A pickpocketer isn't just some trickster who sometimes manages to get away with robbing someone.
Although, many probably were just that... still, pickpocketing is an art to many.
For the lamen, recognizing that he got robbed would be nearly impossible. And if it were to be an experienced pickpocketer, then even experienced men wouldn't be able to tell that something of theirs was missing.
The sleight of hand and technique one had to master to become great at pickpocketing was a talent in itself.
The 13-year-old boy knew this and had practiced for several years to perfect the art of pickpocketing.
He just landed a big score on an older man who wore rich clothing, so he was ecstatic right about now.
Never before had he taken from such a big fish. He tended to practice on more lowly clothed people--people who wore the same beggar clothing as him, or people who were dressed in dirty brown rags...
The kid was so eager about this big hit that he just landed, that he couldn't help but steal from a guaranteed victim that he knew he could rob from his years of prior experience.
As he bumped into a helpless, small, plain cloak-wearing figure, his hands quickly went to work.
Like snakes, they slithered up the cloaked figure's waist and behind, but as the boy clutched where one's wallet would usually be, he grabbed onto nothing but air.
Only a millisecond had gone by, so he began to retract his hand and continue on his way.
However, to his surprise, something suddenly gripped his wrist.
"Oh!" He accidentally said in surprise. Lyrian had caught his wrist right next to his waist, catching him red-handed.
Without hesitation he began running back, tracing his footsteps from before.
Lyrian and Ounis now arrived at a very large green marquee over 100 feet in square size.
"These guys have been here for a very long time," Ounis explained, as they walked into a large area full of display pedestals.
On the pedestals were heaps of goods, from weapons to armor to almost anything else you could imagine.
"Hmm... do you know where exactly you found your sword?" Lyrian asked, as Ounis nodded and began leading him to where went to buy his sword last time.
He walked to the back of the store, where a middle-aged, bald man stood behind a small stall counter inside of the marquee.
Inside were even more products, but they seemed more valuable than the stuff outside.
"You've returned early this time... didn't like your sword?" The bald man exclaimed as he saw Ounis. His tone was stern as his head moved around to look at the short figure behind Ounis.
"And who's this you've brought with you? A friend?" His eyes were squinted in skepticism.
"Yeah, just a friend. Anyways... you got more of those purple swords? I liked it. I want to buy my friend here one as well."
As Ounis said this, Lyrian mused, 'No... bad approach. He's signaling out the thing that we are investigating, making it seem too out of the blue and suspicious. And on top of that, it was a scam anyway, so why would he like it? Tsk.' Lyrian inwardly thought, having no hope in this working from the talking route.
The bald man gazed at Ounis and Lyrian with very skeptical eyes, "Hmm... what exactly did you like about it so much?" He said in a low tone.
"Oh... uh.." Ounis stammered slightly.
'As I thought... he's already caught on. What would someone like about a sword that doesn't even do its job.'
"The blade on it was nice, and I liked the color. What, why do you care? You just sell the stuff. Now bring it out." Ounis said in a more defensive tone.
"Hmm... no."
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