The Thieves Guild
by Jake Kerr
(dramatic music plays) . Episode 114:
The Golden Apple.
Karch lost his horse near Trader's Bridge.
A new Merchant Guild captain had instructed his guards in the lower quarter
to conscript any horse or wagon for repatriation efforts, and a
pair of guards approach Karch, demanding his horse.
Don't be foolish. I'm the assistant guildmaster of the Knight Guild.
I bear a message from Guildmaster Sax and Guildmaster Orion to Guildmaster Polo.
Karch spurred his horse forward, but the two knights didn't move.
The young guard's companion spoke up.
You look familiar,
but there is
no such rank as assistant guildmaster.
He lay his hand on the pommel of his sheathed sword.
Certainly you know your own guildmaster was previously an assistant guildmaster to Larsen.
Karch tried not to have his impatience for the two idiots enter the tone of his voice.
Of course, we know that.
The younger one exclaimed.
Caeris himself had us join the guild from our previous positions in the Craft Guild.
And that was special position that was only created by Larsen for Guildmaster
Caeris, due to Larsen's own deputy being incompetent.
There are no other assistant guildmasters.
Karch bit his tongue. He had a mission.
His life and future depended on it. He considered their words.
Their being former Craft Guild members explained why they didn't know who Karch was
and his former role. They were low-level Craft Guild members that
Caeris is moving over to bolster his hold on the Merchant Guild, thought
Karch. Smart.
That changed things. He was dealing with the paranoia of Caeris and
whatever tales he spun to his trusted flunkies, and not common sense.
Be that as it may, I have a message from two guildmasters that needs to be delivered.
Karch stared at the two, who seemed uncertain as Karch's own clothing
and bearing indicated at least some level of importance.
Finally, the younger one spoke up.
Let us see this letter.
The older one nodded as the younger one spoke.
Karch considered his options. He did not trust the two guards before him
not to grab the letter and take it to Caeris, nor did he trust them not to
open it and read it right in front of him.
In fact, he didn't trust them at all.
Fine.
He sighed.
Take the horse.
The two guards seemed surprised as Karch swung his leg over and dismounted.
I'll have Sax send someone to retrieve it later.
Hopefully that would put a scare in them, Karch thought as he started the short
walk to Trader's Bridge.
The trip into the upper quarter was without incident, and Karch pulled the letter
out, examining it as he walked. What he did with it depended on what it
said, so Karch decided to read it and then make up his mind.
To that end, he made his way to an old tavern, the Golden Apple,
which was an icon in the upper quarter.
It had the added benefit of mostly catering to lower level Harvest Guild
members, most of whom wouldn't recognize Karch.
Of course, the downside was that he was wearing Knight colors, but the tavern was
open to all and he hoped he wouldn't have too many uncomfortable
conversations, as while the Knights didn't help the Harvest Guild during the
clearing of the lower quarter, they didn't assist Larsen either.
Karch had only been in the Golden Apple once before, and it was quite the
experience. This time was no different.
It was full of bustling Harvest Guild members with ale and
conversation flowing to such a degree that he wasn't sure how anyone could even hear
each other.
As he made his way to the bar, the conversation quieted as a man in
Harvest Guild colors stood and talked.
He was thin and beady eyes. He wore standard working guild
clothing. His expression, however, was animated, and Karch approached
listening.
And he relieved himself on the mantle my own father carved from a tree in the foothills.
There were gasps and cries of outrage.
The entire tavern quieted as people pressed themselves forward to hear
their guildmate's story.
Indeed, my guildmates, I objected and the money counter laughed and
said that even if my father returned, the house would need to be razed to the ground anyway, so
why not save him a trip to the public house?
There are newcomers.
An old woman yelled out.
Tell them about the painting!
The man relayed a story of his family's cherished portrait being all that
was left of their charred house, and some other money counters burning it in front
of him for no reason other than to amuse themselves.
Karch wasn't sure he believed the stories, but the entire tavern certainly
did. He could feel the growing anger at the Merchant Guild the more the man
spoke.
Karch decided to have some fun and yelled out...
Was this before or after he soiled the mantle?
The man turned and looked at Karch. He gave him a look that was pure
malevolence. The look of a man not to be trifled with.
Just as quickly, his eyes went wide and he looked closer at Karch.
For a moment, Karch wondered if the man recognized him, but he turned to the
crowd and replied...
It was after.
He presumably felt insulted that I would object to him using my family's home as a
toilet.
Karch couldn't get a handle on this guild member.
There was something about him, something dangerous and not to be trusted.
He decided that it was time for him to leave the man to his stories, and
Karch went to the bar and got the attention of the barkeep, who wandered over.
I need a private room, a silver plate, and a candle.
The bartender shrugged.
Nothing available, sir. Uh, the only room we have free is currently being
used to store things for the kitchen.
Reaching into his pocket with one hand, Karch held up a finger
with his other. As the bartender watched, Karch pulled out two gold coins
and slid them forward on the bar.
One table, one candle, one silver plate.
30 minutes.
The bartender looked left and right, and swallowed hard, but he reached forward
and took the gold as he did so.
Meet me at the rear door in a few minutes.
He motioned his head toward the back rear wall of the bar, where a
door near the bar led further into the tavern.
As Karch walked back, he heard murmurings of taking up arms and not
standing for the Merchant Guild outrage.
If the man's goal was to stoke the flames of violence, he was doing a good
job.
Karch didn't wait long near the rear door.
The bartender walked over and, pulling out a key, unlocked it.
He handed a thin candle without a holder to Karch and nodded toward the
door.
First room on the right. Now, don't be going anywhere else, or you'll be limping
back to Night Tower. 30 minutes.
And without waiting for a reply, he turned and walked
back to the bar.
The door opened to a short hallway. The sounds of the kitchen were to the left,
while there were three doors on the right.
Karch immediately entered the first one.
The room was indeed full of random kitchen equipment, burnt and stained
pots, dull knives, and assorted other things.
It looked like the inn had recently upgraded its equipment and was storing the
old things in the room until they could get rid of them.
There was a table stacked with chipped plates, mugs, and other dining ware.
Off to the side was a small pile of silver plates.
"Ah, no wonder he didn't give me a silver plate like I asked,"
Karch thought. Shoving some cups and saucers out of the way, Karch
pulled out the envelope and sat down. He turned the letter in his hand.
It was thin. Whatever Orion wrote was not in any great
detail. Red wax sealed with the Craft Guild seal held the
flap opening down to prevent prying eyes. Karch smiled.
Guild tradition always took precedence over practicality, or
security. He pulled out his knife and placed it on the table.
Next, he grabbed a silver plate and placed the letter on it with the wax seal
facing up.
Then he pulled out a flint strike mechanism recently
invented by some enterprising Craft Guild member.
Using his thumb to pull a switch that struck the flint, a small fire
sprung forth. He lit the candle.
Putting down the flint device and picking up the plate, Karch held it over the lit
candle. Luckily, the plate was large enough that his fingers weren't going to get
too burned as he heated the letter from below.
Setting the plate down and grabbing his knife, Karch gently attempted to pull
the flap of the envelope and the intact seal up to open the letter.
It was painstaking and delicate work.
Get it too hot, and the wax would melt, indicating it had been tampered with.
Not get it hot enough, and the letter would not open.
After five attempts, the flap of the envelope opened with the seal
attached to the flap and intact, yet not sealing the envelope.
Karch gently opened the flap and pulled out the letter. It read...
Guildmaster Polo,
My apologies for the circumstances that have led to this letter.
It appears that my friendship with Larsen had been poorly placed.
While I considered him a friend, I did not truly know him.
I'm a simple man,
as you well know. My guild makes things for others, and the use of those things
is its own reward.
I foolishly expected him to be similar, yet he shocked me
with his recent actions. I don't need to tell you that, overwhelmed with his own
failings, Larsen ended his own life by leaping from his
tower. What you don't know is that this was most likely due to a conversation
I had with him.
I outlined to him his moral failings, and I expressed to him
my deep disappointment.
This must have affected him greater than I intended, but it is perhaps for the best.
My own nephew now runs the Merchant Guild, and he has every intent on
bringing Ness together once again.
I have talked to Sax, and while he has his own failings, he is a zealous defender of
Ness and its citizens.
It is my understanding that you are gathering forces in the outer fields.
It is also my understanding that your guild members are not returning to their homes in the lower
quarter, preferring instead to stay in the wretched quarter.
I do not understand either thing,
and I would like to discuss this with you.
As I said, I am a simple man, and perhaps you can explain it to me.
We are friends, and I believe that we can bring Ness together again....
if only we can discuss this and work together
to do so.
To that end, I invite you to my guild tower for a meeting.
You will, of course, have access to my guest suite, if you so desire.
Your colleague and friend,
Orion.
Fool, Karch thought. Playing the simple-minded, good-natured Guildmaster
still. Didn't Orion realize that things had changed?
It was a disastrous letter, one that Polo would see as an indication of
deceit and malfeasance.
Karch thought over what he had just read as he reversed the previous process,
putting the letter back into the envelope and reheating the seal so that it would
be secure. The pure arrogance of sending such a letter was breathtaking.
Karch knew Orion had revealed himself as, perhaps, the most brilliant and ambitious
man in Ness, but the letter struck of naive desperation.
If what Orion wrote was true, and there were forces gathering in the outer
fields, then there were few options for him.
It was civil war or... what? Orion didn't seriously think
Polo would be foolish enough to visit him, did he?
Unfortunately, there were few options for Karch as well.
He knew Orion would kill him on sight.
Actually, he would be lucky if that was all that Orion did to him.
If he didn't deliver the letter and returned to Sax,
he would be banished to the dungeons or, depending on how drunk Sax was,
perhaps sent to execution as Hollow.
As Karch tapped the envelope against his palm, thinking over his lack of any good
choices, a voice came from the doorway.
Deputy Karch. What a truly spectacular surprise, especially as you
now wear the white.
Karch whirled and looked at the door to the room.
It was the man from the tavern standing inside the room, the closed door
behind him. "How did he enter and close the door without me
hearing him?" Karch thought.
It was, perhaps, not a surprise that he was recognized, but sneaking in
without his awareness? That indicated not just someone who recognized him,
but someone with formidable and dangerous talent.
I fear I am but an assistant guildmaster now.
Guildmaster Sax already has a deputy.
Karch remained in his chair, feigning nonchalance as he measured up the
invader.
Ah, John. Yes, I believe he was chosen, as he is the only one
who can outdrink your dear guildmaster.
"He knows more than most," Karch considered.
"Is he a captain?
Something else?"
Karch smiled and decided to simply ask.
"Who are you?"
My dear Karch, I am your worst nightmare and your greatest hope.
I am your death and I am your salvation.
The man walked over to a chair at the side of the room, dragging it
closer to Karch.
And it all depends on how our conversation goes.
He sat down with the rear of the chair against his chest, and with a wide
smile, added...
I am the Blade of the Guildmaster Craft.
But you can call me Vesper.
(instrumental music plays)