Magic and Gold

5: A Safe Place

My unofficial office was the safe place in my whirlwind of a world. I brought in trinkets all the time to work on booby traps, training equipment, and my personal hobby in fashion design. Booby traps went hand in hand with stealthy strategizing, which was my expertise. New equipment gave way to new perspectives and techniques, especially for the older recruits who were mostly set in their ways. As for fashion design, appearance was the most important part of Stealth.

When the new recruit came in, I was in the middle of practicing hands free fighting. My favorite style due to its low chance of death, I practiced whenever possible. At this moment, I was sitting on the ground in between piles of weapons and scrap metal, lifting daggers into the air with telekinesis, holding them midair for a moment, and then slammed them into the perfectly packed dirt walls. Practicing no hands weaponry was increasingly useful, especially if I could master multiple daggers at a time while still having use of my hands. It was ambitious, but I enjoyed the risk when the reward was so delicious.

The new girl was petite with a small frame perfect for sneaking around. I understood immediately why she had been assigned to my guidance. She was around fourteen, fifteen tops, which was not uncommon. I had been far younger than that average, but coming here at eight years old was not unheard of.

Looking at the girl, I saw potential. Under my leadership, she had the capability to do great things. Underestimating based on age was not done here. With so many young adults and children, you would get a knife to the throat if you underestimated the wrong person. Some of the Magia legends had been even younger than I was.

The girl had on a standard black mask given to newbies with her black hair pulled back in a high ponytail. It was so long and straight I could stick a ruler up to it and not find a divot. "Um... they sent me in here. I am supposed to report to... Scrap?" she said in a shy tone, picking at her nails.

"That's me," I said as I got up, letting the daggers hover around me in the air.

"Why do they call you that?" she asked curiously.

"Everyone gets a nickname here to keep secrets safe. I received my nickname based on my ability to pull substance out of scraps. Apparently, I always have some scraps of magic squirreled away to use. And I've always been scrawny and scrappy, sort of like you. It's a name of many meanings."

"Wow. I suppose it fits." She gave herself long pauses between every sentence. "My name is—"

"Nope! Don't. I don't need to know. Trust me. Treat everyone here on a need-to-know basis. I have a wider range of things I need to know about you, because I'm your Godmother, but your name isn't one them." I shook my finger slightly.

"Godmother?"

"What have they told you about where you are? How did you get here?"

"Um... they have not told me much. It is a rebel crime organization... and it is underground... and I was told they could use my skills. I am unsure if I should tell you how they recruited me, since it connects to who I am in my daily life."

"Well, I know you're a noble. Probably live pretty close to the castle. Parents are probably both a part of the court." I tapped my chin. "I bet you grew up in old money, big house, heir to something 'important.'"

"Wha—How do you know that?" she asked, backing away from me. My hunch was very correct, then.

"It's in the way you talk. You speak in formal language to the extremity. It's not a bad thing, just take note of it." I smiled reassuringly at her. "Work on it a little bit. Not every word has to be perfectly enunciated. And slouch a bit. It doesn't really matter, though."