Standing at the gate to the Anise estate, Micheal realized what a fool he really was. He'd thought that years standing alongside Samantha would have been more than enough to drum that lesson into him, but it appeared that wasn't the case, because no sane, reasonable person would do as he was about to.

Micheal looked to Samantha for reassurance, which normally would have been provided. In this case, looking between her and Dawn provided a much darker kind of reassurance instead. He was absolutely assured that his decision-making skills were fit for the biggest fool in Dasgad.

The plan was simple enough. Dawn wanted to capitalize on Micheal and Sam's notoriety in order to get some practice against better opponents. Char, meanwhile, wanted to watch the two fight against opponents so that he could see a fight outside of his usual, sanitized view of dueling. What better solution to the problem then to kill two wyverns with one arrow?

Of course, this relied on the Anise estate's guards not crushing Dawn on sight, which by the look of Matilda's eyes as she watched them from the gate, was unlikely.

Six feet tall and sporting a look that could kill any lesser man, Matilda towered over each of their merry band with the exception of Dawn, who had enough height to stare her in the eye.

“You've multiplied since I last saw you, rat”

“And you've somehow managed to grate me even more in eight words than Samantha can in eighty. We make do with what we have,” he replied.

“What you have has grown by an extra rat. Though at least this one has the decency to dress outside of a beggars wardrobe,”

Which Micheal noted, was true. Where Dawn acquired clothes that weren't the orphanages usual gray was a mystery. Micheal filed it once more in that little box of the worlds unknowables.

“That isn't your concern. Neither our wardrobe nor our presence. You're a guard, not a noble,” Micheal spat. This seemed to effect the woman, who finally sharpened her gaze onto him. It would seem he struck a nerve. Excellent. Just excellent.

“My job is to guard this estate, and that includes the state of it. We can't have some dirty rats scurrying about, can we? When you have rats, you eliminate them, do you not?” The guard shifted into a sickly sweet tone at that. It was like a verbal manifestation of Dawn's eyes. It practically screamed 'ulterior motive', and it didn't take a genius to figure out exactly what Matilda meant by it.

“And what of the rat that bites the exterminator?” Dawn asked, stepping up to face the guard. The raven-haired youth looked even younger compared to the hardened guard, who scowled at the verbal challenge.

“And what kind of rat do you think you are to bite me?” She asked.

“The kind that knows exactly where to bite, dear Tildy” Dawn said, throwing on a smile that drove Micheal's blood cold. The look in Matilda's eyes at the nickname suggested it had much the same affect on her as well. She quickly shoved this outburst down, but it was clear to the three of them that something about that nickname had some significance. Micheal had his suspicions, of course, but it was best left to the professionals in this case.

“Now, how about you get that gate open for us, hmm?”

“Count your days, girl. And count them fast,” Matilda leaned forward into the gate, reaching into her coat to pull out a large ring of masterwork keys. Micheal assumed they were enchanted, given the sizzling and sparks that practically flew off of them.

“I will, dearie. You just keep quiet and I'll count as long as you like, and so will my friends,” Dawn pushed the gate open and strode through first onto the estate, beckoning the rest of them to follow.

Micheal, for his part, followed mutely behind, with a slightly slack-jawed Samantha following soon after.

“Micheal,” Samantha said with a tap on his shoulder. “Who the fuck did you just bring into this,”

“I'm wondering the same damn thing, Sam.”

Char was waiting at the same arena Micheal and Sam had seen in their last visit to the estate, flanked on either side by another guard and the enigmatic instructor, Lagran. Char wore the much nicer finery of a noble this time around, eschewing all practicality for pomp and decoration. That eliminated him as a sparring partner for the coming practice, which meant he and Sam would be going against either strangers or one another.

The gall of that irritated Micheal for some reason. As if he we were not even worth the nobles time to duel himself. It was made immensely worse by the fact that he wasn't worth Char's time to duel. A bone-ranker, no matter his skill or talent, is a worthless training partner to an earth-ranker. The comparison is practically useless.

Char smiled a wide and disarming smile upon seeing them come out into the gaudy square that held the arena, lightening Micheal's mood for a moment before crushing it immediately. The boy's smile was just like everything else about the mansion. Purely illusory. Entirely without substance. It was the notable illusion of substance that the estate projected that irked Micheal most.

“Micheal, Samantha you're here! And there's another one?” The boy asked.

Micheal could practically here the steam coming from the scheming nobles head as he puzzled over there addition. Likely following the order of events that they had, beginning with the notable 'how the hell did she get past Matilda in one piece?' In fairness to Char, Micheal was asking himself the exact same question.

“Yes, this is Dawn, an associate of Micheal's,” Samantha said, gesturing to Dawn. Dawn bowed politely, as was custom to those of a higher station. Something that, in Micheal's slight horror, he realized he hadn't done in the entirety of his time in Char's presence. That would perhaps go a ways to explain the esteem in which Matilda held him.

Char waved her off, and held out his hand for her to shake. The two greeted each other quickly while Micheal studied the guard that had made his way to Char's back. Unlike Matilda this one was a male who could only be described as so deliberately average that it had to be the work of an apostle.

It wasn't uncommon for street muscle to get work like that done, but seeing it in a nobles courtyard was another thing entirely. It meant that while he wasn't necessarily from the wrong side of the law, it was a stretch either. Between that and the way his lips turned down to make a vicious look of disapproval, Micheal figured he wasn't going to be any better than Matilda had been.

Micheal looked from the man to Char and back, noticing the subtle way in which Char avoided the man. Despite this, Char seemed to be making nice with Dawn, somehow eliciting an honest looking laugh from the girl who had managed to scare off a Stone-ranker.

Micheal couldn't exactly blame Char either, given he had been no different only a few short days ago. Still, the earnest way that the noble carried himself was intoxicating in that way - somehow promising so simply a friend, while concealing a dagger behind his back. Worse, it was the kind off dagger that he himself was unaware he wielded. One held in the shadows by his family, ready to cut down anyone and everyone that might threaten their position.

In a way, Micheal was no different in what he was doing then. introducing Dawn to Char was simply a means to a unified end. One where Dawn and Char's training regiments could be completed together, in one fell swoop.

“Micheal, I was under the impression that you only had Samantha. Is there some trick to constantly surrounding yourself with beautiful women?” The noble joked.

Samantha laughed heartily at that, more than likely at the thought that Micheal attracted anyone but the worst sort of scum. Dawn, for her part, gave a polite laugh into her hand, which seemed to set off something in Char, who was quite pleased with himself.

“It's my irresistible charm,” Micheal responded, causing Sam to groan loudly and Dawn to laugh. It was a much more pleasant sound than he had expected, which was somehow unsurprising in itself. Dawn was a lesson in contradictions.

“Is that what we're calling it now?” Samantha asked.

“That's what I tell everyone at the orphanage,” he replied, splitting into a more genuine grin. What was better was that it was partially true. There was a brief, brief, period at the beginning of their friendship where they considered courtship. One broken nose, a few bruised ribs, and the wounded pride of two adolescent teens, proved to be enough to end that line of thinking. But the rumors persisted, as rumors are want to do, about the fool king of the lower hall and his queen.

To Micheal's amusement, this prompted a smattering of juvenile laughter - the best kind in his opinion - at a joke that was, by all rights, not very funny. It was something about the atmosphere. Though tense, it was lent a brevity by the presence of Samantha and Char. Their charisma together somehow lightening the group in ways that no one would ever quite suspect.

Even in Micheal's most suspicious, paranoid thoughts he would not take this away from his best friend. He couldn't. Not after what she had lost. Still, the problem remained.

“Hmmm, excellent choice on the new one Char. She will be a welcome addition, especially if she's able to get rid of the tall one more often,” a rich voice called out from behind Micheal, causing him to swing around faster than he thought possible.

Lagran, who by all the laws of the Gods themselves should have been behind Char, had somehow come to stand by Micheal's shoulder, watching over them as the conversation between them had progressed.

The insane instructor had not changed in the days since Micheal had last seen the man. He was still tall, though not so tall as to be noteworthy. Just as he was handsome enough not to be called ugly, and not so fit that women would swoon over his physique. In many ways he was so completely average that one would never know what kind of monster they had run into.

He moved languidly, as if each step was a chore for him to get through so that his body might finally end up where he wanted it. Walking for Lagran was the same as doing the dishes might be for another. With a too-sharp jaw and a mess of brown curly hair Lagran looked far more a peasant than a nobles private tutor.

All the better, Micheal thought. It would suit them if Lagran were just some stone-ranker they picked up off the streets. No better way to capture exactly the effort he and Samantha warranted than to be trained by some rando from the middle of nowhere. Char was probably not in on it, but the kid was savvy enough to see what was happening, and smart enough to know that any power play his family made should be respected.

A power play of the kind made by those with actual power, and not the stuff most Bone-rankers pretended they had, was something that by its nature needed to be respected. You didn't go up to an iron ranker and tell him he was full of nert shit, after all. At least not before being torn to pieces by that some iron ranker.

The acidic thoughts threw Micheal through something of a loop, as he took his eyes off the enigmatic trainer and tightened his scowl onto the noble boy.

“If looks could kill, my boy, I'd have to be the one doing the killing today,” Lagran said in a voice that was far too good for a man that seemed to spend the better part of his evening gambling with people not even Micheal would associate with. At least, he hoped he wouldn't associate with people like that. Who was he kidding? Of course he would associate with people like that. They knew the best card games!

“If looks could kill, I would have never taken the risk of being here in the first place,”

“I don't suppose you would, would you? Much too gaudy a place for the likes of your lot, one would think,”

“And what does that mean, Lagran?”

“It means there are a great many places that you could slot yourself into, my boy. But a noble's court? It is not among them,”

The man stalked away, adopting what Micheal was only beginning to suspect was a drunken stumble. He hadn't seemed drunk at the time, but it would certainly go a ways to explaining exactly what it was that the old man was talking about half the time. The lurching pace with which he walked only seeming to reinforce the idea within Micheal's mind.

“He's a canny one, that trainer,” Dawn said from Micheal's side. It seemed it was a day for sudden appearances at his shoulder. He even considered asking how she had managed to make it away from Char, especially given the almost hypnotizing pull the boy seemed to have when it came to conversations.

Looking at Dawn's smirk, however, he figured he would avoid asking. No doubt she was relishing the idea that he thought she was so mysterious. Without a doubt she would have been expecting him to ask the question.

“Because he spouts aimless nonsense half the time? Or because he looks like he just got off a bender that seems a hell of a lot more fun than what I'll be having when the duel starts between me and that earth-ranker over there?” Said Micheal, pointing out the aforementioned earth-ranker.

It had taken a moment to spot the strangers, but upon looking past the noble retinue they stood out nearly as much as Micheal and Samantha had.

“Because he notices things that are a lot more deep than you seem to understand for someone so paranoid,” she snapped.

Micheal thought better of a barb of his own.

“Well if he's so wise and I so lacking, why don't you dumb it down for the wee Lost,”

“When you're finished whining I might just do that, but I plan to have that conversation with someone that doesn't look at each and every one of Char's entourage like they have a vested interest in gutting us all and hanging us out to dry,” she finished, stalking away from the slightly shell-shocked Micheal.

That was surprisingly... violent, for a talking to. Being told off by Dawn of all people was not how he expected this meeting going, and especially not how he figured Dawn would react to a threat of the scale of the Anise estate. How could she not understand at the very least? Samantha he understood, but Dawn? Dawn was as paranoid as him on his worst days and twice the schemer. There was simply no conceivable way that she would let herself be duped by Char and his family.

He refused to believe it, and so he wouldn't.

Dawn was correct. He couldn't look at each and every one of these sycophants as if they were going to filet him alive. They would know if he were to do something that stupid. Instead, wouldn't it be so much to his benefit if they didn't know?

Maybe he hadn't gone too far as of yet. Maybe, with a little fine-tuning, he could get away with his usual paranoia. in fact, he wagered it would work out just fine if they figured they had him dead to the briny blue. An opponent that suspected you were finished was the easiest kind to deal with.

For the first time since arriving again at the Anise estate, Micheal turned to Char and met his eyes, delivering only the smallest of his great retinue of scowls. He wanted to convince Char that he had worked through whatever loathing he had for the boy. It felt fake, but Micheal figured that came with the territory. He practically spat when the noble smiled back at him. His stomach, too, ached at the betrayal. And it was a betrayal. He wouldn't deny that. But he wasn't going to stop because of it either. He would do as he needed to get both him and Sam the help they needed to make it through the tournament in front of them. Even if it meant he wouldn't like the things he did to get there.

“Welcome, everyone, to the first training session of the 'Tournament Preparation Squad!'” The noble shouted, and something within Micheal twisted at it. Not even he liked himself for this. He would do it nonetheless. He had to.