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The Thieves Guild

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by Jake Kerr.

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Episode 126:

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The Prisoner and the Crown.

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Allard stared at the wall of his cell, still not
quite believing Polo

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hadn't killed him. Earlier, as he was brought to
see the Harvest guild master,

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he expected it was the end. The guild master was,
of course, taking no

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chances. Allard was dragged to the guild master
with heavy irons around his

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ankles, his hands enclosed within metal cages, and
a two-inch thick

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ring around his neck connected to a heavy chain.

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The meeting was short. Polo didn't even bother
asking Allard questions.

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He just told him that he was a traitor to Ness and
that he would never see light

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again.

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For such a simple sentence, it was clear that the
meeting held more

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import than the content.

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It wasn't until he was being dragged back out and
he heard the word "blade"

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muttered on the first floor of Harvest House that
Allard understood

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Polo's motivation.

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It was revenge.

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He previously had indeed been locked in the prison
with a blade, but it wasn't the

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blade of the merchant guild. It was the blade of
Harvest House, sent there to

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spy on Allard or to gather intelligence from him.

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With the word "blade" still echoing in his head,
Polo's personal

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attention suddenly made sense. Allard had killed
his precious blade

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of the guild master, a critical position nearly
impossible to fill

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without enormous time and resources.

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All that, Allard understood. What he couldn't
understand

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was why Polo hadn't killed him. Why not?

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Killing him was the obvious response.

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Allard once again ran his fingers over the wall of
his cell.

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It was bare rock, craggy and rough.

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He was no fool. He knew where he was. The long
ride in the prison wagon

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over dirt rocks and past the sound of crashing
water made it all too

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clear. He was somewhere deep in the mines.

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He was being left to rot, but was that worse than
death?

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So what was Polo's intent with Allard?

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It wasn't starvation, as he was given food and
water once a day via

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a slot at the bottom of the cell door.

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Was it the darkness?

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He'd been given one torch, which sputtered out
after a single day and

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wasn't replaced.

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Since that time, Allard lived in total darkness.

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Still, he was alive. He even had a small chute for
his waist.

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It was roughly a foot around and led deep into the
mountain.

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How far, Allard didn't know, but he dropped a
piece of carrot down and never

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heard it roll to a stop.

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Not that it mattered. The thought of him escaping
through the tiny hole was ludicrous.

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In the end, Allard assumed that Polo hoped that he
would be tortured into

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madness from loneliness and isolation.

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He was deep underground with no living thing near
him.

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There weren't even insects for him to train or
have pretend conversations with.

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It was just Allard, cold stone walls, and deep and

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total darkness.

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Little did Polo know that two things marked
Allard's life:

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persistence and isolation. He had saved the
outlanders when he was a young

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man and spent over a year alone in Pietro's
basement, waiting for the

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hatred for him to lessen to the point he could
wander the streets again.

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He did the same thing then that he was doing now:
punching air,

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pounding floors, bloodying his hands as he punched
stone walls and a

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heavy door. Every day in the mine prison, the
iron-bound

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door boomed with Allard's punches and the floor
whooshed with sweeps of his

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legs. He didn't need light to ready his body for
freedom.

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His mind was another matter, but Allard had
prepared for that as well.

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He went over everything, from the dynamics of what
Ness would look like when he

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escaped to the strengths and weaknesses of his
fellow guild mates.

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He retraced the steps of previous missions to
sharpen his mind and retain the

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memory of the city

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and people.

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Allard retained some semblance of connection to
humanity by endlessly

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examining every facet of the interesting people he
knew.

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One person Allard spent many waking hours
considering was Vespa.

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Vespa was a simple man who was easy to manipulate.

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He simply wanted to take part in moving the guild
master's pieces around the

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chessboard, and if that meant removing them from
the board, so be it.

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The key, of course, was that he wanted to be on
whatever side came out on top.

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All this was easy to understand, and it made Vespa
a powerful ally.

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All you had to do was convince him that the power
was on his side.

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But there was more to him. He seemed oddly
distracted near the Thieves

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Guild. He even said as much in the dungeon.

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He appeared to truly bear his soul, that he felt a
connection to the guild.

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Allard wasn't sure what that meant, but he
pondered it over many hours.

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As he bruised and bloodied his knuckles against
the iron door, Allard

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slowly came to the realization that Vespa wasn't
so simple after

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all.He was looking for something that was missing
in his life, and it was

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clear to Allard that Vespa found that thing in the
black tower near the

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mountain.

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In an odd way, Vespa reminded Allard of Pietro.

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Allard never learned much about Pietro or his
past.

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The old man was secretive and simply talked about
rebuilding Ness,

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connecting the city back to the world around it
and building the guild up to a

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potent force. No one was closer to Pietro than
Allard, but

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Allard didn't know a thing about the guild master
from before he met him.

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The memory of Pietro made Allard smile.

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The old man was legendarily forgetful, not
remembering things from even

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earlier in the day, let alone a week before.

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Allard once teased him about it. "You don't need
me for my sword.

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You need me for my memory," Pietro replied with a
smile, and rubbed his hand

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through Allard's hair as if he were a little boy.

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How did that remind Allard of Vespa? He couldn't
quite pin it down, but

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it did.

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Pietro was an odd mixture of kindness and
determination, while Vespa

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was the completely opposite combination of cruelty
and ambition.

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Maybe they were two sides of the same coin.

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Such thoughts made the loneliness fade.

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The thick door boomed with another kick.

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The door was so solid that it didn't even disturb
the dust.

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He punched the center with a quick
right-left-right flurry.

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Standing up straight, Allard shook his fists,
blood droplets flying to

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the floor. No one was behind that door, Allard
knew.

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They locked him up and put their trust in iron and
darkness.

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Allard smiled. His will was stronger than iron,
and the light of his

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heart filled the darkness.

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"The guild master thief did not lie, sir.

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The planes are empty."

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Wilhelm could see the Wall of Ness in the
distance.

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He liked Raillen, and felt the boy was being sadly
earnest in his description

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of what was happening in Ness, but he still wanted
to be careful.

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So, he had his force come up from the southeast,
far from the Dragon's Tear and

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Dragon Road. This significantly slowed their
approach, but it turned

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out not to matter. Wilhelm's forces had a clear
path directly to Ness'

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gate. "Send a small force to look for a way to
ford the Tear."

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Wilhelm pointed at the great river in the
distance, snaking its way toward

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Ness. "We will need to cross and assault the gate
as quickly as possible."

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"Yes, sir."

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"Make sure they are armed well. A balance of
stealth and might."

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The captain looked confused.

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"So, not just reconnaissance?"

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"While there appear to be few defenses, we still
want to maximize our surprise.

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If they are discovered, they are to immediately
take control of the gate and signal for our forces

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to attack." Surprise was critical to Wilhelm's
plans.

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He had to make sure the knights didn't have time
to close the gate.

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He knew from many previous forays toward Ness that
the city nearly

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always kept its massive gate open. The knights
wandered in and out as they

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exercised their horses or trained in the larger
grounds outside the city.

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And why bother with having the gates closed?

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The Outlanders had nothing more than small raiding
parties.

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It would be foolish for them to assault the gate,

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and that arrogance was what Wilhelm was counting
on.

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Looking out at his gathered forces, Wilhelm was
pleased.

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The pride and selfishness of the city would soon
be punished, and its downfall

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would be that selfsame arrogance. "What is that?"

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Wilhelm looked to where one of his captains was
pointing toward the Dragon's Teeth.

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The southern end of the wall was in an almost
sinister shadow.

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Wilhelm squinted. He couldn't see anything but the
mountain in the background.

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"I don't see anything." Wilhelm was annoyed by the
question.

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He didn't need any distractions. "It is a massive
tower,

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shrouded in black." Wilhelm squinted again.

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"I don't see anything."

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There had been many rumors of ghosts in black
manning the walls or in the

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fields outside the southern walls.

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The Outlanders never approached the city near
there.

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Of course, there was no reason to, as the fields
of food were to the north, but there

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was also a sense of foreboding about it.

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Pietro had never mentioned ghosts, so Wilhelm
ignored such things,

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but his men were a different matter. "It's gone,
but I swear I saw it."

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"Enough.

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Pietro was clear that the southern part of the
city is a wastelands.

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The

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shadows are playing tricks with your eyes."

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Wilhelm looked around and saw nervousness in his
men.

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Could Pietro have been wrong or lied about the
southern part of the city?

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No, it was inconceivable.

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But he was old, and his description of Ness may no
longer be accurate.

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Pietro could barely remember Wilhelm's name.

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Could he have forgotten ghosts or a garrison?

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It was possible. "Send another force to the
foothills to the south and approach the wall from

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its southern end. There may be an opening to Ness
at that end which is easier or less defended

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than the gate.

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If you find nothing there, come up along the wall
and return here to report what else you

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see." The captain paused and his men shifted
nervously.

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"They are worried about the ghosts." He looked
back up at the

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mountains towering beyond the wall and thought he
saw a massive tower, only

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for it to disappear in shadow. He shuddered.

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"Captain?" The man who hadn't moved stood at
attention.

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"Never mind. We need to focus on the gate and
can't spare the men."

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What Wilhelm didn't say was that he suddenly
didn't have a good feeling about that

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part of the city. Pietro may not have lied, but he
had hid something.

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It was marked by some kind of dark magic or evil.

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Was it cursed? Was it deadly for living things to
even walk upon?

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Wilhelm was not about to find out.

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Wait, Pietro did call it something else.

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He called it a wasteland, but what else did he
call it?

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It was so many years earlier, and Wilhelm had
dismissed it as unimportant.

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Something to do with a gate. The gateway!

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That was it.

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Pietro called the southern part of the city the
lost gateway, but what did

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that mean?

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With the oppressive darkness and shadow from the
mountain, Wilhelm was inclined

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to think of it as a gateway to hell, which seemed
reasonable within a

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wasteland.

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Wilhelm turned back toward the north.

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Thankfully, he didn't need to live in such a
cursed city.

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All he had to do was unlock its riches.

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(dramatic music)

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A Podcast Alchemy production.