Respite [Zidane]

[Hiram Ronso]

The streets of Bevelle were busy day and night, filled end to end with merchants, hawkers, thieves, scoundrels, guardsmen and people from every class and every race. Today, the streets were even busier, because a new class of people was about to be added to that social hodgepodge: the soldiers.

The Legion of Reaht was in town, having just set up its camp outside the city. The soldiers had been given permission to mingle responsibly with the citizens, and no doubt every single one of them was determined to stretch the word "responsibly" to its limits, come what may and hell to pay. As for Hiram Ronso, leader and Legionnaire, he had no plans other than checking up on old friends and relaxing. Of course, duty came first.

Before he could unwind, he had a long list of things to do. He had to talk to his supplier to arrange fresh supplies for when the Legion set out again, an armorer to repair any equipment that had been damaged, a chocobo ranch to purchase more feed for the Legion's mounts and somehow he had to find a machinist to repair what few machina they possessed, each one already heavily worn and battered from heavy fighting. How on Spira he was going to achieve all this before nightfall was a mystery to him, but he tried to remain optimistic, walking into Spira with a friendly expression and a pouch stuffed with gil. He had left Oathbreaker back in the camp, but he still towered above the rest of the crowd, and his immense build looked menacing no matter how friendly a face he wore.

Lost in thought, Hiram set about to executing his tasks.

[Zidane Tribal]

The streets of Bevelle were busy. Big surprise. Zidane walked along at a casual pace, making his way through the crowd with ease despite his short stature. Bevelle was easy to navigate when you knew what you were doing. Zidane didn’t exactly know what he was doing, but the young thief was lucking into the correct path through the hustle and bustle. That, and an apparent abundance of soldiers in town were causing people to veer around certain gatherings of the stern looking warriors. Zidane, being small and agile, used these little gaps to make his way through the crowds, darting just around the groups to get ahead of traffic.

It was during one of these times that he spotted a target. He needed some cash to get a decent room for the night, and some food, as such was hard to come across in a town without money. His thief’s eyes spotted the Ronso’s large purse, bringing with him an abundance of gil along with the abundance of soldiers. He was obviously high ranking, considering how he held himself, his stature amongst the people and the way the other soldiers addressed him as he passed, but that didn’t matter. Gil from an officer was the same as gil from a beggar, although Zidane was not one to take from the latter.

He began to make his way through the crowd, this time with an objective in mind. His tail curled carefully around his legs, trying to avoid sticking out too much in a crowd this tightly packed lest it get stepped on. His small size allowed him to move amongst the crowd unseen to any except those who were looking down at him while the Ronso’s large size made him stick out like a sore thumb. Zidane took advantage of this, moving toward him with intent.

As he approached the Ronso, using the crowd as cover, he made a wide circle around him, sizing him up and looking for the best way to approach. Some people you can walk right up to them and slip your hands into their pockets, others you needed a bit more subtle of an approach. This was definitely a case befitting subtlety, and Zidane circled around again to get behind the Ronso. Zidane began his approach from the Ronso’s rear right flank, hoping to take advantage of the blind spot. Should he manage to get close enough he would carefully slip away with the Ronso’s purse, slip a few gil down his sleeve and then replace the purse lest it be noticed missing. This was the ideal approach, should he not be caught in any such stage.

[Hiram Ronso]

The Legionnaire may have been lost in thought, but his guard had not slipped. After walking several streets and taking a few detours, Hiram was certain he was being stalked. As he rounded a corner, he managed to catch a glimpse of his stalker, a fair-haired youth who couldn't be older than eighteen at most, though Hiram estimated his age at less, perhaps fifteen or sixteen. Careful to keep his movements natural, Hiram tried to decide what to do about this new predicament. If he turned the boy in for the wrong reasons, he would do more harm than good, and if he let the boy walk away, he would be letting him wreak havoc on other hapless victims.

Taking the middle road, Hiram's hand flashed to his side, seizing the thief's arm in a vice-like grip. With his strength, Hiram had to take care not to hold hard enough to break anything, but his grip was nevertheless like iron. Keeping his expression carefully devoid of compassion or anger, Hiram looked at the youth. "Why you steal from me?" He growled softly, so as not to make a fuss or alert any nearby guards or his own legionnaires.

[Zidane Tribal]

Okay, messing with a Ronso was a dumb idea.

Correction: messing with a Ronso was a very dumb idea.

Zidane tried his best to escape the iron-like grip of the Ronso. He’d been caught red-handed and there was very little he could do to escape from the beast’s grasp. Zidane quickly gave up on trying to escape, submitting himself to his punishment. The Ronso pulled him around and glared at him, or at least it felt like a glare. Truth be told Zidane always found it hard to read emotion on their feral-like faces. Yeah, trying to steal from this guy was a very bad idea!

“Why you steal from me?” the Ronso growled. Zidane gulped, realizing his normally small stature was suddenly a lot smaller with this beast towering over him. There wasn’t much Zidane could do, so he resigned himself to his fate. ”I… er… need some money… I have no money and nowhere to stay tonight.” Zidane was normally a great liar, but frankly when you were caught by somebody who had to be careful not to break your wrist, you tell the truth and hope they accept it. ”You looked like you could spare some, I was just going to take enough to get a room and a meal,” Zidane said, not struggling against the vice grip that was placed on his wrist; it was inescapable.

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[Hiram Ronso]

”I… er… need some money… I have no money and nowhere to stay tonight.” The story sounded plausible enough, and Hiram doubted the boy was calm enough, or dumb enough, to try and lie his way out of this. ”You looked like you could spare some, I was just going to take enough to get a room and a meal." Hiram held his gaze, and his grip, on the youth for a long time while he considered this new information. In the end, he let go and patted his pouch. "This money, not Hiram's. Legion's. You not want horde of angry soldiers after you."

Having delivered his advice, Hiram wondered what to do next. Since he had already helped the kid with some advice, he might as well take the next step, right? Trying not to loom over the kid, Hiram made him an offer. "Hiram know some people. You want food? Bed? Hiram get you this. Follow, if want." With that, the Ronso turned and walked away, looking back to see if the thief was following. As they walked, Hiram decided to get to know his would-be mugger. "What your name?"

[Zidane Tribal]

Okay, so he had survived the encounter. The Ronso took his words into careful consideration and let him go of the iron grasp that had been on his wrist. Zidane retracted his hand and rolled his wrist, making sure everything clicked properly. He was a thief, he needed the use of his hands; his tail only got him so far. Speaking of tails, his swished back and forth behind him, now, as many people moved away from the pair, not wanting to get involved with business that wasn’t theirs. That was fine, Zidane liked having room around him, it let his tail have freedom.

The Ronso began to walk off, telling him to follow. Zidane had been caught in the act and was being let free; frankly as soon as he had his wrist back the thief should’ve taken off for the nearest alley, but this Ronso had something in mind and the tailed lad was curious. So he followed behind the Ronso, not very hard as the large dominating figure of the beast was clearing the crowd in front of him with ease. When he was asked what his name was Zidane could only respond meekly: ”Zidane,” he responded, wondering if the Ronso could even hear his voice over the roar of the crowd at that altitude, where very voice would hit his ears.

[/blockquote]

[Hiram Ronso]

The kid was following. Good. A plan was forming in the Legionnaire's head. He'd take the kid, Zidane, to the Den. It'd be good for him to meet someone of his own age, and Dahlia owed Hiram a favor. The Den owed the Legion many favors, though they were grudgingly repaid, and Dahlia was a merciless negiator. One time, she had repaid his saving her establishment from a fire with a walnut! It wasn't even salted. Afterwards, a friend of his had told him that he could've gotten a lot more, but the woman terrified him. 'Women. Hiram's only weakness.'

As they walked, Hiram stayed silent. He wasn't really a man of many words, but he knew some people who very much liked talking. Dahlia and Aamina were some of those people. Dahlia ran her Den and often gave shelter to the Legion. She was a horrible woman, but she had a softer side to her, if you bothered to dig. Her daughter, Aamina, worked at the Den. Aamina was... special. If she didn't make him fall in love with her, she'd make friends with him. If she didn't manage to make friends with him, she'd... most likely drive him insane. Either way, she had a thing for tails.

“Me am Hiram Ronso. We almost there.”

True to his word, they rounded a corner and came upon a five-storey hotel. It looked like a really posh establishment, fancy, and far too expensive for a soldier and a thief. It was a popular place, too. The owner, Dahlia Romanov, had named it the Thieves' Den. She liked irony, she did, and she also liked money. She would not let a single gnat leave her hotel without paying for it, and rumors had it that there were customers that had refused to pay, and had never left. The Den and the Legion had a long history together, though, and Legionnaires got special rates. Half price, and free potatoes. Because the price was ridiculous, even slashed, they mostly traded favors. And walnuts. Unsalted walnuts and favors.

“We eat here, Zidane. Owner is... weird. Waitress even weirder. Not be freaked out.”

[Zidane Tribal]

He followed the Ronso, who introduced himself as Hiram in somewhat broken English. Not that it mattered, the message got across, but the English was broken nonetheless. Zidane didn’t even know why he was following anymore. The Ronso had its back turned to him, was asking him to follow for no better reason than because he had been caught, and right now Zidane was pretty sure he could disappear into the crowd with ease. Maybe it was because the Ronso had referred to Zidane needing food and bed, reiterating his own reason for stealing, and then walked off thoughtfully. Zidane suspected this could turn out beneficial for him; stealing from the one good Samaritan Ronso in Spira.

As the crowd started to get used to the massive beast of a Ronso they started to close in around again. This meant travelling got harder for Zidane as his small stature made it ideal for the tide of people to take him with them, instead of parting ways to let him through. This was part of the reason he hated large crowds, although the turnout often outweighed the nasty bit. Large crowds were easy to steal from and easier to hide in, especially when one was small like Zidane. He stood out like a sore thumb in smaller crowds, what with the tail and whatnot, but in larger crowds people didn’t even notice. Particularly when a new regiment of Ronso had taken up camp near town, taking all the attention.

He managed to stay behind the Ronso, Hiram, all the same. The beast led him to a large hotel of sorts. Zidane was no stranger to the streets, and being a thief himself it was unavoidable that he’d at least heard of the Thieves’ Den. Though he had avoided it simply because it was a large hotel and he was a poor, lowly thief. The name didn’t attract him; he just couldn’t afford their rates. About the owners and servers inside, frankly he hadn’t heard much. But hey, if there was a meal involved on Hiram’s tab then Zidane wasn’t about to complain. He was feeling a little hungry and a stolen loaf of bread didn’t compare to the likes of a fancy hotel prepared meal. He looked up the building and his tail wagged back and forth with excitement at the thought of a free cooked meal. He was starting to like this Ronso.