Post by Deleted on Aug 8, 2015 2:41:00 GMT -5
Titus- for that was the name the boy was using much to Ra’s distain – had been staying within the Delamara household. He was working off the family’s kindness and, with the rest of the family still intent on leaving tomorrow he was providing Ra with a much needed distraction. The boy still wore his wrist in a sling and it was still bound tightly each morning by his sisters caring hands. Ra had broken the boy’s wrist when the street-urchin had attacked him in the hope of stealing his money. While Ra did not trust the rat, not for a second, he found he appreciated the guts the child had. An eight year old, attacking a man in the uniform of a knight, with nothing more than a butter knife. It had been the most amusing of situations and in repayment for his bravery Ra seemed to allow the boy to follow him everywhere.
Bathed, dressed in a smart tunic and boots, the boy was currently worlds away from his street-rat past as Ra had taken the boy up to the training beaches. It was late in the evening, most of the world were finding their way through dinner and feasts and possibly nice little parties with other great houses. So there were few around now as the darkness settled. But it was perfect timing for Ra. He shoved Titus into one of the pens and said;
”I’m going to teach you to survive- but know, if I even suspect for a moment that the rotted little brain of yours considers even breathing on my family – after all the kindness they have shown you- I will kill you.” Ra, at 5”8, didn’t tower over many people but he loomed over the kid now, as if to make his point very clear. His voice was a whisper as he cooed; ”And I will do it slowly, so you feel every last second. Clear?”
The boy gulped and nodded, but there was something eager in his eyes.
Ra nodded, seeming satisfied. Privately, the wheels were turning and Ra was slowly turning this lad into an asset. He had been trained, or had started his training, only a little older than the boy. And, it would be useful to have someone else’s eyes here in the Capital.
So Ra, despite the boys, injury, handed the boy a wooden training stick- nothing more than a boom-handle pole – and taught him a series of moves, walking them though very slowly. That was not how he had been taught- his master had simply launched an attack upon him. And that day would come, but for now the boy was wounded, and Ra knew his sister would crucify him if he brought the boy home with any more injuries.
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