The thief's eyes darted between Lore's unnaturally calm face and the dead-end wall behind him. Terror flickered across his features, but desperation kept him going.
"I warned you, young lord!" he snarled, raising the crude knife with shaking hands. "Don't blame me for..."
He lunged forward, blade cutting through the air toward Lore's chest. What happened next was less a fight than a quick display of deadly skill.
Lore moved like water, his small frame flowing around the thief's clumsy attack with impossible grace. The knife whistled past where his head had been a heartbeat earlier as he pivoted on his heel, using the thief's momentum against him. His right hand swept up in a precise arc, striking the nerve cluster just behind the thief's ear with surgical accuracy.
The effect was instant. The thief's eyes rolled back, his body going limp as consciousness fled. The knife clattered to the cobblestones as he crumpled forward, completely unconscious before he hit the ground.
Lore straightened his small jacket with the same calm he might use to brush dust from his sleeve. 'Elegant and efficient,' he thought, stepping over the prone figure to collect Lady Ravencrest's scattered belongings. 'One principle remains the same between my past life and this one: there's rarely justification for unnecessary killing when precision can achieve the same result. Death should be a tool of purpose, not impulse.'
He collected the ornate coin purse, making sure the precious locket was still safely inside, before turning back to the unconscious thief. "You're lucky you're not a target that requires immediate erasure," he said quietly, though his words fell on deaf ears. "I'll leave you to face justice through proper channels."
As he prepared to leave, something caught his attention: a distinctive tattoo on the thief's left hand, partially hidden by grime but clearly visible now that the limb lay slack against the cobblestones. The design was intricate despite its small size: a raven perched on a crescent moon, with three small stars scattered beneath. The craftsmanship was too professional for a common street thief, and the symbolism suggested some form of group.
'Curious,' Lore noted, committing every detail to memory. He studied the unconscious youth's face more carefully, noting the calluses on his fingers and the quality of his boots... too fine for a common thief, yet worn enough to suggest regular use.
"The guards will be here soon," he informed the unresponsive figure, "so I suggest you don't attempt any foolish escapes."
With that, he slipped back through the narrow alley toward the market square, leaving the thief to contemplate his poor life choices upon awakening.
When Lore emerged from the crowd carrying Lady Ravencrest's purse, he found both noblewomen flanked by the Steinfeld guards, all scanning the market frantically. Lady Evangeline spotted him first, her face transforming from anxiety to overwhelming relief.
"Lore!" she cried out, rushing forward and pulling him into an embrace so tight he could barely breathe. Her hands frantically checked him for injuries, maternal instinct overriding all other concerns. "Are you hurt? Are you okay? Tell me you're not injured anywhere!"
"No, mother, I'm okay," he assured her, his voice slightly muffled by her embrace.
Only then did she release him, allowing him to regain his composure. He straightened his small jacket and turned to Lady Ravencrest with a formal bow.
"Your purse, Lady Ravencrest," he said, offering the ornate bag. "I believe everything remains intact, including your grandmother's locket."
Lady Ravencrest accepted the purse with trembling hands, immediately checking its contents with the desperate efficiency of someone who had feared the worst. When her fingers found the familiar weight of the antique locket, tears actually formed in her eyes.
"Perfect! Everything is here!" She turned to Lady Evangeline with an expression of pure amazement. "Evangeline, your son is absolutely extraordinary! I've never seen such courage in a child... such determination! He'll grow into a remarkable man, mark my words. And those eyes, that composure... he'll be an absolute heartbreaker when he comes of age. Young ladies throughout the realm will be positively swooning!"
Lore kept his characteristic stoic expression, though the corner of his mouth twitched slightly at the inadvertent accuracy of her prediction. 'If she only knew how literally correct that assessment might prove to be,' he thought wryly. 'Though I suspect my methods of "heartbreaking" might differ from her romantic imagination.'
"Thank you for your kind words, Lady Ravencrest," he replied with perfect courtesy. "I merely did what any gentleman should under such circumstances."
Lady Evangeline's eyes held a mixture of pride and something deeper... a mother's concern for the path her son was destined to walk. "Where is the thief now, darling?" she asked quietly, her voice carrying weight that only Lore would understand.
He leaned closer to his mother, his voice dropping to a whisper meant only for her ears. "Don't worry, mother. I left him unconscious in an alley for the guards to handle. He'll live to face justice."
Lady Evangeline's shoulders relaxed slightly, and she released a breath she hadn't realized she'd been holding.
"The guards are handling the situation," Lore added in his normal voice for Lady Ravencrest's benefit, his tone suggesting the matter was beneath further discussion. "The miscreant will face appropriate consequences for his actions."
Lady Ravencrest seized his hands in both of hers, her jewelry chiming softly with the motion. "You saved not just my purse, but a piece of my family's history! That locket belonged to my great-grandmother... it's irreplaceable!" She pulled him into another crushing hug. "How can I ever repay such kindness?"
"Your gratitude is more than sufficient," Lore assured her, gently extricating himself from her enthusiastic embrace. "I'm pleased the resolution proved satisfactory."
The rest of their shopping trip proceeded with considerably more security, as the Steinfeld guards now flanked their party with heightened vigilance. Lady Ravencrest's near-disaster had sobered her initial enthusiasm, though she still managed to acquire an impressive collection of ribbons, fabrics, and what appeared to be enough jewelry to outfit a small court.
Their final stop was at a bookbinder's shop, where Lady Evangeline wished to commission a leather-bound journal for Lord Damien's upcoming birthday. The craftsman, an elderly man with ink-stained fingers and spectacles perched precariously on his nose, showed them samples of his work while discussing various binding techniques and decorative options.
While the women debated between dark green leather with gold leaf accents versus deep burgundy with silver embossing, Lore found himself drawn to the workshop's collection of rare texts. Among them, he spotted several volumes on anatomy, forensic medicine, and what appeared to be a treatise on toxicology that might prove valuable for his ongoing education.
"Those are quite advanced texts for someone your age," the bookbinder observed, noticing his interest. "Most nobles your age prefer adventure tales or illustrated bestiaries."
"I find practical knowledge more engaging than fictional entertainment," Lore replied diplomatically. "Understanding how things work seems more valuable than imagining how they might work."
The bookbinder's eyebrows rose with surprise and what might have been approval. "A scholarly mind in such a young frame! Your parents must be quite proud."
By the time they returned to the Steinfeld manor, the sun was beginning its descent toward the horizon, painting the sky in shades of amber and rose. Lady Ravencrest practically bounced from the carriage, her earlier terror completely overshadowed by excitement about recounting the day's adventures.
"Damien!" she called out as they entered the manor's grand foyer. "You will not believe what your remarkable son accomplished today!"
Lord Damien emerged from his study, his expression politely attentive though Lore caught the subtle signs of amusement in his father's eyes. "Indeed? I trust the shopping expedition proved successful?"
"Successful doesn't begin to describe it!" Lady Ravencrest launched into an animated retelling of the theft and recovery, her gestures becoming increasingly theatrical as the story progressed. "Your son... this brave, brilliant child... pursued a dangerous criminal through the market and recovered my purse! Can you imagine? A five-year-old boy confronting a knife-wielding thief!"
Lord Damien's expression remained carefully neutral, though Lore noticed the slight tightening around his father's eyes that suggested intense interest. "How extraordinary," he murmured. "And the thief?"
"Handled by the guards, according to young Lore," Lady Ravencrest continued breathlessly. "Though I suspect our hero is being modest about his role in the villain's capture. He returned looking perfectly composed, as though he'd simply retrieved a dropped handkerchief rather than confronting a dangerous criminal!"
"Most impressive," Lord Damien agreed, his gaze finding Lore's with an expression that promised a much more detailed discussion later. 'Of course he subdued a common thief,' his father's eyes seemed to say. 'He was trained by me.'
Lady Evangeline practically glowed with pride throughout the recounting, her maternal satisfaction evident in every gesture and expression. While she couldn't openly boast about the true nature of her son's training, she reveled in the praise of his courage and composure. Her knowing glances toward Lord Damien spoke volumes about her understanding of exactly why their son had been so capable in a dangerous situation.
Lore kept his characteristic composure throughout the recounting, though he felt an unexpected warmth at his parents' obvious pride in his accomplishments. 'Curious how their approval affects my emotional state,' he mused. 'In my previous life, acknowledgment was purely transactional. This domestic validation serves no strategic purpose, yet it generates... satisfaction.'
Dinner conversation continued along similar lines, with Lady Ravencrest embellishing the story with each retelling until it resembled something from a heroic ballad rather than a simple recovery operation. By the time dessert was served, she had transformed the encounter into an epic battle between good and evil, with five-year-old Lore cast as the valiant champion of justice.
"I simply cannot wait to share this story with the ladies in Portside," she declared over her wine glass. "They'll be absolutely green with envy when they hear about your son!"
When the evening finally concluded and Lady Ravencrest retired to her guest chambers, Lord Damien caught Lore's eye with a subtle gesture. "Perhaps we might have a word in my study before you retire?"
"Of course, Father," Lore replied, having expected this request since the moment Lady Ravencrest began her enthusiastic recounting.
...
The study felt different at night, shadows pooling in corners where daylight usually banished them. Lord Damien closed the door behind them and activated a small enchantment that would prevent their conversation from being overheard... a precaution that spoke to the serious nature of their discussion.
"Now then," his father began, settling into his leather chair with the fluid grace that marked all his movements, "suppose you provide me with an accurate account of this afternoon's events. I suspect Lady Ravencrest's version, while enthusiastic, may have omitted certain crucial details."
Lore took his customary position near the window, where the moonlight provided adequate illumination without creating revealing shadows. "The thief was young, perhaps sixteen years of age, and more desperate than truly dangerous. He fled into the eastern market alleyways when pursued... a tactical error that led to his capture in a dead-end passage."
"And the method of his 'capture'?" Lord Damien inquired, his tone suggesting he expected precision rather than euphemism.
"Pressure point manipulation behind the left ear," Lore replied matter-of-factly. "Clean unconsciousness with no permanent damage. The guards could collect him at their leisure."
Lord Damien nodded approvingly. "Efficient and practical. No unnecessary complications or witnesses to difficult questions." He paused, studying his son's face in the dim light. "Was there anything else noteworthy about this encounter?"
Lore reached into his jacket and withdrew a small piece of parchment on which he had sketched the tattoo from memory. "The thief bore this marking on his left hand. The craftsmanship suggests some form of group affiliation rather than personal decoration."
His father accepted the drawing and examined it carefully, his expression remaining neutral as he studied the details. "A raven perched on a crescent moon with three small stars... Interesting, Lore. That kind of symbol could mean coordination, maybe a small group of thieves working together rather than random street crime."
"My assessment as well," Lore agreed.
Lord Damien set the sketch aside and leaned back in his chair, his fingers steepled as he regarded his son. "There's something else we need to discuss. I received word from the capital today." He paused, his expression growing more serious. "The throne has given us a mission."
Lore straightened slightly, his attention fully focused on his father's words.
"The details can wait until tomorrow," Lord Damien continued, "but I wanted you to know that this quiet life you have here may be coming to an end sooner than anticipated."