[Flashback] A Sword? But I'm a Scribe!

[Grace]

Timestamp: 4th of Summer, 498 A.V. Th sun cast long shadows over the landscape, and from the right perspective offered a brilliant orange glow to the outer edges of the crumbling buildings. Though the ruins offered very little luxury as a campsite, there was shelter, and a wide array of interesting trouble for a girl of Grace's temperament to get into. Henry Cady had long since stopped trying to reign in his dear girl, she was far too much like him. Had her mother been alive, he was sure that she would continually have his ear telling him that he let 'that daughter of his' get away with far too much. But as it was Grace had free will, in abundance, and her father's blessing in her adventures. She'd spent the better part of their time there exploring every nook and cranny of the Ruins of Nial, their current campsite, but at the moment she was relaxing with a book or more accurately, one of her father's journals. Her eleven year old body had morphed from that of a child into a gangly 'almost teen' overnight, her limbs were long and awkward, something she was entirely displeased with on a daily basis. Sitting like a contortionist, with her legs steepled wide and her elbows between them resting on either side of the open book, she used the very tip of her feather quill to guide her eyes along the written words. She could almost recite the journal by heart, but it still thrilled her to relive her father's discoveries. With the nib end of her quill clamped between her teeth, she bobbed the feather along the page absently. A particular passage caught her focused attention and she scanned the area for her father, wanting to ask him a question. "Father?" She pushed herself off the ground, brushing the dirt from her backside and elbows. "Are you here?" After carefully gathering up the journal, she made her way out into the open. "Henry Cady! Where are you?!"

[Harlequill]

Russell Brown Seated several feet above the ground, on top of a crumbling wall, Russell watched the younger of the two Cady's peruse her book. One leg hung from the edge of the wall, and the other was propped by the heel next to him on the wall with his arm draped over the knee. She was just reaching that age where she had begun to look rather ridiculous. Of course, this was as good an age as any to begin learning how to defend yourself. As she got up and dusted herself off he slipped from his perch to land on his feet softly, and approached her from behind. Though he worked for the Cady family, he had done so for such a long time that he was as much a part of the family as either of the archeologists. Having spoken to Henry earlier in the day he had forced the father to agree that it was time for Grace to learn how to defend herself. This was an excellent example why. Moving quietly up behind the girl he waited for her shout to end and then he grabbed her shirt by the scruff of the neck and lifted her slightly off the ground. "Really? Have you taken leave of your senses girl? Remember where we are." He smiled, shook her a little, and then sat her down facing him. "You're going to wake half the forest shouting in here. What is it you need from Henry?" As he let her go his hands moved to rest on his hips, setting his elbows out to the side. From over his shoulders she could see the sharpened handles of his swords sticking out above the leather of his armor. Even though Russell was a small man, standing only four inches above five feet, his casual expertise often gave him the appearance of towering over others. Of course, no amount of towering ever succeeded in curtailing the adventures of Grace.

[Grace]

Her eyes grew so wide that the gray iris was surrounded entirely by a ring of white, and in spite of the knowledge that she was indeed acting irresponsibly she gave no ground. With her chin held high she looked him straight in the eye. "Russell, you scared the wits out of me!" When he set her down, she took a moment to straighten her clothes with much exaggeration so there would be no mistaking that she'd been put out. In spite of her recent growth spurt, she still had to look up to meet Russell's eyes. Her big gray eyes fringed with long thick lashes, paired with cupid's lips had succeeded in winding her father around her little finger, but she hadn't had enough time to really maneuver Russell to her way of thinking. That meant that most of the time, their dealings were in a toe to toe standoff, with Grace deluded into assuming that she had much more power that she actually possessed. "What were you thinking, you could have scared me to death?" She paused, giving him a look that scolded. "Do you know where my father is?"

[Harlequill]

"Your father is busy, and since he's busy he has asked me to look after you. He also told me that today would be a good day to begin your education in a few subjects where you seem to be lacking. Manners were not on the list, but apparently they should be." He smirked at her and gave her a shove on the shoulder, deliberately displacing an area where she had perfectly removed the wrinkles while preening herself. He turned and began walking toward a rectangle of stone, one wall missing on the side, where he had stored his things. The way that he walked had the tone of a man who was not giving a child the option of not following him. If she dawdled, he would of course be back to collect her. She would probably not like that. "So, given your gods granted ability to know everything, what will you be learning today?" With laughter in his voice he called over his shoulder at her, not pausing his walk as he moved into the ruined loft of a long destroyed building. Whatever was waiting inside was a mystery the child could only uncover through exploration.

[Grace]

Her brows pulled together, her nostrils flared and her chin lifted even higher in response to his monologue. She was a little miffed that he would not see her response as he walked away from her, but she would not give him the satisfaction of following. Not right away anyway. For a heartbeat, she held her ground, but then thought better and followed, at her own speed of course. "How to be a brute? Is that it?" Having offered her smart-assed comment first, she continued with what she thought might be his reason for seeking her out. "Let's see, it can't be reading, or writing, observation, I can only imagine it must be something more, barbaric." With her arms crossed, she reached the entrance to the loft and stood staring it down for a few moments. Naturally curious, she craned her neck to try and gain a glimpse of what waited for her. "Are you here to cause me trouble Russell?" Her voice threaded its way to him, without the luxury of her company. No response was forthcoming. "Hello?" Arms still crossed, she took one step closer.

[Harlequill]

There was no response as she took that one step forward, catching on the edge of her vision the image of Russel unpacking several long objects from his gear. She moved forward just enough to see what he was unveiling, and he shifted it out of sight to thwart her curiousity. She would have to actually move into the building if she wanted to know what was going on in there. Turning his back to his gear so that he could face the curious girl he responded, "Barbaric, huh? I guess its barbaric to know how to look after yourself then. Must be why there aren't any eleven year old barbarians, at least not any who live for long." His hands moved back to rest on his hips, it was a gesture which he adopted frequently. "So if its not reading and writing, what is it? You will certainly be learning observation. What your father has taught is not the same kind of observation. Careful study in a safe environment is different than needing to know your surroundings without pausing to run your eyes over each piece of the puzzle individually. Coincidentally, it is difficult to learn while the student is pouting outside and peeking in at the teacher from afar."

[Grace]

"Pouting...pfft." She spoke in tones that would not reach him, and moved as though the word had lit a fire beneath her feet. With all the righteous determination that the bright eleven year old could muster, she walked the last distance into the loft. "Perhaps you've never met an eleven year old barbarian, because they are too smart to get caught..." Her left brow rose in an expression that somehow, even beyond death, she had inherited from her mother. Even at her most precocious, her curiosity always won out. She flipped the tip of her quill toward that which he had unloaded. "So what are those?"

[Harlequill]

OOCThe weapons mentioned in this thread are Iron, not Steel as pictured. It is difficult however to find a picture of Iron anything, so here is what you get. Reaching out a gnarled hand Russell flipped back a soft blue blanket which had concealed two carefully sharpened and oiled swords. As with the majority of metal weapons in Mizahar they were of iron, not steel. She would recognize them as weapons of the same kind as what Russell wore on his own back. They were worn as such because they were shaped too strangely to sheath. "Two tiger hook swords. Someday, maybe, they will be yours." He smiled as he watched her examine them. "And here are the pair which you have earned already." Reaching to grasp an old horse blanket he flipped it back to reveal two swords of similar make, made of wood and wrapped around the hilt with ratty old brown leather instead of the polished black on the other two. "I will be teaching you how to defend yourself, and how to defend your father. I've known your father for a long time, and I've looked after him since he was your age. It's time someone else learned how to protect him. That is, if you think you are up to the task." His hands went to his hips again and he watched her carefully, seeming to gauge her reaction to the weapons and to his statement.

[Grace]

With thin arms still crossed over her chest she took a few steps closer to the exposed swords, craning her neck to get a better view without getting too close. The quill clamped between her fingers bobbed rhythmically as she contemplated his words. Her eyes flicked to look at him, pausing for a moment, then shifted back to the swords. She did her best to hide any fear that might have shown in her eyes and carriage, not about to reveal that she was more than intimidated. "Swords is it?" When he directed her attention to the practice swords, her mouth grimaced and she lifted her chin a fraction. If she was going to be forced to learn this swordplay, she would much rather use the real thing. She did not voice this aloud, her indignation not yet a match for her fear. When he mentioned her father, she turned toward him and focused intently on his words. Her father was the world to her and anything she could to do make things easier for him was her greatest priority. When Russell finished speaking she approached, stopping just short of running into him. With a look of fearful determination she caught his eyes and spoke, in her girlish, lilting voice. "Well we'd best get started then. Time's a wastin' Russell."

[Harlequill]

"'Time's a wastin'...I'll remember you said that." His grin was wide as he reached down into another pack and retrieved a suit of boiled leather armor, complete with pint sized helmet. Tossing it at her chest he expected her to catch it. "I measured you up a long time ago girl. Suit up in that and we will start training immediately." Though he had seen her undressed countless times, as parental figures often do, he stepped outside of the shelter of the loft to give her a bit of privacy as she donned the armor. Hopefully she had watched him do so often enough that she would have some idea of how to put it on. Otherwise it would be a long day of getting bashed with unprotected skin. "Do not forget your training swords. Bring them both, if you please. You have two chimes. For every chime you are late I will increase the difficulty of today's lesson. Best get that armor on quickly, little barbarian."