| | As the sun peeked over the horizon, Milenko finally stirred from where he'd stood the remainder of the night, his dreams still haunting his thoughts. Shrugging off the last clinging remnants of his fatigue, along with his robe, he strode to his wardrobe cabinet, selecting from inside of it a simple set of grey clothing: shirt and pants that were loose-fitting enough to be comfortable, yet tight enough that he didn't have to worry about anything getting snagged. They would serve well enough for what he had planned for the day. He dressed quickly, then headed down the stairs to the kitchen, surprising the cook, who was busily stoking the fire in order to prepare breakfast. "M'lord," said the cook, "Whatever can I do for you?" Ever since the cook's services were secured from the king's own kitchens, the chef had expressed his gratitude for the better pay and the less discriminating palates of the household's members by keeping the larders well-stocked with both fresh and preserved foods, ready to satisfy even the hungriest visitor. It was to those larders that Milenko strode, smiling at the man, stranger though he was. Apparently, this new cook had been hired on while he was gone, the last having surely retired by now. Determined to ignore this latest reminder of his missing time, he said, "Have you ever heard of something called "pancakes"?" At the cook's blank expression, Milenko produced from one of the cabinets a small sack of flour and a basket of eggs. Setting them down next to a pitcher of fresh milk, he said, "Get a mixing bowl, whisk, some cinnamon, butter, and some honey, and I'll show you how they're made. It's a little something I picked up at the school I was teaching at, though I always manage to burn them." Once the items he requested had been found, Milenko explained, "Now, you take a couple of handfuls of the flour, then you...." ------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------ The rising sun awoke Talon from his own slumber. Tossing a few sticks of wood into the dying fire, he relieved himself beside a nearby tree, then went to his saddlebags, retrieving a small cup and a pouch. Dumping a few of the dried leaves into the cup, he placed the pouch back in the saddlebag, then picked up a half-empty skin of water, adding some of its contents to the cup, then set the cup on a rock just at the edge of the fire to heat. While his tea was brewing, Talon made the rounds of his traps, pleased to discover that three rabbits and a small deer...though the last required him to finish the animal personally...had fallen prey to the snares. Returning to his campsite, he quickly skinned and gutted the animals and set the meat to roasting, determined to have a decent breakfast for once, and to save the uneaten portions for his lunch. As the rabbits roasted, he set about making a sling of sorts to hang the deer's carcass over the fire. He waited to set the hart in the sling, however, settling down to eat two of the coneys and drink the bitter tea first. Finishing the meal, he kicked the fire down to smoldering embers, then added small chunks of wood to it to ensure that it would be quite some time before it went out. Then, setting the deer into the sling he'd fashioned, he covered the entire contraption, as well as a good portion of ground around the fire, with tough leather sheets that had proven to be exceptionally difficult to catch aflame. Putting the last roasted rabbit into a pouch along with the four animal skins, he slung the bag over his shoulder and began to hike back to the town, leaving behind the makeshift smoker and his saddlebags. A couple of hours later, he crossed the gates, surprisingly unchallenged by the guards, as though the alert that he was about had not yet been issued, though it'd been some days since his failed attempt to rob the richest house in the entire city. Deciding that it was best to leave well enough alone, he mixed himself into the press of people in the marketplace, heading toward the tannery. As he walked, he noticed a young girl, perhaps 10 or 11 years old, sitting against the wall of the tannery, a younger boy, maybe 6 or 7, leaning into her arms. Both looked thin to the point of emaciation, grime covered their skin and the rags that served as clothing for them. He paused next to an alleyway, melting into the shadows to look at the kids unobserved. He recognized the two waifs for what they were: orphans, perhaps, or sent out by their parents to beg for whatever they could get. Nearly everyone passed the pair up, however, only a priest stopping to murmur some benediction or other over them before hurrying away, even he not coming close to them for fear that his clothing would be smudged by the dirt on them. Shaking his head, Talon watched their hungry eyes follow each person's movements, as though fearing a beating. They likely were, as Talon had full reason to believe, having been one of those beggar-children himself, before he and his brother were taken in by a thieves' guild and taught to use their unique skills. Though those lessons were useful in and of themselves, the beatings they'd received at the hands of their sadistic "benefactor" were far worse than what they'd received for simply begging in the wrong place at the wrong time. There were other, far worse, memories of the time both before and during their "rescue" that Talon had, but he tried his best to not think about them, especially since these two children were likely to have suffered similar treatment from men with a far different sort of hunger than in their bellies...originating from slightly lower in their anatomies. The girl, in particular, would likely have been rather pretty if the grime were washed from her body and clothing, the rags replaced with a dress. Yes, the sorts of men that would be on the lookout for such as she would find her a very tempting target. It turned out to be a good thing that Talon had made himself one with the shadows, as one of those sorts of men made his presence known by stepping out of the opposite alleyway, stopping beside the kids and openly leering down at them. Talon fought down the bile rising in his throat as he heard, in the strange language used by the locals here, what had to be some sort of proposition, judging by the fear in the children's' eyes. Yet, even fearing the man, the girl rose to her feet meekly, leaving her brother sitting on the street even as he cried and grasped her ankles, saying, "Non, non, ma soeur! Ne pas aller!" She shushed him, then bravely looked up into the man's scarred face and nodded. The man's face twisted into a cruel smirk, then roughly grabbed the girl by the arm and started to move her toward the alley. Little did the man and the children know that a shadowy figure had crossed the street, using the uncaring crowd as cover, and slipped into the alley ahead of them, behind the man's back. Climbing up onto a wooden overhang that covered the tannery's side-exit, ostensibly for throwing out refuse to judge by the pile of carcasses across the alley from the door, Talon watched as the girl was practically dragged down into the shadows by the ugly man. She wrenched her arm away and said something Talon couldn't make out, holding out her hand, apparently demanding whatever coin the man had promised her in return for her favors. Talon had to admire the girl's boldness, as well as her savvy in demanding what she had coming to her before undertaking her distasteful task. He winced, though, when the man, laughing, pretended to reach his hand for a pouch on his belt before striking her down into the refuse with the other hand. The scarred one then undid his belt with the hand that still remained on it, dropping his trousers to the ground. He pointed at his rampant manhood, snarling something at the girl, who meekly began to crawl toward him, mouth already open. It was then that Talon's hands appeared on either side of the man's head, grasping it through the mat of greasy hair, and giving a sharp twist. A wet snap seemed to echo up and down the alleyway as the man dropped to the ground, surprise mixed with pain and shock the last expression to ever cross that scarred countenance. The girl, afraid of this new stranger, crawled back against the brick wall of the tannery, babbling in her native tongue, perhaps begging this killer for her life. Unable to speak her language anyways, Talon silently motioned for calm, then reached down and took the man's money pouch and dagger, tossing them both to the girl's feet. He pointed to the pouch and then to her mouth, then to the exit of the alley, indicating that she should use the money to get herself and her brother, as it seemed he was, something to eat. Orphaned beggar that she was, she was still quick-witted enough to understand the stranger's meaning, nodding and picking up the items at her feet, clutching them to her chest. Holding up a finger, Talon then pointed to the dagger in her hand, then at the man on the ground, then at the other's manhood, miming a slicing motion. The girl's eyes widened as she took in his meaning, then nodded again. She understood that this stranger was telling her that the next man that chose to do as this scarred one had, she should make good use of the dagger to...discourage such liaisons. It might eventually get her killed, but it at least gave her a fighting chance. Talon then pointed to the dagger, then slapped his upper thigh, indicating where she should keep it. Nodding, she placed the dagger inside of her rags, hiding it away for a surprise for the next man to try and take her. Smiling in satisfaction, Talon started to head out of the alley, then paused, thinking. The money might last the children for a few meals, but what next? There surely wasn't enough coin in that pouch to pay for something to eat and clothing both. Yet, there was a solution at hand, though Talon hesitated. The solution was to go toward filling his own belly, and he didn't come here to give handouts to charity cases. Sighing, he followed his conscience and turned to the girl, holding out the bag that held the animal skins and the roasted rabbit, going through a complicated set of motions that told her that she and her brother could eat the rabbit and then sell the skins at the tannery for even more coin. Then, after handing over the bag, he pointed at the girl's new dagger, then at the empty coin pouch on his belt, indicating that she could use the dagger to also cut purses, a concept that she grasped quickly, having already made do with a bit of thievery of her own. The dagger would only make it that much easier. As Talon left the alley, he paused beside the boy to smile kindly down at him and ruffle his hair, uncaring for the dirt and bugs there. Then, walking away, he smiled and patted the priest on the shoulder with the same hand as he passed the holy man coming out of a store a few buildings down the street. The priest, not noticing the filth that had just been spread on the back of his shoulder, made the sign of the cross in Talon's direction, blessing him in return for the friendly greeting he'd given. The smirk of self-satisfaction faded from Talon's face as he continued down the street, trying to figure out his next plan of how to quickly gain some liquid capital. He sighed as he stopped and leaned against a building. Looks like it'll be a bit of pickpocketing after all, he thought to himself. Ah, well, at least he still had the deer that he was smoking back at the camp to fill his belly for a few days. Sighing again, he looked up and ran a practiced eye over the people as they walked past him.... ------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------ The pancakes turned out to be a huge success among Milenko and his servitors, who he'd invited all of to sit and break their fast with him. Such merriment had not occurred in the household in quite a number of years, even at Yule feasts. He joked with them all, entertaining them with stories of the school's students and teachers, seemingly "one of the guys" with them. Even the chef, once the duties of cooking the meal were completed, joined in. Everyone, right down to the stable boys were encouraged to sit and eat their fill, Milenko himself handing them platers full of the fluffy pancakes, dripping with honey; something that caused many mouths to quirk in amusement as they observed the lord of the manor serving up breakfast to the boy that usually would be shoveling loads of horse dung out of the stables at that time of the morning. Once the dishes were cleared from the table, Milenko taking a hand in aiding the admittedly massive undertaking, smiling as he did so, forgetting for a time the troubles that plagued his mind, the same lord dismissed everyone with a hearty laugh and hand-wave, wishing them a good day as he heavily sat back down in his chair. His fingers toyed with a butter knife that had been forgotten on the table as his thoughts inevitably turned back to what he'd been trying to forget. With a huff, he stood up and headed into the kitchen, pausing to drop the knife into the washtub full of hot water and suds and dirty crockery, then passed through to the door and outside, putting his hands on his hips. His loyal retainer, Robert, discretely joined Milenko and gently cleared his throat. Turning to glance at Robert, Milenko said, "I intend to go into the forest today, Robert. I feel the need to do a bit of hunting." "I see, M'lord. Shall I have M'lord's mount readied, then?" responded the retainer. "No, Robert. I think I'll walk there, it's a short enough hike. I don't think I'll need any weapons, either, save my longsword," Milenko answered. Then, as a thought occurred to him, he added, "You still have my longsword, don't you?" Robert nodded and said, "Of course, M'lord. As sharp and ready as it's ever been, Sir." Then, after a pause, Robert uncomfortably added, "M'lord, are you certain that you should be leaving so soon after coming back after so long an absence? Are you sure....?" With a slight cutting motion with his hand, Milenko broke in with, "I understand your trepidation, Robert. If who or whatever is behind my missing years wished to have me disappear again, they wouldn't have bothered going through the trouble of letting me come back in the first place. Still, if I should disappear again, you are instructed to, after one year, sell the house and all within it, save the contents of my library. The books and parchments, more specifically, the spells in them, are too dangerous to simply allow some random person to get hold of them. I want you to personally burn them, instead." Robert, paled by his lord's words, nodded in acquiescence. "Thank you, Robert," said Milenko. "Now, I'm going up to my room to finish preparing myself. In the meantime, fetch my sword from the armory, or wherever you've stashed it, and make sure it's well-honed." With a bow, Robert then sped off to do his master's bidding, while Milenko made his way back inside and up to his room, placing on his fingers the magical rings from which he gained the moniker "Ring Master" from the students at the school. Then, he picked up the metal half-mask that covered the lower part of his features and placed it on his face. Then, kneeling before the window, he closed his eyes and began to meditate, preparing himself mentally for the challenge he planned to set out before himself later that day. |
