Poisonous Fox

"But what kind of training is it?" I asked as I got up from where I had been sitting.

"Guess," she challenged me playfully, already starting towards the bustling city streets ahead of us.

"Come on, Esmerelda," I implored, following after her. "How is this going to help; just where are we going?" A part of me wondered if they were planning on getting rid of me down in the Merc Quarter, but that was not the feeling I got from her. She was far too friendly and jovial for that. But then again, I had seen evidence of her actress credentials. Would I even know if she was leading me on? I would like to hope so.

"Maybe I should ask Marianne then?" I mentioned, slowing down, and making a show of turning back towards Ma'Ritz.

Esmerelda scoffed, almost laughed. "You could... but then you'd miss out on an amazing opportunity."

"Opportunity?"

"What else? It's nothing terrible..." she trailed off, frowning, and revisiting her words in an obvious fashion, before shaking her head and rephrasing. "It's nothing that will hinder your potential, let's put it that way."

"You know, I think I'll head back inside and–"

"If you do then we'll be late! Or, did you just want to miss this altogether?"

"You still haven't told me what 'this' is."

"I did too," she smirked. "It's an opportunity, and time is wasting!"

She made a show of charging forward, making me jog to catch up. Her longer legs made for a quick stride that I struggled to match casually.

The winding road unfurled before us, flanked by opulent structures and the elite academy I'd only ever dreamed of attending. Fine shops, their windows displaying tantalizing wares, lined the street like proud soldiers. Despite my gnawing curiosity, I couldn't help but feel a sense of awe as we traversed this world I'd once thought beyond my reach.

The air was heavy with the scent of food, yet nothing truly called out to my ravenous appetite. It seemed as if the market district catered solely to those with refined palates, offering skewers adorned with nothing more than sad-looking vegetables. My stomach grumbled its disapproval, a protest I could hardly ignore.

"Really? Vegetables?" I muttered to myself, unable to suppress a grimace. I cast a sidelong glance at Esmerelda, who only offered me a knowing smile in return.

"Plenty of people enjoy roots and grains," she said. "But perhaps not you."

"I thought you said there would be meat vendors along the way, not--" I waved my hand at the sliced and grilled peppers "-this."

"Patience," she said. "Though I myself am having second thoughts. It might be best not to have an overly full stomach."

My stomach did not like the sound of that. Or maybe that was me personifying my own biology so that I could avoid the accountability of my own actions. No, I decided. I could not be blamed for my body's actions.

As we continued our journey through the upscale market district, I found my thoughts drifting back to my own past. What would Mother think of all this? She would love it. The city was rife with opportunity, only depending on how saturated the underworld was. Either way, she would have infiltrated and taken over. She was canny like that, and her actions always built towards her goals.

Some of those actions were terrible enough that they left me cringing. I turned my thoughts away from them, wishing they could have remained forgotten. In somewhat of a mood, I asked, "Esmerelda, do you ever wonder how different things might have been if our parents had made different choices?"

"You know, Jackie, this isn't the first time a young girl has asked me something like that. I'll tell you what I told her. The past cannot ever be changed. Honor those who came before, remember them, but avoid dwelling. Focus on the here and now, on what you can affect. It helps, I promise you that."

Her words might have been accurate, but they hardly told me how to put it all behind me. And the idea of honoring my Mother? Outrageous. I thought that the situation between me and the girl she spoke to must have been very different indeed. I put it behind me though. That part was useful in concept at least, if difficult to put into practice.

For now though, I followed Esmerelda.

The air around us grew thick with the mingled scents of steam and soot as we approached the checkpoint. A sense of unease crept up my spine, settling like a shroud over my shoulders. It was one thing to leave Blossom Hill, where the people and customs were familiar; it was quite another to venture beyond its borders into the unknown. Especially when the peacekeepers monitored the checkpoint. Especially when the Pit Crew could have been waiting beyond the hill. Both parties had reasons to seek vengeance against me.

As though sensing my justified unease, Esmerelda murmured, "stay close," as we neared the chokepoint where the street met the rest of the Square.

"Stay close," Esmerelda murmured, her voice low and steady. I nodded, swallowing the knot of anxiety that had formed in my throat. The peacekeepers at the gate—hardened men with hollow eyes and hands stained by years of violence—cut imposing figures in their dark uniforms. We passed them without incident; indeed, they seemed to regard us with something akin to indifference. Leaving Blossom Hill was always easy, after all. It was getting back in that required credentials—and, more often than not, a bribe.

"We got lucky," I said.

"Oh?" Esmerelda asked.

"I didn't recognize any of those men. And they didn't seem to recognize me."

"That's usually the case," Esmerelda replied. "New faces come and go. But they all serve the same purpose—to line their own pockets and stoke their own egos. Remember, Jackie: 'honest dues for honest work.'"

"And here I thought their purpose was to serve the baron."

"Maybe on paper," Esmerelda said.

Thoughts of the peacekeepers and their corruption were soon swept away by the vibrant chaos that awaited us on the other side of the checkpoint, where merchants hawked their wares with a fervor that bordered on desperation, and the clamor of haggling voices filled the air like music.

"Esmerelda, look!" I exclaimed, drawn to an out-of-the-way stall that seemed to promise something far more enticing than the bland vegetable skewers we'd encountered earlier. My stomach growled in anticipation, and I felt a sudden, almost primal urge to sate my hunger.

"Ah, yes," she said with a knowing smile, her eyes gleaming with mischief. "I thought you might find this place more to your liking." As we approached the stall, I could hardly contain my excitement, the prospect of a hearty meal momentarily eclipsing my lingering fears and unanswered questions.

"I'm surprised you're hungry already," Esmerelda said. "I would have figured the tavern or Cook would have kept you fed. And you had just eaten less than an hour ago."

My appetite surprised me as well. When I thought of maybe holding off and denying myself another meat laden meal, my false arm almost seemed to protest, with the tendrils it had wrapped around my bones and connection points tightening and squeezing briefly. That may have just been my hunger speaking though. It was a hungry day.

While we stood there, and while the flavors and scents of spiced grilling meats wafted past us, as we approached the vendor that had no line, Esmerelda raised an interesting point.

"Jackie, did you happen to bring any Cee to pay for anything?" Esmerelda inquired as her eyes danced across the array of skewers displayed at the stall before us. The rich aroma of sizzling meat infused the air, tantalizing my senses and igniting a hunger within me that I hadn't realized was so insistent.

The vendor, a hefty looking man with a stained and greasy apron was leering at her as she asked that. "It's ten Cee a stick," he grunted, before spitting to the side. The man himself disgusted me, so why then were his wares enticing?

Ignoring him and that odd paradox, I focused on Esmerelda's question. And what an embarrassing question she asked! "Uh, no, I don't," I responded sheepishly, feeling the weight of my empty pockets like a physical burden. "I wasn't exactly expecting to go on a shopping excursion today. And you didn't tell me what we were coming here for."

"Here's a free lesson then," Esmerelda said while chuckling. "Always carry some Cee when you go out. You'll never know who you'll need to bribe."

"Ain't that the truth," the meat vendor said, making a gross hawking sound. "Now, you gonna buy or scram? Scarin' away the rest of the crowd."

I glanced around, seeing there was still nobody else in line, though I decided to let it rest and just assume he wanted us to hurry up and buy.

"Ah, well then, consider this an advance on your first paycheck," Esmerelda said, plucking a few glowing coins from her own purse and placing them in my palm. "Go on, treat yourself to something delicious."

The warmth of the crystals embedded in the metal disks sent a shiver down my spine as I pointed out the thickest looking skewer that was also the juiciest and least cooked.

"Gotta pay first, git."

I put two fivers, Cees engraved with a five, into the gross man's outstretched hands.

"Pleasure," he said, almost snorting, placing the stick in my hand and touching the meat with his bare hand in the process. I grimaced at the unsanitary practice, but took the meat stick all the same. "Now scram! Git on outta here girl. Less you wanna--"

"We're going!" I called back over my shoulder as I hastily retreated.

"Friendly gentlemen," Esmerelda said, amused.

Upon taking my first bite, I was instantly struck by the stark contrast between the succulent morsels on my skewer and the tough, gamy fare Cook had been serving back at our establishment. "What sort of meat's this?" I asked after several bites. "Not what Cook had."

"I'd think not!" Esmerelda seemed amused by my question. "That's probably meohr that you're eating now. Cook has very particular... tastes, as you might have noticed. But there's a whole world of culinary delights out there, just waiting to be discovered." She winked.

As I finished the last morsel of apparently meohr, licking the savory juices from my fingertips, I couldn't help but ponder the implications of Esmerelda's words. She of course had no clue, but this world was new to me; a vast and tantalizing realm filled with uncharted flavors, experiences, and challenges. And here I was, stuck in Southbridge. I would have to see about trying out a few new things, so long as the experimentation is safe and not too distracting from Emboru.

My false-arm squeezed my collarbone in agreement. Or disagreement. Or by chance. I had trouble telling.

Belatedly, I realized Esmerelda still waited for a response. So I gave her one, with only some faked emotion. "Thank you," I murmured. "For everything."

"Of course, Jackie," Esmerelda replied, her eyes filled with a fierce determination that only served to strengthen my resolve. "Remember, we are forging our own paths now, carving out a future that is uniquely ours. And it all starts with the choices we make today. Never get hung up in the past."

As I stood there, chewing thoughtfully on the remnants of my skewer, I wondered if Esmerelda was perhaps talking to herself as well as me.

We reached the Merc Quarter mid-morning, navigating through crowds and feeling the occasional bump. The sounds of clanging metal, shouting merchants, and fights filled the air as we made our way through the tall gray stone buildings. Banners bearing mercenary group symbols fluttered in the breeze while buyers and sellers haggled over prices in the crowded streets. Among all of this, Esmerelda led us towards a wide and open courtyard that was marked with the symbol of the High Guard.

"Here we are," Esmerelda said, breathing both in and out deeply, her voice barely audible above the din of the bustling marketplace. "The heart of it all."

Beyond the typical scent of stale urine and trace amounts of fecal matter, the air was thick with the scent of leather, metal, and sweat. Everywhere I looked, there were people–hardened mercenaries and grizzled warriors, each bearing the scars and trophies of battles won and lost.

"Come on," Esmerelda said, gently prodding me forward with a firm hand on my shoulder. "Your instructor awaits."

When we reached the courtyard, I could see it was covered in finely ground dirt, with a mix of lines chalked onto it, marking practice rings and target ranges.

"You still haven't said what they'll be teaching."

"Isn't it obvious?" she smirked. At this point, it was. She caught one of the paige-boys, teenagers wearing the colors of the knights, but still too young to officially join (I assumed, but did not verify). "Is Instructor Blackrest available?" she asked.

"Want me to fetch him, ma'am?" the paige-boy asked. "Think he's waitin' on someone rich an' fancy. That you?" he finished, giving her a once over.

"Sometimes," she said, laughing. "Will he be along shortly then?"

"Soon, soon, I'll let 'im know!" the paige-boy said as he scurried off.

"Could improve his manners some," Esmerelda said, watching the paige-boy leave. "But it's part of the parcel, I suppose."

A few minutes later, we were approached by a grizzled looking veteran. "Over here, Phillip!" Esmerelda called, waving Phillip, Instructor Blackrest, over.

As he drew nearer, I was able to get a better look at him. Phillip's face was rugged and weathered, with deep lines etched into his skin. His piercing gaze spoke of many battles fought and won. He was clad in tattered leather armor adorned with the emblem of a knight emeritus, showing his years of service. His once-mighty frame was now slightly stooped, but still held an air of authority and strength. His sole remaining eye appeared sharp and brown, while the other had been covered by an eye-patch.

"Jackie, I'd like you to meet your new instructor!" Esmerelda announced. "And Phillip, I'd like you to meet one of my newest girls, Jackie." Esmerelda continued, stepping back to allow us both a proper appraisal of one another. "She's under my tutelage now, and I expect you to treat her with the same respect and dedication you'd afford any other student."

"Understood," Blackrest is voice like gravel in a cement mixer. "So, Jackie, I doubt you're looking to be a true warrior, nor covered in blood and glory. What brings you hear? Self-defense? Protection of your honor? Or something less?"

I hesitated, my mind racing as I tried to formulate a response that would convey both eagerness and humility. But before I could speak, Esmerelda interjected.

"Jackie could very well be a true warrior," she declared, her unwavering confidence in me causing no small amount of consternation and concern. "Aren't you, Jackie?"

I winced, but was forced to respond. "I could," I said, almost stammering. Unhappy with the impression of weakness, I tried to answer again, straightening my spine and squaring my shoulders. "I am."

"Good," Phillip said, nodding once as he pushed away from the wall. "Then let's begin by finding you the right knife."

"Why a knife?" I asked, following him and Esmerelda as he led us towards a wall lined with pegs and all sorts of wooden practice weapons along with several barrels full of wooden swords and staves.

"A slip of a girl like you?" he scoffed. "What else would ya carry? Not a sword, if that's what you're thinkin'."

"The most useful weapon is the one you carry," Esmerelda replied.

"Right. Can't be unwieldy, and'll hafta slip under yer tunic or dress or what have you. Hence, a knife." He pulled what could have been called a dagger from the wall and held it against my forearm.

While a knife was undoubtedly effective, I was hesitant to choose training in one. While it was true, I already had a knife, but I was dissatisfied with whenever I had to use it. I still remembered Red bleeding out, and I shuddered every time I saw her face paling.

"Maybe something besides a knife?" I asked.

"Why?" Phillip asked snidely. "Too good for it? Just who'd you bring me to train?" he asked Esmerelda.

"Hush, Phillip dear. Give her a chance to answer."

"Well alright, I guess. Why?"

"It's too close and personal," I answered truthfully.

Something similar to sympathy, or at the very least recognition, flashed in his eyes. "Aye, well it's true enough that the last place anyone wants to be is a knife fight. But you don't have many options here. Bows take too much strength and'll never fit anywhere. Some crossbows are collapsible, so those might work, maybe, but're still clunky. Artificed weapons, maybe, if those weren't outlawed for anyone but the law. Don't have many options left."

I was scanning the wall all the time, and one weapon did stick out from the rest. Most notable for its lack of obvious lethality, along with its definite elegance, and all the ways it could be concealed. In fact, looking at it, I was unsure if it could be called a weapon at all.

"What about that?" I said, pointing at a roll of stiff but silky ribbon hanging from a peg.

"Ha!" Phillip guffawed. "No."

"Why not?" I asked.

"That ain't a weapon girl, that's a liability! Besides, it wouldn't do much good to anyone without the years to learn it."

"Unless they're Marked," Esmerelda chimed in.

"Well, yeah I guess. But who'd waste one on that when a perfectly good knife would work?"

"Can I at least see how it would work? Or learn more?"

"No."

"Phillip, dear."

Phillip began to go red in the face. "I said no!"

"You owe me a favor," Esmerelda chided. "You wouldn't be going--"

"No, dammit all, 'course not. But it's–"

"Phillip."

"Fine!" he threw up his hands. "If the girl wants to waste the morning getting her ass beat, then fine. Could use a good laugh. Ugh. Do a favor for someone, try an' steer the youth a certain way, an--"

"Perhaps you could provide a demonstration first?" Esmerelda asked.

Phillip grimaced.

"You can use one, yes? Is it due to a lack of ability?"

"I'm a weaponsmaster," he responded curtly, almost sounding offended. "You know that." And then, in a smaller voice, “Right? You know that?”

"Yes, I know that,” Esmerelda said, smiling. “But since that’s the case, then what's the issue?" she asked, swaying in closer and trailing a finger along the side of his stubble.

"It's embarrassing…" he sounded reluctant to share.

"Using a ribbon, or the reason itself?" Esmerelda questioned.

"Both." Phillip grimaced.

"Ah. Well, only someone insecure in their masculinity would have reason to fear their peers for that, dear. And I am well experienced with your plentiful masculinity."

I resisted the urge to gag. Not because of the blatant manipulation, but because Phillip was buying it. Disgusting.

"Suppose it is impressive I can use it, if not masterfully…" Phillip mused.

"That's the spirit, Phillip!" Esmerelda cheered, clapping her hands.

"Alright then,” Phillip spat to the side, striding towards the weapon in question. “Watch closely girl. I'll only be doing this the once."

He took the ribbon off the wall and stepped into a cleared practice square.

Blessings: Rank (1/9)

Body: 65

Mind: 75

Spirit: 49

Talents:

Athleticism (3/9):

Climbing I (3/9)

Featherlight I (3/9)

Inversion (2/9)

Stealth I (6/9)

Trackless Tracks I (3/9)

Area Coverage (5/9)

Alchemical Immunity (ineligible for growth)

Eschiver I (1/9)

Evasion I (1/9)

Impending Sense (1/9)

Lucky Break (1/9)

Spells:

Illusion I (5/9)

Touch (8/9)

Guise of the Kitsune (4/9)

Closed

Gifts:

Obsession (3/9)

Closed (0/9)

Closed (0/9)