"You'd be amazed at the number of people who assume that I have a predilection of going for the necks of defenceless maidens, for reasons I suspect are tied to tawdry minstrelsy. Stopping the bleeding isn't the real concern; I'd have to rip a throat out for it to not close, but there are other practical considerations." And the social ones, of course, it could be construed as something far different. No doubt why the stories had such an obsession with imagery like it.

She adjusted her glasses before continuing, "Everyone gets asked eventually. It would be detrimental for the knights' continued health to focus on too small a pool, and the more who agree, the better prepared I can be in case of emergencies. You've simply arrived when I need to find someone."

"Now, are you willing to assist me? I won't turn you away if not, but I won't be able to assist with anything physical."

Well, anything physical that didn't rely on finding the smallest person around.

@The Otter

---

@Raineh Daze

---

It made sense. They couldn't well afford just to have a small pool of knights constantly left unable to fulfill their duties just because of constantly feeding Tyaethe, nor would it be particularly feasible to hire in servants just to have their blood drawn when the First and Youngest was feeling peckish. If anything, the latter would probably massively harm the reputation of the order in the long run if news of it got out; sure, it would be all well and good if those who were hired for it knew full well what was expected of them and agreed to it whole-heartedly, but such a tale would massively decrease the hiring pool if anybody who wanted to work in the keep thought they might be expected to give blood. Neverminding that it could be spun as the Iron Roses preying upon the poor and needy, paying them just to feed the local vampire.

Yet it was his blood. He needed it. She said that it wouldn't be too much, that it would only put him out of any strenuous activity, heavy exercise or the like, for the rest of the day; what if she was wrong? What if she accidentally drank too much? It was a silly worry, but it was one that existed all the same. He'd lost decent amounts of blood before, and while the wounds that led to it helped, he was still nearly bedridden afterwards. Surely she wouldn't take that much, though, right?

"How much do you need, and do you prefer to just bite in, or rather cut it open and let it flow that way?" Neither was particularly comfortable to imagine, but sitting there with her teeth sunken into his wrist seemed the less comfortable of the two. "I get to sit down for this, right?" Surely she wasn't so mean as to declare her dedicated spot off-limits even when draining his veins.

"If I bite directly, it hurts less and closes up almost as soon as I'm done," Tyaethe answered, opening her mouth wide to show off her teeth clearly. Very shiny, particularly the rather noticeable fangs that one finger was tapping, "There's some sort of magic involved in these to help with that, although I don't know what or if that's standard for all vampires. As for how much... well, that's rather hard to say, isn't it? It's not as if I go around filling up jugs to measure it out first. Enough to take it easy on a hot day and a bit of dizziness, not so much you're in danger. I've been doing this for over two hundred years, I know when to stop."

The question of how much she needed was an interesting one but hard to answer. Enough to keep going and stop feeling so hungry? If she were to just rest, that would probably cover anything up to a week or more. But combat always drained more. And if she were to answer in terms of feeling fully satiated... that was something a single person couldn't manage, no matter how much she drank.

There was the barest twitch of an eyebrow at the question about sitting down, the paladin biting back a comment on how the floor was right there if he wanted to sit down... driving off another person that was actually considering the idea wouldn't help her. Better to put up with it so she could deal with this hunger. Moving towards one end of the window, Tyaethe answered, "Yes, you can sit down."

---

@Raineh Daze

---

Fionn had sharp eyes, and neither the twitch nor the barest bit of reticence in moving didn't go unnoticed. "Listen, even if you're holding it up for me, that's still an awkward position for both of us if I sit on the floor," he grumbled, carefully transferring both plates to one hand, rolling up his sleeve, and walking over to sit next to the diminutive vampire. It sounded like the most she'd be taking would be about a pint, then; that shouldn't be too hard to deal with. Rest up, drink a lot of water or something else minimally intoxicating, stock up on the red meats and organ meats at dinner.

And probably the spinach, if they had any.

"Ever develop any preferences for specific people's blood? There's gotta be taste and texture differences, like, same as with a cow depending what it's fed on lately." Might at least satisfy some of his random curiosity if he was going to experience some mild exsanguination by Tyaethe's fangs. He glanced forlornly down at the cake and the pie, neither of which he could really eat with a single hand without making some sort of mess.

Hopefully it wouldn't take her too long, otherwise he'd wish he had a book or something else to occupy his attention.

"Preferences? Well, for some reason, people tend to divide into different broad flavours. Blood is blood, there's still the same metallic flavour to it, like if I were to drink my own or some animal's," as consuming them did nothing for her, "But there's qualities to it that don't map well to words. Echoes of flavour and scent, trying to understand things that don't have a taste in a way that's like it. Humans seem to split into three types--call it sweet, sour, and savoury. There's an occasional sweet-sour type, too. I'd say elves are mostly spicy, either sweet or creamy or both on top of it. I haven't met enough to tell how it changes between the different elven peoples."

The vampire took the offered arm, thumb running across the veins as she looked out towards the entrance in thought, "Dwarfs seem to only have the one big type with small variation. Malty, like ale, that. Hundi... mostly, they share the same types as humans, although there's a nuance to it. Once, I met one that was oddly spicy, although I can't say if that was recent elven ancestry. These types are far more noticeable than almost anything else, but I guess there's some small variation due to background. The scions of nobility are distinct from farming backgrounds.

"Although, there's two things far more apparent than even that. The magically powerful are much richer, all flavours stronger, and any characteristic magic leaves its own echoes. It's also more filling, drop for drop, but it takes enormous mana reserves for it to significantly change the amount needed. And I can taste the alcohol if someone's been drinking; it can actually get me drunk quite easily when drinking normally doesn't."

She tilted her head. "But preferences... I rarely think about it. It's not as if I can be picky, and it's only if someone is horrifically sick that it would taste bad. If I had to choose, I would favour the elves, but individuals? Merilia rarely contributed and doesn't visit often but she was strange, almost like a sorbet. Elionne... she didn't stand out too much at first, but after sainthood? Almost like the finest steak and old Ithillane wine at once, and literally intoxicating at the same time. Almost impossibly delicious and filling, but a bad idea to drink often at all..."

Question answered, the vampire finally lined Fionn's arm up to her satisfaction and bit down, the pain sharp but brief... and, despite the likely small holes such fangs could make, his blood obviously flowed far more freely than anticipated, only a minute or two passing before she released him. Although she could have taken longer about it, Tyaethe had no intention of making this anything more than a functional necessity.

"You needed me for something?

@The Otter

---

@Raineh Daze

---

"Same thing with other animals," he replied. Beef tasted like beef, mutton like mutton, pork like pork—but subtle differences were always there, depending on the specific breed, what it fed upon, the locality and how that affected what the animal in question fed upon. If he had to guess based on his general diet, he'd probably come across as fairly savoury. Luckily for the both of them he hadn't had any opportunity to hit the casks in the cellar yet today, otherwise this might be even more awkward than it already seemed.

At least the conversation made it a bit less awkward.

"You'll have to tell me if I've got any great magic in me, then," he joked. "Though I doubt I'm magical at all, certainly not nearly as much as—ach, bitseach!" It didn't really hurt all that much, but he'd never liked needles; having a pair jabbed into his wrist like that merited the muttered exclamation, mild or no.

At least she made it quick, even if the bit of dizziness was rapidly setting in. "Just some conversation, really," he said as he rubbed at his wrist. The puncture marks were definitely still noticeable, but Tyaethe didn't lie; it didn't keep bleeding after she was done. That was a definite highlight of the experience. "Can't imagine you get to have much normal talks with many of the other knights, after all—let alone how many are probably too timid, awestruck, or what-have-you to even try in the first place. Do you want one of these desserts now?"

"Ah, but I mean that it all tastes the same if I only focus on what my body is telling me. There's something magical in it, vampirism is very intricate in some ways. Where it came from and how it got to this stage... I don't think anybody knows except the gods, and it's not the sort of thing they like to answer questions about."

His last question was answered by the vampire picking up the spiced tart, taking a bite before continuing. "No great magic, but there's enough in there to be somewhat usable. I don't know if it would be enough to take up any sort of spellblade path without being implausibly efficient, but you could probably learn a few useful things like fire starting or creating light. It's more common amongst humans than you'd think, especially in parts of the Velt population; it's just below the threshold most people will spontaneously cause anything to happen and people don't have time or means to test."

It also wasn't something most mages considered. She only knew because 'trying to understand your status as a vampire' brought you into contact with the most obscure theorists sometimes.

And if Fionn wanted to talk, Tyaethe wasn't going to force him to leave. Probably. "No, most people don't want to talk. It's hardly a loss, I'm content with things as they are."

---

@Raineh Daze

---

Must be the possible elvish admixture in parts of Velt, he imagined. The idea that he might have some small amount of magical talent to harness was an interesting one, though, even if it wouldn't amount to too much more than parlor tricks; he'd have to look into it. Maybe it'd be enough to get him lateral movement from the knight career track to the paladin one if he had enough to work with.

But before that, there was cheesecake. Reduced down to only one plate and fork, he took a quick bite of the sambocade. Truth be told, elderflower wasn't something he normally went for, but even if he had any notable dislike of the flavour he doubt he'd have minded it much in the cake, even if it didn't have berries and honey atop. He might've grabbed the bread pudding as well, if it weren't for the fact that cold bread pudding was a travesty.

"Hardly implies that it still is one, though," he observed between bites. "Don't see any reason I should be one of the ones contributing to it if that's the case. Spontaneous bloodletting involved or no." Best not to dwell on that albeit-minimal loss overlong, though, lest he help ruin her talkative, seemingly-good mood entirely.

"Thinking of—now that we've established some of your favourite bloods, now you've got to tell me your favourite dessert. So that I know how best to bribe you in the future, of course."

"Tarts are good," Tyaethe said, holding up a fork full of the dessert as evidence, "But custard tarts are better. Particularly the spiced variants. There was a chef in the past who was particularly in favour of putting whatever savoury ingredients we had spares of in tarts like that, they seemed to be a particular fan of experimenting with custard."

Any similarity with the perceived flavour and texture of elven blood was unlikely to be a coincidence, although whether the preference for this particular dessert came first or the way blood was perceived would be hard to tell--the girl had both been initially raised amongst the higher levels of nobility, and the chance she had much opportunity to sample elves before the Iron Roses were founded was low. She couldn't, herself, remember which she had first tried, only that there was a distinct similarity between the two.

"You don't have to force yourself to talk to me, no matter how little anyone else might. I am both a vampire and your considerable elder, it's only to be expected."

---

@Raineh Daze

---

"Knew I should have grabbed one of the custard tarts."

It had been a quick, spur-of-the-moment choice between a custard tart or the fruit tart; in the end, he decided to grab one that might be less commonly taken just in case Tyaethe was the type to prefer something different from the majority. In a way, she still was, but it seemed like everywhere he looked people were always wanting custard tarts. At least it meant more of the others for him!

Momentary muttering aside; "I'm really not forcing myself to do this," he said after another bite. "Getting asked for my blood so immediately was a bit of a shock, sure, but am I not allowed to take an interest in how my fellow knights are doing?"

Tyaethe sighed. There was no point pursuing this conversation if he was going to be stubborn about it for some reason. Might as well make the most of the situation, if Fionn was willing to tough it out for whatever reason. The guy was being entirely too nice for his own good, after all.

"If you don't have anything else to talk about than my health, I could show you the most basic magical exercise," the paladin said. Honestly, calling it an 'exercise' might be a stretch--it was the metaphorical equivalent of moving your arm simply to show that you could. But for anyone that hadn't unintentionally done anything magical in their life, it was a necessary requirement to actually trying to learn anything more advanced. And the one part of formal magical tutelage that Tyaethe was experienced with, or knew enough to show other people.

@The Otter

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@Raineh Daze

---

He wouldn't let himself grin too widely, but Fionn would take the win where he could find it. Truth be told, he also had more that he could turn the conversation to, but he was just as capable of being obstinately friendly as she was at remaining stubbornly alone. The fact that she was now offering to show him something new, without any need for him to ask after it, argue or wheedle for it, or the like, only sweetened the small victory.

"Gotta get started learning it like when I first learned to hold a sword, aye? Sure, let's see if I've got any talent to go with the potential!" Having something new to add to his bag of tricks once he developed some useful minor spells would, at the very least, help him break any possible stalemates he might run into with Renar or Gerard.

By the Goddesses, he could see the expressions on their faces now.

"Hope you can be patient with me, though; I'm more physically minded than anything else." A fact that was blatantly obvious given his build and role within the order.

Lucas gave Fleuri a dead stare for a moment. The Iron Roses hadn't been back long and already Fleuri wanted to train. It was admirable, for sure... admirable from afar. The younger knight was exhausted both physically and mentally from the slog of his first mission, no matter how relatively smoothly it had gone. The training yard wasn't exactly the most inviting place right now. And yet, he couldn't bring himself to refuse such an offer to train with one of the order's most skilled knights. Not only would it be a missed opportunity to learn something, but it might reflect poorly on his work ethic.

"Sure, it'd be an honour to train with you, Sir Fleuri. Just giz a moment for the old belly to settle, eh."

After a short spell to finish his drink, they got up and headed outside to the training yard. On the way, Lucas considered the Flower's words on performing for a crowd. He couldn't quite wrap his head around the (no pun intended) flowery words. What the young man took from it - right or wrong - was that their crazy actions may have inspired, intimidated or mislead their comrades. But which was it? And why? For Lucas' part, he wasn't performing, merely trying to help. It was after the fact, that he considered his ridiculous course of action might make a good story. Now he was left wondering what was going through the mind of Fleuri during the battle.

Seeking to fill the silence between them, as they made their way outside, Lucas piped up. "I'm not sure what dagger techniques I could show you, to be perfectly fair," he said. "Unless you want to learn how to juggle and throw knives. If that's what you're after, then boy, do I have a few tricks to show you."

On the training yard, he went over to the racks. "Sparring with swords or...?" he asked, hoping Fleuri had something in mind. He would be glad of instruction from an experienced fighter, a thought which prompted his follow up question. "Can you teach me to fight like Sir Gerard?" He pulled out a regular wooden longsword and started pushing forward aggressively against an invisible foe, giving the air a few swings. "He's amazing. All rough and tumble-like, huh-hah..." slipping his head under and around centre-line, he lunged into a stab. "Hah!" Then he relaxed and looked at Fleuri with a hopeful grin. "Like that... I think. I wanna fight like him."

Since Gerard had encouraged Lucas to find another fighting style, the young man had been relegated to simply watching his idol spar with others, then try to copy the moves later on. Perhaps Fleuri would have some insight on the matter. Lucas' footwork was decent for a rookie, but everything else left a lot to be desired. Nonetheless, he was stood ready to follow Fleuri's lead and get to work.

"Once you know the feeling, you should be able to practice on your own. You don't mind if I touch you, do you? This needs some contact," Tyaethe answered, waiting for the okay before moving into position, kneeling on the window-seat and placing one hand on Fionn's back and using the other to grasp the back of the former mercenary's hand. Given their comparative size differences, it was both somewhat awkward and made for a fairly ridiculous sight... but on the other hand, what else could you do?

"Mana pushed out of a body with no real spell or aim behind it typically becomes light, although in the case of children throwing a tantrum or the like it can be rather more destructive. There's some use to doing it this way--unlike a proper light spell, you can gauge how much mana someone can channel, and indirectly how much capacity they have, from how bright it is," Tyaethe explained, "But it's only an unintentional effect of concentrated mana, and a terrible way to illuminate something at the same time.

"What I want you to do is focus on the feeling of mana going through you. It should 'pull' on something, and if you replicate that pull yourself, that's it: you channel mana. After that, it's all about magic spells and structures and theories," she continued, adding, "Oh, and close your eyes. This might get a little bright."

Sure enough, what followed was a sensation, cold and hot, soothing and electrifying all at the same time--mana without purpose, pushing through from Fionn's back and down to his hand, the path being forced through his body rather than hers. It was only brief, but the rush of power was a constant tug on something.

'A little bright' was also an understatement. Even through closed eyelids, the light was painfully intense to look towards. It was also a vibrant, monochromatic scarlet, which made for a rather odd combination before it abruptly winked out, Tyaethe sitting back on her haunches.

@The Otter

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@Raineh Daze

---

"You just had your teeth in my wrist, and you're worried I'm going to be bothered by you touching me?" he jested, slipping off the window seat and kneeling forward just to make things a bit easier for the both of them. No doubt, it was still a comical sight—especially given the massive gulf in size between their hands, as she reached out to grab his—but at least she wasn't having to try and squeeze between the window and his own bulk.

He nodded along with the explanation, already closing his eyes as he tried to focus inward. He'd had to make such nigh-meditative efforts before with some of the exercises he'd been doing since he started his fighting career, working up the musculature just to be able to wear his hauberk without any extreme difficulty. The more he worked up the weight, the more times he had to let the rest of the world melt away while his thoughts went to nothing more than how to perform the exercise without hurting himself. Extreme cognizance of the muscle activation, his breathing, his heart rate.

How different could this ultimately be—

Ifreann, that's bright.

Even with his eyes closed, it was uncomfortable, especially as close to his face as it was; he couldn't help but turn away slightly. After that initial shock, though, the rest came into stark clarity. From his back and shoulders, through his chest and down his arm, everything felt like it was tingling. Buzzing, almost; like he'd somehow cut off circulation and feeling was just coming back, or like he'd just worked it all as hard as possible without hurting himself in the days before. Relaxed but tight, and with the amount of power she was pushing through to near-blind him through his own eyelids, he felt like he was on the urge of breaking out into a fit of twitching.

And in only a moment, the rush cut out; feeling returned to normal, the light was gone, and he was left blinking away tears from how bright it was. "Bandia," he breathed, flexing his fingers. It still felt like he might get shocked if he came too close to anything metal after that. "I knew you had a lot to call on, but that's almost ridiculous." Now, though, he had to figure out how to flex that same muscle. Like learning how to wiggle his ears or his nose, it seemed like, but he could feel something pulling along behind the current of energy Tyaethe had been pushing through his arm.

Feeling it at all was the first, and largest, step. Alright, Fionn, nothing to it but to do it. If you try too hard or think through it too much you'll just make yourself fail.

He took a deep breath, closing his eyes again. Focusing on the same sense of tingling, electric pull he could feel getting drawn along behind Tyaethe's own channeled mana. Nothing as explosive as when he was swinging a blade for a cut, or the slower, constant strain of dragging a sled full of stones across the yard. Different. An utterly dissimilar direction, entirely. Just have to—

It was like a small hum, deep in his chest, when he finally found it again. The sort of deep-seated, reverberating vibration he'd come to associate with the passage of a massive column of men and horses nearby, shaking the ground, and him with it. He exhaled, latching onto the pure tone he could feel, and started to mentally direct it down his arm with the same force of will and methodical mindset that he used to control his own breathing when exercising. The tingling spread again, gradually, lesser but still there, from his sternum, through his shoulder, and down to his hand.

He could almost swear he felt the hairs standing up along his arm, following the energy, that alternating warmth and chill pulsing through his veins and muscles as he tried to make light the same as Tyaethe had. "I'm almost afraid to open my eyes and see if this is working," he said after a moment. "Tell me true, are my fingers glowing again?"

"It's an amount that comes in quite helpful for this particular task," she countered with a shrug. It was a lot easier to get a feel for mana first time if there was a lot of it involved in the process, and by the same token why it was extraordinarily rare for anyone of enormous power to not be somewhat aware of it even as a child, the pool of mana waiting just below the surface and all too easy to direct to something. "My instructors as a child thought it ridiculous I wished to be a knight and not a mage."

They would have particularly had a point if she had continued ageing normally. Tiny, intermittently frail, half-blind and facing some rather obvious challenges where combat was involved? Becoming a vampire had certainly had one or two perks in regards to sticking to her childhood goals, even if the costs outweighed it.

Watching from the outside, she was never sure how difficult this task was meant to be. Just calling on mana? To her, it was as easy as breathing, no matter her lack of magical skill to go with it. For someone without the same high aptitude... was this supposed to be a first-time thing, or a week-long meditation? Fortunately, she was saved the need to come up with any empty platitudes by Fionn's success... although, as pleasing as that was, the paladin still wasn't sure if that was expected or not.

"It's more a halo around your palm," she supplied helpfully, "Yours is green."

Gently, Sergio's hand brushed over the rondel dagger he had stashed, as he nodded cordially to the men giving him glances as they passed. He was beginning he'd at least changed into something less eyecatching, although he hadn't quite guessed how deep into the city Lein was taking him.

"You come here often, hmm?"

@PigeonOfAstora

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@Raineh Daze

---

Ridiculous that she wanted to be a knight rather than a mage? Their finding it ridiculous was, in and of itself, ridiculous. She had just been a child at that point; or, at least, wasn't yet aware of her unaging status. Beyond that, mage-knights were a thing. Those instructors had clearly overlooked important possibilities. By the goddesses, if someone like him could even manage to harness enough mana to make some small effect happen, there wasn't much stopping the truly gifted from making their mark in the ranks of a knightly order.

Thinking of harnessing the mana, he couldn't deny that by this point the feeling was making him start to itch. Or feel something close to an itch, anyways. "Green?"

Fionn's eyes shot open, darting over to his hand. Sure enough, there was a hazy nimbus of viridian light emanating from his skin, casting its silvery-green glow across their immediate vicinity. "Muise!" He'd actually done it. It was almost unbelievable; shocked as he was, the focus disappeared almost instantly afterwards, leaving his hand back in its normal, non-luminescent state.

"...I'm going to have to figure out a good way to use this."

Gerard Segremors

@ERode

"Speed, Gerard... C'mon, speed!"

For all his worries of unfamiliarity with the city laid before him, Sagramore found that eager strides made short work of the directions given, even in spite of a walk's slower pace. The sun had only just passed its zenith when he'd set forth from the outer gates of Candaeln— and still had plenty of time to weigh upon him like an anvil as he ran. Tucked away from the usual bustle of city life as this hill was, a little grunted self-coaching wouldn't garner many odd looks.

"Agghh...motherfucker." a ragged gasp tore itself from his burning lungs as he crested the hill and fought to keep his urge to keel over locked away.

The concern of recognition from the parade had flickered through his mind after crossing the moat, but it was quickly allayed as he'd stepped into the throng. It was the pomp and circumstance and fantasy that had drawn the eyes— so much of them had affixed onto his unusually polished armor, or more likely the immense trophy he'd been waving around. When it came to his face, he clearly still had no trouble melting into the crowd, even now unmasked.

I guess that's the upside to having so far to go, his stream of consciousness mused, taking thought's place while his heart hammered. Won't be recognized until I'm ready for it.

...

The moment he'd been allotting for rest came and went— and, ever dutiful, he descended the slope to start anew, each step down closer to a jerking catch of the weight than the last.

The day drew on as he continued like this, sun sliding closer and closer to the earth as the knight threw his nose into the grindstone. Each sprint would shorten, each rest would lengthen, but it would not be until the low light matched the amber of his eyes that his will finally relented and listened to the protests of his body.

...

The walk back to Candaeln, given the pounding his calves had been put through, was by necessity a leisurely one. For the first few blocks his legs had felt to be made more of gelatine than bone and sinew, each step being a labor in its own right. Consistent a worker as discipline had forged him into, even he now found himself admitting that his fervor had pushed things... a little hard.

But, that consistency proved a virtue in equal measure— by the time Reon's blazing glory acceded to Mayon's gentler, calmer light in Aimlenn's cloudless air, he could walk normally in spite of the soreness. Recovery came quickly when the conditioning was maintained— a wisdom any proper soldier would have drilled into them first and foremost.

And just as well, too. Rounding a lamplit corner, the flash of a flaxen braid catching the glow was hard enough to miss on its own. His posture, instinctively by now, straightened. The frank, flat appraisal and prim bearing that accompanied were unmistakable, especially when they came from right at eye level.

"And as ever, you're fresh as a daisy, Serenity."

There was no heat on the reply, and a cordial nod followed it quickly. It hadn't taken much time at all within the Order to realize that the young noblewoman was quick to get a read on him— and while he didn't consider himself terribly difficult in such a regard, he had to admit he readily appreciated the honesty she brought with it. A mentor to an unfamiliar world such as knighthood was a blessing, one he dared not overlook.

"Guilty as charged." a humble smile played across his face as he gauged her attire. Casual and light, moreso than he'd usually taken her for— but still carrying her blade on her hip. Smart. You never knew. "Been out on the hills near the wall, running myself ragged. What about you, just on a stroll?"

Lein

---

Location: Old Aimlenn Backstreets
Interactions: Sergio @VahkiDane

---

"Not often enough, really. Far better than being holed up in that pile of rocks and harrumph about," Lein furrowed his brow, trying to remember what he was assigned to do right now - "cleaning cauldrons or whatever. Gets boring breathing the same air twice."

Lein rolled the apple over his knuckles and bit into it. Instead of taking out a chunk, he instead withdrew to leave the teeth marks imprinted on it. As he walked by a curious child that watched them, Lein tossed the otherwise untarnished apple at the kid and strode on. Lein spied the guarded shifts in Sergio's stance, his curt nods betraying, perhaps, a simmering sense of nervousness. Well, carelessness was far worse, Lein supposed.

With one final turn into a tight alleyway, it was as if they had crossed across an invisible threshold. Though the crowd outside was still present, the sound of hundreds of overlapping footsteps and the shouts of merchants still leaking from the 'main road', the din soon melted into the background. Somehow, in spite of the density of humanity filling every nook that was still unclaimed, here was a place yet to be reserved by anyone.

Tucked away and squashed up against a partially dismantled castle wall, was a tiny courtyard - at least, it still tried to be one. What capacity it held a time ago was taken by buildings that had propped up at its edges, and it was hardly bigger than a couple strides across. The center was a massive tree, gnarled and roots pushing up rogue stones that used to brick the floor. It mantled a trap door at its base, frames bent but still holding integrity. It was supposed to be hidden underneath a pile of leaves and dirt, but signs of sweeping hinted at a recent relocation. A poor disguise. Nonetheless, it remained undisclosed to the incurious simply by virtue of being so far into the obscure corners of the town.

No-one outside. Hmm. Although he had promised nothing to his co-conspirators, there was still an unwritten routine that play: one that Lein had been late to. Lein pressed a knee down on the trapdoor, making sure to not allow it to accidentally fling open, then wrapped his prosthetic hand against the trapdoor twice, the bare bone knuckles making a harsh clacking sound.

A pattering footstep echoes in response, then a voice from beneath the trap-door. "You're late." A young boy's voice. Pouty, but not quite scornful.

"As always!" Lein replied cheerily, and finally set down his wooden box next to the tree with an audible thud. "But I always deliver, don't I?"

There was a shuffle as whoever was inside pressed up against the trapdoor. If one was careful to look, there was a tiny gap between the panels that showed a sliver of an eye, attentively giving an eyeful at the stranger next to the Hundi. "There's someone there?"

"Yeah I've got a," Lein looked Sergio up and down, as if he had seen the red-maned Knight for the first time in his life, "some rich gawker who thought this place was a hoot." He gave a pause, as if daring Sergio to come up with a reasonable explanation to why a sharply dressed man had followed a dirty street dweller all the way to this forgotten edge of town.