Frost 1st, 121
Against a stiff breeze Myles walked down a busy street, the cold wind ruffling his short hair and making him shiver, his face fixed with a stern expression as he strode against the encroaching cold. Pulling his collar tighter around his neck as he stifled an unfinished sneeze frustrated at that tickling dance of being ready too but unable. It was getting colder again, the sky was gray and threatening harsh weather seemed to be looming on the Horizon.
He was stalking a young man who'd yet to spot him. He'd seen him on several occasions now, gaunt and dressed in clothing too thin for the season the boy couldn't be much older than sixteen or seventeen but he already had hard lines about his features. If his reputation was to be believed he was quick and sneaky. With that in mind Myles pursued at the best distance he could maintain. Light on his feet and empty handed the scoundrel made his way towards the market where his hands were sure to find bread and coin, or whatever else he could be filching for. Hanging back Myles waited. He would stalk for as long as he needed to this day, tho he found the work unsavory he believed he was on the trail of a small stronghold of similar youths all turned to crime do to recent events.
He pitied them, these lost children turned to crime to survive, not knowing an alternative. He wasn't sure anymore if it was simply the failings of the parents, but also a failing of the state that this situation wasn't improving. Myles had vowed to resolve the issues plaguing the city but was conflicted with the upper brasses iron fisted approach to the citizens that were struggling to get by with an ever growing threats of mages and illness. Myles kept his eyes locked on the bobbing head he followed through the streets of Ziachaer. Cautious in his tailing Myles tried to never directly look towards the twitchy thief. For the most part he avoided much suspicion but his ragged appearance spoke volumes particularly in a time where there were many other like him.
As they neared the market the smell of street food made his stomach rumble with greedy appreciation for the scents. The thought seemed to be echoed in the urchins head as he hastened his pace somewhat. As the crowd thickened Myles clicked his tongue and tried to match the urchin's pace weaving through the crowd with much less grace and ease. A muffled “My apologies” came from his lips on each of the numerous occasions that he clipped a hapless bystander. This clumsy chase culminated in Myles and a rather portly man trying repeatedly to sidestep the other only to both chose the same direction. After the fourth Mirrored sidestep the man froze and quaked on the expression the usually placid soldiers face had acquired. For Myles had realized his tentative lock on the would be criminal was lost.
Striding around the fat man Myles resisted the temptation to shoulder check the fool into the dirt as he passed him, but settled for gnawing his own lip as he passed the man, knowing full well it was only him he could blame for his lapse in awareness. All was not lost at least, he'd made it his business to memorize all that he could about the young man before he'd lost him, a mental list he now listed to himself as he prepared to comb the market for him.
He was tall and lanky, Myles assumed him to be on the taller half of the five foot range near his own height but far skinnier. Small unshaven patches of black hair adorned his face, not unlike the windblown trees that were beginning to lose their leaves in the cool air. He'd worn two different boots and a rope for a belt. With that in mind he scanned for the lanky teen in brown burlap. Twice he spotted and lost him, each time he spotted him his packs had grown fuller. The third time he saw him was much to his surprise right in front of him as he'd churned out from the crowd to pass him at an intersection of stalls. Myles locked eyes with the boy unable to resist briefly gawking in surprise. In that moment all the boy realized was that a man in armor had just locked eyes with him and all the signs of recognition seemed to be blinking.
In that moment the boy dashed before a word could even escape his mouth. Cursing under his breath Myles began an earnest pursuit of the fleeing urchin. “MOVE” Was all the warning the crowds got as Myles split them, where the youth was weaving around people in his attempted exodus Myles was moving as the crow flew and that meant moving people out his way with the gentlest shoulder checks and shoves he could manage at a sprint. The clamor he generated along with the context of the fleeing teen began to create a path for Myles as more citizens began to seriously consider whether or not they wanted to be trampled by a running, swearing suit of armor.
For a moment Myles even gained on the teen as the flow of the market began to force the teen to have to route more and more circuitously. However before he could catch the teen the market gave way to the more open streets leading to the knob. In armor there was no chance of catching the youth who was now on the lookout for him, not in territory he knew. Huffing heavily Myles gave up the chase once he was certain their destination was the knob. Sighing he decided he'd have to begin staking him out in a new disguise come morning. With that decided he tore his helm off and let the cool air caress his now overheating body. He had a long way to go if he was going to even consider catching a thief at a full sprint while adorned so heavily. Still he was happy with what he hoped would be a successful lead even if he had spooked the young man. He doubted the urchin had the fore-site to run away from his home turf.
With that in mind he slowly made his way back to the market to confirm a sound he'd thought he'd heard on his way out. Some citizens recognizing him as he returned gave him a wider berth even though he was no longer running. As he approached a now lopsided stall its owner immediately recognized him as anger painted his features and he began to point a meaty finger at him. Striding towards the man Myles let his own still agitated temper flare as his face knitted into an equally if not more stormy grimace. Between the clank of his armor and the look he was giving the man, he had dropped the pointing digit and waited with a much less aggressive air by the time he was halfway to him. Looking over the stall Myles noted that he'd snapped both the banner poles and broken a leg of the stall as he'd passed it. That said the thing wasnt much to begin with looking like it was half made from mismatched scrap wood. Still he'd broken it, and that was something he would right.
Counting out two gold coins he placed them heavily into the man's hand before looking back to the wares his stall bore. Scarves, gloves and hats, Winter wear, timely at that. As the man Thanked him tersely from behind Myles ran his hands through the scarves finding none that appealed to him. He prepared to move on before a pair of dark gloves caught his eyes, or at least the fur sprouting from the cuffs did. Palming them and showing them to the stall owner the man smirked. “Good eye, thats genuine beaver leather. They'll keep your hands dry as long as you keep your wrists above water, I swear it on me mother.” Rolling his eyes at the pitch Myles bought them none the less still feeling he owed the shopkeeper since he'd cost him at least a day of sales he assumed. With that taken care of he turned on his heels and made for the nicest smelling food stall he could locate intent on leaving with a full belly and something sweet to take back to the barracks. The food this evening came in the form of lamb being roasted on a spit. One cook slowly sliced the cooking hunk of meat filleting off thin layers as the other kept the meat constantly spinning above the flames that cooked it never allowing one side to grow cold. The thin slices of meat where thin folded on a flat bread adorned in sauce and fresh roasted vegetables. After his third helping Myles stumbled too full to the nearest stall selling sweets, with his stomach full he was able to resist the urge to further splurge and only left with one pound of chocolate dipped cashews in his pack.
