[Poggio]

Mary turned to address her master only to see the sullen convex shape of a man slumped with a golden flask perched against his lips. He turned and spoke, but she didn't hear him across the length of the courtyard. She waited until he was about to take another long drink before plucking the gold piece from his fingers. When the metal didn't warm and meld to her touch, she saw through its glamour. It wasn't worth the weight of the slop that sloshed around inside. Whether or not it was important didn't factor into her brain. She was holding it hostage until she could have his attention.

The Pirate stepped off the curve onto the stream of growing tourist. She crouched a distance away from Mr. Kite, making sure she could level her gaze with hers. She spoke with tone was not of anger, but of a person speaking to a friend.

“Hark, 'n Listen closeth ye sullen child.”She paused only to switch the flask into another hand keeping it away from Mr. Kite.” Ye choose gre’d.Ye choose t' fight, 'n ye choose Berserk’r-” She brought the flask to her nose, but when the smell did not suit her taste, Mary tipped the rest of the liquid onto the ground letting it bleed on to the cobblestones.

“Ye be... depress’d. Ye showeth no real heart f’r the grail. Th're art six oth'r classes. six oth'rs who hast m're heart, who will not hesitate t’ murd'r ye.”

At this point she stood up and clinched a fist around the golden flask. With a small amount of magic, the flask transformed into a withered piece of weather worn parchment covered in gunpowder. She let the paper, that now marked a spot in Le Rhone, float down into the man’s lap.

“Thar be an art t' th' Jolly Roger. 'tis m're than a desire f'r treasure. 'tis life. Are ye certain ye wants t' die f’r this Holy Grail??” Her voice never raised beyond her normal speaking tones. “Ye are a child-” she gestured at his whole posture and brooding facade. Children still grow, say for the ones that perish, still full of foolhardy dreams.

There was no point in wasting more mana, or stealing it from a novice that didn’t even know what was going on. Mary backed away from from Mr. Kite shaking her head. She disappeared just as she came, shocking the curious onlookers into thinking a tire had busted, or the palace had a cannon display. A curl of grey dust swept where the woman once stood, dissipating until there was no trace