healing is meant to be done. Any other marks?”

She nodded, and he healed the rest of them. “I’m not sure why they didn’t bother doing it this way,” he muttered. “You probably just got a novice that doesn’t know how to do things properly yet. They started on knitting the muscle, but it was only half completed before they moved on to the skin.”

“Thank you. What’s the fee this time?”

“A meal will do. It’s not your fault the medics did a shoddy job healing you. Besides, it just took some energy out of me.”

She tossed him a coin. “I’m with a friend right now. Go buy your own food.”

She headed back outside, towards the place where she had left Seth.

*           *           *

Seth raised an eye as Kyari excused herself, but said nothing. Suddenly he found himself wondering if she had always been getting injured from the first fight, and had simply been hiding it from his eyes. Grimacing, he tried to banish the thought from his mind, and then winced. He was doing that far too often, putting things off that he ought to confront immediately. He resolved to take some time to mull over his thoughts at the soonest possible convenience.

Entering the upper class apothecary, he decided that as much as he may have disliked the owner of the previous establishment, he disliked this shop far more. Everything was too proper. The stock was hidden behind glass counters, masked in tinted bottles, not a single herb to be seen, as if the owners of the place wanted to hide the nature of what they dealt in.

Approaching one of the young girls manning the expansive counter"no secret as to why they been hired: his opinion of the store dropped another notch"he asked to be shown their selection of anesthetics, inhalants specifically, instead of showing them one of his cigarettes. Frowning, the girl asked him what exactly he meant by inhalants. Upon receiving further description of the items he was after, she scowled and informed him that their establishment did not provide such base products.

He was willing to bet that they would change their tune if offered the right amount of money, was fairly certain they already did so for several influential figures that inhabited this city. He didn’t ask further. Much as the other apothecary’s advice might sting his pride, it rang true, and footpads convinced that his life was worth ending for what coin he might have was the last thing he needed, especially considering his growing reputation as a poor fighter. He thought that assessment a tad unfair, considering he was fighting Kyari who was, as far as he knew, completely undefeated throughout her career at the arenas.

Reminding himself that his personal opinion would matter little to common cutthroats, he excused himself from the house of concoctions, eliciting another scowl and a derogatorily muttered “Window shopper.”

Returning to the spot Kyari had left him, he caught sight of her and hurried over. “They didn’t have what I was after either, I’m afraid,” he sighed. “So whereabouts is this person who specializes in exotic weaponry that you mentioned?” He noted that she didn’t seem as pained as she had earlier, but decided not to comment on it.

"It's this way," she directed. They followed the cobblestone streets, leaving the standard market place and entering a more residential area.

The shop was tucked in a back corner in the middle of some lower-class houses. "It's for appearances," she muttered to Seth. "Most of their business comes from shadier people, and they like to keep up the image of crime."

The door opened silently, revealing an array of strange weapons. "These aren't even that weird," she whispered. "They keep the truly odd ones out of sight. Go ahead. Look around, and if you can't find your cards, ask them. If they don't have any, they can always make some."

Nodding his thanks to her, he turned and started perusing the selection of weaponry on display. True to her words the various tools of the delicate"and more often not so delicate"art of murder strewn about the shop were not so much bizarre as simply foreign. A few items, such as a small metallic fan and what looked to be a rope dart piqued his interest, but he left them. They weren’t what he was after.

“Excuse me,” he waved at the young man minding the weapon covered counter. “I was wondering if you had any of these among your stores.” He held up one of his cards. “I’ve looked all over, but I can’t seem to find any.”

“Not surprised,” the man"looking to be in his mid-twenties"said. “They can be unwieldy and easy to lose. Only real reason anyone ever bothers with them is if they want to keep their weapons on the down low, and even then most people prefer a good, solid tessen.” He motioned to the metal fan Seth had been eying not minutes earlier. “You sure you don’t want something that’s a little more reliable?”

“Nah,” he shook his head. “I’ve kinda grown attached to these things, and they seem to suit my needs well enough.” He replaced the card and chuckled. “Though evidently they’re a real pain in the rear to find.”

“Suit yourself,” the man shrugged. “These things are custom made though, so you’ll have to buy a whole pack. Can’t just sell you the one or two you need, hope you understand.”

Seth nodded, and the store worker turned around, opening a door just behind the counter. Slipping through, the young man neglected to close the door behind him which afforded Seth a slightly restricted view of the room. Peering curiously through the opening, he caught sight of a myriad of weapons, the workings of which he could barely conceive, and the names of which escaped him entirely.

One in particular caught his interest. It looked like a double ended goblet, though that’s about as far as a normal resemblance went. Where the rims were located there were saw-like protrusions extending out vertically. Seth amused himself with idle thoughts on how the odd weapon might work, none of which were remotely plausible, as a few choice words floated out of the room. Apparently the cards were secreted in a fairly hard to reach nook.

After a few minutes, the man returned with the deck looking a little worse for the wear. “Stupid buggers were hidden behind a giant box of senbon. Wouldn’t have been so bad if I hadn’t tripped on that stupid swordbow. I swear I have no idea we keep the thing; it’s a completely useless piece of junk.”

Smiling, he accepted the deck of cards from the young man and had a quick look through them. They were a touch smaller than the ones he already possessed and the designs were different, but for all intents and purposes they were the same weapon. Nodding with satisfaction, he placed the deck back on the counter.

“A swordbow? How exactly does that work?” he asked before quickly shaking his head and holding up a hand, forestalling any answer. “Actually, forget the swordbow; I’m more curious as to what that is.” He pointed to the odd, bladed cup. The man had, again, forgotten to close the door behind him.

The shopkeeper looked in the direction indicated and scratched his head, his fingers ruffling his already messy blonde hair. “Oh that? That’s more of a curiosity than anything, a bit like the swordbow actually,” he laughed. “A bit like everything we’ve got here, come to think of it. But to answer your question it’s basically…do you know what a diabolo is?”

He thought hard for a moment before faintly recalling a toy beloved of entertainers and children alike back home that shared the same name. Now that the man had mentioned it, both the toy in his mind and the odd weapon in front of him looked strangely familiar. “You’re joking.” He breathed incredulously.

“’Fraid not,” the shopkeeper chuckled, his green eyes twinkling. “A diabolo with blades, that’s basically what it is. No idea what the guy who made it was thinking; thing is a menace to its wielder as much as it is to his opponent. Making it was probably a joke.”

He wasn’t listening. He was remembering some of the tricks the entertainers and peddlers had performed back in his homeland, and was imagining ways of adapting them to combat. True, using the thing bordered on the suicidal, but the concept was just so cool. “I’ll buy it!” he announced with vigor, reaching for his money pouch.

“You what?” the young man asked. “Did you not just hear me explain what that thing is.?!”

“I heard you all right.” he grinned, an unholy glint in his eyes. “This thing’s unique; nobody would know how to deal with it. Think of all the possibilities!”

“That thing is unique because nobody else is stupid enough to think that manufacturing something like that is a good idea, much less use them.” The blonde went and picked up the bladed toy anyways. His boss would be happy if he actually managed to get rid of the thing.

“Hey, it’s a fine line between genius and stupidity,” he shot back, pulling out a few coins.

“’A fine line between genius and insanity’ I think you mean.” The shopkeep placed the menacing diabolo next to the deck of cards. “The latter of both of which I think apply to you if you’re seriously considering trying to use this thing.”

“Don’t know until you try,” he grinned again, undaunted. “So how much will both of these run me?”

The man named a price. His eyebrows shot up.

“Hey, like you said, it’s unique. It’s a collector’s item,” the shopkeeper said placatingly. “Those cards aren’t exactly common either, or you wouldn’t be here in the first place.”

Grumbling, he tried to barter with the man but even after the hard fought reductions in price he still ended up emptying most of his purse.

“I’ll be looking forward to seeing you use that thing in the arena,” the man called after him as he left with his purchases.

“What, so you can bet against me?”

“Something like that,” he replied, and turned to finally close the storeroom door.

Shaking his head wryly, Seth made his way back to Kyari. “Well, I got my cards, and then some,” he beamed. “Check this out!” He held up the pointy toy.

She raised an eyebrow at the strange weapon. "I know it was a hazard bringing you in here. What is that?" She shook her head, "Never mind, I don't want to know."

They walked outside, a light dusting of snow crunching beneath their feet. "Hungry?" she asked, her own stomach growling.

“Wuss,” he laughed as he went to place his newfound toy in his bag before thinking better of it. The blades on the thing would tear his rucksack to pieces. He made a mental note to get some kind of case for the bizarre weapon. “Eheheh, now that you mention it"” his stomach growled right on cue. He hadn’t eaten anything since, he wasn’t sure when, seeing as he hadn’t even grabbed a small snack after leaving the hospital. “Something to eat sounds right up my alley, know a good place?” he paused and patted his money pouch. “Know a good place that’s very affordable?” he amended bashfully.

"I know a good place. It's not exactly cheap, but I'll cover anything you can't," she said, smiling. The place she led him to was a small inn on the other side of the market place. “C'mon, the stew is best here. Along with the cider..."

“Oh no, no, no,” he shook his head. “I already owe you more than I think I’ll ever be able to repay, I’m not digging myself further into the red if I can help it. Maybe I’ll just stick with the stew.” He held up his money pouch and looked at it critically.

"I'll buy the cider for you. My apology for hurting you so many times." She waved the servant over, ordering before he had the chance to refuse. "It'll be good to get something warm into you."

“Says the girl who’s got half healed wounds all over her,” he joked, which incidentally kept him from stopping the serving girl before she left with the order. “All right, you win this time, but I’m paying you back somehow,” he grumbled. “And… thanks. You seem to know all the best places around here. Have you lived here all your life?”

"Yeah. I don't know that I want to live anywhere else, but that may just be because I've never traveled."

“So is this were you see yourself for the rest of your life?” he asked, leaning back in his chair. “Fighting until you can’t fight anymore and then retiring?” He let his chair fall back onto all four legs. “Don’t you wish for something more?”

"Perhaps," she mused. "But no adventure besides fighting will ever come my way, and I lack the drive to go find it. What do you want to do?" she asked, attempting to turn the conversation away from her.

“What I want doesn’t really matter,” he laughed bitterly before shaking his head. “Ahhh, sorry, I shouldn’t be snapping at you when you’ve done nothing but help me.” He shook his head again. “Forget I ever said anything. I suppose as far as goals go, I’d like to be accepted by my family.” He sighed, “I’m kinda the middle child, so it’s hard for me to stand out. Enough about my insecurities,” he said. “They aren’t your problem.” He suddenly looked thoughtful. “I was wondering, you’ve already told me a lot about your father; would you be able to tell me more about your mother?”

She was puzzled by the lack of willingness to talk, but answered his question anyway. "No, I wouldn't be able to. She died in childbirth with me, and I got so used to just growing up with my father that I never really asked about my mother. By the time I wanted to, it was too late."

“Ahhh, I’m sorry.” Hr lowered his head. “Everything I say seems to tread near touchy subjects. Well, if I can’t seem to avoid them,” he looked back up at her. “Why did you stay here? Here where their memories are the strongest?” He quickly looked back down again. “Actually, never mind, don’t answer that. Sorry for aggravating old wounds…”

"Seth, it's fine. I stay here because I have nowhere else to go. I was born to a fighter, I was trained a fighter, and that's what I'll be for the rest of my life. I'll probably end up marrying a fighter and giving birth to a fighter. That's all I am...though once in awhile I do wish it was something more. I love fighting, but it's just..." she trailed off, not sure how to phrase her feelings. The arrival of the food saved her from continuing, and she ate hungrily.

He took an experimental sip of the stew before blowing on his spoonful and sticking it in his mouth. She had been right, it was excellent. Not exactly gourmet, but then it wasn’t supposed to be. Rich, hearty, and filling; probably the best kind of meal a hungry traveler could ever wish for. Or a hungry fighter for that matter. Digging into his stew"though at a slower pace than Kyari; the thick soup was hot off the fire and he had no wish to burn his tongue"he mulled over the girl’s words as he ate. “This isn’t the only place with an abundance of fighting,” he pointed out. “There are always wars going on and I’m sure any cause would have a place for a fighter of your caliber. If you went out into the world, maybe you’d find what you’re looking for. So, why are you still here?”

She paused, letting his question roam through her mind. "I think it's because I'm waiting for the opportunities to come to me, instead of looking for them myself. Perhaps I'm also afraid that I'd have to kill someone, or that the cause will not be as worthy as I believed it to be. Fighting here gives me the chance to fight without other people really depending on me. I'm fighting for myself, and not for someone else. But I think if I found a cause that needed me enough and was worthy enough, I'd fight my hardest for them."

“Fair enough,” he acknowledged, taking another spoonful of stew, “just as long as you don’t wait too long. I’m sure you know as well as I do that life isn’t always so convenient as to always deliver opportunities to your door.” He stirred his stew pensively. “You probably know better than I do, actually. What exactly would constitute a ‘worthy’ cause?” he asked after a moment. “And how would you determine whether or not it was worthy?”

"I'd have to evaluate them individually." She shrugged, taking a drink of the cider.

“But to determine whether they’re worthy or not, there must be certain traits you’re looking for,” he half-stated, half-asked quizzically.

"I think I'll be able to make the decision when it comes to me"if it ever does. Who would you fight for?""

“As for myself…” he paused for a moment as he finished the remains of his stew, and then took a deep swig from his own mug of cider. “I suppose I could tell you that I fight for my family, or for my country, or something noble like that, but when it comes down to it I think that the only person I ever fight for is myself.”

"As long as you know who you can fight for, I think that's noble enough." She looked up, and saw someone out of the corner of her eye, coming in and sitting down at a table across the room. "Seth. We have to leave. Now."

“Even if"" he started before he stopped at her warning. He raised an eyebrow questioningly, but made no other enquiry. Surreptitiously, he palmed his new toy off the table, and quietly made ready to leave. She smoothly got up and put the payment for the food, covering Seth and her. She made enough of a sound that it seemed normal, but not enough to attract the man's attention.

It wasn't until she was out of sight of the building that she began to calm down. He remained quiet throughout the tense exit, simply following her lead.

“And what,” he asked as she started to relax, “was that all about?”

"Let's just say that guy thinks I'm someone that I'm not, and I have a feeling he will do anything he can to get to me."

“…Anything?” he raised an eyebrow. “Who exactly does he think you are if he gives you the impression he’ll do anything to, as you put it, ‘get you’?”

“He thinks I’m a noble. That in and of itself doesn’t scare me; it’s his persona, his aura, that gives me the chills.” She shivered slightly, almost unnoticeably.

He raised an eyebrow at the word ‘noble’. The idea wasn’t entirely absurd; there were a fair few exiled noble families that had run afoul of the royal families that ruled the lands as the years passed. Illegitimate children weren’t exactly uncommon either, though the rest of her hypothetical family would have to be dead for her to hold any worth in a lineage hunter’s eyes. That said, the odds that the girl was of noble blood still fell on the far side of unlikely. Despite this, his thoughts still latched on the possibility with an unexpected ferocity. He’d always had an unreasonable taste for improbable coincidences.

“What exactly do you mean ‘his aura’?” he asked. “And how do you know for certain he’s wrong?

"Have you ever had a feeling when you were around someone, an instinct that tells you what kind of person they are? I'm not nobility. I've already told you. I am not nobility."

He resisted the urge to press her for more details on her past. If she didn’t want to talk about it, then he would leave her alone. At least for the present. “So,” he bit his lip, “where does this leave us? Do you want to lay low and hope he skips town? Continuing our fights would be tantamount to an invitation for him to badger you whenever he wants seeing as he can easily find who you are and what kind of ‘schedule’ you keep via the public registry.”

"It just means we get more random," she said, pulling on his arm towards the armory. "Let's get you some new armor. I'm buying."

He thought for a moment about resisting, but relented immediately when he thought about how anxious she seemed. If the man worried her, then that was more than cause enough for him to be worried as well. “All right,” he acquiesced, following her without complaint. “I’ve been meaning to get a pair of decent greaves for a while now”

"Not just greaves. We need to get you outfitted with good quality armor in more than just your legs. For a start, some sort of breastplate. You get injured in the stomach too often for your own good."

“All right,” he frowned, “but only so long as it’s leather or something equally light. I’m already slow enough as it is.” A random thought floated to the fore of his consciousness. “This armory you’re taking me to, I assume you’ve gone there before?”

"Never bought anything there," and before Seth could reply, she added, "I haven't really stolen anything, either. I just go to learn about the other types of armor people could be wearing."

“So you wouldn’t know whether they do custom, would you?” he asked rhetorically. “It’s just that there’re a few adjustments I’d like done on my gloves.”

"They'd do custom." The shop was now in front of them. "Go ahead and spend what you need. Like I said, I'll cover it. Besides, I'm your trainer."

“Hmmm, all right, but I’m going to pay you back some day,” he conceded reluctantly. “For everything you’ve taught me as well.”