The training went well, all told.

The mistakes in Fritz's stance weren't many, but they did allow definite detriments to dilute the strength of his style. There was the way he tilted his shoulders before he stabbed, it gave him away to any experienced duellist, or so his tutor proclaimed. There was also the stiffness of his back and body, and the misplacing of his feet.

There were also other, more minor errors that had nothing to do with his form, but they were pointed out all the same, adding to the ever-lengthening list of inadequacies. Honestly, if Fritz didn't know for sure that Adam was attempting to hone him to the highest degree, he would have thought the man was needlessly needling him. Then again, he had the title Sir Needle for a reason.

"Don't twist the blade so much when you thrust. Less flourish more function!"

"Clean up those steps. Short and sure. Long and light. Move with the blade, not because of it."

George received far less of these criticisms, though that was likely because the style he was set on wasn't nearly as close to their tutors. As there was little finesse to be found in the Mountain Splitter Technique, Adam focused more on the spacing and timing of the long, heavy sweeps and simple, devastating chops seemed to be the backbone of style.

"You want to be solid in your stance and already swinging by the time your foe has turned to face you," he advised. "You should be ready to fall into that form as soon as your sword is in your hand."

George nodded.

"Set your feet a little wider, use your hips and shoulders more. Feel the weight of your strikes and really turn with the blade. Don't fight its strength, instead use the same power from that blow to flow into the next one."

"Oh, that sounds like the Tidal Assault Technique," Mathew piped up from where he sat observing the practice.

"You're correct, Lord," Adam said.

"Why are you teaching the brute that?"

George frowned at the insult, but held his tongue.

"It's a useful style for him, it has broad applications as it can be used with weapons of all lengths and hefts. It also lends some defence against momentum and Abilities that attempt to push and pull," Adam explained. "A good Technique for a solid Striker."

"I thought he was a Defender, what with all that armour," Mathew said.

Adam nodded. "I can see why you might think that. In Rain City, the Strikers tend to be water and wind mages or swift swordsmen, but George here is what I'd call a heavy Striker. They're more common in the wider world, especially the Eternal Kingdom."

"That's where there's metal and stone aligned Spires, correct?" Mathew asked, leaning forward in interest.

"Correct," Adam said.

"You've been there?"

"Once. I couldn't reach the capital, only the borders. Climbed the Copperwrought Spire, got into some trouble and left," Adam said, a nostalgic smile crawling onto his face. "It was only a Minor Spire, but it was aligned to metal, so it was a good choice for my team and I at the time."

"I see, my father did say you were rather well-travelled. Though, I'm still surprised to hear you made it that far from Rain City. Have you seen a leviathan?"

"Yes, a couple of times," Adam said hesitantly.

"What was it like?"

"They were some of the most harrowing, humbling, experiences of my life," Adam said stoically.

"Really? Go on, do tell," Mathew entreated.

Fritz himself thought it was quite improper to press their tutor so, but he was also deeply curious about the leviathans.

"They're enormous, easily large enough to mistake for an island, if not for their strange skins or scales. Their foul spawn swarm around them, creatures that are mockeries of birds, bats, sharks and all manner of sea beasts. Another point, they're all unique, no leviathan is like another. Much like the Spires, as you may observe," Adam explained.

"They sound truly terrifying," Mathew said with a smile.

"They are," Adam said. "Luckily, the leviathans themselves overlook most vessels, intent as they are on their mysterious wanderings and defending their vast territories from others of their kind. It's mostly the spawn you have to watch out for. Some groups break off from the main horde to hunt. And nothing attracts them more than the scent or sight of humans. That's why sea-crossing ships need defences, either something to hide them or other, more destructive, measures. Without them, well, you can imagine."

"I can," Mathew said.

"Now, enough about the surrounding seas, titans and leviathans, and back to swordsmanship," Adam said.

And so they resumed their practice and sparred a few times, all under the derisive eyes of the young lordling. It was bad enough when Adam would correct Fritz for a clumsy fumble, but to endure the scoffing, sneering noble was a true test of patience. A test he passed, barely.

Eventually, Mathew had enough of the spectacle and left on slightly shaking legs.

His departure let the remaining trio talk and train more openly, but there was little time left for them to use the hall to their liking. There was another team waiting for them to finish, they had reserved the next block of time. To some great expense, Adam said.

Fritz was grateful for the fact, he didn't know if he could continue the training for much longer, even with burning desire to master the sword.

After Adam handed off the Treasure-bonding rod to the other team's tutor, the three left. Soon their teacher went his separate way, likely to a tavern, and the pair slowly made their way home.

George hummed contentedly and Fritz grumbled to himself.

When they arrived home it was to the scent and sounds of an early lunch, which Fritz was eager to partake in. After a shower, the food was ready, the whole team ate heartily and talked about how access to the new training hall was a huge boon.

Fritz had to agree, he wasn't nearly as exhausted as he knew he should be. Really, he should be dead on his feet, but as he ravaged a plate of red-roast sausages he could feel his strength returning and his vigour rising.

The only complaint that seemed to be on everyone's mind, was the inclusion of the Lordling.

"He's an arrogant prick," Cal said. "You should have seen the way he sneered at me."

"Yeah, he's a prick," Rosie agreed. "But he looks good, and he didn't hit me too hard."

"We'll just have to put up with his scorn," Lauren said.

"You didn't seem to receive much scorn," Fritz said. "He was positively intrigued by you."

"He's just like every young nobleman," Lauren scoffed. "Seeking to dally with, then discard, the naive common women he's charmed with gifts and empty promises. Before he's trapped in a passionless marriage."

"What a cad," Bert said.

"Indeed," George agreed.

"I wouldn't mind a gift or two," Rosie said.

Bert grinned and nudged her with an elbow. "Make sure to get something good. Like a Treasure."

"Hah, I'll get much more than that." Rosie grinned.

Cal sighed and pushed his lunch away. "I've lost my appetite."

Bert took his plate, piling the food still left onto his own. "More for the rest of us."

Soon they were all finished with their meal and Cassandra cleaned away the mess in the quiet, competent way she always did.

Fritz retreated to his room for some rest.

An hour or two later, there was a knock on the front door and Jess was let in to give her writing lessons to George, Rosie and Cal. Fritz needed her help with the letter to Count Wavereach, so he made his way down to the dining room where they practised. He was greeted by quite the sight, the whole team had gathered, not merely those that needed the tutoring.

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Cal, George and Rosie sat patiently, waiting for the lesson to begin, but Bert was also there, Dale on his shoulder, explaining that the beast was harmless and he wanted to refine his own writing skill. Lauren had joined as well, though her presence was likely in the pursuit of an amorous encounter, judging by the passionate lights that danced about her head and the sultry look she gave the aspiring scribe.

Jess, to her credit, was calm and composed, looking like an indomitable bastion besieged on all fronts. Well, except for when she met Lauren's gaze and seemed unsure what to do with the woman's intense attention.

Upon noticing Fritz stride into the dining room, Jess exhaled sharply. And with an annoyed bent to her tone asked, "You too?"

Fritz put his hand to his chest and acted affronted. "What did I do?"

"Nothing," she said, remembering her manners. "But I must speak with you. In private, if you would be so kind."

"Of course, let's retire to the lounge," Fritz allowed, escorting her to the far quieter room.

Once the door was closed behind them, she turned. "This isn't what I agreed to."

"What's wrong? Is it the beast or is it Bert?" Fritz asked.

"Both. I came to teach three people. Not four and a beast," she said.

"Wait, he asked you to teach Dale?"

"Yes. Which is absurd. Then that Lauren woman said she wanted to oversee the lesson, to make sure I was worth the silver. But I'm sure she has some ulterior motive. She was watching me like a stormhawk. Does she think I'm some sort of spy? And now you appear and you have that look like you want to ask a favour. It's not what I'm here for, Fritz. Not at all," she stated.

"I can remunerate you more generously, if that would help," Fritz offered.

"It's not about the pay, it's about the stress," Jess said. "I can't be going home too drained to work, or to study for the scribe exams."

"Right. I'm sorry, Jess. I didn't intend to swamp you with all the whole team, and their strange requests," Fritz said. "I suppose I've become inured to their oddities. And I wasn't suspecting that they would bombard you so."

Jess sighed, then nodded. "I'm sorry myself. For my outburst. I just felt a bit overwhelmed."

Fritz smiled gently. She saw this and narrowed her eyes.

"You want me to go along with their nonsense?"

"I do," Fritz agreed.

"You even want me to teach the disgusting little snail-beast?"

"What? Cal's not so bad," Fritz said with a smirk.

"That's unkind, Francis. Callum is sweet and caring. You can see it in how he helps his sister," Jess said.

"That's quite the high opinion you have there," Fritz said, letting himself be chastised.

"Well, he could stand to stop mumbling and could look me in the eye now and then. It also wouldn't hurt him none to get a proper haircut. But I digress, all three of them are good in their own way," Jess said. "I just don't know how I would even begin to teach a beast. Can they even learn to read?"

Fritz shrugged. "Humour Bert, and Lauren to some extent. Though if they bother you too much I give you my express permission to send them away."

Jess considered for some moments before nodding.

"It'll cost you more for the beast and Bert," she said with a smile.

"An easy concession," Fritz replied.

"Good. Well, I better get to it then," she said.

"Before you leave, I need a favour."

"I knew it," Jess said. Then she sighed. "What is it?"

"I need to write a letter to one Count Wavereach. I seek an audience with him and I'm not too sure on the procedure or how to do it politely," Fritz explained.

Jess nodded, then smiled. "That's not such a terribly hard favour. I can have that done after the lesson. You will still need to sign and seal it of course."

"Of course," Fritz agreed.

"If there's nothing else. I'll return to the dining room and start the lesson," Jess said.

"There's nothing else," Fritz said. "And Jess?"

"Yes?"

"Thank you."

Jess smiled warmly, then turned, leaving the lounge.

Fritz wondered what he should do while he waited, and decided on rest and recuperation. After only a couple of minutes in the attempt, he was already pacing the length of the lounge.

The Refuge, even if it wasn't his responsibility to watch it right now, wasn't something he could forget. He had many worries, and what he needed was more information and more power. But seeing as he couldn't seize one without the other he settled on on searching for more knowledge.

He returned to his room, then listed what he would need for breaking the siege. He drew a rough map in charcoal, annotating the areas as he recalled more of what he'd learned from Mel and other folk he'd questioned.

The four gangs that surrounded the refuge each were run by a boss and a few Browncoats. He'd seen one of the bosses already, the short, bald man with a soporific touch Ability. He was known as Todd Sleeper and a cold reputation followed that name.

The other three bosses, Paul Wallow, Jill Jilted and the Rat Cleaver, were less 'hands-on', preferring to let their lackeys run the streets for them and taking a large cut of their ill-gotten gains.

It was these three gangs that Fritz would target first, starting with the Rat Cleaver. That vicious killer had a signature way of brutalising his victims, and his gang were the worst of the lot when it came to senseless violence and thoughtless thuggery.

He already had some plans, but he didn't know how well they would work, most of them were inspired by the writing of 'The Observations' and not from true experience. Idly, while he ruminated on his limited options, he perused the pages of that Technique book again, searching for anything he may have missed or would be of use.

There was little more to be gleaned, many of the tactics required a militia. And not in the traditional sense that resembled a standing army. Instead, this force would be made up of a collection of small, quick teams with multiple independently acting leaders rather than a central authority like a king.

Such a strategy, it said, would leverage the full power of Climbers allowing them to best display their better manoeuvrability and stealth, while requiring less oversight. The pages warned that this had a cost, with discipline and dependability being the main concerns. It emphasised the need for a common goal and an agreed vision for the future, one they could all benefit from, to keep the rebellion in line.

Fritz had no such forces, and no desire to raise them up nor lead them, so these passages, while interesting and insightful, were not relevant to his current plight. No, what was needed were all the traps and tricks outlined in its rough pages, ones that would cause the most chaos to the current alliances and create an air of mistrust amongst the gangs.

The strategy needn't be limited to just those four bosses and their thugs though. Fritz could also extend his plans to those beyond these streets, he could have the whole district, which had always been brimming with barely held-back havoc, fall into something akin to a battlefield.

The only thing that gave him pause, and prevented him from doing so, was the suffering that would entail. Not the suffering of his foes, he wouldn't lose much sleep over that, but the unnecessary pain it would inflict on the populace was not something he could abide.

However, there was a chance, a slim one, that he could drive out the other gangs, push them to the outer edges, taking and putting the desperate district under his control.

He sighed and set the book aside, then he shook his head. He chided himself, he wasn't powerful enough to affect the district so easily. It would be a hard, grinding task to uproot all his foes and he would need the support of the residents.

Again, even though his body was exhausted, restlessness set in. He tried to lay down on his bed for a moment, but found his inaction unbearable. The lesson downstairs didn't last too long, but the wait felt like torture all the same.

A knock came at his door and Cassandra informed him that the lesson was over. Fritz leapt from his bed, then grunted from the sudden aches in his legs. He didn't let the pain slow him though, he took up his satchel of writing gear and was down the stairs in moments.

When he entered the dining room most of the team had left, Lauren, however, had stuck around and was praising Jess on her performance and poise. They sat quite close together, their hands gently clasped, fingers entwined.

Jess noticed Fritz enter first, and after glancing towards him anxiously, quickly pulled away from the other woman. Her features betrayed relief, guilt and some confusion, all along with an annoyance at his intrusion. Lauren's face held less mixed emotions, having only a single note.

Irritation.

"I hope I'm not interrupting," Fritz said, smiling politely.

"Not at all," Lauren said, displaying a dangerously sweet smile. "What was it you needed?"

"Ah, Jess promised to help me with a letter," Fritz said.

"Oh! I completely forgot," Jess said, starting to unpack her quill and inks again. "Do you have paper?"

"Right here," Fritz said, providing his highest-quality sheets.

Jess took it and began to write. She took great care, her hand moved steadily, and the nib of her quill glided across the page. In only three minutes she was done and after blowing on the ink to make sure it dried, she handed it to Fritz to examine.

Her glyphs were arranged neatly, precise and polite far beyond Fritz's own scribbles and although the request read as obsequious in the extreme, it was exactly what he had been hoping for.

"Wonderful work," Fritz stated.

"Thank you. You just sign and seal it at the bottom, then send it off," Jess said with some pride.

"May I see?" Lauren asked, hand already out.

Fritz passed her the paper.

She looked over the glyphs with a critical eye and smiled. "What sure, fine fingers you have. You wouldn't happen to be any good with numbers?" Lauren asked.

"I'm better with ledgers than I am with letters," Jess said sensibly. "Why?"

"Well, we're in need of a Quartermaster," Lauren professed. "And I find doing all the accounting all by myself to be dreadfully dull. I think you'd be a fine fit for such a role. Don't you think so too, Lord Hightide?"

Fritz paused, then looked at Jess thoughtfully. To his small surprise, she was also considering the proposition seriously.

"She'd be well suited," Fritz allowed. "Though it could conflict with her other duties and desires."

"It would," Jess said slowly.

"There are benefits though," Lauren pressed. "Lodgings, here with us, and a good wage."

"That would be nice to not have to worry about a place to stay or employment," she hedged. "I'll miss the children at the orphanage."

"You can still visit, it's not too far," Fritz said.

"Accounting is all well and good, but I'm not all too sure about how stable the pay would be," Jess said, talking more to herself, before explaining her reasoning further. "No, offence, but I hear that Climbers, their servants and other hirelings tend to be paid well only when the haul from the Spire is plentiful. When there's a bad Climb there's little but crumbs, and worse there will need to be repairs for equipment and restocking of supplies. Not to mention the refilling of treasures. What is left then?"

Fritz hadn't really thought about it, and apparently, his face showed that.

"Are you confident that every Climb will be successful and bring in a fortune?" She asked apprehensively.

Fritz didn't have to reply, Lauren did for him. "I have the utmost confidence in that fact."

The motes of doubt, bobbing about Jess's hair, doubled, then were halved, snuffed out by the statement. She stared into Lauren's eyes for a moment, entranced, then looked away, lowered her gaze and considered the offer further.

Fear and doubt, formed a hazy cloud around her, dancing within was the faint light of excitement and desire.

Jess eventually left her thoughts, and looking between the two, shook her head, saying, "I don't know. It's a generous offer, though, right now, my future is uncertain. I just... I need to order my thoughts. Can I take some time to consider?"

"Of course, there's no rush," Fritz said.

"Think it over well," Lauren said, a streak of pity flitting over her head. "Figure it out in your own time."

Jess smiled gratefully and began packing away her quills and ink. Then after a quick curtsy, she left.

After sealing and signing his audience letter, he slipped it into an envelope. Lauren sighed.

"What ails thee?" Fritz asked.

"Nothing," Lauren said wistfully. "She's just very cautious. Though I suppose she has a right to be, what with her parents falling in a Spire together."

"She told you that?"

"She was an orphan in the Guides Home for Foundlings or whatever they call it. Same as you, Fritz," Lauren said. "What else could have happened?"

"Ah, yes. I see what you mean," Fritz said.

He sealed the envelope and fetched his appeal to the king's court from his satchel. He might as well send both documents out at the same time.

"Still, do you think she'll take the job?" Lauren asked.

"I wouldn't know, it was difficult enough to get her to teach," Fritz replied. "I'm more surprised you want her for the role."

Lauren shrugged. "She's competent, neat and beautiful. And I feel as though she's honest."

"She is. Honest, that is. Or at least, I remember her being so, and I can't see that changing," Fritz agreed.

"You don't think she's beautiful?"

"She's pretty. I don't know about beautiful," Fritz said, feeling that this conversation was eerily similar to the one he had with Cal.

"You're blind. Are you sure you should be a Scout?" Lauren mocked, doubling his sense of deja vu.

"Cal said the very same thing," Fritz said, smirking.

Her face fell at the comparison.

"It's not a matter of sight," Bert proclaimed, bounding into the room. "It's taste! He has terrible taste!"

"I'm telling Sid you said that," Fritz said easily.

Bert looked appropriately aghast. "You wouldn't."

"I would and will, but first I need to find a runner and send out these letters," Fritz said, sidestepping the man.

And with that, Fritz left the dining room, his home and took to the street, finding a courier to take his documents to their intended recipients.

Once he had sent the boy away, he sighed. This week and his plentiful plans had somehow been both far too slow to start and far too fast to reflect on. But now, in this moment of waiting, he knew in his heart that his designs had been set into motion and his goal to gather strength was finally starting to bear fruit.

All he would have to do now was continue his path. Sure he would struggle, sure it would be painful, but he would survive this.

He'd gone through worse and he was good at surviving.

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