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Viltre, by comparison, kept a sedate, unhurried stride. It didn't take effort to cover a lot of ground, not with the gangly young man's unusual height. Even without his cloak and hat, he loomed by a few spare inches over most, and that meant long legs that ate up the ground. He had things to do outside the scriptorum today. Officially, even, and it only made sense to work in some of the unofficial bits. Such as a visit to an associate of his, a shifter wagoneer by the name of Shank. Distinctly shadier, but still honest enough, in his way. He knew well enough not to cross Viltre's family.

...Or that had been the plan. One of his younger siblings had taken it into her head to creep along behind him. For an amateur, it wasn't awful. She didn't go around kicking stones and holding up branches, at least. But professionally, Aelyn had miles to go before she could ever rely on stealth. Once or twice, he'd winced while out of sight, in despair of her footwork. Still, this was his cute little sister, and that alone managed to shift it from grating to endearingly bad, like a kitten tripping over its own paws. ...Which she had, behind a corner.

Having paused to hand a note and a coin to a messenger service, the tall redhead observed his surroundings, plotted out a suitably dramatic reveal. Even if she wasn't passable yet, his fellow illegitimate had worked hard to sneak up on him. Outing her in the street just wouldn't do. Deciding on his course, he strode a little longer, picking up the pace to make her hurry. Towards, slipping though a knot of people, he made for an alley unmarked by any thieves runes, paused just long enough at the entrance to be sure she followed, and ducked into a recessed doorway, stilling his body and thinking quiet thoughts. Stilling the mind dulled one's presence, and with her picked-up pace, she ought not see him in time. One finger reached out to tap her shoulder, should Aelyn rush by. "Boo."

A flash of satisfaction in his skill, quiet pleasure at the successful surprise. The latter was allowed and exaggerated on his face, a low chuckle escaping. Brows rose, eyes twinkling in the gloom. "A crook? Me? Am I the one following my brother around on the quiet?" The answer was technically 'yes', on all counts, but turned truths and context made for better lies than falsehood. Besides, that was neither here nor now. Two steps crossed the alley and his arms did the rest. A warm hug for the effort, and the familiar grin spread across the elder sibling's narrow face.

"You've gotta practice that footwork, sister mine. Trippin' over your own feet, I ask ya. Ask Niiemh for some pointers when there's a chance, 'cos I knew you were there a minute after we left." There was no censure in his lecture, no heat to the scolding. If anything, he seemed to be doing his best not to laugh in her face. Viltre turned to continue his stroll, the crook of an elbow staying about her shoulders. A few slow, deep breaths on his part to sell the 'regained' control, and he spoke again. "Tell ya what, since you went to all this trouble, I'm not gonna tell anybody you snuck out. I'm just out running a couple errands, but otherwise I've got the whole day to myself." Still, broadly speaking, true. "If you wanna keep me company, I wouldn't mind.

So what was the plan, anyway? Just pop up behind me an' shout 'BOO!'?" He could sneak in a lesson or two, if she chose to follow. Aelyn's fumbling was cute, yes, but still fumbling. And her brother was of the mind that if you were going to do something, you might as well take the time and thought to do it right...

A sly wink accented his grin. Gloom soon gave way to brighter shade, the great trees sheltering the city from harsh sunlight. "With a little luck an' a lotta attention, no, it doesn't. An' yeah, sorry. You've got the luck part down pat, but the rest? It's all details. You'd be amazed how many folks just miss everything the world's shoutin' at 'em just because they don't pay attention. There was one guy, just the other day, ran facefirst into a house. Broke his nose an' everything." Stories, he found, were key to keeping a younger person's attention. Not much different from grownups, as much as they might have disputed that. All it took was a different seasoning.

Her eagerness actually brought a softer smile, more genuine than his usual sardonic cast. For all of his... emotional difficulties, Viltre was quite fond of (attached to?) all of his siblings, even those that didn't share the sentiment. As such, he could all but bask in that sort of pure joy. It mirrored and shone back in warmth as he spoke. "You really do remind me of Acyn, sometimes." Abruptly, it widened, revealing a glint of teeth. "Just happens that I was heading to market anyway. It's getting on afternoon, so let's get my errands outta the way so we can get to grubbin' sooner! Never do business on a full stomach." Or fight, or keep watch... Sleep, he held, was better than bread anyway. ...Which didn't help with his being slender, it had to be said.

As they crossed the boundary between shades of merciful shadow, from alley to dusty market, the pair made for a red tent. The most important first, scribing supplies, and arrangements for delivery. That took a good fifteen minutes animated haggling. The ritual there was simple, but entertaining. The merchant put forth a ridiculous price for bulk goods, and Viltre rebutted with an insultingly small one. Logic, stories, threats and outright guilttripping all played their parts in turn, but eventually the boy got the better of his opponent, somewhere between the initial prices. By some arcane rule or another, he'd won... whatever game they'd been playing. Hat in one hand, the older earthling offered the other, which was shaken warmly. "It's been a poor week young sir, and I let desperation get the better of me. Well played." "Don't feel too badly. Try dicing with the quartermaster just yonder; he'll sharpen your ear." As they signed the papers and turned to leave, the young bookkeeper leaned down and whispered to his sister. "So. What did you see?"

"I am pretty quick on these getaway stilts," said he, patting his long shanks mockingly. "An' yeah, a bit. Might tell her, when we get back. Ain't the responsibility thing, tell ya that for free." Even the jabs had no bite to them, just a playful air. To him, it was like she and her namesake sibling carried the sun around in their pockets wherever they went. If he tried that, Viltre would just burn his hands. "I'm sure that happy of yours is infectious. Keep seein' smiles whenever you two go somewhere."

An approving nod as they left the tent; nobody could say his little sister was stupid. Except Merle, but their stepmother didn't count. "Pretty sharp, but not quite. He didn't let me win, he slipped up. It's a game some merchants play. It's a reading people game, a keepin' your head an' a lying game. Rules're a little complicated, but it comes down to whoever lies best. We keep making bigger an' sillier lies the closer we get to the real price. Whoever can't tell the other's lying near the end loses. There's other ways, but it gets trickier the better you are. I'll tell you the rules sometime." He could have called it a storytelling game, but she was bright enough to spot that one. Especially right after seeing a round in action.

Next up was the armorer. No game this time, just a checkup on the standing order for their guards' equipment. Here, the tall youth was sterner, not more focused, but more efficient in his movement and speech, sticking to business alone. Perhaps a sign of respect, as the smith took it for one. Perhaps mere humoring him, as an eyeroll said while they walked away. The rest mostly went like that, wandering about and talking to people about supplies or deliveries and such; all details that helped their family keep running. As they stepped from a green tent, one hand shaded his eyes as Aelyn's brother judged the hour. "Yeah, alright. The rest can wait. Whaddya want to eat, gremlin? If I ignore my belly too much longer, it'll start growin' teeth an' bitin' stuff."

The hand, having returned to her shoulder, squeezed lightly once. Their stepmother wasn't an easy person to work with at the best of times. And those children not her own seldom saw the best times applied to them. When she unloaded on Viltre, verbally or otherwise, that was fine. It was quiet, didn't disturb the others about it. He wasn't important. But the others were. She hadn't gone too far yet, but the signs were mounting, and more drastic measures might need to be taken in the near future. It had been one of the things he needed to speak to Shank about. "I get that. Wish Papa were around more often; things're more peaceful when he's home. Or. Well. Nicer, anyway."

The trot to the food stalls gave time for a considering glance down, sisterways. She wasn't quite prepared for this sort of game. That was completely fine: honest folk had no business playing it anyway. They might get hurt, and that ruined any ethical high ground for the winner. "Closer that time, a lot closer. There's no set right time, you just need to learn to read whoever you're playing, see where an' how they waver. See where their faces are lying, too. It's involved an' silly, but it's profitable if you play well.

But fruit an' nuts it is! Think the guy with the honey-cooked ones is just over there..." Drink, at least, was no issue. It wasn't often he went without a waterskin during the day. A common precaution, as heat-sickness was a real concern in Tale, shade or no shade. Soon enough, they'd located the right stall, and begun scouting out a good spot to sit and enjoy the treat. And, of course, to watch the crowds pass, thinning under the midday sun.

Aelyn's elder sibling had precisely zero room to talk on moral failings, given how regularly he turned his off. But he could understand the resentment well enough. Lately, Merle had been getting a bit excessive, her grudge getting the better of her judgement. There wasn't much to do about it now, but he could lay groundwork for some obstacles. One or two of the stops had been to pass another folded paper and coin along, the discussions mostly ornamental. Stalemate was preferable to what she no doubt fancied. "Might well be. But she's a decent mother to her own, an' she'll put the family whole before her own gripes. We can put up with her. From the other side of the city'd be nice, but we can put up with her."

Seldom eating much himself, the slender youth watched her raven with the same smile. "Enjoy." He'd eat more slowly, chewing and savoring the oddly savory taste of the nuts. That man was an artist of sweetmeats, he'd decided. Viltre would have to take a look at the stall-owner's recipe books sometime, when opportunity allowed. Every so often, a bite of his fruit, taking hid time with a different sweetness. The hollow she picked was suitable, had a mark on it, but he could see no sign of any recent job. "Works for me."

When they reached deeper shade and took a seat, he set his bag of papers down, unslinging it from the shoulder. Feet kicked from the perch, and he automatically began scanning through the thinned crowd. "Hmm? Oh, right. Finish your bite before ya ask stuff; hard to understand ya, squirrel." A shake of his head, and Viltre began his lesson. When appropriate , a finger stretched out to point out someone particular. "Well, I look at everything I can see, an' whatever they're wearing. That older guy, grey beard an' big blue hat. Keeps the sun outta his eyes, an' the robe says 'scholar'. Walking stick, bad knee, wincing sometimes, but he's keeping ramrod straight. Proud, then, but no sneer. Works with the city records, maybe? Wouldn't pay to beg from him, but if someone collapses, he'd be arranging some help."

A pause, and then another, a young fire woman. "Brown hair, green shawl. Up to something. Hunched a little, looking all over, seems lost. Heading for a bad section of town, but in those shoes? Gold embroidery, couple gemstones, vulgar display of wealth. Little too steady, though, an' there's a bulge at her hip. Knife? Club? Predators don't pretend to be prey for nice reasons. Steer clear."

Rather than chide her for speaking out of turn, as others might have done, her elder focused on her chosen mark. "Peg her for a warrior. Heavy tread, lotta swing in the hips an' shoulders. Ain't shy about sayin' 'I own this street', so I'd bet she's based nearby. But she's also a little bowlegged, wobbly gait. Swagger covers it pretty good. Happens to people in a saddle most of their lives. That, or she had a really good hip massage in the last day or so." There were other, more temporary causes, but he wasn't getting into those in front of his little sister. Not for a while yet.

Picking another, further out, Viltre continued his own, steady munching. Everyone had a vice, and the lanky boy did his best to keep his quiet. He had a massive sweet tooth, and didn't often indulge it. Even pranks were more a blind for why he could do the things he could do. Honey was a favorite, when he could get it, and these had been baked in the stuff. He'd begin only once the bite was swallowed, and a pull taken from his waterskin. This, he offered to Aelyn, because it was hot this time of year, and she'd been scampering around.

...And just the man he'd wanted to see today. He'd spotted tonight's 'client'. "Yellow robe, jowls. Another merchant. Tilt of his head, the strut, holds himself high. Keeps sneering. Keeps a tight grip on his purse, though. Just waiting for someone to try lifting it so he can raise a fuss. Have somebody stroke his ego a bit, an' you can pull all sorts of jokes. Thinkin' itching powder'd take the sneer off, might make for a nicer face." A pause, thoughtful silence. "Nah, not here in the street. Might set something up ton-" Seemingly remembering that he spoke aloud, the Kavansei secondboy had the decency to look sheepish, if not quite ashamed. "...If I were the sort to do such things. Which I'm not. Mmm-nnn, not me. Nope."