"We stole your brother." Artemus murmured quietly to the hunched figure cowering behind a crate just before him.
The street rat startled, curling in on himself, his hands reaching up to shield his head, expecting to be struck again. Artemus fell to his knees, ignoring how the cold grime of the alley soaked into his pants, biting into his skin with teeth made of ice and gore.
"We stole your brother." The Keeper repeated, watching as the man begore him trembled, his breathing ragged and pained as he slowly lowered his arms just enough to peer out at Artemus. The Keeper withheld a grimace as the street rat's injury came into view, one eye was slashed solidly in half from a long wound sprawling from his temple, through his brow and eye and cheek and chin, blood gushed messily from the wound, staining the rat's whole left side red.
"We gave him a new name." Artemus continued slowly; "We gave him food and warmth and an education." He slowly began to encroach into the street rat's personal bubble as he reached into his cloak for the small first aid kit he kept on himself at all times.
"He goes by Apprentice Niechta now." Artemus murmured softly as he pressed a clean rag to the street rat's face, grimacing as the clean rag quickly turned red, the street rat however paid the wound no mind, he didn't even wince while Artemus cleaned the wound, he simply watched the Keeper through his only remaining eye.
"He has many friends." Artemus continued quietly; "His favorite class is astrology, he can talk your ear off about constellations and moon phases... He's set to graduate this year and he has a very promising future to look forward to..."
A single tear ran from the street rat's eye, creating a clear streak along his cheek.
"'E's well den?" The beggar whispered hoarsely as he moved to hold the rag himself, Artemus nodded, once, surely, before moving to dig out the gauze from the first aid kit. There wasn't much he could do to help out in the streets, for now, stopping the bleeding would have to do until they found somewhere safe to hide.
"Elie was 'is name." The urchin murmured quietly; "Short fer Elias, cursed name dat, don' know what our Ma was thinkin when she decided tah call him that." The street rat spat sourly. A silence, punctuated by the sound of rain and gauze being unrolled settled between the two men in the alley, it was a heavy quiet, not uncomfortable, just heavy.
The sort of heavy that, if disturbed, would open the fragile floodgates.
The two men, the beggar and the Keeper, remained quiet until the final bandages were wrapped securely around the urchin's head and Artemus moved to sit back against the wall opposite the bloodied beggar. The two stared at one another, not daring the other to break the quiet, but inviting the conversation to come.
"You Keepers take care of your own, right?" The urchin finally asked, breaking the silence, his tone serious, but desperate in a way that had Artemus' stomach curdling.
"Of course." The Keeper replied evenly before he quickly rose to his feet, offering a arm when the street rat before him moved to stand himself, the urchin looked at the hand for a moment, his eye flitting up to the Keeper beside him, before returning to the outstretched hand.
Artemus doubted the beggar would strike out at him, even if he could, though he remained wary enough. He had taken Basso's advice, abandoning his blade, and at first he felt foolish for it. Hardly an eve ago, Artemus had spotted a young boy, screaming bloody murder for help in the streets, he had half a mind to help the boy, but he was out in the open, and above all else, Artemus feared being discovered, luckily, it was noon, and there were more than enough people out and about to notice the commotion, but when a watchman tried to come to his aid, the child slid a small paring knife between the guard's ribs and made off with his coin pouch.
Artemus wasn't one for taking chances.
But for his children, he would.
"So do we." The beggar heaved as he took hold of Artemus' hand, staggering to his feet with the help of the Keeper.
"We-we beggars watch out for our own too…" The urchin huffed as he turned away from Artemus, keeping a hand on the wall as he began staggering a few steps down the alley, pausing only to gesture for Artemus to follow.
"Word round the streets is… Yer looking for that thief? The Master Thief? Garrett?"
Artemus wasted no time catching up to the beggar, caution be damned.