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The Thieves Guild

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by Jake Kerr.

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Episode 61:

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In the Thieves Dungeon.

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The blade of the Craft Guild had been in a cell
without light for what

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felt like days. How long it actually had been, he
had no

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idea. When the horsemen in black fell on him, they
beat him

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unconscious. And when he awoke, there was nothing
but darkness and the occasional

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sound of a cup of water, and his food plate
scraping across the stone as

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they were slid into his cell.

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He had spent the time trying to understand the
implications.

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Uh, the men in black were well-organized.

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Black was the color of the Thieves Guild. There
were guards on the wall in black.

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The Ash Fields were being reclaimed by workers
wearing black.

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How could the thieves have maintained a hidden
city and guild for so long?

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The blade thought of Pietro, and his respect for
the man increased dramatically.

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The old man did all this. He misled everyone by
making his position seem

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an obvious character he was playing, but he wasn't
playing a character at

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all.

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He was the Guildmaster thief.

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When a flash of light appeared at the end of the
hall, the blade had to cover his eyes, even

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though it was dim. When his sight finally got used
to the flickering and the

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brightness of the approaching torch, the blade
wondered whether he was hallucinating.

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Standing on the other side of the bars was Allard,
who wore his awful

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black robe with the hood pulled over his face.

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"Who are you?" the tall knight said, his deep
voice filling the

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cell. The blade remained silent. "You wear no
guild colors, and yet you

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bore this." Allard held up the blade's dagger.

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"This is not the blade of a beggar or guiltless
vagrant from the flats."

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The blade cursed himself. It was not his best
dagger, but Allard was right.

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It was too sharp and well-made to be the knife of
a random citizen.

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Still, he remained quiet. "Your silence does not
bode well for your

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future."

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Allard tossed the dagger down the dark hall, where
it let out a harsh clanging

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sound. "I will ask one more time."

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Allard tossed back his hood. He was frowning, and
the combination of his frown with the

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wicked scar across his forehead in the light of
the flames was frightening, even for the

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blade. "Tell me your name and your guild."

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"Vesper. I am with the Craft Guild."

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The blade told the truth, knowing that it was
always a mistake to lie when the truth could

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not harm you. "Very good. I was going to let you
starve, but now I will make

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your death more merciful."

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Allard reached over his shoulder and withdrew his
broadsword from a sheath on his back.

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It was the mightiest sword Vesper had ever seen,
bigger than the sword of the deputy

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guildmaster knight. "Now tell me why you're on
this side of the river." Allard

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leaned on the sword.

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"I was curious about the Wretched Quarter.

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Curiosity is not a crime."

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The blade was practiced at lying, and he used a
strained voice full of

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fear and confusion. "Th- that is a lie, as with
your silence.

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I will only repeat myself one more time.

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If you lie again, I will blind you."

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Vesper knew of Allard's reputation.

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He was old, but had been one of the most vicious
and skilled members of the Knight Guild.

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The blade didn't know why they had kicked Allard
out of the guild, but he assumed it was due to

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something horrible.

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Against Allard, he had to be careful with his
lies.

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"I am on a mission for the guild."

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"Orion sent you?"

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Allard seemed shocked. Vesper knew the moment was
right to risk a lie, even

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though the cost would have been horrific.

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"No. The captain of the guards felt personally
insulted by the guildmaster

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thief's behavior at their guildmaster feast.

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He assigned me to do my best to hunt him down and
kill him."

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Allard peered at the blade for an uncomfortable
amount of

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time. If he believed Vesper, he may have avoided
death, because he knew without

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a doubt that if Allard knew he was the craft
blade, that he would kill Vesper

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immediately. Finally, Allard said...

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"That was a fool's mission based on arrogance."

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Vesper did his best not to show how relieved he
was at the comment.

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"My duty is to serve, not question my orders."

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It was a standard reply that any knight would have
understood. Allard nodded.

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"Speaking the truth has saved your life."

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Allard returned his sword to its sheath.

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"Your punishment is to lose your hands."

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Allard turned to leave. "It will be done within
the hour.

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You will be bandaged and then returned across the
bridge."

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Vesper's heart sank. He had critical information
for Orion.

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Allard had somehow formed an army in the Wretched
Quarter, an army in black.

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Their base was a mighty tower that was camouflaged
from the city by the mountain behind it.

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The army controlled the entire other side of the
river.

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The entire Wretched Quarter was a hidden city of
thieves.

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All of that information could be delivered to
Orion, whether he had hands or not.

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But losing his hands meant that Vesper had no
future.

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The guilds were brutal to cripples. He would most
likely end up as a beggar

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in the flats, eventually hounded by the knight
protectors into the Wretched

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Quarter, where he'd starve or die from random
violence.

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Vesper had no real loyalty to anyone.

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His life had been one struggle after another, and
he learned early that the way

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ahead was to commit to those with the most power.

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So, he had always helped Orion, because it also
helped him.His

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dedication to the guild ended with the guild's
dedication to him.

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That thought filled his head as Allard lifted his
hood over his head

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and turned to leave.

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Orion's commitment to the blade would end with the
loss of his hands, and

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if the guild wouldn't commit to him, the blade had
to find a new path

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forward.

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Allard had taken two steps when Vesper called out.

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Wait! I have more to say.

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Allard turned. The shadow of the hood made his
face unreadable.

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Speak.

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The voice was deep and flat.

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I will only speak if you swear not to harm me.

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The hood shook slightly from right to left.

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I will make no such promise.

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Allard turned to leave again.

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I am the Blade of the Craft Guild.

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Allard paused and then turned back, remaining
silent.

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I will say no more, unless you swear that you will
not harm me.

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Allard threw back his hood and walked right up to
the cell.

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Are those your terms?

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Vesper considered his options. Just by speaking,
he would destroy any

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future he had in any guild, but to not speak meant
that he would lose his hands,

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and that would also destroy his future with other
guilds.

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His only opportunity was to change sides, but he
did not want to do that without knowing

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more about what that meant.

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No. Those are the terms for me to speak one
additional sentence.

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For me to tell you everything I know, you must
also share with me what you know.

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Who are you? What is your goal? What is your
future?

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And why do you need to know these things?

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Because the answer will help me decide whether to
join you or not.

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Blunt words, but words that come easily from one
facing grave

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punishment.

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Allard laughed.

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Still, you are a true blade with motivations that
are easy to understand.

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I once faced a similar decision as you have in
front of you, Blade Vesper, so you are lucky that
you are

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talking with me.

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Allard leaned forward and his voice took on a
conspiratorial whisper.

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I understand you.

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Stepping backward, Allard lifted his hood back
over his head.

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Alas, that is not a decision for me to make.

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I will return to discuss this with you further
after I receive guidance.

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Whose decision is it?

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Vesper couldn't imagine who would be leading the
bandit forces other

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than Allard.

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Why, the guild master thief, of course.

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(Ominous music)