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Stepping Wild, Draft 2, CH 40
🕑 Added 2025-04-14 13:00:13 +0000 UTCFinding out what he needed to enter the university proved simple enough. He acquired the finest clothing that had the added quality of not
Finding out what he needed to enter the university proved simple enough. He acquired the finest clothing that had the added quality of not making him memorable, and stepped to the doors. When the guard barred his way, he asked why.
He had to repeat himself in different language until the man understood him.
The look he received made it clear the man thought little of Tibs, despite the way he was dressed. Then he was asked for his family’s crest and referral letter, and that it was twelve silver for a day’s access. Only Forsterim silver was acceptable. The tone made it clear he didn’t think Tibs had any of it.
He’d turned around, dejected, playing into the guard’s expectation.
Noble’s clothing and coins would be the easiest for him to get. He didn’t know about any family crest, so that would take more work. None of the noble’s homes had had something he thought of as a crest displayed on their doors or entrance to their properties. No shield with designs on them. No symbols that could be used to identify each family. Whatever it was, they didn’t advertise it.
The reference letter was something else he’d have to work on. Work complicated by the fact that anyone he’d normally go to for those kinds of papers was usually affiliated with thieves and confidence artists. With the Master overseeing thievery, the likelihood they also controlled them was high. Finding one willing to work without reporting what Tibs asked for depended on the kind of stranglehold the Master had on their people.
The threat he’d been issued meant it was mostly likely tight.
Going about discreetly finding out where the forger’s loyalties lay took dressing in worker’s clothes and walking the streets. While most who dealt with papers were part of the offices involved in running the city, not all of them were located within the guild neighborhood.
It was on the third day Tibs was distracted from his task by a pained cry. Not the first one he’d heard in his roaming the city, but unlike the previous, this one involves someone no older than he’d been when caught with his fingers in a pocket and dressed no better. The man shaking the, most probably, thief was a burly guard, and Tibs was heading in their direction before the gloved hand went up. He’d only intended on distracting the man and giving the thief the chance to run, but when he caught the wrist as it was coming down, he was considering channeling fire and showing the man the mistake he’d made.
He didn’t. He squeezed the wrist. He didn’t want to make it that easy on someone who was willing to strike a defenseless child.
“Don’t,” he almost snarled.
The guard glared at him. When he spoke, Tibs now understood enough of the kingdom’s language to make out, “Unhand me and move along, unless you want to share that thief’s cell.”
Tibs sent a small etching of lightning at the man’s hand as he shoved hard, causing it to spasm and let go of the child. He sensed them running off, and he placed himself before the guard.
“You’re going to regret this,” the man snarled, shaking his hand.
Tibs snorted and spoke in a heavily accented Forsterian. “No, I’m going to enjoy teaching you to what happens to people willing to hit children.”
“That’s no child. That’s a thief.” The man narrowed his eyes. “If she’s yours, you should have made sure she knew her place. Just like your Master should have taught you.”
So the Master was known by the guards. If they had that kind of reach, it would make Tibs work here so much harder.
Definitely not something he’d manage on his own.
He’d look for a team after he’d dealt with this poor excuse for a protector of the city’s people. He smiled. “How about I teach you where people like you belong, instead?”
The guard’s hand was wrapped around the hilt, but he didn’t pull it out. Instead, he glanced left and right. Like him, Tibs remembered where they were. The people around them. They’d moved away, but were watching.
The guard let go of the sword. “Your kind aren’t worth the trouble.”
He turned and walked off.
This was best. A fight would have caused people to talk. He hadn’t bothered with hiding his features and his description would circulate. It was best if he too walked off and forgot about this. He had work to do. The man could go…
Who would stop him the next time he hit a child? Tibs had encountered his type often when living on the Street, even if they’d rarely been garbed in guard’s leather. He wouldn’t stop just because Tibs had told him off.
There would be another child unless the man learned what it meant to be on the receiving end of that pain.
He didn’t let the man’s essence be lost among the others as he followed him. He climbed to the roofs as soon as he could to better keep up with the man. He went over all the ways he could make him learn. All the pains he could administer.
But by the time the sun approached the city wall, and the man left the guardhouse in regular clothing, he’d decided that the only pain the man would understand was the one the child would have received at his hand.
Tibs was on top of him by the time the man turned into a smaller street. One currently without anyone else walking it.
Tibs dropped, grabbed the man, and threw him in the alley before he reacted.
The man cursed and got to his feet. “Who the fuck—”
Tibs punched him.
“What the—”
He punched him again.
“You’re going to—” the man reached for the sword he was no longer wearing.
Tibs planted his fist in the man’s stomach. “Do you like this?” he whispered. He slammed his knee in the same place. “Do you like how it feels to be at the receiving end?”
The man shoved him, and Tibs let himself move back.
“I didn’t do anything to you.”
“Your kind took her from me.”
The man turn to run, but Tibs was on him.
“Guard!” he managed to let out before Tibs pulled and threw him deeper in the alley.
“Call all you want. There’s no one here to rescue you. Like the children you hit. Like when they took Mama from me.” He kicked hard and the man hit the wall.
“Please,” the man whimpered.
“And do you stop when they beg?” Tibs kicked him again. “Did they stop when Mama begged? When she pleaded for them not to leave me alone?”
He grabbed him by the collar and slammed him against the wall. “Men like you shouldn’t be allowed—”
“Aldero? Was that you?” a woman asked, and the man’s eyes widened in fear.
“Please don’t,” he whispered.
Tibs stared at the man’s broken face, at the terror in his eyes. At the damage he’d inflicted and let go as if he was Fire.
“Aldero?” she called again, closer.
He etched air and jumped to the roof, fighting the bile.
“Aldero!” she screamed in horror, then ran.
Tibs forced himself to glance down.
“Aldero!” She cradled him. “Guards!” she yelled.
But they wouldn’t come. There was no one to hear her but him.
He ran.
He made it two roofs before what he’d done proved to be too much and he threw up.
Again.
He’d let it happen again!
When her cries for help came again, he etched air and carried it along the street to the road. It had lost most of its strength by then, but it attracted people’s attention. Some came, found them. Went back for guards.
Tibs forced himself to remain on that roof, hearing them and sensing them as they comforted her, promised him they would find who had dared lay a hand on one of theirs and make them pay.
He remained there well past when they were gone. Well past the sun vanishing. Wishing he could do the same.
He’d just wanted to protect the child. To look after someone the way he wished there had been someone to look after him.
So how had it turned into hurting the man because it felt so good?
*
Aldero the Guard had many friends, Tibs found out, unable to keep from returning. From observing the damage he’d done. He needed the reminder of what his anger did; he told himself when he felt like leaving. This was the kind of monster it made him, so he had to be better at controlling it.
But men like that made it hard. People charged with protecting, but that decided who was worth doing so, and who abused the rest. The man was worse than those the nobles paid. They were in that position because of coins. He’d been willing to hurt a child because he wanted to.
The way Tibs had wanted to hurt the man.
*
Tibs forced himself to search for people to build his team with. Used that as a way of staying away from Aldero the Guard and his woman.
There was no lack of criminals who attempted their trade without the Master’s approval. The issue Tibs faces was that most of them ended up beaten down until they learned to follow the Master’s rules.
He needed people who’d stood up to them while managing to hone their skills. A willingness to work without the Master’s approval wasn’t enough for what he needed. They had to be skilled enough to stand up to opposition if it came down to it. Be stubborn enough they hadn’t joined or left the city.
His need would make for an interesting team.
Fortunately, Tibs like interesting people
*
Tibs found himself returning to Aldero the Guard’s home too often over the weeks he looked for the right people. He and his woman had lived humbly, but even with their friend’s help, without the man’s work, they were having trouble affording proper food, paying for their home.
Tibs snuck in some nights and hid coins for them to find among their belongings. Enough to help alleviate his guilt, but not so much they’d question where they came from.
*
He learned what the family crests were by accident. A noble did business with the artisan’s guild while Tibs watched a confidence artist work one of the clerks and had to prove which of the families he represented by showing it.
Tibs had switched who he followed, then, and found out where to ask his questions about the crest without raising suspicion in the process.
The crests were made of metal, engraved with the emblem of the family. Many decorated them further, but the metal, the engraving, and the official city mark hidden among that were what mattered.
They were made by the city and regulated. Stealing one while a noble was about wouldn’t work, since they’re realize it was missing the instant they entered a building requiring they prove who they were, and it seemed all business nobles visited demanded that. Short of kidnapping the noble whose crest he’d use to enter the university, its lack would be noticed too quickly, and only work once.
What he’d need was a duplicate.
Which meant access to a forger of items, as well as of papers.
He was going to need much more money than the twelve silvers to enter the university. Especially if he could hope to convince the forgers to work without the Master’s approval.
This no longer looked like a team would be enough.
He sighed.
Tibs was going to have to create a character to take the blame for all the robberies needed to finance his research.
But first, he needed to build his team
Author's Thoughts
Guard arrases street thief
This ended up being almost entirely new, with some of the draft 1 chapters sprinkled in for the sake of ‘continuity’
This is something I wanted to add because Tibs’s anger issues weren’t sufficiently present for the final resolution in book 6. I need them to be an actual problem for him. Something he controls but that when it slips his control, it is destructive in various ways.
I also want to use them to underline some of the issues fueling the anger.
