Chapter Text
Halt was barely finishing his morning coffee, when he heard Abelard stomp and huff. The signal for if he sensed someone nearby. Halt stayed perfectly still and listened. He heard nothing. Silently he moved to the window and glanced out. No one in sight. Finally he opened the door, bow in hand. But there was no one there. Just a note on his doorstep. He glanced around. The woods were peaceful as ever. He saw no immediate tracks to follow though he would definitely take a closer look later. Picking up the note he read it quickly. His mouth thinned into a line. A conspiracy, wonderful.
“The blacksmith in Lakestead is innocent. The real criminal is still out there. The blacksmith is set to hang in two days. Save him.”
He read it over once more and sighed. Right. Lots to do. First and foremost. Track down the person who left the note.
By noon that day he was slipping through the town market, in that way rangers do. Keeping to the shadows. Not making a sound. Not looking suspicious because no one would notice them in the first place. He had failed to find tracks of any sort left by the messenger. Halt had to admit he was impressed. It was like a ghost had left the letter. But Halt would need a lot more proof of supernatural activity before he started looking into ghosts.
His thoughts were interrupted as he saw a figure slip into the darkness of a side ally. Halt would normally just mind his business. But a glimpse of the figure's face was all the proof he needed, you don’t just have that guilty of a look on your face while being innocent.
With the grace of a predator, Halt slipped into the side ally.
He barely made it two steps into the darkness before a boy leapt out from behind a crate. He was holding a thin dagger. He was young… about sixteen. Quite thin and tall. No facial hair. Long brown hair locks. Most would find him quite handsome. The boy growled, “Give me your money.”
Halt blinked slowly at him. “That was pathetic. Try a different line.”
The boy frowned, “um… hand over your valuables!”
Halt sighed, “I suppose that will have to do. As for looking threatening, your stance is all wrong. Any trained warrior would see that and be able to take you down.”
The boys mouth flapped open and closed. “Are you telling me how to rob more efficiently? I’m trying to mug you!”
Rolling his eyes, Halt relented, “Well come on then. I’m obviously not giving you money. Attack me.”
The boy hesitated, it was obvious he had never intended to actually hurt anyone.
Raising an eyebrow, Halt grumbled, “Don’t make threats if you can’t follow through.”
Sputtering, the boy exclaimed, “It’s called bluffing… and I’m going to attack… I’m just looking for an opening.”
Halt snorted, he hadn’t moved to defend himself or even get into a stance. He was, in the boy's eyes, completely open. “You have to know the rules before you can break them. No bluffing until you are practiced at making threats with actual intent.”
The boy hesitated again… then lunged.
Moving like a viper. Halt sidestepped the lunge and grabbed the boys wrist as he stumbled into the spot where Halt had been previously. He twisted the boys wrist and the knife clattered to the dirty ground.
The boy yelped. Halt then helped the boy steady himself. “Now do you want to learn to do it right?”
The boy stared at him, then nodded eagerly.
“What’s your name?”
“Gilan.”
Getting into a correct stance for a knife fight. Halt showed Gilan how to grip the knife correctly. And balance your weight so you don’t fall as easily.
The boy tried to mimic his stance. Halt circles him and slapped his knee quickly, “move that to the left! And squat down more! No not that far down. Are you constipated on the latrine or are you trying to rob someone?”
Gilan corrected his stance, breathless. Until Halt finally nodded, “That will do for now. A better stance comes with practice and technique. I’ve given you technique, now you need to practice.”
Nodding eagerly, Gilan watched him warily as Halt got into a similar stance across from Gilan. “Now let’s see what sort of actual knife fighting you do.”
Gilan once again lunged, immediately coming out of his stance. Halt just once again stepped to the side, and let Gilan fall flat on his face.
Voice muffled by the dirt, the boy grumbled, “ow.”
Sighing Halt helped him up. “Truly graceful. Let’s try that again.” Quietly he thought to himself. This was going to be a painful lesson. Halt could feel the secondhand embarrassment blooming already.
After nearly an hour of knife lessons, Halt was fairly sure the boy would not be embarrassing himself as badly any time soon.
He nodded in approval. “Good. Now go. Do a crime.”
(I know he probably wouldn’t say that… but I am quoting something. So deal with it. Halt says that in this story.)
Gilan stares at him, “You are encouraging crime?”
Blinking at him Halt grumbles, “Officially no. Off the record, that one noblewoman who comes to the market on Wednesdays wearing the fox fur scarf. She deserves to be knocked down a peg. And has definitely been committing tax fraud. But you didn’t hear that from me.” And with that Halt turned and swept out of the ally.
By that evening, Halt was about to depart for Lakestead to investigate the blacksmiths case. But he was summoned to castle redmont.
He sighed when he found Gilan on trial. “Gilan, why did you get caught?”
Baron Arald turned to look at Halt, “I’m going to pretend I didn’t hear that.”
Staring back with zero fear, Halt replies with the most deadpan energy, “Wise of you.” He turned to look back at Gilan then at Baron Arald. “Whats his sentence?”
The Baron raised an eyebrow, “Two years in prison. I’m letting him off light.”
With eyes that bored through the soul, Halt replied, “I have a better idea. Assign him to me for one year. I’ll handle him.”
Baron Arald hesitated then nodded, he turned to Gilan, “Good luck. You’ll need it.”
Before Gilan could speak up, Halt cut him free then marched him out of the room.
When they got back to the cabin. Halt grumbled, “Do you have any items we need to grab? We leave immediately.”
Gilan blinked in surprise, “um, just my sword.”
Halt frowned and glanced at him. “You have a sword? Why did you use a knife when mugging me earlier?”
Shrugging, Gilan admitted, “It’s important to me. I didn’t want to risk losing it.”
Blinking at him slowly, Halt said, “Swords are tools. If you are protective of your sword you can’t use it effectively. Either bring the sword and use it. Or leave it behind and let it be a decorational piece.”
Hesitating, Gilan opened and closed his mouth for a while. Then nodded with sudden determination. “I’ll use it.”
Halt nodded in approval. “Go grab it. We leave as soon as you get back.”
“Where are we going?”
“Into danger.”