For the longest time that lone, nameless mouse stared at the stick grasped within its paw, imagining all the shapes that it could take, the ways that it could be used. It felt like its head was spinning as the rapid images appeared one after another, looping back on themselves, offering in its mind all of the potential in the world. In reality that was only a slight exaggeration.

It had to actively force itself to look away and toss the stick aside, knowing that it could potentially engage in these newfound looping thoughts forever, and that this was not a safe place to linger. It turned back to the book with a newfound confidence, now studying the strange lettering. Somehow the creature had expected for all of it to make sense, for meaning to flood its mind as the images of tools and weapons had, but sadly, it was still complete gibberish. Disappointing, but it was hard to complain. In such a short time, the creature could already feel its mind expanding dramatically, and it wanted more. So much more.

Not here, though. It had dawdled in this place, out in the open, for far too long. Even though it felt ten times the mouse it was just hours before, it was still well aware that none of these newfound ideas would keep it safe from the countless dangers which filled the immediate vicinity, much less the rest of this world. The mouse could not stay here. The problem was that it couldn't leave the book, either. The book had given so much, and the mouse strongly believed, had so much more to give. It would sooner die than abandon it, but had no intention of doing either.

The book was heavy and the mouse weak. The journey was a long and arduous one, with the rodent stopping at many places, none of which were quite suitable. Sheltering its own body might have been easy enough, but a large object requires an even larger secured space. At any point it could have caught the eye of a predator, a large hard-cover tome moving around on its own being considerably more conspicuous than a single small rodent, but if any had seen it, none took action. Perhaps it wasn't simple coincidence, either. Books have very few natural predators, after all.

At long last it reached a large covered space, one that would hide it from hostile eyes and shield the tome from the elements. Beneath an abandoned truck it set the book down, declaring this place a new home for both itself and this fabulous book of secrets. It was convinced that with enough time and perseverance it would one day unlock all of the precious knowledge held within the tome. This belief was, sadly, a flawed one, but little did this one insignificant creature know that its curiosity would be the first step in creating a new and largely unseen civilization.

<3~ <3~ <3~

The pair continued on, Jerin following her brother, Aaron simply trying to escape the scene of the crime, even that wasn't quite the choice of words he would have used to describe what had occurred. The problem was that if anyone were to ask, he'd struggle to think of better ones. Already a small group of mice had gathered to gawk at the wreckage, and the two quickly leaving the scene while so many were arriving with interest would seem quite suspicious to anyone who happened to take notice. Nobody did, the ruined store being the sort of thing none dared look away from, lest they potentially risk missing something interesting, such as it becoming somehow even more ruined. An unlikely prospect, sure, but why take the chance?

"So, that fancy dressed guy in the mask." Jerin said, finally breaking the silence. "He was pretty tough huh?"

"Not really. He wouldn't have been a problem if I had more room to fight."

"Oh, so he was weak then?"

The larger mouse stopped, brow furrowed in thought. "I wouldn't go so far as to say that."

Jerin rolled her eyes and muttered, "If you don't know, you could just say so."

Aaron pretended to not hear that. "This is exactly the sort of thing I was talking about. We haven't even left the city, and someone's already tried to murder you. I told you this 'quest' of yours was a terrible idea."

"Hey, don't blame the quest for this!" Jerin replied, stepping in front of her larger sibling. "That would have happened even if you talked me out of it!"

He stopped dead at the words, knowing them to be entirely true. The image of it was so clear in his mind. Had he somehow managed to accomplish the downright herculean task of getting his sister to change her mind about something and she had decided against going on her ridiculously dangerous journey, she'd still have had the money found within the shrine burning a hole in her pocket. There was no question she would have been eager to spend it. On some days, he would accompany her to the general store, but no matter how strong a case he had made, and how much she had agreed with him, she'd still be angry and he, reveling in his rare victory, wouldn't even consider pressing her on the matter.

Sure, maybe she could have potentially gone to the market district instead, but that would be unlikely. She wasn't quite at the age where she found the clutter and chaos of the general store to be a nuisance, so of course she would have gone there. Alone. Where that strange attacker would have been waiting.

He shook his head, forcing the images of what would have happened next from his mind. "Come on. This way." he said, nodding towards some tall grass, away from the main road.

It was not a long walk before they found themselves well away from the noise of the local populace, facing the uneven metal wall of the city. This was among a few areas within the town proper which was considered too rocky, or too soft, or too whatever other reason the mice could muster to not build houses upon. With the rapidly growing population, however, chances were that the citizens as a whole would soon be re-evaluating those standards, not for the first time or likely for the last. The small meadow was lined by tall, pale grasses, a small pond alongside it, the water a mixture of unnatural colors, with no hope of supporting even the most basic of wildlife.

Aaron reached out a furless hand. "Give me your sword."

The girl held it to her belt defensively. "No! It's mine!"

He sighed. "I'm not trying to steal it from you, I'll give it back. Just let me hold it for a minute."

Jerin was rather hesitant, but she did kind of owe him one for saving her back at the shop, as much as she had hated to admit it. She pulled out the long blade, turning it in her hands, gripping it by the tip, the hole at the base pointed towards the larger sibling, who took a hold of it. Even with his larger hands and fingers, it was a comfortable fit as he gripped the eye of the needle. With a quick nod of approval after testing its weight, he slashed it through his sister's side.

Well, 'through' might not have been entirely accurate, even if it would have made for a rather shocking plot twist. It thudded against her ribs causing her to yelp and leap back, rubbing at the bruise. "Oww! What the hell? You could have cut me in half!" she growled at him.

"That's what you tried to do earlier in the store: slash with it. He got out of the way, but even if he hadn't, it wouldn't have mattered much. This isn't a slashing weapon." Aaron said, sliding the fingers of his free paw along the unnaturally smooth surface. "Well, technically, you can slash with it, but it's not what the sword is made for." he continued, looking around, finding a small piece of rotted wood, setting it upright upon a waist high stone. He swept the blade towards it, tearing a long gash halfway through the surface. "For that to work, you need to mind your distance. The actual edge of the sword is relatively small. Too far and, of course, you'll miss. Too close, and you won't catch them with the point, they'll just get hit with the flat of the blade. It'll be like a club, only considerably less effective."

"I know all of that!" Jerin huffed, rubbing her side some more, even though it really wasn't stinging at this point. She just wanted him to feel bad for attacking her. He didn't. She also did not know all of that, having not given it much thought. "Why are you telling me all this, anyways? I thought you didn't want me fighting."

He nodded. "I don't, but if you're going to, you should know how to do it right. This here? This isn't like your little knife, or the toy swords you've played with, and while it is an exceptional weapon-" he said, looking it up and down. Exceptional was an understatement. It was amazingly well balanced, not so much as a nick in it, and the point of it, even if small, was still fiendishly sharp. Even after holding it for only a few seconds, the appeal to of the blade was obvious. Simply gripping it in his fingers made him feel stronger. "It still has it's strengths and weaknesses. It's great for thrusting, not so much for slashing. It's strong, and can catch an attacking blade easily, but doesn't have a guard, which could make the other weapon slide down and catch your wrist."

He continued to study it, needing to actively force himself to toss the sword back to his sister.

"Now, try attacking."

She looked rather annoyed by this. Obviously, she knew how to use a sword. She wasn't stupid. She thrusted it forward, giving a nice dramatic "Ha!" as she did, figuring that was the sort of thing that was expected when one thrusts a sword.

"Nope, all wrong." Aaron said. Jerin looked to him, confused.

"What do you mean all wrong? I thrusted it, didn't I? Pretty fast, too!"

The brown mouse sighed. "Hold the sword out directly in front of you." She did so.

"There! Look at the blade. See how it's wobbling?"

"So what?"

"If you can't keep it stable, it will be easy to deflect. Similarly, if it's wobbling a bit upwards at the time of the thrust, you'll hit higher than you're aiming. If downwards, the reverse will happen." he pulled his hammer from the strap across his back, showing the weapon to her. "This is a blunt, powerful weapon. You've still got to use it properly, and time the strikes well, but in the end it mostly relies on it's weight and the strength of the user to do damage. That? That, on the other hand, is a precision weapon. It's meant to be quick and accurate."

Jerin looked down at the tip of the sword with annoyance, making a special effort to try to hold it perfectly still. That didn't come easily. While the weapon was fairly light, it was also quite long, with every faint motion of her paw seeming to amplify by the time it had reached the point. While she was doing this, Aaron took hold of the hammer in both hands.

"Now, try to attack me." he said.

While thoroughly annoyed with him, she was still stunned by the idea. "I don't want to stab you!"

"You're not going to-oh, fine." he reached down, breaking off a small chunk of the rotted wood, pushing it onto the needles tip. "Now, pretend that I'm an enemy. Try to strike me."

The girl still wasn't happy about this, but decided to play along anyways, thrusting it towards her brothers armored shoulder. With a quick movement, he removed his hand from the upper portion of the hammer and used it to effortlessly slap the side of the blade away, quickly stepping in, grabbing Jerin by the face just as the earlier attacker had. He then threw her down, somewhat gentler, onto the soft surface. Jerin looked up at him, completely stunned.

"You're too close, and not holding it firmly enough. You need to take advantage of the length, stay as far out of range of a counter attack as possible. Try again."

Jerin was fuming at this point, having been knocked around more than enough for one day. She had a noble cause, and an enchanted weapon! She was supposed to be able to win fights, but instead was left feeling like some weak little kid. She hopped up onto her feet and stepped back, going for three quick thrusts in rapid succession, each easily deflected by the bare paw of the more experienced fighter. As much as she hated to admit it, however, even as she struck, she could see the unwieldy blade always moving just a little off from where she had originally intended, and the more that it moved in that direction, the less effort it required to bat it off target. She was getting a little better with it, but it was still like the blade had a mind of its own and bent and twisted according to its own whims, regardless of her intentions. That's when the hammer came towards her.

Aaron was, of course, holding back, and swinging it with nowhere close to his full strength, even though it is difficult to pull your punches with such a heavy object. Still, it looked awfully fast and dangerous to the small mouse. She quickly turns the blade, holding it at both edge and handle, the hammer striking the metal length directly in the center, sending reverberations through the weapon, with her barely able to resist dropping it. The force of it had shaken her, making her back up two steps, but she kept her footing, regaining her defensive posture. This also gave her an idea, one which should have occurred to her much earlier. She curled her other hand around the blade, just above the eye, holding it up above her shoulder with both paws, pointed towards her older sibling. She launched another flurry of thrusts, these feeling much more controlled, to the point that Aaron could no longer effortlessly bat them away with his bare hands, but instead needed to parry them with his own weapon, which, unfortunately for her, still came quite easily to him.

She smiled, already getting a handle for the fight. At first she was a little discouraged that she couldn't hack and slash with the sword, but it's strengths were becoming abundantly clear. As powerful as her brothers hammer might have been, it needed a bit of a wind-up to do real damage, but this holy sword? It felt alive in her hands, able to strike, withdraw and strike again within a single moment, and the more that she used it, the quicker and more weightless it became. More than that, she was beginning to notice patterns in her opponents movements: the way that he held the blunt weapon, and namely how he had primarily focused his guard on his right side. She went for his left, and true enough, he tried to turn to compensate, but his hammer was heavy and his body large, whereas she was small and swift. She knew that she could take him. That was when she looked up to see the massive head of the hammer coming straight down towards her face, seemingly appearing from nowhere

She still had her shield, but it was strapped to her back and there was no time to grab and put it on, especially while holding her blade with both hands. Besides, she doubted it would offer much protection from such a forceful impact, anyways. Parrying with her sword was also an option, but this was a harder swing than the earlier one, and with the weight and momentum behind it, it wouldn't deflect easily. Stepping forward might have made the head of the hammer miss her, but would put her too close to him (and she had no interest whatsoever in being thrown to the ground for a third time today). backpedaling would catch her in the impact. She instead stepped to the right, turning her body, watching the hammer soar down past her, slamming into the earth below, digging deep into the dirt. That's when she stepped back.

There was no denying that Jerin felt quite proud of herself, smiling wide, standing atop the stone head of the hammer, leaning forward, the toes of her foot curled around the wooden handle for balance. Her own blade was aimed directly between the eyes of her brother.

"Looks like I win." She said, beaming proudly.

"You think so, huh?" Aaron asked, looking no less pleased with himself, with a self assured smile. He lifted the hammer back up, her added weight barely an inconvenience. While this was quick, it wasn't instantaneous, and an experienced warrior might have been able to strike the finishing blow before he could make the move, but Jerin's balance was already unsteady, and even the faint movements made her yelp in surprise, crouch down and try to grip the head of the weapon with both fingers and toes. The good news, was that she didn't fall off. The bad news was also that she didn't fall off. She maintained her vice-like grip, eyes wide, even as the hammer was drawn from the dirt, lifted high and raised over her brothers head. She even maintained her grip even as it was swung down, hard. The young warrior fortunately didn't have to experience the sensation of being smashed with a great hammer. Instead she experienced the sensation of being a hammer. There are plenty of good reasons that the job of 'hammer' is rarely taken by mice, and It proved to be about as pleasant an experience as one would expect, leaving her sprawled out on the ground, dazed, her own blade embedded in the dirt next to her.

"Come on. We'd better go get some supplies." Aaron said, offering his younger sibling a hand to help her back up onto her feet. If it weren't for the fact that her head was still spinning, she wouldn't have taken it. Still, needing to be helped up was marginally less embarrassing than being unable to stand up at all. He couldn't decide whether to compliment her for her efforts, or to tease her for her failure, instead deciding there was no need to do either. All things considered, he was rather surprised at how well she had done and just how rapidly her skills had improved mid-battle.

Once Jerin regained her composure, she found herself in a similar predicament, eager to blurt out some excuse for why she hadn't won, to accuse him or not fighting fair, or express one of the many other possible explanations, all of which conveniently just happened to paint herself in a positive light, and him in a negative one. She similarly decided against it. A part of her knew she had simply lost, even if she'd never admit so out loud. As a result, both of the siblings had left their thoughts unsaid.

For at least a couple of very good reasons, the general store was out as an option to obtain supplies, but there were no shortage of other markets about, even if they were considerably less convenient, and that says a lot when one considers just how inconvenient the former general store could be. The trip to the market district was a short one, which was no surprise as there are no two points within the walled city that constituted a large distance from one another, especially not the central road which ran right through the town, where so much of the activity of the city, and even more of the noise was focused.

Assorted booths and desks lined either side of the street, some were specialized in a specific type of goods, but far more of them were completely random, simply selling whatever the owner had happened to stumble upon, and believed that they could convince others that it was worth spending money on, despite the fact that they didn't consider such objects good enough to keep for themselves. The shouting and arguing was constant, but not due to general haggling, which was usually quite civil. The shouting was from the many shopkeeps hurling abuse and insults at their competitors on the other side of the road. While it was true that most of these small stores also have competitors to either side of them, often selling similar items for similar prices, they tried to maintain a relatively congenial relationship with their immediate neighbors. After all, if they happened to shout anything too offensive, and their target on the other side of the road happened to take it just a little too personally, it would give the original abuser enough time to run away if need be. This very rarely happened, of course, since it was always easier to simply call back, claiming that the competitor's merchandise was overpriced and of poor quality, a frequently legitimate claim, regardless of who happened to be making it.

As for the customers, of which there were no shortage, they had no real problems with this arrangement. It added a little entertainment to the shopping experience, and those who planned to spend as little as possible for goods found that distracted store owners made for poor hagglers. Then there were those who had intended to spend nothing at all for the goods. These sorts appreciated a distracted shopkeep most of all.

The randomness of the stalls goods made searching for anything specific no less daunting a task than it was at the large store. If anything, worse, since the piles of mostly rubbish were scattered over a significantly wider area. Still, despite not being entirely useful, there was a certain energy to the market street, what with the constant arguing, the many things to see, and the fact that even though the city was rather finite in size, every time you walked down it you would see plenty of new faces. Jerin was still following along behind her brother, wearing a sullen expression. She desperately tried to make sense of what had just happened. She had convinced herself that this wasn't how battles were supposed to turn out, having little appreciation for the value of experience, a trap that so many young people fall into, throughout all walks of life. She willed herself to not even consider the conflict ahead, and what would happen were it to turn out the same way as the sparring match had.

The two split off at this point, each checking out separate stalls, even though the younger sister wasn't really in a shopping mood.

"Greetings, little one! Have you prayed to the Starman yet today?" the jovial voice of a wide eyed mouse behind her said, making her jump in surprise.

"Um... no. What's a Starman?"

The man was surprised by her words, or at the very least made every effort to look surprised, since her response was far from uncommon. Surprise was simply the expected response to those who would deny universal truth, no matter how unknown and seemingly backwards said truth happened to be.

"Why, the Starman is the great creator, who fell from the heavens ages ago, and now resides beneath our very feet! He shields us with his warmth, love and strength, and once the time is right, he shall rise once more, gathering the loyal believers in his holy embrace!"

"Wow, really? That sounds great!" she said, excitedly, her mind suddenly far away from all of her problems.

"What are you doing, you fool?" Aaron said, bursting into the conversation. He had held a calm demeanor during the practice fight, and even when they were nearly killed by the strange masked attacker, but now he looked genuinely panicked. "Don't talk to the cultists! If you do, they'll never go away!"

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"But it sounds interesting!"

"Of course it sounds interesting." Aaron said in a weary tone, shaking his lowered head. "That's how religion gets you. It always sounds fascinating at first, with all the miracles, and the crazy alternate histories and the salvation, but then when you get into it, it's all just ceremonies and hypocrisy."

"It's not ALL ceremonies and hypocrisy!" the member of the Starman cult interjected, making a strong effort to not sound too annoyed. "Sure, you need to spend two hours a day kneeling and offering your devotion to the mighty being from the heavens, but there's good stuff, too!"

"Oh yeah? Like what?" The older brother asked. Jerin had begun to look similarly skeptical at this point.

"Well, um... we have a bake sale every other week! And... uh... oh, you get these comfortable robes, and stylish face-paint!" He said. The robe in question was a dark blue, starlike patterns awkwardly knitted into it, but they came in a variety of colors due to the incredibly confusing rank and hierarchy system that the belief held. There were similar star patterns painted blue upon each cheek, as well as drawn on the mouses forehead. All of these patterns barely showed against the dark fur.

"Two hours? That sounds like a lot." Jerin said as she looked him up and down. She agreed, however, that the robes did, indeed, look quite comfortable.

"It's only a long time if you think of it as work, or some chore. In reality, it's communing with the divine, praying to let the veil that we call reality slip away, and bring us a little closer to the cosmic truth. Similarly, the Starman does so very much for us, each and every day. It feels good to show gratitude..." he paused. "...even if it can a little bit hard on the knees." he grumbled to himself upon finishing speaking, wishing he hadn't mentioned that last part. Knees were very important to people, after all.

"Oh really? And what exactly does this 'Starman' do?" Aaron asked, arms folded, looking more than a little bit bored, even if not quite bored enough to walk away from an argument that he believed himself to be winning.

"What does the Starman do? Why, what doesn't he do?! Don't you ever wonder why the entire history of our civilization only goes back seventy months? Why there aren't even repeated oral histories beyond that, even though clearly, we as a people still existed? I'll tell you what happened: The Starman came down and with him came wisdom and civilization and the ability to construct and to fight and to write and to philosophize, and, well... to be! Everything, absolutely everything that has ever happened we owe to the great man of the stars!"

"So everything that's happened in my life is their, sorry, 'His' fault? That doesn't sound like something worthy of praise." Aaron said.

"Two hours? Every single day?" Jerin asked, tilting her head to one side, whiskers twitching.

The cult member tried so very hard to remain polite, to remember the many calming mantras they recited each and every day, but this was just too much. This wasn't the first encounter he's had which had gone like this, not even the first today. It was difficult to remain at peace in the face of such willful ignorance.

"I swear, it's like talking to children! You're all the same!" he exclaimed, sweeping his arm across the entire, largely indifferent crowd. "You have no sense of perspective, and no grasp of spirituality, no comprehension of our greater purpose! No, you'd rather stuff your faces, keep yourself entertained, grow old and die for nothing, than put aside a few moments of your day! We have the chance to ascend to something greater than can even be comprehended by our feeble minds, but no matter how little he asks of us, it's always too much for you people!"

"Okay, fine, I'll bite. if this 'Star Man' is so powerful and knows so much, and can do and see everything, what does it gain from you kneeling down and repeating the same phrases over and over again?" Aaron said. Jerin quietly watched the argument.

The cultist calmed himself, somewhat, happy to be able to return to his script. After all, any sort of engagement with people was progress, no matter how skeptical they may be. "It's not so much for Him. Gods don't need anything, that's what makes them Gods. It's for us, to steady our mind, and open ourselves up to his will... and before you ask, 'Why can't the Starman just speak to us directly', it's not that simple. He isn't just like another mice, only greater. He is a vast, and alien being, completely unlike us, unlike anything in this world. It's much like the Makers. We may see them walk and live, but we can't simply talk to them. They're too large, too incomprehensible, but that doesn't mean they don't exist and aren't incredibly powerful."

"So, when you 'open up' to this Star-guy, you can understand what it says?" Jerin said.

"Yes... well... no. Maybe one day. He isn't simply more advanced, to the point where if you make a little effort you can grasp it, it's far beyond us, so only the highest priests can make any sense of His ideals. The prayer is simply a small step, a reaching out, and even if it doesn't speak back in clear words, you can feel it, the connection to something far greater than yourself, far greater than even this entire world, a sense that even when things look bleak and frightening, no matter how bad life may seem, there's something better out there waiting for us, if we're just willing to open our hearts and accept it."

"Still, though... two hours?" Jerin replied. "Like... in a row?"

The low-priest stared at the two of them for a moment and shook his head, turning away. Any good salesman knows when to cut their losses and move on, even when, perhaps especially when what they are selling is eternal salvation. "Greetings! Have you prayed to the Starman today?" he asked a passerby who quickened their pace, pretending not to hear him.

The brother and sister just stood there, watching him leave. After a moment they turned to one another.

"Religion is weird." Jerin said flatly. Her brother simply nodded in agreement. "Still, that went on for a while. I wonder if that whole 'Starman' thing is going to pay off later?" in response to which Aaron simply shook his head in disappointment.

While this whole discussion was happening, Jerin hadn't noticed that her pouch of money had grown significantly lighter, to the point where it now weighed nothing, seeing as how it was no longer there. The cult member was an accomplice to a nearby pickpocket, but in his defense, he was an unwilling one, and would have been appalled to learn that he regularly acted as a distraction in the lightening of purses. As for the thief, one can't be blamed for failing to notice him. He made no effort to be invisible, as many would-be rogues attempt to, as that rarely works out. Being nearly invisible is, ironically, practically the opposite of actually being invisible, as nothing stands out more than a mouse dressed all in black with a hood over their face, skulking around, trying to blend into the shadows. The truly skilled thief hid in plain sight, blending in with the crowds, resisting the urge to look flamboyant or swift or cunning. Instead, from dress to expression to the way he walked, he looked as boring as possible. The sort nobody would look in the eye, and be even less hesitant to start a conversation with than the nearly cultist.

Her attention no longer diverted, Jerin had now realized that her rather large bag of food-crumbs which she had obtained from the Makers shrine was missing. She let out a surprised squeak, looking all around for it.

"Are you sure you didn't drop it at the general store? We left there in a pretty big hurry." The brother asked, to which she shook her head.

"Yeah, I know for sure I that had it just a little while ago! it has to be somewhere." she said, wiping tears from her eyes with the back of her paw. This caught Aaron off guard. His sister might occasionally whine and complain, perhaps more than occasionally, but crying was not something that she was known for, no matter how badly hurt or frightened.

"Are you-are you crying? Look, it's okay, it's just money. I can cover the cost of supplies." he said, putting his hand on her shoulder, genuinely concerned, having no idea how to deal with this unprecedented turn of events.

She abruptly pulled away. "I'm not crying! it's just-it's just that it's my treasure, and I worked really hard for it! I nearly got killed a bunch of times, and I lost my reflection, and-and it's mine and now it's gone!" she said, trying to force a stoic expression, but her large eyes were still lined with tears, lower lip trembling.

"Wait, what was that about your reflection?" Aaron asked.

"Nevermind, it's not important. Maybe I just dropped it somewhere around here. Hey, you!" she asked, hopping over to a black furred mouse that was walking away from the pair.

The thief froze in place. This never happened. His camouflage was nearly perfect, to the point where if you were to put ten mice in a lineup, and forced to pick out seven of them, he was virtually guaranteed to be the one left ignored. He had the sort of face which wasn't frightening or ugly or upsetting, it was simply there, and gave out an aura of supreme apathy, something simply not worth engaging or acknowledging. Despite that, out of all the countless people coming and going, this young mouse was poking at the back of his shoulder.

He turned to her, still making an effort to maintain his armor of absolute boredom, which was guaranteed to not capture the interest of anyone, and if it somehow had, was certain to lose it almost immediately. This didn't work out quite as expected. The person that he had turned to face proved to be the exact opposite of himself.

Her white fur nearly glowed as a stray sunbeam peeked through the rusted criss-crossing rafters overhead, faint hints of tears seeming to magnify her large, light blue eyes. Her small round ears and whiskers twitched nervously, little pink fingers holding a long tail made of multi-colored yarns to keep it from dragging into the nearby puddles. He hadn't even noticed the downright magnificent sword at her belt, all of his attention focused on the small girls face. Jerin was not what one would consider a classical beauty. Perhaps in another few months when she'd fully come into her own she may have been able to turn a few heads, but most would simply call her 'cute', at best.

Maybe it was the sparkle of the sunlight, maybe it was the distraught expression, which so clashed with the young mans own bland non-face, maybe it was the depth of her eyes, which mirrored his own face back, and somehow even made something so plain and unlikable appear beautiful in its own way. Those eyes which held not only sorrow but a sense of purpose and strength. Maybe it was also the nearby woman who had just happened to be practicing her harp, which certainly didn't hurt the general scene. Whatever it was, the strange young man, who nobody had interest in, and in turn, was interested in nobody, found himself positively smitten.

"I think I dropped something around here." Jerin said in a soft voice, making every effort to hide how upset she was. "Um, you didn't happen to see it, did you?"

Now, it goes without saying that the proper thiefly response would be to lie. Don't say too much, she had made a point of not saying exactly what she dropped after all, and it would be awfully suspicious to say something along the lines of "No, I didn't see any large sacks of money around", a surprisingly common amateur mistake. They get nervous, and nervous people often talk more than they should. The correct response is to simply shrug, look indifferent as most passing strangers would be, and to go about your way with your newfound wealth. The thief halfway succeeded at this. He certainly couldn't have been accused of saying too much, seeing as how he didn't say anything at all. It was the getaway which caused him trouble, as he simply stood, dumbly, staring into the girl's beautiful eyes.

It didn't take long for this to grow awkward. Even a few seconds of a situation like this could feel like an eternity, for both participants.

"Um, hello?" she asked, tilting her head to one side, which somehow made those perfect blue eyes look even more radiant. "I guess you didn't. Sorry for bothering you." she said, turning away, looking for another passerby to ask.

He reached over to take her by the furred forearm, with every rogue instinct screaming at him that he was making a terrible mistake, but every other instinct telling him he had absolutely no choice in the matter. "I might have, uh, found something a little while ago that belongs to you." he said, reaching under the back of his beige cape, removing the satchel of crumbs conveniently hidden within a pocket there.

He was surprised to not immediately regret that decision. His mask of apathy, long trained to discourage anything more than a glance from strangers in the street (and especially from city guards) immediately fell apart at her reaction. He actually smiled, for the first time in so long. Not that he was a normally unhappy person, quite the contrary, but experience showed that people noticed and remembered smiles. They were more likely to come up to you for idle conversation, or the more bitter and suspicious types believed that you were up to something, but in the face of Jerin's downright jubilant expression, he was simply incapable of not doing so.

"You found it! I thought it was lost forever!" she griped his hand in both of her own slightly smaller ones, just a hint of tears remaining as she looked up into the brown eyes of the other youth. "How can I ever thank you?"

Mathias, the thief, spent most of these days looking deliberately dour and avoiding the gaze of others, but it was all an act, of course. This was, in part, because it helped greatly with his occupation, partially because he enjoyed the challenge of the disguise, and partially because, for whatever reason, his mother had just never approved of him being the center of attention. This wasn't to say that she had approved of the new persona any more, but that hardly mattered, seeing as how her days of approving or disapproving of anything had long since passed.

Being well liked came much easier to him than being ignored, and was problematically effortless, the mouse often finding himself the focus of attention. The one who people, even those he hardly knew, would open up to, telling him their hopes, dreams, and, more importantly, secrets. This trait went terribly with his trade of choice. Oh, sure, there plenty of tales of charismatic gentleman thieves, and many of them had done quite well, at least until they didn't. It might be rather fun to rob from the rich and give to the poor, outwit the local authorities, and have high-class ladies swoon at the sight of you, but luck was a finite resource for a thief, and it always ran out eventually. There have been many stories of gentleman thieves, and most were quite accurate to the reality, but they always tend to change the ending, which usually involved the protagonist crying out their final words, usually something along the lines of "Wait, this wasn't supposed to happen!" when their incredibly delicate and convoluted plan went just a little bit wrong, inevitably leading to disastrous results. The best fate that sort of rogue could hope for was a dramatic death, and while that might make for a fine story, there was little profit to be had in it.

He was suddenly aware of his 'transformation' to his old self. Calling this self 'old' is also a little inaccurate, as he was only five months old, less than half of Aaron's age, but even brief periods can feel like an age when young and prone to impulsive actions. A few poorly thought out decisions ago can feel like a lifetime away. This transformation wasn't a dramatic one, by any means, with just a little change of expression, a little more life in the eyes being all that was needed for him to go from stranger to be avoided to someone you just instinctively wanted to buy a drink. Jerin didn't seem to notice, however. This seemingly ordinary girl had seen him when he was all but invisible, and looked up at him in the exact same manner now.

"Oh, it's no big deal, really." he said, handing the pouch back to her. "Think nothing of it."

"Even though you're the one who stole it in the first place?" The considerably larger mouse standing behind the girl said, coldly.

"That's ridiculous! How dare you accuse me of such a thing?" Mathias asked. At this point, it was too late to put his mask back on. Normally, this was about the time when he would make a quick retreat, something he was quite good at, vanishing into the crowd, dodging and weaving between the mud houses before any sort of alarm was arisen, relying on the few seconds head start to keep him safe. A potential head start that he was currently rapidly squandering.

"You think I don't know a thief when I see one?" Aaron asked. It was fortunate for the thief that he didn't try to run, as the larger mouse was quite ready for it. Mathias didn't recognize him specifically, but he knew the type. If this man wasn't a guard, he was doing a very good impression of one. The large mouse really had the mannerisms down, especially the look in his eyes which said that he was eager for absolutely any excuse to hurt those who had done him or those around him wrong.

Mathias chuckled. "It's true, but just because I'm a thief doesn't mean I steal things!" he said. This wasn't entirely untrue. He didn't like the word 'steal', it came off as somehow violent and brutish. He preferred 're-purposing', taking what people clearly weren't doing anything with, and putting it to some greater use. Property and ownership was such a silly concept. After all, in this world where nothing lasted forever. All ownership was temporary, so what does it matter if he made it a little more brief than the previous owner had expected? If anything, by taking and spending, say, money, that people were simply hoarding, he was moving it around, as money was meant to be used. This isn't an entirely alien concept, as, aside from the handful of wealthy mice, this wasn't the sort of place one collected family heirlooms and the like, with objects and even property changing hands very frequently. One day you might have a knife, but the next that you'd rather have some boots, which you trade for and then later sell for money to get a fishing rod which you accidentally leave behind on a trip, which someone else finds later. This, of course, doesn't imply that people tended to take having their own goods 're-purposed' with good humor.

"I'm pretty sure that's exactly what being a thief means." Aaron responded. All the while, Jerin simply looked on, confused.

"Come on, if he stole it, why would he give it back? That's, like, the exact opposite of stealing!" she said.

"Exactly!" the thief responded, nodding in agreement. This, similarly, wasn't entirely inaccurate. While he certainly had no grands scheme in mind when he saw the inattentive girl wandering about with a fat sack of money, taking and giving back was another sort of re-purposing. Sure, he felt a faint twinge of guilt when he first saw her with tears in her eyes (an unfamiliar sensation for him, one which he didn't much care for), but now that she'd gotten it back, she was certain to appreciate it all the more, and be happier as a result. If anything, his taking of her money should be counted as a good deed.

Aaron didn't have much to say about this. While he had fully intended to confront the thief earlier, the mouse had given the money back before any sort of proper accusation could be made. Clearly his sister was oblivious, and Aaron hadn't drawn much attention to himself, not wanting to until he could grab hold of the smaller mouse before he had a chance escape. Giving back the money was rather unthief-like, he had to admit. While he hadn't seen the theft take place, he recognized the traits of a rogue when he saw one, and this one clearly wasn't lacking in skill. Aaron was not the least bit happy with this. He liked thieves, only in the sense that they were great for punching, but the situation was just a little too muddied to justify it, at this point. There was another small issue, as well. The thief was much younger than Aaron had initially believed, little more than a boy. It was very strange. He could have sworn, looking from a distance, that the criminal was significantly older. It was as though his appearance had dramatically changed within an instant. As much as he enjoyed pounding on criminals, Aaron wasn't a bully at heart, and even putting the ambiguity of the current situation aside, really wouldn't have felt comfortable pummeling someone so much younger than himself. He would have done so, if necessary, but he really wouldn't have felt comfortable with it. Instead, he simply gave an annoyed grunt, continuing to watch the boy with a cold expression.

Jerin frowned for a moment, looking back to him. "Wait, if you don't steal stuff, how can you be a thief?"

"It's not about taking or having, it's a way of life!" Mathias said in a jovial tone. He decided to leave out the whole 're-purposing' thing. While he considered it a perfectly valid philosophy, he knew that many others, particularly the rather large mouse with the hammer looking at him with a sour expression, were less likely to agree. "It's existing in the shadows, away from social norms, leaping from rooftops, surviving on your luck and your wits and your speed, and your ability to do back-flips whenever needed!" he sighed internally. It had been a long time since he'd had to do a back-flip. Sure, the whole pickpocket thing was very safe and profitable, and it was nice not needing to be the center of attention, but there was no denying that it lacked excitement, especially as one grew more and more skilled at it. "It's freedom, pure and simple!"

"Sounds more like unemployment, to me." Aaron grumbled. Jerin, on the other hand, clearly disagreed. She was enthralled. That sounded much more like heroism to her. Her brother wasn't completely wrong, either. There was often a very fine line between a heroic adventurer and a jobless drifter.

"That sounds amazing!" she turned to her brother. "You know, we really could use a thief in our party."

"What 'party'? I'm just following you around to keep you from dying!"

"That makes us an adventuring party, and you can't have a group of just two people! One, sure, but two is just weird. We need at least three or four, and got to balance things out, too! We've already got a paladin and a barbarian. We could really use a support class." she said.

"Why can't we have two? And wait, why do I have to be the barbarian? Just because I use a hammer, doesn't make me barbaric!"

"Well, you do have that look about you: big, angry, armored but not too heavily..." Mathias chimed in.

"Quiet, you. We don't even know you!" Aaron growled, turning back to Jerin, "Seriously, is this how you want to do things? Just going around, taking anyone along with us that seems vaguely like an adventuring stereotype?"

"Well, yeah! Usually you meet these types in taverns, of course, but that's how traveling companions go! You stumble upon them by pure chance, and in time your bond grows, until looking back, it's clear what seemed like a random meeting was actually destiny! Haven't you read Mollenoch's Guide to Heroism? It's all in there!"

Calling what mice did 'reading' was a bit of a stretch, as is calling the creating of such works 'writing'. Mouse writing took the form of simple pictures, with no real set standards. This worked reasonably well for signs on stores, which simply need a crude etching of a shirt or a bottle or a turkey leg, which denoted food (which was very strange, seeing as how they didn't actually eat anything which even lightly resembled a cooked drumstick). This non-standard made actual books much more complicated, with combinations strung together to denote phrases, and aside from a few consistent patterns, no real agreed upon rules of grammar or structure.

All artistic works are said to be open to interpretation, and this principle especially applied to books written by mice. Take, for instance, "Reliquary of Joy and Sorrow", the classic mouse masterwork. Not only were there arguments over symbolism and themes, there was intense debate over exactly how many characters there were, the specific setting, and to some even the genre Most agreed that it was a deep character study exploring the nature of birth and loss, but some argued that it was actually a series of low-brow physical comedy sketches. This second group represented a vast minority, but even the many who disagreed with them had to admit that they made some very persuasive arguments.

Back to Mathias, while his eyes had occasionally wandered from Jerin, it was a brief respite at most. He had no intention of staring, of course, yet didn't wish to appear to be deliberately looking away, either. This is the sort of conundrum many experience occasionally, and some more often than not when conversing with others. Even for the most natural conversationalists, however, it's an issue which the moment you find yourself aware of it, proves to be impossible to ignore, and you begin to second guess every petty motion or gesture that you make, no matter how naturally they had come to you in the immediate past. Even for the most self assured, the more one thinks about these little gestures, the less 'right' any of them feel. "Wait, you two are adventurers?" he asked. A dumb question, really. At a glance, both were clearly well armed. He took casual notice at the beautiful sword at Jerin's belt, which normally would have been a great target for re-purposing (something he hadn't noticed earlier, focused instead on claiming the money), but couldn't look at it for long, finding her face far more alluring than what was clearly a priceless treasure. This of course reminded him that he had been staring into her eyes for just a little too long, where upon the struggle began anew.

"Apparently so." Aaron grumbled.

"Yup! We're on an important..." Jerin said.

"...and dangerous." her brother interrupted.

"Fine, we're on an important and dangerous mission, and are looking for valiant heroes to assist us! Want to come?" she asked Mathias, clearly having no idea just how childish that sounded.

"Really? This is actually happening?" Aaron asked, shaking his head.

"Hey, you're the one always going on about us not dying. Won't it be safer having more people with us?" she asked. Aaron couldn't really argue with that. He had to admit, that if someone was going to die on the journey, it would be nice to have at least a one in three chance of it not being him or his sister. He figured that hardly mattered anyways. He knew there was no way some complete stranger was going to drop everything just to follow two other strangers on some ridiculous mission. He really should have known better.

"Okay, I'm in." Mathias said. "Oh, how rude, I've not introduced myself. I am Mathias, the gentleman thief!" he added, proudly. Even if they usually die in the end, he had to admit that he always wanted to be one, officially. Plus he had hoped that the 'gentleman' part would impress the girl. It didn't seem to, but she didn't laugh, either. In his mind, that counted as a win. As for the decision itself, he gave the matter very little thought, nor did he need to. Love at first sight might happen in an instant, and it might not last forever, but it still had its spell cast upon the young thief who had little desire to leave Jerin's company, nor did he exactly have a lot on the go right now, anyways.

"Nice to meet you! I'm Jerin, and this is my brother, Aaron!" she chirped.

"Heh, Aaron and Jerin? That's funny." Mathias said.

"How is that funny?" Aaron asked, still frowning.

"I-I don't know..."

Jerin gave her brother an annoyed look. "You be nice. Anyways, now that we've got a third hero in our group, we're ready to head off on our mission! Would really rather have four, now that I think about it, but oh well, this will have to do." she drew her sword, pointing it to the sky, which wasn't exactly the safest gesture in a crowd full of people, all of which made a point to give her some space. There was no denying that it looked impressive, however, the beam of sunlight still shining upon her, causing the long blade to glow gold.

And so, the three headed off, once again having forgotten to buy supplies, towards the great gates of the mouse city, ready to face their destiny. At this point, Mathias stopped a few paces behind them, brow furrowed, head tilted to one side.

"Wait." he asked, "What exactly is the mission, again?"