Bermondsey noted the little twitch of his tail and the tentative tone of the kit. Was he always going to be so nervous? He wondered what Laertes was worried about; surely Bermondsey hadn't been this jumpy when he was a kit, was he? The young tom acted like a prince fitting of his family's name, that was for sure; he talked in such formal graces even at an age so young, it was almost impressive as much as it was amusing to the warden.

"We'll be taking a tour around the territory," he prompted with a nod. It was about time the kits started learning where the territory was. His father had started training them the moment they could walk, to climb trees and to find their balance in the thinnest of branches, aim their paws at pressure points, to slice and dice things along their path. Of course, he told himself he'd never be like his own father, but words and actions were vastly different, and here he was, already introducing Laertes to the world in the same way, albeit in a gentler fashion.

"Come on, there's plenty to see, and we can stop by the marsh for a lunch. Maybe if you're lucky, we can get a little hunting practice in too," he spoke, already turning to leave, "it's better if you start learning while you're young; you'll be a few steps ahead of your denmates, no?"

Bermondsey's ear twitched in amusement at his son's fearful cry. "No one will hunt us," he assured the tom. It would be better to leave the news about badgers and foxes and twolegs for another day, "and even if something does, your dad's survived out there before, right? I'll make sure nothing hurts you." After all, he was the warden, and he was nothing if not self-assured about his own ability to keep the kits alive. He had kept the two sickly ones of Safiya's brood alive in the wilderness for longer than a day.

He snorted as the tom made more excuses. "Nour and Cordelia are your mother's charge," he shrugged, turning to Laertes, "and I'm sure she's bringing them out to do the same. Either that or skating down alleyways in shopping carts, unfortunately." He knew that they'd probably be out having fun or whatever, nothing like what he was planning today, but still, Laertes had never seemed that into those outings either, perhaps a bit of actual work and training might be more fun for him.

"Don't you worry too much, I won't push you to your limit as my father did," he spoke. Any other trainee and it might've be different, but not when his whole ego hung in the balance of not becoming like Alistair. "Come on, we'll think about training later, are you hungry? Did you eat anything yet? We can start with the forest, head to the marsh, and finish at the beach. The city can wait another day, and if you're tired I'll carry you, just this once."

The kit worried too much. Bermondsey gave him a small frown as he looked reluctant to leave. Was this what dealing with Safiya was like as a kit? He snorted at the thought; gods, he could understand his mother's frustration now with his older sister, if she was just as contrary as Laertes was being right now. Still, he shook his head in amusement. "If you frown like that all the time, your face might freeze that way," he teased his son, before chuckling at his joke.

He wasn't wrong. "Nour's a little...well, let's just say she's a bit of a wild card. I bet she gets that from her mom," he chuckled, before shrugging. She seemed like the kind of cat that could fall off a cliff and survive at this point, considering how many times the young kit had tried to climb a bookshelf and fallen from it. "Your sisters are a handful, that's for sure," he agreed with his son, "but I guess most she-cats are. My own sisters were...a lot."

Those stories were for another day. His eyes softened as Laertes spoke of his grandfather. "He...he was a complicated sort of cat," he decided to say, "but Primal Instinct was very different back then. We had a lot of cats in an old forest similar to this one...your grandma was a Nemesis, you know, and your grandpa was an assassin once, then he became the Warden too." He hated the curse of his family, but he had to admit, there was part of him that had been proud too, proud that his parents held such esteemed places until their untimely end.

The kit sounded a little worried, but Bermondsey shook his head. "They're not as far from each other as you think," he affirmed, "one day when you're big and strong, you'll be able to cover all of that in one morning, but for now, I'll carry you there and let you explore, okay?" He pushed a mouse towards his son, waiting for the young tom to eat his fill, as they left the mansion, already heading deep into the woods.

He didn't really know how to socialize with his kits; his only socialization had been lessons from his parents and roughhousing with his siblings when they grew up. He had grown up sheltered; his mother didn't want to make another mistake like with Safiya, and he had left the league so quickly that he barely knew anyone outside of his immediate family then. He wanted to make sure Laertes didn't end up the same way. "So..." he spoke, almost awkwardly, "have you heard anything about the territory we live in?"

Bermondsey chuckled, rasping his tongue across the young tom's forehead, the only sign of affection he really knew how to do. "No, but you shouldn't frown and worry so much," he spoke, "you're still young. You have plenty of time to grow." He knew that there was still a divide between them all. He could see it, despite his own busy schedule, the way the girls had teased their brother, the way Cordelia and Nour bickered despite being thick as thieves, the way Laertes seemed to stand off to the side while the rest of the family id anything together.

There was a part of him that worried for his son, after all, he seemed so...different. Bermondsey could see bits of himself in Laertes even if his siblings were much more ambitious and–well, bright wasn't the right word but...feisty. However, he did worry that the tom was a little too timid, a little too scared of the world, and while his mother would've beaten that out of them when they were young, like how she had beaten it out of Safiya, he was determined to do anything but that.

At least the boy was smart; that he was happy for. He seemed to know the area from the stories others seemed to tell, from the reports of the patrols he'd send out. "That's a good start," he nodded approvingly, as they trotted out towards the forest already, Bermondsey making sure to keep Laertes close to himself. "We don't often cross the mountains to be honest," he replied with a shrug, "you can find the clans over there, but it's better to stay away from their petty little wars for now." At least until one of them bled; the league was like a shark in the water, after all. They were masters of advantage.

"The city's pretty interesting, but that's for another day, when you're older," he chuckled. As much as the city was exciting, it wasn't for a cat who didn't know the rules; the rogues there weren't exactly nice strangers for a young kit, and frankly, humans were another story. The forest was dark, but the birdsong was loud in the morning, following the sun's rise like the morning radio, "the forest is the biggest part of the territory really, they used to call it the dark forest because of how little you can see the sky from here, but...let me tell you a secret."

He spoke in a hushed voice, as if this was something exciting rather than just another hunting tip. "If you climb the trees and learn to travel without touching the ground, no one will ever suspect you," he replied with a small smirk, "it's a little family trick I think. First thing I ever learned in the forest too. When cats hear a noise, they always look left and right, but they rarely look up. You have the advantage of surprise and from being able to see the bigger picture."

Bermondsey shouldn't have been talking war tactics with a kit, but hey, he was Bermondsey after all. "Would you like to see what the world looks like from up there?"

He chuckled at the scrunched-up expression on Laertes' face, as they continued forward, his own eyes still gravitated towards the trees, missing the deflated look on the young kit's face when he mentioned that the city was for another day. Still, the tom wouldn't have budged even knowing Laertes' disappointment; he was a kit for now, and the road was hard and dangerous, the city far from what a kit should know.

He could tell that despite Laertes' worry, there was a part of him that was curious too. A snort left his mouth at the kit's question. Fall? He hadn't fallen since he was a trainee, and the disappointment on his father's face had been enough to keep him on his feet since. His muzzle brushed against the kit's ear once more, akin to a reassuring gesture.

"I won't," he replied with a shrug, "don't tell me you don't trust your dear father to keep you alive?" There was a wry smirk on his lips before he took the younger kit by the scruff. "Hold on," he spoke, voice muffled by the fur, as he immediately launched himself onto the nearest branch. The vines and shrubby leaves of the younger trees, yet to establish their full branches, were useful when it came to climbing. It was a quick leap, a clean jump from one branch to another, the willowy boughs bending but never breaking as he found himself higher and higher among the branches. With one particularly strong leap, he was now on the next tree, the thick trunks of an oak that seemed to hold the skies in their place.

"What do you think?" he spoke, setting Laertes down onto the thick branch, though still keeping a hold onto his pelt, just in case.

Bermondsey had felt the same way the first time his father had taken him up here. As much as he had a few...issues with Alistair's training, he had always enjoyed being up in the trees. It was the freedom of it all, the taste of the crisp air, the feeling of the breeze under his fur, as if he was a bird feeling the clouds with his wings...it was an experience he had always remembered. In a way, he was glad that Laertes felt the same way standing on the branch, looking up at the picturesque clouds floating above them both.

"You can," he nodded at his son's words, "do you see over there?" He nudged Laertes' left shoulder, before gesturing towards the deep forest, nestled by the mountains, "over there, we have the marsh, and over there–" he gestured towards the east, "that's the city. See that smoke? Twoleg nests don't usually look that tall but it does in the city."

He smiled to himself, watching Laertes turn here and there with the wonder in his eyes. "You can tell a lot of things from a height," he murmured, "if you're not scared, you can look down and see exactly what's going on, but most likely, everything below you won't be able to see you. No one ever looks up. It's like...it's like being a ghost sometimes, you can see the world pass you by without having to be a part of it, if only for a little while. It's a good way to take in the bigger picture."