Getting Schooled

[Artemis Black]

“I see that glint your eye Mila, the dangerous kind. I’m not here to snuff it, everyone needs a fire in them. You best be sure you know your wagers if you’re going to think to do the work of the Lady Fae. The boots of the righteous swing just the same,” he said to her, knowing it would do little to change the woman. With that he started towards the alley that would lead to the kitchen of the Velvet Goose. “We can certainly practice a number of things, but the moment you get too far, you’ll find I can be a harsh instructor,” he said over his shoulder as they reached the tavern’s heavy front door.

Despite the early hour the Goose was crowded and the kitchen was no exception. Even protected by the kitchen wall the noise of so many patrons eating, talking, and carousing was far from quiet. Artemis nodded to Ksenia and grinned at her plight. He’d been force-fed more than once in his history with the doting woman. “I’m not coming between her and food, no way, no how,” Artemis said as he settled onto the bench beside Ksenia.

“We’re going to learn some things, practice a bit, and make some money. Have to send Beaky back by lunch time, so there’s work to do,” Artemis said, offering a conciliatory frown to Ksenia. “Though we’ll definitely be enjoying an evening with some elf wine if I can manage. Interested?” he asked her. He knew she and Katarya weren’t the best of friends, but Dáire was a good man and Artemis did like seeing both of them.

[Ksenia]

“I just might be. Never really had elven wine, and I would like to look at those carvings up close...can you see if Katarya can get us a table near to the bar?” Ksenia leaned forward. She’d have to see if she could get ahold of a blank book to sketch designs in; those carvings had looked like excellent inspiration. “Who else will be joining you though?” she asked as a thought flitted across her mind and she frowned. “I’d rather not be a spare, if I can help it.”

Artemis mentioned Dáire and her face lightened fractionally. “Well, at least I’ll have people to talk to if you and Katarya disappear…” She grinned impishly. “I hope the Hart has the good sense to put soundproofing spells on Katarya’s room!”

Ksenia turned to Mila. “How are you doing on clothes and such? Did you need anything altered, or did you need more than what you got yesterday?” Ksenia paused. “Oh, I can add secret pockets and things if you like. Artemis knows about them; the tailor who did those is teaching me, and he’d like for me to get more practice anyway.” She pushed her plate away and sighed. “I hope that’s enough. I feel like I’ll split like an old wineskin if I eat much more.”

[Mila Glade]

Mila had tucked into her food with vigour. Killing was hungry work!

She listened as Ksenia spoke, and felt excited about a trip to the elf-pub. She wouldn't mind getting another look at Artemis's girlfriend. She might not be allowed to touch, but looking was free and harmless. Mostly.

In between bites, she spoke to Ksenia. "Clothes are great. More pockets is always good, like. Don't have much cash on me at the moment, but I'm looking to change that." She grinned, then took a long drink of ale. Wiping her mouth on her sleeve, she asked a question. Isn't a pub just a pub? You're half elven, so why do you need permission from anyone? Katarya some kind of big shot there, or something? I thought it was elves that done the running of it?"

She pushed her plate away and patted her stomach. "Good food in here." She said, absently. "What's next then, Black?" She asked of Artemis.

her social niceties might also use some tuning up!

[Artemis Black]

“It’s more that I’m technically on a sort of probation. Remember the love talk? I may have done something stupid. Also my ears aren’t pointy enough, so that’s two strikes against me,” Artemis said with a shrug. “The Elves run it, but Kat has a rank and all. I’m just an outsider or something,” he added to complete his explanation.

He chuckled as Mila shoved her plate away and immediately moved on to business. “We’ll head to the yard, do some practice to limber up, then make a run with our bird friend,” he said as he rose from the bench. He munched on his still unfinished bread for a moment before giving Ksenia a nod. “Meet us around sun touch? We can talk pockets a bit then. I have an idea,” Artemis said before tossing some coppers onto the table and heading to the back door.

Once outside he walked casually along the street to pass through the east district gate. As soon as he could in the poor quarter he moved into a side alley and made his way up to the rooftops. From there he calmly moved along the buildings, crossing alleys and making his way up and down. Every so often he looked back to make sure Mila was still following. He was still very impressed with the half-elf’s abilities.

With a graceful hop, Artemis finished moving down from a rooftop and landed in the packed dirt yard of the warehouse. He didn’t say anything as he started industriously moving several boxes around and leaning broken pallets against them. When he had finished he walked around and made circles and crosses on most of the pallets. They looked to be around where the eye, neck, heart, and gut would be on an average human.

“This is the basics,” he said to Mila, moving over to one of the clear topped crates and dropping the pair of low quality thug’s blades as well as two of his own onto the wood. “You’re going to carry these, all of them, and toss them while moving through this set of boxes,” he added, indicating the collection of haphazardly staked and broken crates in a line around 3 paces from the marked targets. The arrangement of boxes would require moving around, over, and under obstructions while tossing in brief open windows at the targets. ‘Need to build a proper course on day. Charge folks to come have a go at it to cover the cost,’ he thought as he admired his handiwork.

“You’ll run this course twice, as fast as you can each time. Don’t worry about being perfect, I want to see if you’re just rusty, or if I need to take your habits and shatter them,” he said before nodding at the collection of knives and stepping back out of the way.

[Mila Glade]

Mila took the knives, tucking two into her belt, though shifted uncomfortable, she held the other two in her hands. She'd need to get smaller knives for throwing, and one regular one for combat. Hand-to-hand was her weakness, so she'd have to work on that.

She had watched him work with a cocked head. She could see that it was going to be some kind of training course. She's had similar in Ajteire when her mother had trained her, but jumping from tree to tree was different.

The half-elf stretched out, cat-like in her movements. She was certainly self-assured!

She gave Artemis a nod, determination on her face, and she was off.

Mila jumped the first box that was in her way, flicking her hand out, letting her knife fly at the first 'enemy' hitting just below the heart. A failure. She then ducked down, slid under another obstacle to come up in front of of another target, this time, she simply jammed it into the 'throat', before turning with a flourish and throwing another dagger. Which missed it's mark, completely, thudding instead into the wall next to it. Nambá!" She swore, but kept moving. She rolled to a crouch behind a box, as if she were avoiding enemy arrows or something. She then cocked her head over the top, her sharp eyes narrowing, before she sat back. Then in a fluid single motion, she rose and threw; the dagger coming from her belt, to her hand, and right into the 'eye' of the target. She let of a 'whoop', before hopping over the box, and drawing her last knife, which she idly threw at the final target ... and missed.

Her face grew hard in frustration, and she kicked one of the boxes, send it flying. "It's not the same," she complained. "Better to practice on living targets, makes your senses sharper." She tried to explain her failure. One dead, one wounded, and two alive. She muttered some curse words in elvish as she went to retrieve the knives.

[Artemis Black]

Artemis watched with a frown fixed on his face. Her movement was impressive but lacked a smoothness. Her throws were vaguely in the right but lacked something. It wasn’t until she threw her final knife and missed entirely that he realized what was bothering him. “Your problem,” he began, walking around to collect the knives. “Is not your fanatical bloodlust. Though, that will likely get you gutted or hanged one day.” He looked over the dagger that had landed cleanly in the eye marking. “It’s not even your all flash no substance disregard,” he continued as he grunted at the chip in the low quality blade. “Even your active imagination isn’t really the issue. Stand here,” he said, finishing his collection and coming over to put her beside the box he was using to hold the knives.

“No, your problem is you’re throwing rocks not blades,” he said, placing one of the low quality knives in her palm. “Assume a defensive combat stance.” He watched her, nodding slightly. “Now toss,” he said staring intently at the movement of her muscles. He frowned as she completed the movement. “I think I can fix this, but it’ll take a willingness to learn,” he said, pulling his tunic off and balling it before placing it on the box. His skin was pale, and riddled with scars and scratches. Clearly running in the night was not a gentle profession. “Look at me, watch the motion,” he said, taking the same stance she had.

He held the pose for several seconds before whipping the knife in his hand at the target. It sunk deep with a loud thunk at the center of the dummy’s throat area. He took a second knife from his boot. “Slowly this time,” he said. He performed the same motion of his throw without releasing. The contraction of his muscles clearly traveling along his body to his outstretched hand. “When you can’t rely on your legs everything comes from here,” he said, pointing at his core and lower back. “The shoulder and arm guide and give speed, but strength, power, those come from further down,” he finished, whipping the second dagger into the target’s heart mark. “Finally, you bend your fingers too much. You’re knocking the blade off course more often than not by curling your hand closed too soon,” he added. Moving over to don his tunic. “Grab those blades and give me ten tosses, then we go out and do some real work.”

[Mila Glade]

Mila listened, and unlike most girls her age, she didn't complain. True, she was frustrated, but not at Artemis. He was trying to teach her, and she wanted to be taught. She wanted to be a master at her craft, to outrank the best in this city. She wanted to kill.

The half-elf practised as instructed, getting slightly better, but she was hardly going to become the ultimate assassin in one training session. She needed to practice as much as possible. But she also had to earn a living, and by 'earn' she meant 'steal from the bastards'.

On her last throw she went and retrieved the daggers, bringing them back to Artemis. "I'll keep trying, Black." She took a minute to stretch her arms. The constant throwing hasn't tired her as such, but it had been a while since she had done such a long session. Her eyes went to the raven, her eyes narrowing. Can that woman see me? She waved at it. "Suil Katarya!" She said, and laughed. "So what's the plan now?"

[Artemis Black]

“You will, practice the motion in downtime. The method we throw with can even make your regular strikes more precise and powerful as well,” he said as he settled his knives back into his clothing. He gave out a call for Nyx, {Blue.} and waited for the familiar to land on his outstretched arm. “Hello Girl. It’s time to collect shinies,” he said, stroking the bird’s chest feathers. He started to slowly walk to the main road, talking over his shoulder. “We’ll head to the west district. Make our way along the markets, see what you can do.” He lifted his arm to the air and let Nyx begin to lazily circle overhead.

“Beaky will find targets, steal free coin, and generally be a nuisance. This lets us be a little more free with our fingers. Folks don’t know what to do about a bird and tend to focus skyward for a moment afterward,” he said as he adjusted his pace to look more casual and relaxed. “The biggest difference is you have to give the bird somewhere to drop the coins when she’s full. She can carry three but works best with her beak free so try and duck into alleys often and relieve her.”

He looked over at Mila with a slightly serious expression. “Don’t start any fights or get too greedy. A single run through can fetch us a lot more than getting caught at the start lifting a silver,” he warned her. “If we do this right, we’ll end up on the far side of the district around lunch time. We can nip into O’Dell’s in the north district, grab something from a servant cart, and make a second run. That’ll let us finish near the elves.”

[Ksenia]

Ksenia made her way to the West district. She didn’t have anything pressing today; Mr. O’Dell had outside business to tend to and her concentration had suffered last time Deb had fed, so there was no training today. She had in mind something she wanted to search for - a blank book for sketches and writing ideas.

The stalls in the market were set up, mostly, by the time she reached the square. The sun hadn’t yet climbed to its zenith and a cool breeze blew from the water. She strolled along the walkways, admiring fresh produce, woven trims, and stalls crammed with all sorts of bric-a-brac. It was one of these, a delightful tumble of items that seemed to have no relation to each other, that stopped her. This seller had stacks of books that she used to display her items; in one stack was a copy of “Esyrax’s Tales”.

Ksenia ran her finger along its spine, feeling the embossed letters. She’d picked up a copy of it as a child, but had never been able to finish reading it. Looking around at some of the other items, she saw a stack of fabric covered books, clearly hand bound, about the size of her open hand. Ksenia picked up one and flipped through it. The pages were a decently thick paper, not too heavy, but enough to keep ink from bleeding through. The fabrics were brocades, but clearly had been end cuts or not fine enough to be sold by the yard. On her favorite, lavender cording bound the cover and pages.

She set it down on the stack again, and let her fingers trace some of the other items displayed. Filigree jewelry - where would she wear it? Carved stone trinkets that would do naught but collect dust, candles carved with the names of the idols that she’d never use, and little fussy bits of things that she wasn’t quite sure what purpose they served.

“See anything you like, dearie?” The seller came over to her, a woman for whom forty had passed a while ago, and not kindly. Her long silver-and-copper hair hung over her shoulder in a thick rope.

“Oh, I was wondering about the books,” Ksenia asked, as if idly. “Are those to be sold too?”

“Anything on the table. I could do one for...seven copper.” The woman glanced at her calculatingly.

“Seven for one...I don’t know,” Ksenia mused, her hand to her chin. “Sounds a bit much.” She turned, counting on the woman’s need for sales.

“How about I throw in another item from the table and we could do two for ten copper?” The woman offered quickly, her shrewdness left behind.

“I could do that, I think.” Ksenia wiggled the copy of “Esyrax’s tales” loose from its pile and pretended to take a moment to look over the table before picking up the little blank book she’d been eyeing. She fished in her pocket and pulled out the ten copper. “Thank you!” Putting the pieces in the woman’s hand, she moved on quickly, grinning to herself. She’d got what she came for, and a book she’d never thought she’d be able to read again - an excellent bargain for ten copper.

[Mila Glade]

Mila nodded. "Sounds good to me, Black." She said, trying to keep the plan in her head. She looked at the raven. Was was it? A thief and some kind of spy for Katarya? What else could it do!

The pair moved off, making their way to their destination. Mila had her one knife (Artemis didn't seem keen on giving her another!) and so she wandered into the western district knowing that the rest of the day, there would be no more killing . Unfortunately.

She watched the bird in the sky, dropping now and then, and some people calling out curses. It made Mila smile.

The half-elf moved among the crowd. She had a stratergy, bump, grab, return to nearest alley for the raven to drop off whatever it had gotten. Mila was hoping for silver, maybe to buy a better blade, or more so, more blades.

"Beg ya pardon," she said, knocking into a large man and slipping his hand into the pocket of his big coat. Idiot should have known better.

When he mumbled "bloody elves" at her as she passed, her hand clenched into a fist. But Artemis wouldn't be too happy if she gutted him like the lump of dung he was. So she moved on.

Back in the alley, she pulled out a small pouch, frowning when all there was inside was a silver ring. Why keep a silver ring in a pouch in your pocket? It looked too small for his fingers. A gift maybe?

Mila rested her back against the wall, playing with the ring in her hands as she waited to see if the bird would drop anything off, or if Artemis would follow.