Post by Phantasma on May 31, 2019 23:08:07 GMT -5
This story starts off many years ago, a time at which a certain white haired bounty hunter was no more than a child. During which time he had not only lost an important part of his family, but noticed that shadows were creeping in around him from every hole and crevice known to and unknown then within the Bourgeois Kingdom. Not much has changed from now to then excluding the age of this boy, and perhaps the new future that was opened up to him rather recently. We begin on a rainy evening, a lazy time of the day much like that of afternoon when just about everyone was tucking in for the day prepared for all sorts of prancing tomorrow.
Worry and loathing should not be emotions that plague a child, and yet here we are. Just three weeks after the incident that sent ripples into the present even now. Unknown to Kite his father was murdered within the back alley's of the Kingdom, mother devastated and a rift forming within the Kalisto clan.
"What was wrong with our old house? Is something wrong with it? Is Father going to know where we are?" Kite asked, wide eyed and somewhat perplexed about why nearly all his belongings had been shoved into suitcases or wrapped up for easy hauling.
His mother gave somewhat of a shaky sigh and dusted off her apron. Sparkling eyes looking down at her little boy she leaned down to his level and put on her best face. It was a warm smile that allowed warmth to dispel the creeping suspicions in a young boys heart. She hid the pain behind her eyes with a closed eyed, sing song response.
"Of course sweety. Our old house was really too small for a growing boy so the Marigolds have extended their hospitality and invited us to their home. There you'll have all the sweets you can handle and all sorts of books to read! Why I even hear they're very fond of music," She winked at Kite, causing the little matted string-bean to cross his arms and blush averting his gaze from his mother as he became slightly embarrassed for his hobby to be mentioned so casually.
"Nuhuh! I play bad," He huffed out, puffing up his cheeks and screwing his eyes shut.
"Those other kids are jealous," She sighed out in response, recalling the many things a sniveling hurt child said to her once looking up with irritated and cracked red eyes dripping snot right out onto his clean linens.
Naturally the response for such an understanding and kind sentence was for the little boy to practically throw himself onto his mother and hug her tight. Wordlessly trembling as his facade briefly broke off, revealing how troubled the recent days had made him. Sure he had been distant but moments like these did serve to prove to his mother she was not alone in what seemed like a nightmare. Instead of crying and giving way like her charge she took in another shaky breath and hoisted up the small boy, taking him off to bed.
She looked like a saint. White hair neatly combed, sparkling blue eyes and porcelain skin all dolled up in a simple lavender dress that looped at her shoulders and drifted down to her shoe-less feet in a frilly coiled hem.
"It's been a long day Kite... you should get your rest and we can move our stuff tomorrow," She hummed, bending her arm at the crook of the back of his legs while her freehand patted his head.
He had stopped the worst of his sniffling and simply clung to her, quiet and breathing softly. At some point during his trip from the small den of their stone-wooden cabin to the little back room he had called his own he fell into a sleep. The crackling fire of the cottage and the warmth of his mother gripping him sent him off into a deep sleep. He muttered a few things when he was sat down into his small little bed, wrapped tight in the animal fur covers and silken sheets. Putting the scene to memory by virtue of just staring down Marie let out a long deserved breath.
"He might be gone... but I'm not going to lose you too. My shining light, my sun, my treasure, Kite. It'll get easier for both of us... It has to, with him watching," Finally letting a few tears fall she swiped them off her face, tightly gripping her own right hand with her left she lightly stepped out of the room determined to keep face tomorrow and not give into the howling pain that slowly formed in her stomach.
Marie was strong, had gone nearly every day since the news without breaking down. She only vicariously expressed herself when those around her expressed sentiments or in hiccups like this. But rather than dwell on what was lost she sat by the fire pit in her now far too big loveseat. Stoking the fire with a poker she contemplated just what had her boy so worried and worked up. Going back again and again to what she initially perceived as teasing, and what her late husband had told her to not get so worked up over.
Racking her own memory over and over a solid reason began to form. It was one that got her to grip the poker hard enough her white hand turned an even more ghostly pale. Doing her best to calm down that legendary temper known only to mothers and the motherly she had to convince herself to not march over to certain people's houses when they ventured into town tomorrow. In particular the Van Dien's... that boy Ulric was always a point of trouble for the young Kalisto currently sawing logs in the other room. During one particular memory Marie apparently poked a long hard enough to send a hissing of cracked logs out into the room, freezing when she hard the slight whimper of her child in the other room.
Leaning back and sighing when she just saw him turning over in his bed, somewhat more conscious of her prodding she relaxed her grip and put the poker back against the fireplaces mantle. Falling asleep in the chair not too long after finishing what she suspected would work as a deterrent in the bullying her son was dealing with.
"Bigger than it looks," Kite mumbled to himself as he hopped down the rather large grand staircase, little feet scarcely being able to skip but a step before a jump down was in order.
Looking around through the bars of the hand rail, ornately carved with filigree and all the bells and whistles of a mahogany wood could afford, he noted the various details of the common room. A den with a grand fire place, book shelves, chairs, an ottoman and several end tables as well as knickknacks taking up shelve and table space. Admiring the items as he went he couldn't help but run his fingers along the book shelve feeling the tactile response each book spine elicited. One in particular, embossed with the words "A Gentleman's Arte" attracted the kids attention enough to get him to yank it out of the shelve. With considerable effort the shrimp boat managed to pull out the thrice thick novel from its lower shelve and cause a slightly sag in the line to fill in the space left vacant. With a grunt Kite picked himself off the ground, after having lightly tripped, and collected the what appeared to be unharmed tome. Trodding off to one of the arm chairs he stretched to prop the book up on the ottoman and climbed up onto the plush seat. Sinking into the material he quickly grabbed the book and started turning through its many pages.
First came the table of contents, a mess of words that he didn't bother reading. Each flick and flip through the pages produced a plume of dust that had the tyke wafting his hand around trying to dispel it and stifling the overwhelming urge to sneeze. This continued back and forth for a few seconds before finally the cover was now weight down by about half of its pages, opened to view were sword stances. Masterfully drawn and put to ink it enthralled Kite who squinted in the romantic lighting of the living room to get a closer more detail look. Shakily lifting up the book in either hands he practically pressed his nose to the thing as he poured over the contents within. Instead of looking at just the pictures as a five year old is want to do he did his beast to comprehend the entire knowledge put forth.
It was an uphill battle and at many times he just tapped away at the page trying to understand what was being told to him. Often wishing his mom was here to explain it he pressed forward and eagerly took in what information he could, cleverly recognizing what some concepts were via context alone. Minutes had turned into several minutes and by the time the clock had rang out its chime Kite had spent hours invested in this book and hardly noticed when the door to the mansion had opened itself. Sitting tucked into the seat as he was, book with its spine propped up on his lap he nearly launched himself out of his seat when his Mom surprised him with a jab to his sides. Feigning a pout and puffing up his bottom lip he waggled his finger and scolded her as she rose out from behind the chair giving that trademarked giggle-snort of hers.
In exchange for trimming a few years off his life with such an expert scare his mom took ownership of the little mess. Sitting down on the ottoman, scooping up the dropped book and reading out loud to Kite. Many times she peaked over the book to see her son staring straight back at her, head in his hands leaning forward on his knees as he waited on every word. She often had to ask towards him if he really found this sort of stuffy material entertaining and he'd always give an eager nod, that sent hair flying over his face or a confused 'Yes'. A spark of pride welling up in her chest she continued long into the day and was silently grateful that she had managed to complete all her work before supper almost knowing that this lesson would likely take up the better half of the day. She was often, alongside reading, distantly recalling her own fondness for swordsmanship and figured that it might've been parts of her driving her boy on to new heights like this.
An hour to hours and then even more hours, the conclusion of which was marked by the closing of the book and it being put away onto the lower shelve. A somewhat dazed and groggy Kite lifted himself off the furniture he'd been leaning on and gave a great yawn before walking along to the staircase. Instructed by his mother to take a bath and get ready for supper, readily teasing him about his bed hair that he got from leaning on the comfortable chairs right arm for far too long.
Dinner that night was a lively sort, even the marigolds were curious as to why the little guy was so interested in the prospects of sword fighting. Getting up enough courage and trying not to have his voice shake, oddly aware of these things from previous teasing, Kite answered in full.
"I wanna be strong so I can defend my honor! And... well... Mother needs to stop worrying so much about me and other kids," He rose up midway through the speech, aware that he was pressing his hands into the table and leaning forward.
Rather sheepishly he lowered himself back down and looked into his lap, blushing.
He wasn't punished or teased, rather, he got a head pat from his mom and cheering from the other two at the table each exchanging how admirable the idea was. As well as speaking on behalf of Marie's talents with a blade. Naturally though Kite was interested in that more than anything and quickly whipped his head up to intercept the conversation and to practically hang on the edge of his seat as all sorts of tales were weaved by either Marigold. Only paused or interjected upon by a deep chuckle from the praised Marie. Naturally she dismissed a lot of the exaggerated bits but she did own up to a lot of it.
No matter how many times Kite walked past the grand houses and estates held within this cradle of a place he could never stop staring. Eyes constantly flicking to either yard or statue, to figure in the window or piece of art proudly carved into hedges or placed in a fountain. Even on the run from bullies he found time to appreciate the grander things in life like that, especially how smooth the road felt on his bare feet as he hauled into what little overdrive he could manage. Lungs burning as he forced his tiny chassis to hurry along, to squeeze past boxes and past people, to duck under and slide through the spaces in carriages, the entire crowded street was in a sorted mess after he carved his way through it. Lords and ladies aghast with both shock and disdain from having a little ragamuffin run wild around them, hissing out their contempt and raising their fists in the air or voices to the wind. Naturally they fell deaf against the ears of the child, which were trained on the shouts of a particular kind.
He had ran his mouth off earlier, that's why he was running. Why he dashed into a particular alleyway of a fancy restaurant and pressed himself against cold brick wall doing his best to blend in with the darkness. Sinking to the floor he clamped his mouth shut with both hands and silently watched the crack of light wink at him. People walking by, the running growing closer, he held his breath and nearly forgot how to breath.
Currently he had expertly trapped himself on the lower side of the kingdom upper yard. Where fancy marble and stone were met with more common materials and less well-mannered folk. It was where all the trouble started and where Kite had managed to throw and successfully land a punch on Ulric's old man. Granted he was a kid this had amounted to about a painful tap to his knee which caused the aging man to grip it in shock and hop around yelling out swears while he threatened a dashing Kite. Though he was grinning then through an angry flushed face he was scared now, as a pack of kids bent on ruining his day chased him all the way to his home and back. He hadn't counted on them cornering him towards the manner and instinctively shrunk away trying to blend in with the foot traffic. Along the way losing his shoes, grimacing briefly as he realized he had earned quite a few blisters from how hard his feet slapped on the pavement.
He was brought back to the present when he heard voices, the clatter of which drifted into the narrow alleyway. Familiar shadows began to rise and block out the failing light of the outside road, soon enough faces were easy to make out. There was Ulric, with his knob like nose and square set jaw, eyes glaring and fists set to grip themselves harshly. He was Kites senior by a few decent years and it served as an advantage when he picked on him, especially so in retaliation for his mother mentioning how unruly the tyke was to his parents. Ulric had his own little mob with him, a motley crew of sniveling blue bloods and a few suck ups that desperately wanted to either gain access to some candy or in general stick around kids surrounded by wealth. Marred by a variety of facial features, deformed or fair, they were all set into grim-like expressions mirroring that intense child-like fury that consumed their leader. He wouldn't be letting Kite get off so easy as he had before and would make that thumb-sucker pay for hitting his old man like that!
Talking among themselves and turning their back to the alley Kite saw his opportunity. Detaching from the wall the barefoot rebel tried to retreat further into the dark crevice, tip toeing and checking over his shoulder every so often for movement. He was very nearly at the end of the lot, seeing an opening between the restaurant and some aged shop when a kid finally fired off the alarm and pointed. It was one of the more average looking girls in the group, make up probably piled on her face with a putty knife she let out a shriek extending a pointy nailed hand toward Kite getting the whole of the group into action. Her clarion call signaled the advancement of the forces, it drove the Kalisto youth to practically dive into the tight fit between the two buildings and to curve around once he got to the other side. Graced with only having avoided them from the brief confusion of the dim lighting of the place.
Yelling, running around, the group soon discovered that Kite hadn't vanished into the alley's wall but somehow fit between the brief gap between the behind of the cooking place and some other dusty looking school-house. Its bell tower a menacing shape the troupe soon retraced their steps and actively tried to find where the urchin had ran off too, oblivious that during all that tracking Kite had ducked into the door of the storefront itself. Carefully shutting the door as he saw the throng of people pass and sighing to himself in relief when they disappeared stage left over the horizon of buildings, houses and shops.
Only thing hinting at their presence being disgruntled ladies and lords who gestured off to where the kids had ran off to on the busy street. A few horses neighing and shaking their long faces in response to having so many small bodies disturb their routes.
Relaxing and breathing finally the young white haired male turned around and nearly had his jaw drop. The entire shop was filled with all sorts of armor and weapons either displayed in raised cases or hung directly on wooden walls via thick iron pins. The set up of the store was mostly rectangular with lanterns, candles, and a furnace behind a counter to light up the place. The right side of the store was clearly for business and was divided up into a counter and crafting area. The marble surface scorched only lightly and a duster lying on its surface implying until recently it was being cleaned, behind all that and sat in the back was a brick furnace which leaked out embers and heat into the closed area. An anvil, tools and all sorts of gadgets were placed either against the mantle or on the anvil next to a tub filled with water. Iron chains affixed into cogs hinted at the machinery which might be used here and seemed to feed into the furnace as well as hover just above the water tub.
Padding his way over Kite pressed his palms on the counter and tried to hoist himself up to get a better look. Succeeding after a series of minor failures and plops to the floor he leaned over and spied a plethora of treasures. Sword blades, shields, knight helms even saddles for horses were placed against the wall or in someway hoisted above the floor by ceiling chains. Why, Kite even made moves as if to reach across the threshold to touch some of the merchandise despite better judgement telling him not to.
"Hello?" A voice came from upstairs, the shock of which forced Kite to lean off the counter and grip his chest as he took a few deep breaths.
Realizing the source was from the other side of the store he dashed off to hide behind one of the display tables sat in the center of the room. Footsteps echoed down from the stair well set into the left of the store, a door opening up to spiraled stairs that fed into an unseen above section of the fancy armory cottage. The owner of which, Kite only saw by peaking around the long legged glass display, was an aging man with frayed brown hair. Slightly balding and having a substantial beard he walked along his shops floor mumbling to himself, he was a stocky sort that had broad shoulders and a somewhat rounded belly but muscular limbs. He wore an apron, a blackened undershirt and dark grey pants with some kind of boots tucking the scruff of the pants in. His attire was earthly shades and it matched his tanned darkened skin well.
Sufficiently flustered and not willing to be outed in surprise the tiny kid rouse from his hiding spot and marched out into the open, clearing his throat. The dark skinned male seemed to relax a bit and cross his arms, taking his time to walk over and look Kite over.
"You're not really in the market for a sword are you kid?" He started, eyebrows cocked in question as he awaited a response being in surprisingly good spirits for someone coming into his shop when the sign clearly said 'closed' on the upfront bay windows which were practically tanned yellow.
"I... Yes," Kite said suddenly, eyes wide and head suddenly shooting up to look at the blacksmith in surprise, red eyes flickering down to his own feet before going back to the older gentleman.
"I'll humor you. Look around the shop, see what you like," The blacksmith, far more intrigued than irritated suggested having taken a sort of initiative to see where this admission would take them both.
Something inside Kite just wanted to look at the weapons he had been reading about, almost felt like a calling really. Rarely if ever receiving such a want he often investigated it, but instead of giving it thought he just spoke his mind and that perhaps troubled him and made him hesitate as he turned around on his feet and walked around the displays. Standing in the tips of his toes he finally stopped at what he believed he wanted.
"What about this?" He shakily called out.
Following behind him the blacksmith took the crook of his chin within his hand and stroked his beard. A smile overtaking his face as he lifted the glass casing and extracted the two rather wicked looking pieces of weaponry. Within his large, flat palms were two crosses with a sort of inscription along themselves. Before Kite could be handed them the blacksmith backed off and lowered the glass, taking either weapon in his hand and adjusting his grip finally so it wasn't as awkward holding onto such full weapons.
"A weird man came in some years ago and made these. Had me help him but he made them, convinced that his son would eventually come by and claim the second batch he had crafted. Not a day has gone by that someone simply walks past these and dismisses them as some kind of hoax item, going for a more traditional weapon. I'm almost tempted to ask if your name is Kite," He let out a laugh, spinning the knives around in his hand.
"Hi... my name is Kite," Suddenly meek from the laughter and perhaps the entire set of events the boy spoke up.
The room fell dead silent, a wide eyed stare forming on the aged mans face.
That day ended with Kite meeting someone who he could often come back to talk to, some times even running errands for. His name was Grits, Grits Hugo. A jolly man, a fair man and most of all wise beyond all his years for in crafting weapons for folks he often was privy to seeing what happened to them along the years as they occasionally came by for repairs or for better armaments. In all his time working the upper yard of the kingdom he had never once received a complaint and was considered an artisan, inspiring a generation of blacksmith to aspire to his skill in the furnace and in regards to ingenuity with weapon making. Though he was modest and attributed his fame and talent to a constant supply of customers and a solid backing from his own apprentices. When the time came to retire years later he did so knowing full well his business was in good hands. And despite knowing better he continued to create masterpieces despite operating outside a pay grade. Convinced a certain white haired bounty hunter might have yet future need of him.
"Why," Kite practically buried his fist into his pillow, pummeling the silver plushy mass with his right fist repeatedly.
The noise was more of a light flutter in the dark of the room and served to only keep the youth up yet again. His frustrations from today boiling over his well mannered facade he just thrashed the pillow some more. Taking turns hitting the feathered cloud until it was all but flattened, at which point the young boy of eight years collapsed forward and let out a frustrated groan into the reforming mass. Gripping it with either hands he buried his messy silver locks and face wholly into the surface trying to rid himself of the absolute annoyance of today's events. The scene might've looked comical from the door way honestly, little kid burying himself into his pillows to let out very loud yells of frustration in a quieted house. It was only by virtue of the material that none of that noise pollution floated across the air and had the tiny population of people inside the house aware of the going on's. Eventually those noises stopped too as Kite dislodged himself to gulp in some breaths and flip over, making a mess of his covers as they ballooned up only to flutter back down as he readjusted himself on top of his bed. Pajamas all rustled up and looking up at the ceiling he revisited what had him so riled up, running the events through his head once more.
It had been a typical school day, going to the lower yard of the kingdom and swinging into a fort of sorts. What had once been used as a point for defense, for a hospital, for a religious mission had been converted into a temporary class room. Renovations to the actual school-grounds were near constant and especially so when a new style of architecture hit the island by storm so Kite was used to modifying his route there being at the age where he was allowed to leave the house with little in terms of chaperoning. However recently he had to accompany another boy at the request of his mother, a change only enforced perhaps a few days ago. It wasn't as if he had no idea who he was or where he came from-- many times during his childhood almost like fate they always came to butt heads against one another. As a toddler it was over toys, as small children it was over dogs and now as somewhat not-young but still pretty-young kids it was trying to keep nice for their parents. But the guy was the epitome of stifling. Gripping his sheets and glaring through the hands that now scrubbed at his face he recalled how often that he received lectures from this kid, Francis Sommer.
Taking pride in know just the right thing to say, or what to answer, he was always there to point out anything Kite had done incorrectly. It wasn't that he was just an insipid know-it-all but that he took PRIDE in being smart, never directly lording it over Kite but still butting in to provide advice and then acting as if he was in the right when Kite told him to 'stick his big fat nose in someone elses's conversation'. It had only gotten worse when they started sword practice-- the instructor of which though it was perfect to pair them up. More often then not their sparring matched ended up with either one or both of them badly bruised and having to be held back as they swiped at each other with the blunt practice instruments.
Everything, absolutely everything, was a competition. From grades to swordplay to even musical instruments had them trying to outdo one another. Eventually Kite did get a leg up but that only made the resulting victories far more hollow as Francis' had also improved on areas he showed promise in. Both had become their own prodigies and hated to dwell in either one's limelight.
Today was especially a thorn. Kite had an opportunity to finally purchase a violin he had his eyes on for months. Doing various chores, a ton of errands, he had finally gotten just enough spare cash to relish in the possibility he too might be able to further along his musical aspirations only having recently found out a composer he wished to imitate and could do so successfully. By the time he had gotten to the store, presented the cashier with the Beri whatever had been advertised was gone. Stone faced, shocked, disappointed and angry he calmly picked up his Beri and left the store only to stomp home and give that guy the biggest, longest, loudest insult he could think of. He had no way of proving that Francis had done it, but in his mind he was sure it had happened and so it was completely fine to let loose such a vile string of foul language and insults that likely would've even got a pirate to blush. But sitting in bed like this he still wasn't satisfied with a part of him blaming how hard he obviously hadn't worked and very briefly how ridiculous it was he couldn't have it purchased for him.
"We're guests here... and aside from presents It's bad to make others pay up... That idiot deserved to be yelled at though! Probably heard me all excited and hatched a scheme... stupid schemer! Stupid... stupid stupid," Kite at first reminded himself of his status in the household and how he had no right to request such frivolous things and then started berating Francis' again.
Quite suddenly in mid insult fatigue overtook him and commanded him to yawn a might yawn. Stretching his mouth as he let loose the tired noise Kite reclined into his bed and took the covers up to his chin. Turning his head to the side and enjoying the plush warm feeling of his pillow slowly wrap around him as he pushed against it. Slowing his breathing he let a few more sighs and grunts escape before sleep had him, relaxed against the bed his harsh expression softened and his mind started to wander just as the static of blissful sleep seeped in. Dragging him into the dark waters of his memories this night he was going to be reliving portions of his past.
In much the same manner as rain hitting a window pain the darkness of his wandering mind was pelted with colors. Peeling away layer after layer it revealed the familiar scene of a banquette hall. The place itself was a fusion of white, gold, rich red, royal blue and mystical purple. Large curtains shielded massive gothic windows and the rafters high above were kept lit by priceless crystalline grand chandeliers sporting twinkling beams of light that shined down on snow-white fabric covering solid ivory tables. Elegantly crafted metallic chairs formed into swirly limbs and heart shaped back rests were what the patrons leaned into and sat against. The massive wooden doorway leading into the royal household was shut off and the party was isolated to this wing of the estate solely. Waiters of all kind swarmed from table to table carting out massive gourmet 'trains', mobile carts holding all manner of foods and drinks. Kite for his part was sitting near a magnificent golden fountain with all the other prestigious families doing his best to look 'pretty' and 'remain quiet'. Taking cues from his mother to kindly answer whatever was asked at or towards him, remaining polite and not curt. Nearly stopping mid sentence he spied something out of the corner of his eye.
This entire event he had felt the strange presence of eyes fixed onto him. Like the heavy weight of a book it crushed up against his back and gave him the heeby jeebies. Always seeming to turn around and try to catch it, here he was giving some dull response to a brooch to some gaudy old guy when he finally found the cause of his discomfort. A boy, not much older than him sitting at a table far off to the left of the room almost near the doors to the rest of the royal families household. Clad in brown hair, commoner clothes and apparently surrounded by women who were leaning on what Kite could only surmise was his parent it was such a point of focus that the white haired male very nearly offended the man he was talking to. Hastily backpedaling and firing off a stream of apologies he answered whatever was expected of him and after finishing as much turned to his Mother. Wasting no time he inquired on just who those people were over there in the vain hope that he might discern why he was such an interesting subject or whether he was just imagining things.
The ensuing story was more of gossip than anything else. Marie, not really being one for all that, told the story for how it was. About how Francis's uncle had been notorious for being unable to keep a wife down for a variety of habits she wasn't sure were even truthful. Despite as much the man took care of kids that he hadn't sired and supported them to the best of his ability, often to the surprise of those around him. Aside from the boy he was also raising a young girl who as of now Kite couldn't locate and didn't try to crane himself in his seat to find being more insistent on knowing about this boy. Grinning from ear to ear his mother practically accused him of wanting to befriend the guy, which caused the now shocked Kite to nearly flip out of his chair and fall backwards hitting his hands on the table and taking a ridiculous expression on his face in a fit of embarrassment. Now blushing he earned the laughter of his parents, the Marigolds and overall a somewhat uncomfortable shock around the nearby tables. Suddenly unhindered by the opinion of those around them the family continued to poke at the situation all in order to tease the young man.
The feast went on and the night with it as well. Much like all these yearly parties it was more of an opportunity for the wealthy to flaunt themselves to the less fortunate. For many it was also an opportunity to strengthen ties to the royal house or perhaps arrange things such as weddings? A lot of that hadn't escaped Kite and throughout the course of the event he was introduced to yet more people his age. Unfortunate for both sides as the kids, despite their parents encouraging them, were either awkward or yielded in small talk.
Losing its coherency the dream quickly devolved into a blur of colors and nonsensical paradoxes such as people stretching out or even losing features all together. At one point some sort of big dog rushed through the hall and knocked over tables shattering them like fine glass and sending the shards every which way. Some kind of massive cat chasing the canine sending it all over the place, even up the walls as it howled and wagged its tail. It looked to be some kind of white wolf with oddly black eyes, while the cat was the inverse. The climax of the chase resulting in the near assured destruction of the dream-space leaving naught but empty void and glistening shards of color as well as distorted voices and music from the earlier festivities.
Waking up and losing nearly all memory of that dream was another point of irritation for Kite but after attempting to brush his hair in vain in front of his vanity mirror, as well as changing his clothes, blissful ignorance robbed him of much trouble. He went on the rest of his day like any other, greeting and bidding farewell to the Marigold's, Marie, grabbing something to eat, getting his supplies and running out the door on his way to school with Francis'.
Quickly becoming habit Kite really couldn't help himself to inspecting the knives once more. In recent years instead of fidgeting he took it upon himself to take the weapon out of its tiny holding place within the dresser nearest to the bed. It gleamed within the rays of sunshine radiating into his room, marred only by the hands that held it and turned it over. Not daring to take the weapon out of its sheath the youth marveled at its weight and once again read the inscription detailed onto its side. It was script he was unfamiliar with, in a handwriting he had yet to place down and yet from the way his mother reacted to it so long ago you'd think it would've meant something. Tossing it in his hand he marched around the room thoroughly unsure how to spend the rest of his day only having just finished what sparse chore work he had, dreading if that meant he was to accompany lady Marigold on one of her outings. She always had a habit of showing off the boy to the other biddies she hang out with and frankly the white haired, somewhat lanky youth wasn't sure he could handle yet more damage to his face's cheeks from sheer old lady pinching power. Nearly rubbing his face only to realize he still had the blades he sighed and took a seat by his rooms window. Propping himself on the cushioned shelve he crossed his legs over one another and peered outside, shielding his eyes as he did so.
What might've been a calm day was interrupted by a noise that practically had the kid falling off the back of the ledge and onto his hard floor. Leaning forward with a strained expression engraved on his face he calmed the beating of his heart with deep breaths and laid the blades down as he steadied himself and gripped the whole of the inside of the window making sure he was steady. Breath fogging up the window he saw the source of the explosive ruckus, the booming noise that reverberated throughout the house and forced many to look out their windows or run outside their house.
Running at breakneck speeds throughout upper yard was some armored gorilla. Clad in silver armor that curved as a solid piece over its broad, stout chest and possessing bracers as well as grieves but curiously lacking another across its arms or legs, it ran amok hitting and slamming its steeled hands against the ground. Dust, rubble, plumes of smoke showered into the air as the beast turned corner after corner hopping fences, punching through walls and toppling statues effortlessly. By this point Kite had his face pressed against the glass as he marveled at the scene before him completely awestruck by the, at first dot-like and quickly enlarging shape of the rampaging animal. Taking an opportunity to beat its chest it stopped in the middle of upper yard just a few paces to the Marigold manner, its metal hat being forced to the back as it tilted its head up and let out a deep roar. In design, much like its armor, it evoked the visage of a conquistador or some old conqueror. Yet before it could slam those powerful limbs down again or duck into the Marigold yard after a sprint some blinding shadow intercepted the stilled beast.
Ricocheting blade off of tough armor the Gorilla gave pause and looked down, curious but quickly adopting a snarl on its face as its eyes menacingly gleamed. Taking both hands together it formed a gripped fist and sought to bring down its force upon the tiny man before it, not wasting time another blindingly fast slash of an impressively sized clay more seized itself against the fists and completely halted the attack in its tracks. Frustrated and mildly shocked the beast roared and briefly backed off only to launched itself in the air and attempt a body slam, coming down much like a silver and black meteor. The stranger, who looked to be wearing a full body cloak took to speeds that made him nearly invisible swirling around the battlefield before firing himself into the air at a similar trajectory. The effect of which was to close the gap between him and the oncoming beast, who he met at least a meter headlong into the air. Kite blinked and missed it, the beast was laid out flat on the ground its eyes blank and its mouth left to sag open in pained shock.
The cloaked stranger took his sword and sheathed it underneath his cloak, the wind picking up and parting the browned material just enough to show pivotal details. The clay more was in a sheath, and said sword was resting against the warriors right hip. Judging from the scarcely armored and toned legs as well as the presence of heels and a skirt it was obvious the individual was a woman of some kind. More interested in how the heck she moved so fast Kite continued to watch as the resolution to the fight rolled on. The wind died down, the cloak unfortunately stopped flapping and the woman went off towards the direction of the guards just now arriving in carriages and on horseback.
Kites eyes flicked down to the gorilla in shock, because not five steps into her stride did the armor come peeling off from multiple sword strikes. Lines on the ground indicating how many times she skated around with her sword pecking away at the armor. Now almost naked the Gorilla flopped against the ground in the pile of rubble that was once pristine armor, its helmet cut cleanly in half and no longer atop its head.
Unable to contain himself Kite ran to his dresser and deposited his knives before flinging himself practically down the stairs. Excusing himself he ran out of the house, slamming the door nearly, and out onto the front lawn. Hastily unlocking the gate with a pocketed key and shutting it behind him he ran into a dash towards the sword fighter. It took a handful of seconds but the kid was hardly able to breathe by the time he stood before her and while she didn't look back at first it was all that gasping that finally allowed her to take notice and dismiss the knight that was trying to write down information on some kind of notepad. Disgruntled the fully clad anonymous metal individual went back to the more decorated, vanilla-looking knight and presumably relayed all the information of the encounter. Taking either hand she lowered the cloak from her head and allowed the sun to shine down on her.
Standing at a full six feet and seven inches she towered over Kite, her skin was fair and hair a light shade of blond with tiny streaks of darkened follicles popping out. Eyes as dark as forest wood and lips as red as a somewhat breathless boys face she let out a smile, pleasantly this sat upon her sculpted features which belied her powerful she was. Youthful, smooth and calm were the best words used to describe the body and face she presented. Small set shoulders, graceful lithe limbs and figure as well as a small nose and ears. Gazelle-like was a befitting description of how this all culminated into what stood before the young boy and despite all this he was more starry-eyed than anything trying his best to ask about what he had just seen.
"H-h-how did you move so fast?! You disappeared practically! Did you use magic or something?" Kite blabbered on, suitably shocked pointing at the Gorilla that was now being dragged off by a contingency of armored knights who seemed to struggle and often taken breaks.
"Oho... So you were watching little one? That... wasn't magic. All I did was walk, like this," She took a few steps away and then marched back to her former place crossing her arms and smiling down as she did so.
The wind blew through and ruffled up the dainty little yellow skirt she wore. Her entire outfit was tropical themed and it was probably more accurate to say what she was wearing was a fusion of fashion and a two piece bikini. And yet with that cloak affixed to her body as well as that clay more it limited whatever effect it might have on folks.
"But you... the way you fought that creature it seemed like you cut it so many times and I only saw maybe one or two... possibly three slashes!" Kite breathlessly replied, showing his fingers at her and practically demanding on explanation.
Pressing a hand lightly to her mouth she let out a quiet laugh. Closing her eyes and taking that same hand to her sword, taking it to the pommel and unsheathing the blade very briefly. Just enough that the glimmer of metal was able to touch upon Kites vision and show a familiar silver radiance. One that he was familiar with thanks to a certain blacksmith.
"I must be getting rusty, or you have really good eyes. I've went entire fights with people only ever seeing a single slash swearing that I cheated. But if you're so curious... I suppose I can afford you a reasoning as to what happened. Especially since you nearly fainted running so quick," She began, dropping her blade back into its sheath and taking to holder her hands behind her back.
"I'm a bounty hunter, and I've trained my skills to hunt beasts as much as man. What gifts I had I honed to their peak and continue to redefine them. Never stopping, never quitting, I continue to grow stronger so that I may flourish in the garden of the grand line and beyond. It's a tough world kiddo, and it requires yet tougher souls. Especially if you're like me and aim to make it a bit nicer for the little people," She winked before walking off, sure of herself that it was a suitable answer and not bothering to check over her shoulder to see if she was being followed.
Making no moves to follow her Kite simply stood there. Head tilted up towards the blue, slightly cloudy sky contemplating a lot of what she said. Sure he didn't quite get it but something within him appreciated that sentiment about becoming stronger. He took to heart what he didn't fully process and even while walking back doing well to avoid what Knights were on the street he made a note to investigate just what Bounty Hunters were. On a simple level he was aware of how they operated but this woman, who remained nameless until many years afterwards, had rekindled an interest in the subject for Kite Kalisto.
He went to bed that night a bit more contemplative and silent. Only ever really raising his voice to ask his Mom about how her day had went and what exactly Bounty Hunters do. Convinced he should perhaps pursue such a profession he drifted off into a colorful dream about some weird rabbit trying to chase a bunch of clocks into a room that was way too tiny to begin with.
Worry and loathing should not be emotions that plague a child, and yet here we are. Just three weeks after the incident that sent ripples into the present even now. Unknown to Kite his father was murdered within the back alley's of the Kingdom, mother devastated and a rift forming within the Kalisto clan.
A raining evening, 10:00 PM, Bourgeois Kingdom, (Kalisto Household)
"What was wrong with our old house? Is something wrong with it? Is Father going to know where we are?" Kite asked, wide eyed and somewhat perplexed about why nearly all his belongings had been shoved into suitcases or wrapped up for easy hauling.
His mother gave somewhat of a shaky sigh and dusted off her apron. Sparkling eyes looking down at her little boy she leaned down to his level and put on her best face. It was a warm smile that allowed warmth to dispel the creeping suspicions in a young boys heart. She hid the pain behind her eyes with a closed eyed, sing song response.
"Of course sweety. Our old house was really too small for a growing boy so the Marigolds have extended their hospitality and invited us to their home. There you'll have all the sweets you can handle and all sorts of books to read! Why I even hear they're very fond of music," She winked at Kite, causing the little matted string-bean to cross his arms and blush averting his gaze from his mother as he became slightly embarrassed for his hobby to be mentioned so casually.
"Nuhuh! I play bad," He huffed out, puffing up his cheeks and screwing his eyes shut.
"Those other kids are jealous," She sighed out in response, recalling the many things a sniveling hurt child said to her once looking up with irritated and cracked red eyes dripping snot right out onto his clean linens.
Naturally the response for such an understanding and kind sentence was for the little boy to practically throw himself onto his mother and hug her tight. Wordlessly trembling as his facade briefly broke off, revealing how troubled the recent days had made him. Sure he had been distant but moments like these did serve to prove to his mother she was not alone in what seemed like a nightmare. Instead of crying and giving way like her charge she took in another shaky breath and hoisted up the small boy, taking him off to bed.
She looked like a saint. White hair neatly combed, sparkling blue eyes and porcelain skin all dolled up in a simple lavender dress that looped at her shoulders and drifted down to her shoe-less feet in a frilly coiled hem.
"It's been a long day Kite... you should get your rest and we can move our stuff tomorrow," She hummed, bending her arm at the crook of the back of his legs while her freehand patted his head.
He had stopped the worst of his sniffling and simply clung to her, quiet and breathing softly. At some point during his trip from the small den of their stone-wooden cabin to the little back room he had called his own he fell into a sleep. The crackling fire of the cottage and the warmth of his mother gripping him sent him off into a deep sleep. He muttered a few things when he was sat down into his small little bed, wrapped tight in the animal fur covers and silken sheets. Putting the scene to memory by virtue of just staring down Marie let out a long deserved breath.
"He might be gone... but I'm not going to lose you too. My shining light, my sun, my treasure, Kite. It'll get easier for both of us... It has to, with him watching," Finally letting a few tears fall she swiped them off her face, tightly gripping her own right hand with her left she lightly stepped out of the room determined to keep face tomorrow and not give into the howling pain that slowly formed in her stomach.
Marie was strong, had gone nearly every day since the news without breaking down. She only vicariously expressed herself when those around her expressed sentiments or in hiccups like this. But rather than dwell on what was lost she sat by the fire pit in her now far too big loveseat. Stoking the fire with a poker she contemplated just what had her boy so worried and worked up. Going back again and again to what she initially perceived as teasing, and what her late husband had told her to not get so worked up over.
Racking her own memory over and over a solid reason began to form. It was one that got her to grip the poker hard enough her white hand turned an even more ghostly pale. Doing her best to calm down that legendary temper known only to mothers and the motherly she had to convince herself to not march over to certain people's houses when they ventured into town tomorrow. In particular the Van Dien's... that boy Ulric was always a point of trouble for the young Kalisto currently sawing logs in the other room. During one particular memory Marie apparently poked a long hard enough to send a hissing of cracked logs out into the room, freezing when she hard the slight whimper of her child in the other room.
Leaning back and sighing when she just saw him turning over in his bed, somewhat more conscious of her prodding she relaxed her grip and put the poker back against the fireplaces mantle. Falling asleep in the chair not too long after finishing what she suspected would work as a deterrent in the bullying her son was dealing with.
Approx. 1 day later, 12:00 AM, Bourgeois Kingdom, Marigold Manner (Common/living room)
"Bigger than it looks," Kite mumbled to himself as he hopped down the rather large grand staircase, little feet scarcely being able to skip but a step before a jump down was in order.
Looking around through the bars of the hand rail, ornately carved with filigree and all the bells and whistles of a mahogany wood could afford, he noted the various details of the common room. A den with a grand fire place, book shelves, chairs, an ottoman and several end tables as well as knickknacks taking up shelve and table space. Admiring the items as he went he couldn't help but run his fingers along the book shelve feeling the tactile response each book spine elicited. One in particular, embossed with the words "A Gentleman's Arte" attracted the kids attention enough to get him to yank it out of the shelve. With considerable effort the shrimp boat managed to pull out the thrice thick novel from its lower shelve and cause a slightly sag in the line to fill in the space left vacant. With a grunt Kite picked himself off the ground, after having lightly tripped, and collected the what appeared to be unharmed tome. Trodding off to one of the arm chairs he stretched to prop the book up on the ottoman and climbed up onto the plush seat. Sinking into the material he quickly grabbed the book and started turning through its many pages.
First came the table of contents, a mess of words that he didn't bother reading. Each flick and flip through the pages produced a plume of dust that had the tyke wafting his hand around trying to dispel it and stifling the overwhelming urge to sneeze. This continued back and forth for a few seconds before finally the cover was now weight down by about half of its pages, opened to view were sword stances. Masterfully drawn and put to ink it enthralled Kite who squinted in the romantic lighting of the living room to get a closer more detail look. Shakily lifting up the book in either hands he practically pressed his nose to the thing as he poured over the contents within. Instead of looking at just the pictures as a five year old is want to do he did his beast to comprehend the entire knowledge put forth.
It was an uphill battle and at many times he just tapped away at the page trying to understand what was being told to him. Often wishing his mom was here to explain it he pressed forward and eagerly took in what information he could, cleverly recognizing what some concepts were via context alone. Minutes had turned into several minutes and by the time the clock had rang out its chime Kite had spent hours invested in this book and hardly noticed when the door to the mansion had opened itself. Sitting tucked into the seat as he was, book with its spine propped up on his lap he nearly launched himself out of his seat when his Mom surprised him with a jab to his sides. Feigning a pout and puffing up his bottom lip he waggled his finger and scolded her as she rose out from behind the chair giving that trademarked giggle-snort of hers.
In exchange for trimming a few years off his life with such an expert scare his mom took ownership of the little mess. Sitting down on the ottoman, scooping up the dropped book and reading out loud to Kite. Many times she peaked over the book to see her son staring straight back at her, head in his hands leaning forward on his knees as he waited on every word. She often had to ask towards him if he really found this sort of stuffy material entertaining and he'd always give an eager nod, that sent hair flying over his face or a confused 'Yes'. A spark of pride welling up in her chest she continued long into the day and was silently grateful that she had managed to complete all her work before supper almost knowing that this lesson would likely take up the better half of the day. She was often, alongside reading, distantly recalling her own fondness for swordsmanship and figured that it might've been parts of her driving her boy on to new heights like this.
An hour to hours and then even more hours, the conclusion of which was marked by the closing of the book and it being put away onto the lower shelve. A somewhat dazed and groggy Kite lifted himself off the furniture he'd been leaning on and gave a great yawn before walking along to the staircase. Instructed by his mother to take a bath and get ready for supper, readily teasing him about his bed hair that he got from leaning on the comfortable chairs right arm for far too long.
Dinner that night was a lively sort, even the marigolds were curious as to why the little guy was so interested in the prospects of sword fighting. Getting up enough courage and trying not to have his voice shake, oddly aware of these things from previous teasing, Kite answered in full.
"I wanna be strong so I can defend my honor! And... well... Mother needs to stop worrying so much about me and other kids," He rose up midway through the speech, aware that he was pressing his hands into the table and leaning forward.
Rather sheepishly he lowered himself back down and looked into his lap, blushing.
He wasn't punished or teased, rather, he got a head pat from his mom and cheering from the other two at the table each exchanging how admirable the idea was. As well as speaking on behalf of Marie's talents with a blade. Naturally though Kite was interested in that more than anything and quickly whipped his head up to intercept the conversation and to practically hang on the edge of his seat as all sorts of tales were weaved by either Marigold. Only paused or interjected upon by a deep chuckle from the praised Marie. Naturally she dismissed a lot of the exaggerated bits but she did own up to a lot of it.
Approx. 4 days later, 4:00 PM, Bourgeois Kingdom, Upper Yard
No matter how many times Kite walked past the grand houses and estates held within this cradle of a place he could never stop staring. Eyes constantly flicking to either yard or statue, to figure in the window or piece of art proudly carved into hedges or placed in a fountain. Even on the run from bullies he found time to appreciate the grander things in life like that, especially how smooth the road felt on his bare feet as he hauled into what little overdrive he could manage. Lungs burning as he forced his tiny chassis to hurry along, to squeeze past boxes and past people, to duck under and slide through the spaces in carriages, the entire crowded street was in a sorted mess after he carved his way through it. Lords and ladies aghast with both shock and disdain from having a little ragamuffin run wild around them, hissing out their contempt and raising their fists in the air or voices to the wind. Naturally they fell deaf against the ears of the child, which were trained on the shouts of a particular kind.
He had ran his mouth off earlier, that's why he was running. Why he dashed into a particular alleyway of a fancy restaurant and pressed himself against cold brick wall doing his best to blend in with the darkness. Sinking to the floor he clamped his mouth shut with both hands and silently watched the crack of light wink at him. People walking by, the running growing closer, he held his breath and nearly forgot how to breath.
Currently he had expertly trapped himself on the lower side of the kingdom upper yard. Where fancy marble and stone were met with more common materials and less well-mannered folk. It was where all the trouble started and where Kite had managed to throw and successfully land a punch on Ulric's old man. Granted he was a kid this had amounted to about a painful tap to his knee which caused the aging man to grip it in shock and hop around yelling out swears while he threatened a dashing Kite. Though he was grinning then through an angry flushed face he was scared now, as a pack of kids bent on ruining his day chased him all the way to his home and back. He hadn't counted on them cornering him towards the manner and instinctively shrunk away trying to blend in with the foot traffic. Along the way losing his shoes, grimacing briefly as he realized he had earned quite a few blisters from how hard his feet slapped on the pavement.
He was brought back to the present when he heard voices, the clatter of which drifted into the narrow alleyway. Familiar shadows began to rise and block out the failing light of the outside road, soon enough faces were easy to make out. There was Ulric, with his knob like nose and square set jaw, eyes glaring and fists set to grip themselves harshly. He was Kites senior by a few decent years and it served as an advantage when he picked on him, especially so in retaliation for his mother mentioning how unruly the tyke was to his parents. Ulric had his own little mob with him, a motley crew of sniveling blue bloods and a few suck ups that desperately wanted to either gain access to some candy or in general stick around kids surrounded by wealth. Marred by a variety of facial features, deformed or fair, they were all set into grim-like expressions mirroring that intense child-like fury that consumed their leader. He wouldn't be letting Kite get off so easy as he had before and would make that thumb-sucker pay for hitting his old man like that!
Talking among themselves and turning their back to the alley Kite saw his opportunity. Detaching from the wall the barefoot rebel tried to retreat further into the dark crevice, tip toeing and checking over his shoulder every so often for movement. He was very nearly at the end of the lot, seeing an opening between the restaurant and some aged shop when a kid finally fired off the alarm and pointed. It was one of the more average looking girls in the group, make up probably piled on her face with a putty knife she let out a shriek extending a pointy nailed hand toward Kite getting the whole of the group into action. Her clarion call signaled the advancement of the forces, it drove the Kalisto youth to practically dive into the tight fit between the two buildings and to curve around once he got to the other side. Graced with only having avoided them from the brief confusion of the dim lighting of the place.
Yelling, running around, the group soon discovered that Kite hadn't vanished into the alley's wall but somehow fit between the brief gap between the behind of the cooking place and some other dusty looking school-house. Its bell tower a menacing shape the troupe soon retraced their steps and actively tried to find where the urchin had ran off too, oblivious that during all that tracking Kite had ducked into the door of the storefront itself. Carefully shutting the door as he saw the throng of people pass and sighing to himself in relief when they disappeared stage left over the horizon of buildings, houses and shops.
Only thing hinting at their presence being disgruntled ladies and lords who gestured off to where the kids had ran off to on the busy street. A few horses neighing and shaking their long faces in response to having so many small bodies disturb their routes.
Relaxing and breathing finally the young white haired male turned around and nearly had his jaw drop. The entire shop was filled with all sorts of armor and weapons either displayed in raised cases or hung directly on wooden walls via thick iron pins. The set up of the store was mostly rectangular with lanterns, candles, and a furnace behind a counter to light up the place. The right side of the store was clearly for business and was divided up into a counter and crafting area. The marble surface scorched only lightly and a duster lying on its surface implying until recently it was being cleaned, behind all that and sat in the back was a brick furnace which leaked out embers and heat into the closed area. An anvil, tools and all sorts of gadgets were placed either against the mantle or on the anvil next to a tub filled with water. Iron chains affixed into cogs hinted at the machinery which might be used here and seemed to feed into the furnace as well as hover just above the water tub.
Padding his way over Kite pressed his palms on the counter and tried to hoist himself up to get a better look. Succeeding after a series of minor failures and plops to the floor he leaned over and spied a plethora of treasures. Sword blades, shields, knight helms even saddles for horses were placed against the wall or in someway hoisted above the floor by ceiling chains. Why, Kite even made moves as if to reach across the threshold to touch some of the merchandise despite better judgement telling him not to.
"Hello?" A voice came from upstairs, the shock of which forced Kite to lean off the counter and grip his chest as he took a few deep breaths.
Realizing the source was from the other side of the store he dashed off to hide behind one of the display tables sat in the center of the room. Footsteps echoed down from the stair well set into the left of the store, a door opening up to spiraled stairs that fed into an unseen above section of the fancy armory cottage. The owner of which, Kite only saw by peaking around the long legged glass display, was an aging man with frayed brown hair. Slightly balding and having a substantial beard he walked along his shops floor mumbling to himself, he was a stocky sort that had broad shoulders and a somewhat rounded belly but muscular limbs. He wore an apron, a blackened undershirt and dark grey pants with some kind of boots tucking the scruff of the pants in. His attire was earthly shades and it matched his tanned darkened skin well.
Sufficiently flustered and not willing to be outed in surprise the tiny kid rouse from his hiding spot and marched out into the open, clearing his throat. The dark skinned male seemed to relax a bit and cross his arms, taking his time to walk over and look Kite over.
"You're not really in the market for a sword are you kid?" He started, eyebrows cocked in question as he awaited a response being in surprisingly good spirits for someone coming into his shop when the sign clearly said 'closed' on the upfront bay windows which were practically tanned yellow.
"I... Yes," Kite said suddenly, eyes wide and head suddenly shooting up to look at the blacksmith in surprise, red eyes flickering down to his own feet before going back to the older gentleman.
"I'll humor you. Look around the shop, see what you like," The blacksmith, far more intrigued than irritated suggested having taken a sort of initiative to see where this admission would take them both.
Something inside Kite just wanted to look at the weapons he had been reading about, almost felt like a calling really. Rarely if ever receiving such a want he often investigated it, but instead of giving it thought he just spoke his mind and that perhaps troubled him and made him hesitate as he turned around on his feet and walked around the displays. Standing in the tips of his toes he finally stopped at what he believed he wanted.
"What about this?" He shakily called out.
Following behind him the blacksmith took the crook of his chin within his hand and stroked his beard. A smile overtaking his face as he lifted the glass casing and extracted the two rather wicked looking pieces of weaponry. Within his large, flat palms were two crosses with a sort of inscription along themselves. Before Kite could be handed them the blacksmith backed off and lowered the glass, taking either weapon in his hand and adjusting his grip finally so it wasn't as awkward holding onto such full weapons.
"A weird man came in some years ago and made these. Had me help him but he made them, convinced that his son would eventually come by and claim the second batch he had crafted. Not a day has gone by that someone simply walks past these and dismisses them as some kind of hoax item, going for a more traditional weapon. I'm almost tempted to ask if your name is Kite," He let out a laugh, spinning the knives around in his hand.
"Hi... my name is Kite," Suddenly meek from the laughter and perhaps the entire set of events the boy spoke up.
The room fell dead silent, a wide eyed stare forming on the aged mans face.
That day ended with Kite meeting someone who he could often come back to talk to, some times even running errands for. His name was Grits, Grits Hugo. A jolly man, a fair man and most of all wise beyond all his years for in crafting weapons for folks he often was privy to seeing what happened to them along the years as they occasionally came by for repairs or for better armaments. In all his time working the upper yard of the kingdom he had never once received a complaint and was considered an artisan, inspiring a generation of blacksmith to aspire to his skill in the furnace and in regards to ingenuity with weapon making. Though he was modest and attributed his fame and talent to a constant supply of customers and a solid backing from his own apprentices. When the time came to retire years later he did so knowing full well his business was in good hands. And despite knowing better he continued to create masterpieces despite operating outside a pay grade. Convinced a certain white haired bounty hunter might have yet future need of him.
Three Years Later, Bourgeois Kingdom, Marigold Manor (guest bedroom), 12:00 AM
"Why," Kite practically buried his fist into his pillow, pummeling the silver plushy mass with his right fist repeatedly.
The noise was more of a light flutter in the dark of the room and served to only keep the youth up yet again. His frustrations from today boiling over his well mannered facade he just thrashed the pillow some more. Taking turns hitting the feathered cloud until it was all but flattened, at which point the young boy of eight years collapsed forward and let out a frustrated groan into the reforming mass. Gripping it with either hands he buried his messy silver locks and face wholly into the surface trying to rid himself of the absolute annoyance of today's events. The scene might've looked comical from the door way honestly, little kid burying himself into his pillows to let out very loud yells of frustration in a quieted house. It was only by virtue of the material that none of that noise pollution floated across the air and had the tiny population of people inside the house aware of the going on's. Eventually those noises stopped too as Kite dislodged himself to gulp in some breaths and flip over, making a mess of his covers as they ballooned up only to flutter back down as he readjusted himself on top of his bed. Pajamas all rustled up and looking up at the ceiling he revisited what had him so riled up, running the events through his head once more.
It had been a typical school day, going to the lower yard of the kingdom and swinging into a fort of sorts. What had once been used as a point for defense, for a hospital, for a religious mission had been converted into a temporary class room. Renovations to the actual school-grounds were near constant and especially so when a new style of architecture hit the island by storm so Kite was used to modifying his route there being at the age where he was allowed to leave the house with little in terms of chaperoning. However recently he had to accompany another boy at the request of his mother, a change only enforced perhaps a few days ago. It wasn't as if he had no idea who he was or where he came from-- many times during his childhood almost like fate they always came to butt heads against one another. As a toddler it was over toys, as small children it was over dogs and now as somewhat not-young but still pretty-young kids it was trying to keep nice for their parents. But the guy was the epitome of stifling. Gripping his sheets and glaring through the hands that now scrubbed at his face he recalled how often that he received lectures from this kid, Francis Sommer.
Taking pride in know just the right thing to say, or what to answer, he was always there to point out anything Kite had done incorrectly. It wasn't that he was just an insipid know-it-all but that he took PRIDE in being smart, never directly lording it over Kite but still butting in to provide advice and then acting as if he was in the right when Kite told him to 'stick his big fat nose in someone elses's conversation'. It had only gotten worse when they started sword practice-- the instructor of which though it was perfect to pair them up. More often then not their sparring matched ended up with either one or both of them badly bruised and having to be held back as they swiped at each other with the blunt practice instruments.
Everything, absolutely everything, was a competition. From grades to swordplay to even musical instruments had them trying to outdo one another. Eventually Kite did get a leg up but that only made the resulting victories far more hollow as Francis' had also improved on areas he showed promise in. Both had become their own prodigies and hated to dwell in either one's limelight.
Today was especially a thorn. Kite had an opportunity to finally purchase a violin he had his eyes on for months. Doing various chores, a ton of errands, he had finally gotten just enough spare cash to relish in the possibility he too might be able to further along his musical aspirations only having recently found out a composer he wished to imitate and could do so successfully. By the time he had gotten to the store, presented the cashier with the Beri whatever had been advertised was gone. Stone faced, shocked, disappointed and angry he calmly picked up his Beri and left the store only to stomp home and give that guy the biggest, longest, loudest insult he could think of. He had no way of proving that Francis had done it, but in his mind he was sure it had happened and so it was completely fine to let loose such a vile string of foul language and insults that likely would've even got a pirate to blush. But sitting in bed like this he still wasn't satisfied with a part of him blaming how hard he obviously hadn't worked and very briefly how ridiculous it was he couldn't have it purchased for him.
"We're guests here... and aside from presents It's bad to make others pay up... That idiot deserved to be yelled at though! Probably heard me all excited and hatched a scheme... stupid schemer! Stupid... stupid stupid," Kite at first reminded himself of his status in the household and how he had no right to request such frivolous things and then started berating Francis' again.
Quite suddenly in mid insult fatigue overtook him and commanded him to yawn a might yawn. Stretching his mouth as he let loose the tired noise Kite reclined into his bed and took the covers up to his chin. Turning his head to the side and enjoying the plush warm feeling of his pillow slowly wrap around him as he pushed against it. Slowing his breathing he let a few more sighs and grunts escape before sleep had him, relaxed against the bed his harsh expression softened and his mind started to wander just as the static of blissful sleep seeped in. Dragging him into the dark waters of his memories this night he was going to be reliving portions of his past.
In much the same manner as rain hitting a window pain the darkness of his wandering mind was pelted with colors. Peeling away layer after layer it revealed the familiar scene of a banquette hall. The place itself was a fusion of white, gold, rich red, royal blue and mystical purple. Large curtains shielded massive gothic windows and the rafters high above were kept lit by priceless crystalline grand chandeliers sporting twinkling beams of light that shined down on snow-white fabric covering solid ivory tables. Elegantly crafted metallic chairs formed into swirly limbs and heart shaped back rests were what the patrons leaned into and sat against. The massive wooden doorway leading into the royal household was shut off and the party was isolated to this wing of the estate solely. Waiters of all kind swarmed from table to table carting out massive gourmet 'trains', mobile carts holding all manner of foods and drinks. Kite for his part was sitting near a magnificent golden fountain with all the other prestigious families doing his best to look 'pretty' and 'remain quiet'. Taking cues from his mother to kindly answer whatever was asked at or towards him, remaining polite and not curt. Nearly stopping mid sentence he spied something out of the corner of his eye.
This entire event he had felt the strange presence of eyes fixed onto him. Like the heavy weight of a book it crushed up against his back and gave him the heeby jeebies. Always seeming to turn around and try to catch it, here he was giving some dull response to a brooch to some gaudy old guy when he finally found the cause of his discomfort. A boy, not much older than him sitting at a table far off to the left of the room almost near the doors to the rest of the royal families household. Clad in brown hair, commoner clothes and apparently surrounded by women who were leaning on what Kite could only surmise was his parent it was such a point of focus that the white haired male very nearly offended the man he was talking to. Hastily backpedaling and firing off a stream of apologies he answered whatever was expected of him and after finishing as much turned to his Mother. Wasting no time he inquired on just who those people were over there in the vain hope that he might discern why he was such an interesting subject or whether he was just imagining things.
The ensuing story was more of gossip than anything else. Marie, not really being one for all that, told the story for how it was. About how Francis's uncle had been notorious for being unable to keep a wife down for a variety of habits she wasn't sure were even truthful. Despite as much the man took care of kids that he hadn't sired and supported them to the best of his ability, often to the surprise of those around him. Aside from the boy he was also raising a young girl who as of now Kite couldn't locate and didn't try to crane himself in his seat to find being more insistent on knowing about this boy. Grinning from ear to ear his mother practically accused him of wanting to befriend the guy, which caused the now shocked Kite to nearly flip out of his chair and fall backwards hitting his hands on the table and taking a ridiculous expression on his face in a fit of embarrassment. Now blushing he earned the laughter of his parents, the Marigolds and overall a somewhat uncomfortable shock around the nearby tables. Suddenly unhindered by the opinion of those around them the family continued to poke at the situation all in order to tease the young man.
The feast went on and the night with it as well. Much like all these yearly parties it was more of an opportunity for the wealthy to flaunt themselves to the less fortunate. For many it was also an opportunity to strengthen ties to the royal house or perhaps arrange things such as weddings? A lot of that hadn't escaped Kite and throughout the course of the event he was introduced to yet more people his age. Unfortunate for both sides as the kids, despite their parents encouraging them, were either awkward or yielded in small talk.
Losing its coherency the dream quickly devolved into a blur of colors and nonsensical paradoxes such as people stretching out or even losing features all together. At one point some sort of big dog rushed through the hall and knocked over tables shattering them like fine glass and sending the shards every which way. Some kind of massive cat chasing the canine sending it all over the place, even up the walls as it howled and wagged its tail. It looked to be some kind of white wolf with oddly black eyes, while the cat was the inverse. The climax of the chase resulting in the near assured destruction of the dream-space leaving naught but empty void and glistening shards of color as well as distorted voices and music from the earlier festivities.
Waking up and losing nearly all memory of that dream was another point of irritation for Kite but after attempting to brush his hair in vain in front of his vanity mirror, as well as changing his clothes, blissful ignorance robbed him of much trouble. He went on the rest of his day like any other, greeting and bidding farewell to the Marigold's, Marie, grabbing something to eat, getting his supplies and running out the door on his way to school with Francis'.
Approx 1 week later, Bourgeois Kingdom, Marigold Manor (Guest Bedroom), 1:00 PM
Quickly becoming habit Kite really couldn't help himself to inspecting the knives once more. In recent years instead of fidgeting he took it upon himself to take the weapon out of its tiny holding place within the dresser nearest to the bed. It gleamed within the rays of sunshine radiating into his room, marred only by the hands that held it and turned it over. Not daring to take the weapon out of its sheath the youth marveled at its weight and once again read the inscription detailed onto its side. It was script he was unfamiliar with, in a handwriting he had yet to place down and yet from the way his mother reacted to it so long ago you'd think it would've meant something. Tossing it in his hand he marched around the room thoroughly unsure how to spend the rest of his day only having just finished what sparse chore work he had, dreading if that meant he was to accompany lady Marigold on one of her outings. She always had a habit of showing off the boy to the other biddies she hang out with and frankly the white haired, somewhat lanky youth wasn't sure he could handle yet more damage to his face's cheeks from sheer old lady pinching power. Nearly rubbing his face only to realize he still had the blades he sighed and took a seat by his rooms window. Propping himself on the cushioned shelve he crossed his legs over one another and peered outside, shielding his eyes as he did so.
What might've been a calm day was interrupted by a noise that practically had the kid falling off the back of the ledge and onto his hard floor. Leaning forward with a strained expression engraved on his face he calmed the beating of his heart with deep breaths and laid the blades down as he steadied himself and gripped the whole of the inside of the window making sure he was steady. Breath fogging up the window he saw the source of the explosive ruckus, the booming noise that reverberated throughout the house and forced many to look out their windows or run outside their house.
Running at breakneck speeds throughout upper yard was some armored gorilla. Clad in silver armor that curved as a solid piece over its broad, stout chest and possessing bracers as well as grieves but curiously lacking another across its arms or legs, it ran amok hitting and slamming its steeled hands against the ground. Dust, rubble, plumes of smoke showered into the air as the beast turned corner after corner hopping fences, punching through walls and toppling statues effortlessly. By this point Kite had his face pressed against the glass as he marveled at the scene before him completely awestruck by the, at first dot-like and quickly enlarging shape of the rampaging animal. Taking an opportunity to beat its chest it stopped in the middle of upper yard just a few paces to the Marigold manner, its metal hat being forced to the back as it tilted its head up and let out a deep roar. In design, much like its armor, it evoked the visage of a conquistador or some old conqueror. Yet before it could slam those powerful limbs down again or duck into the Marigold yard after a sprint some blinding shadow intercepted the stilled beast.
Ricocheting blade off of tough armor the Gorilla gave pause and looked down, curious but quickly adopting a snarl on its face as its eyes menacingly gleamed. Taking both hands together it formed a gripped fist and sought to bring down its force upon the tiny man before it, not wasting time another blindingly fast slash of an impressively sized clay more seized itself against the fists and completely halted the attack in its tracks. Frustrated and mildly shocked the beast roared and briefly backed off only to launched itself in the air and attempt a body slam, coming down much like a silver and black meteor. The stranger, who looked to be wearing a full body cloak took to speeds that made him nearly invisible swirling around the battlefield before firing himself into the air at a similar trajectory. The effect of which was to close the gap between him and the oncoming beast, who he met at least a meter headlong into the air. Kite blinked and missed it, the beast was laid out flat on the ground its eyes blank and its mouth left to sag open in pained shock.
The cloaked stranger took his sword and sheathed it underneath his cloak, the wind picking up and parting the browned material just enough to show pivotal details. The clay more was in a sheath, and said sword was resting against the warriors right hip. Judging from the scarcely armored and toned legs as well as the presence of heels and a skirt it was obvious the individual was a woman of some kind. More interested in how the heck she moved so fast Kite continued to watch as the resolution to the fight rolled on. The wind died down, the cloak unfortunately stopped flapping and the woman went off towards the direction of the guards just now arriving in carriages and on horseback.
Kites eyes flicked down to the gorilla in shock, because not five steps into her stride did the armor come peeling off from multiple sword strikes. Lines on the ground indicating how many times she skated around with her sword pecking away at the armor. Now almost naked the Gorilla flopped against the ground in the pile of rubble that was once pristine armor, its helmet cut cleanly in half and no longer atop its head.
Unable to contain himself Kite ran to his dresser and deposited his knives before flinging himself practically down the stairs. Excusing himself he ran out of the house, slamming the door nearly, and out onto the front lawn. Hastily unlocking the gate with a pocketed key and shutting it behind him he ran into a dash towards the sword fighter. It took a handful of seconds but the kid was hardly able to breathe by the time he stood before her and while she didn't look back at first it was all that gasping that finally allowed her to take notice and dismiss the knight that was trying to write down information on some kind of notepad. Disgruntled the fully clad anonymous metal individual went back to the more decorated, vanilla-looking knight and presumably relayed all the information of the encounter. Taking either hand she lowered the cloak from her head and allowed the sun to shine down on her.
Standing at a full six feet and seven inches she towered over Kite, her skin was fair and hair a light shade of blond with tiny streaks of darkened follicles popping out. Eyes as dark as forest wood and lips as red as a somewhat breathless boys face she let out a smile, pleasantly this sat upon her sculpted features which belied her powerful she was. Youthful, smooth and calm were the best words used to describe the body and face she presented. Small set shoulders, graceful lithe limbs and figure as well as a small nose and ears. Gazelle-like was a befitting description of how this all culminated into what stood before the young boy and despite all this he was more starry-eyed than anything trying his best to ask about what he had just seen.
"H-h-how did you move so fast?! You disappeared practically! Did you use magic or something?" Kite blabbered on, suitably shocked pointing at the Gorilla that was now being dragged off by a contingency of armored knights who seemed to struggle and often taken breaks.
"Oho... So you were watching little one? That... wasn't magic. All I did was walk, like this," She took a few steps away and then marched back to her former place crossing her arms and smiling down as she did so.
The wind blew through and ruffled up the dainty little yellow skirt she wore. Her entire outfit was tropical themed and it was probably more accurate to say what she was wearing was a fusion of fashion and a two piece bikini. And yet with that cloak affixed to her body as well as that clay more it limited whatever effect it might have on folks.
"But you... the way you fought that creature it seemed like you cut it so many times and I only saw maybe one or two... possibly three slashes!" Kite breathlessly replied, showing his fingers at her and practically demanding on explanation.
Pressing a hand lightly to her mouth she let out a quiet laugh. Closing her eyes and taking that same hand to her sword, taking it to the pommel and unsheathing the blade very briefly. Just enough that the glimmer of metal was able to touch upon Kites vision and show a familiar silver radiance. One that he was familiar with thanks to a certain blacksmith.
"I must be getting rusty, or you have really good eyes. I've went entire fights with people only ever seeing a single slash swearing that I cheated. But if you're so curious... I suppose I can afford you a reasoning as to what happened. Especially since you nearly fainted running so quick," She began, dropping her blade back into its sheath and taking to holder her hands behind her back.
"I'm a bounty hunter, and I've trained my skills to hunt beasts as much as man. What gifts I had I honed to their peak and continue to redefine them. Never stopping, never quitting, I continue to grow stronger so that I may flourish in the garden of the grand line and beyond. It's a tough world kiddo, and it requires yet tougher souls. Especially if you're like me and aim to make it a bit nicer for the little people," She winked before walking off, sure of herself that it was a suitable answer and not bothering to check over her shoulder to see if she was being followed.
Making no moves to follow her Kite simply stood there. Head tilted up towards the blue, slightly cloudy sky contemplating a lot of what she said. Sure he didn't quite get it but something within him appreciated that sentiment about becoming stronger. He took to heart what he didn't fully process and even while walking back doing well to avoid what Knights were on the street he made a note to investigate just what Bounty Hunters were. On a simple level he was aware of how they operated but this woman, who remained nameless until many years afterwards, had rekindled an interest in the subject for Kite Kalisto.
He went to bed that night a bit more contemplative and silent. Only ever really raising his voice to ask his Mom about how her day had went and what exactly Bounty Hunters do. Convinced he should perhaps pursue such a profession he drifted off into a colorful dream about some weird rabbit trying to chase a bunch of clocks into a room that was way too tiny to begin with.
Approx 4 weeks later, Bourgeois Kingdom, Lower Yard, 5:00 PM
Ulric flinched as the can impacted with the back of his head. Turning around with the kind of innocent rage that only a teenager could, the years not being kind to his appearance and making him increasingly more gourd like as nature decided to just stack yet more useless fat onto his body. That little square-oval head of his however was now an exaggerated mask of menace as the boy marched towards a familiar ally way to find what he suspected to be the source of the airborne trash practically sucking in the whole places supply of air when he saw Kite tossing a similar piece of garbage in his hands. Ulric's gang, now curious and suitably horrified of the incident skulked around the corner and also caught a gander at Kite exchanging their own mischievous smirks and marching behind their leader as they brandished their own fists. Figuring they could take on Kite in numbers they readied themselves only to be dismissed by the teenager pausing at the sight of his outstretched flat hands.
"It's alright. For the first time in a while he's had the gall to do this on his own. I'm going to enjoy showing him why that's a mistake. Meril, take the newer guys to my place and we can go get some toys or something. I have a feeling that I'll be in a really good mood," He grinned over his shoulder before turning to face Kite and morphing that expression into a glower.
Snarling he ran at Kite pulling back his right arm and winding up a punch. Flexing his fingers against his palm those little nubs he called fingers turned white, they swung at empty air as the younger of the two dropped to the ground and once again threw can directly aimed to beam Ulric. Stumbling backwards with a circular mark on his face he was somewhat flabbergasted, huffing and puffing as he swiped as his besmirched nose. Though his groupies had made way to go towards his house they stopped and tiptoed back towards the scene only to be shoo'd away by Ulric.
"I said get out of here darnit! Unless you want me to dent in your faces too," He said in obvious irritation, adopting a scary enough tone and form to scare his friends off to his place like he had initially wanted.
Turning back towards Kite he was practically cracking his knuckles. It took a full two seconds of course for him to take note of the fact that during that brief window of distraction Kite had booked it. Thoroughly PO'd the teenager took to banging against the dirty alley walls with his hands and kicking with his feet only to squirm and squeal as he realized just how dirty the coal-black place was, practically ruining his little tuxedo with grime he had wiped off.
Meanwhile Kite sucked in lungs full of air as he speed jogged back to his place, not bothering to look over his shoulder and adopting the same shove-y run that he had used so many years prior to escape Ulric and his friends. Often getting yelled at or having knights practically trip over themselves to stop the kid from running out into horse traffic and narrowly squeezing past it all. The trip to the edge of upper yard took him minutes at best having walked the path and ran it a plethora of times, enough that he would've been familiar with it even while blindfolded. Slipping past the gate after having unlocked it he looked a sight. Hair all messy, little tiny suit (a near replica of the one he wore today) dirtied and a crazed look in his eyes. His mother nearly dropped the tea she was carrying when she inquired about the ordeal her son had likely been involved with, meeting him at the doorway to say as much and setting down the tray at the common rooms table.
"What in heavens happened?! You look like you skated around in chimney's and then played tag in the stables-- was it that Ulric boy?!" She gasped, lifting her son up and turning him around in a hurry not even caring if her skin touched the dirtied suit caring far more about Kite and his well being.
Still somewhat hopped up on adrenaline Kite felt like a puppet and just quickly shook his head, becoming dizzy in the process and trying to get free from his mothers hold. Understanding the discomfort she lowered him and yet still went down to his level to hold his face and look at him straight in the eyes waiting for an answer.
"I... I don't want to talk about it. Can I just go up to my bed? I don't feel well," Kite admitted, gripping his stomach and somewhat wincing.
Far from an act he did feel unwell enough to let out a tiny groan. Marie, with her superhuman mom senses could tell that it was far from a farce and hurriedly escorted the little man to his room. Holding his hand the whole way and looking down at him making sure to not take her eyes off of him. It was in the way he walked, how he talked and how he didn't make eye contact.
Hurriedly opening and closing the door he was led to his bed and stripped down to his undershirt and was relieved of his shoes and socks. Placed on the bed he was cared for and tended to by his mother who not only went as far as to get a cold towel to place on his head but to remedy up some salves, medicine and herbal tea all in an effort to make what she perceived as injuries better. Having allowed this to slip for far too long she had to fight the urge to summon doctors and instead just patiently waited beside the young boy's bed for him to tell her how he felt. At first it was a lot of silence, but gradually the more he sipped of the tea he managed to get the nerve to talk. Closing his eyes so he didn't have to look at his mother.
"Is it... normal to hate people?" Kite asked, nearly at a whisper.
Leaning forward in her seat the kindly mother took her boys right hand into her own and supplied an answer. Keeping her tone at a lower volume and adding that sweet flair only she could afford, one that only mothers could adopt when talking to children.
"There's a lot of hate in this world. Sometimes we contribute to it," She started with a sigh staring into closed eyes.
"The important thing is we don't perpetuate it. If you keep bringing hate into this world it will eventually harden the heart and make everything feel cold, look worse. It's a sort of bittering that not even tea or the sweetest candy could fix," She offered, smiling gently at Kite as he let his eyes gingerly open to look at his mother.
Frowning and dropping the gaze he took in a deep breath and let his expression reveal a fraction of how troubled he was. Brows crinkled, heavy, conflicted, his mouth further deepened its frown and his tone rose perhaps a single increment.
"I... I'm afraid that I'm going to have that happen. A lot of the time when I'm alone at night I feel this weird fire in my chest and sometimes it flares up so much that unless I move I'm afraid I'll turn to ash. Earlier it... I did... I couldn't control it. My entire body... I," He trembled and only stopped when the grip his mom had on his hand tightened enough that it forced him to look up.
She had already risen up from her chair and was now leaning over to press into Kite and to hug him close. Humming softly as she did, letting her embrace become the anchor that her son so desperately needed right now. They stayed like that for a good long stretch of minutes, Kite synchronizing his breathing to the heartbeat he felt and steadying the erratic thoughts in his head. The fires that raked at the pit of his stomach had been cooled to mere sputtering coals of what they had been and his body didn't nearly ache as much as it was. Unable to formulate a response or an answer he just sighed and hugged onto Marie as tight as possible. Sensing the tightness in his grip Kite's mom gave in and extended the embrace for much longer than it ordinarily would have been.
Nearly drifting off to sleep as he was hugged close he did manage to offer some words out. Quick to reach his mother before the static of sleep finally took over his body and rushed him off to dreamland.
"No matter how hot that fire gets, how many times it scorches stuff around me... I'll always love you Mom. No matter what... no matter what," He yawned and soon went slack in her grip, Marie doing her best to not tremble with the set of tears now beading up in her eyes from the touching response she had secretly been hoping for.
Carefully extracting Kite from her arms she tucked the calmed warrior into his bed. Folding the comforter over him just up to his chin and making sure it conformed to his body making the excess slide right under him with precision hands. Looking like a burrito more than a sleeping kid, Kite smiled out his contentment, softly breathing and stilled.
Walking on the tips of her feet Marie left the room with not but the click of a doorknob. Resting her right palm on the door she silently wished her son to have the best of dreams and to feel better in the morning. Answering in her head with perfect clarity what she would've said to Kite had he not drifted off like he did. How much she loved him, and how she would do her best to protect him from what had been happening to him vowing that from today onward nothing Ulric would ever do could harm him again.
Staying true to her word she managed to do just that. Not a day had passed that she marched over to the kid's manor and demanded that some sort of resolution be met or she would personally discipline the child, father, mother and anyone else who thought it was funny to push her kid around. Terrified of the wrath of this mother the lord conceded and promised to never let anything like this crop up again.
As far as Kite was aware the whole thing with the can simply scared Ulric into being a quiet kid in class, forced his little gang into line and taught them that bullied kids can get freaky and throw stuff. Most importantly though it acted as a cushion, one that delayed what was soon to be a chronic rage infesting Kite.
He had a happy few years before it got that bad, however. His days numbered by laughs and by an increasing number of people who appreciated his company. Granted Francis was always there to make things difficult even they began to mellow out and not fight as frequently.
