The Thieves Guild
by Jake Kerr.
Episode 12:
Off to Prison.
(dramatic music plays)
Rafe regained consciousness while being dragged down the steps of the Merchant Tower.
The first thing he noticed when he opened his eyes was the second-floor tapestry that featured an
old shopkeeper selling a tapestry of an old shopkeeper selling a tapestry.
The scene repeated itself over and over within the threads in a masterwork of weaving.
It had been months since he had visited Raylan in the Merchant Tower and passed the
amusing scene. Rafe doubted he'd ever see the inside of the Merchant Tower
again.
His attention was wrenched to his captors, as one of them adjusted his grip by
yanking his arm forward. He cried out in pain at the force on his
shoulder. "Looks like the brown cloak is awake," someone said from ahead of Rafe.
He was dragged down a few more steps and then dumped on the marble floor.
Rolling into a sitting position, Rafe rubbed his shoulders.
They were stiff and sore, but didn't seem damaged.
He lifted his hand to feel where Sacks had kicked him in his head, but moving
his arm above shoulder height was too painful.
"Maybe I'm hurt worse than I think," Rafe considered as he looked
up.
Two knights stood above him. They were in their formal armor with the bright white
leather and the thicker white robes with the golden trim.
"The bruises seem an improvement, Jace," the one on the left said.
He was smiling as he said it.
The one on the right nodded. "There's at least some blue.
Much better than that filthy brown shirt."
Without looking at Jace, he added, "Maybe we should remove the shirt and cover him with more bruises."
Rafe clenched his fists, remembering the previous Founder's Day when he had
faced the same line of commentary from knights, right before they humiliated and
beat him. Unlike then, he didn't remain quiet.
"You have no authority to punish me. I am awaiting my guild colors, and my guildmaster will
decide my punishment."
He hoped his words sounded forceful and confident.
The two guards looked at each other and then began laughing.
"You just humiliated every guild in the city at the banquet.
What guild would possibly have you now?" the one named Jace said.
The other added, "And whichever guild was foolish enough to accept you, I'm sure they have kicked
you out by now." "I am a member of the Thieves Guild."
Rafe's voice was louder and more confident.
The unnamed one to the right chuckled.
"It really doesn't matter what guild you invent for yourself.
Guildmaster Sacks is going to deal with you himself. So get up.
We're taking you to the dungeons, and I don't feel like dragging you there." Rafe didn't
move. Finally realizing that he didn't intend on getting up, Jace
stepped forward and kicked Rafe's leg.
As Rafe cried out and grabbed his shin, the knight leaned down and grabbed the front of his
shirt and pulled him up slightly. Rafe could smell the wine on his breath.
"Listen, brown cloak. We're supposed to take you right to the dungeons, but if you don't
cooperate, Sam and I may have to take some time teaching you obedience.
We may get disciplined for being late, but if you're going to make us late anyway, at least we'll have some
fun out of it."
He clenched his fist and pressed it firmly against Rafe's cheek.
Nodding, Rafe scrambled to his feet.
They secured his hands with manacles, and with Jace in front of him and Sam behind,
they escorted him through the front gate of Merchant Tower.
There was a white wagon of the Knight Protectors waiting at the road.
It was the kind they used for drunks and the poor people that wandered into the north part of the
city from the flats.
Jace opened the wooden door, and Sam shoved Rafe in.
A few slits in the wood let in meager light.
The coach itself was nothing but bare wood. There were no stools or benches.
Rafe sat in the corner of the wagon as it started down the road.
He could feel every bump as the wheels pounded on the cobblestones.
Surrounded by darkness, dust, and the smell of vomit, Rafe closed his eyes
and wondered if Raylan would save him.
(dramatic music plays)