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Thibault walked into the room given to him. His first glance told him that he would have a roommate, but the appearance of both beds empty made him understand that none was there yet but he. Taking his pick of the bed next to the closet, Thi sat down bouncing light on the mattress.

"It will do I suppose." he said softly. It was not like he had much choice in the matter.

He had already noted that he was in the sixth room on the sixth floor. Unlucky some would say. It mattered little to him. It was a bed and some small measure of privacy. Glancing inside the closet, he found blankets, sheets, and pillows, enough for both beds. Making his own bed, he left the other things where they were. At some point that dreaded roommate would appear and need them. Maybe he could get lucky and never had a roomie.

"Doubtful.. " he stated to the air.

Glancing out the window, he looked down on those he could see. Some were going in the entrance while others were going away from the building. He himself was unsure what to do yet. A map would be good, but he wondered if there was such a thing in the library.

The rules had already been stated. He knew where he was not supposed to go. Of course, that did not mean he would not. He had simply been told what was allowed and what was not. A bit of confusion slipped down over him. What did they want with him? He had expected to be sacrificed already. So had the other boy with him on the ship. It had been easy to see in his expression that they were both going to their doom.

But they had not and instead, they were probably both sitting in rooms trying to figure this out. Shaking his head, Thi moved towards the door. He knew where he was situated and he was going to go look around.

Glancing down the hallway as he stepped out into it, Thi saw several students in the stairs nearby. Maybe he was not the only person on this floor. A bit of sunshine filtered in the windows making the dust visible as it floated around. He stood still, watching it for a moment before heading towards the stairs himself.

He hesitated, listening to the echoes of feet and voices traveling down or up and through the halls. Then he moved purposefully towards the lower floor.

He knew what lay upwards and that the eight floor connected to the female tower via a group activities room. He did not plan to go there. Girls were trouble and he did not need that.

Passing the hall of classrooms and the cafe, he found himself outside and in the sunlight. The food smelled good even here but he silently turned his face upwards, his eyes closed for a moment. The warmth felt good on his skin.

Paths went in all directions and he carefully glanced around before deciding. The Nysotia Forest was a maze of trees, meadows, and lakes or so he had heard. If he planned to get lost there, he would have to prepare so he turned in another direction.

The city was bustling but that was the last place he wanted to go for now. He was more interested in a place where he could think. A noisy city was not going to do that for him.

Moving in the direction of the beach, Thibault began to smell the salty air as he moved. It grew stronger and stronger until he found the path that led directly downwards. There were a few moving along the beach but he did not want to join them. He was more interested in silence and a place to think.

By the time it was late afternoon, and nearing supper time, Thibault had examined the entire beach. He knew where the small cluster of rocks were that were constantly splashed with waves were. There had even been shells that he had idly picked up and shoved into his pocket. Maybe they would look good on a shelf or on the window sill and remind him that he was as displaced as they were.

As he moved up the steep path again, the young man studied what he could see in the distance. The fog out there covered everything. Oddly he had thought they were closer to land than that, but no shore opposite could be seen. For a moment, he watched it. It never seemed to move closer or farther from the shore. His eyes narrowed warily. Perhaps it was magical in some way and meant to prevent anyone from seeing what was happening here.

Why? What were they being trained for? Why were they being put into classes? His list included not only history, but also weaponry.

What were they being trained for? He was certain it was something that the outside world did not suspect. His sister expected him to die. So had he. But he was not dead. He was the furthest thing from it. What would happen if the people outside knew?

For a moment he wondered if it even mattered. There was nothing he could do about it. He was simply a kid at the moment despite killing those three men. And by the time they were finished training him, would he care enough to tell anyone else what was going on here?

Perhaps it depended on how much of their teachings he actually believed. And how much he thought he could get by with.

"Doubtful.. " he muttered. "Noone would believe me anyhow."

He needed another set of clothes. Something old and unnoticeable. Of course he also knew there were no beggars on the island. So beggar's clothing was the exact thing to wear. Few ever noticed beggars in the city. The upperclass nobility saw them but refused to acknowledge that they saw them or even existed in the city. The middle class growled and shooed them out of the way. Even the poor wanted them to go away because it was competition for their already meager living.

It occurred t him that there were no beggars even as he began to look for clothing. It did not matter. It was the first instant of realization that there was a beggar there that interested Thibault. It gave him a chance to study their reactions and expressions. People could be trusted, disliked, and even understood in that moment of unguarded expression and it would allow him to learn more than expected of him.

Their clothing was picked up every so often from their rooms and taken to the laundry. The laundry was where he would find what he needed. He was sure of it, so he had followed those collecting the items until he found where they would wash them.

It took only a few moments to get there. Clothing was hanging on the lines behind the building. White sheets were strung on the first five rows, hanging long and fluttering in the slight breeze.

Thibault slipped through them quickly then stopped in front of the rows of pants and shirts. Most were the students' shirts and pants and not what he wanted. But as he glanced over them, he moved forwards into the rows closer to the back door of the building. What he wanted were ordinary clothes.

He could smell the freshness, the soap, and even the moisture in the air as it surrounded the place and him. It evaporated from the fabric quickly in the warm air of the morning.

Finally he hesitated, glancing over the darker apparel in front of him. He reached out to touch a couple of shirts. They were older, worn, but not beggarly. He could fix that and he quickly took a couple down from the line, tucking them under his arm. Then he moved onwards to the pants. Holding a pair against him, he found one pair that would fit him decently and if a little big around the waist, Thi knew he could tie a simple rope around as a belt. It would be expected.

He turned moving away just as the door opened. The woman stared at him a moment in surprise.

"Hey! What are you doing? Get out of my laundry!" she yelled moving towards him faster than he expected.

Thi bolted thorugh the sheets and back out onto the street. He was around the corner of the next building as quickly as he could run. She followed behind but the time the sheets let go of her, the boy was nowhere in sight.

When he finally dared to look around the corner, noone was there and Thibault breathed a sigh of relief. Stepping back out into the street, he stepped back towards the school. He barely looked at anyone as he clutched his treasure to him and made his way to his room. Dropping them on his bed, Thi laid them out across the flat surface.

He picked up a small knife making a few holes in places that really did not matter. Then he rubbed a bit of oil into the shirts to make them seem older- dirtier. Lastly, he wadded them up and crammed them into a small bag. They would be wrinkled, probably smelly and even more beggarly by the time he actually used them. In the end he was sure it would be worth it.

Moving towards his desk, Thi began working on his wrist mechanism again. The tools there he had taken one at a time from various places. None had come looking for them. He doubted they would. For the same reason he was sure none would come looking for the clothes and he would have his beggar's mask as he began to think of it as. Now all he needed was a better weapon-a more secret one. Then he would be set for awhile.

He had been happy with the one he made but after the third try, it failed and then parts began to fall off. Thibault knew he would need to redo it. There was no choice.

Each piece he tried to fit perfectly. Sometimes it would take several tries before that happened. The armlet needed to be snug and close, two belts keeping it in place. When he flipped the switch, the entire thing shifted on him.

Thibault sighed, reworking the plan yet again. He needed to think about a better way to hold it to him. Then he began working on the blade design. he drew up the plans as he thought they should be. But when he tried to get it to work, the blade flipped free, skidding across the desk as the armlet slid upwards.

Thibault reached for it and then put it back into place. His eyes scrutinized what he had done. It was according to the plan so obviously something was wrong in his drawing. In order for it to do what he needed, it would have to be strong and stabile. Solving that became his first priority.

It was neither of those things and he began reshaping the entire construction, making it fit snugger on his arm as well as adding an extra belt to it. When he was satisfied that this worked, he began reshaping the piece.

This time when he tried it, the armlet remained in place even though the blade went skidding across the desk again. One problem solved at least. Studying the blade, Thi knew it needed to be mounted in some way to make it solid yet moveable. It had to be something inflexible like steel or really thick leather or wood.

The steel piece he had Jenners reshape he had not used yet. But if he did, that would give him what he needed. Maybe. It took him nearly two days in his spare time before he got the armlet piece on there properly. But once he did, he knew it would work as he wanted it to. Tying the armlet down with three straps helped also. It made it stay put. Satisfied Thibault began working on the blade support and design. This was very important.

Anyone working on something would have gotten impatient to get it finished. Thibault knew that if he rushed it, that it would not be correct and would fail when he needed it most. So he pushed himself to be patient and to wait, setting the project aside carefully each time he was done.

But his mind continued to work out the problem of the blade and how to make it work. He went to his classes with no outward appearance of anything else going on. He even stopped by to talk to Jenners about weapons and blades and how they were shaped as well as the uses of various types.

The man simply watched him before he began to speak. "So what are you working on, Thi?" He continued the inspection of the blades without turning around to look at the boy.

"How do you know I'm working on something?" Thi asked.

"You just told me you were." Jenners laughed. "But I knew when I saw the armlet. It's a wrist mechanism of some sort. I've seen one or two, but we don't have any here."

"I see." Thibault nodded soberly. It would do no good to deny it now. Jenners had not reported him or taken it. Yet. Thi would worry about that when he did so. "I am. Having some trouble with the blade. It keeps springing free. Not what I want to happen. I want it to lock into place and then spring back without having to fuss with it."

"A full stiletto or dagger would not work. Got any plans drawn up for it?" he asked, curious just how much the boy had done on it.

Thibault turned to watch him a moment, then pulled the paper from inside his shirt. "Yes. It's crude, but the idea is there."

Jenners wiped his hands off on a cloth nearby before taking the paper. Opening it, he stared in surprise when he saw the plans Thibault had drawn up. The boy understood what he was doing. "What made you come up with this?"

"I don't know. I was thinking about gears and clockworks and watching someone throwing knives one day. I lived on the streets. Not with my family by my choice." he explained, "There was always some sort of danger from others. I carried a blade hidden in my boot but I couldn't always get to it quickly. This just seemed like a logical idea for protection."

Thibault ran a hand through his hair. "I know it's not really needed here, but they plan to use us for something. I figured the more advantage I gave myself the better."

"How much have you got done?"

"Just the armlet. I used two straps at first, but to keep it in place I had to add another one around the middle. Now I'm trying to figure out how to work the blade in. It cuts through the leather after a few tries and it won't spring back upwards when its finished."

"I see. It's a very good start. Nice plans drawn up also." Jenners mused as he studied the drawing once more. "You are headed in the right direction I think, but you might have a couple of options on the blade."

Pulling a sheet of paper from his desk nearby, he indicated that Thibault join him. "You first option is this... " he began to quickly sketch out a system of rails that extended forwards, the blade nested in the middle. "It works but most I've seen have a button lock and that puts your fingers in the way." His sketching was crude but the basic idea was there.

"The second way allows the blade to move forwards lodging on a metal stop. The only problem with this is if you use leather, it will quickly cut through after only a couple of uses. It works, but temporarily and you are constantly repairing it."

"The first way might be the best." he said handing the paper to Thibault with both ideas sketched out. "Try them both and see which works best for you. Redraw your plans to suit yourself, not go by these. In the end it will serve you better." The man stated. "There is some scrap metal over there if you need any. Just don't begin making these for everyone. The less anyone knows, the better for you, Thi. And for me."

The man made it seem like he was helping Thi without anyone knowing. That was not so. His suspicions had been noted on Thibault's file and read by others. He had been instructed to aid the boy slightly to see where it led him. Eventually there would be a test when they were sure Thibault was ready. How far would he go? was one of the questions they needed answered.

Thibault nodded. "Thank you, Jenners. I think I know how to do this now."

"Question, where did you learn to make plans drawn like that?" he watched Thibault as he waited for an answer.

"My father was an architect. Drawing things out was one of the things I did like." he said shortly, glancing around. "I'll see you tomorrow, Jenners. I've got some homework to get done tonight."

"Alright, boy. Take care and remember what I said. The less who know, the better." Turning back to his weapons, the man continued where he had stopped. He would note that he had seen the boy's plans and that it was indeed a wrist mechanism he was designing. He wondered if the uppers would be as impressed as he was that Thibault had thought of this on his own.

Thinking he had it solved, Thibault resketched his drawing to remove the changes he had made and added in the new idea. Over the next couple weeks, he pulled a few pieces of metal and changed their shapes to do what he wanted them to do. The nested blade took shape, sliding out and locking into place when he tested it.

Finally it was ready and Thibault strapped it to his forearm. Pushing the button to release it, he watched the blade slide out, but something shifted and the sharp edge slid downwards across his wrist and palm. Sucking his breath in sharply, the boy gasped as blood began to pour from the wound. Grabbing a cloth he kept pressure on it as his other hand undid the straps holding the weapon. It took him several minutes to get the bleeding to stop. He studied the gash. It was going to hurt for awhile, but especially whenever he closed his hand around a hilt. Spars were going to hurt for awhile.

Jenners noted the cut when he came to work. "Gloves, Thibault. A tight pair of leather gloves, fingerless but very snug will help." He studied the boy's palm and wrist. "Sore, huh? Try some of this." He moved towards his desk, pulling out a small jar. "Salve. It will help. I use it all the time."

Thibault nodded, taking the bottle. "Thanks."

"Did you get it working yet?" He placed a pair of gloves that might fit in front of the boy. They were old but fingerless.

"Not yet. Almost."

"I'd like to see it when you do."

"Sure." Thibault replied as he spread some salve on his hand. It was mostly healed now, but still sore sometimes. Taking the gloves he carefully put them on. That support did help some.

It was several weeks later when Thi figured out how to activate it. He disliked the button release because as Jenners said, it put his fingers in the way. Finally he worked out a way to use a cable. But he also replaced the nested sleeves instead allowing the blade to be hidden by the length of his forearm. It actually seemed stronger to him with less room for error. No more shifting out of place as it extended on a rail system. That was entirely gone now.

To keep it hidden, Thi knew would give him an advantage. The more silent, the better. The faster it released and sprang back, the better also. It was a definite advantage when needed most.

In the end, Thibault knew that he had a blade he could depend on if the situation got sticky. It was as silent as he could get it, the barest zing when it was released. The double edged blade rested on a simple double spring guided rail, was strong enough to penetrate thick clothing, puncture organs yet thin enough to go between ribs without bending.

Now all he had to do was try it out. He almost could not wait for the opportunity. But first to show it to Jenners.