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The Thieves Guild

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by Jake Kerr.

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Episode 67:

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Flames Along the Throughway.

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With less than three hours of sleep and little
time other than to change his

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sooty clothes filled with the stink of smoke,
Rogers left Mas in control

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of the Flats while he traveled to the Lower
Triangle.

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The previous evening, the Ironsides and Grell
Estates had both burned to the ground

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while the fires along the river were still burning
into midday.

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Things were still bad in the Flats, but they
appeared to be coming under

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control, and Rogers needed to get to the Lower
Triangle.

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As he grabbed the reins of his horse, Rogers tried
to grasp the scale of the

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disaster. In the Flats alone, it was too much for
the fire protectors to

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handle. He couldn't imagine what was going on in
the Lower Triangle.

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Rogers had every available thief assisting, but it
still wasn't enough.

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"We need Maela," Rogers thought. Maela, before she
went on the

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fool's errand as the new Blade of the Guildmaster,
was the captain of the

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Flats. She knew everyone and had every nook,
cranny, family, street,

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and building memorized. Rogers didn't like her
methods, and was

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constantly annoyed as she ignored his attempts to
teach her, but he knew she had

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good instincts and even better knowledge.

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Without Maela, Rogers was stretched thin.

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He was confident Moss could manage things, but
Moss didn't have the creative

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and decisive mind of Maela. Still, there was
nothing

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Rogers could do. While the damage in the Flats was
catastrophic,

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the fires in the Lower Triangle were still raging,
and on course to be even

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worse. He had to trust Moss and get to where the
fires were still

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burning unchecked.

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The moment he arrived at the Greenbelt, he
realized why things

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were so bad. "Where are the fire protectors?" he
asked as he grabbed a

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young Harvest Guild member, who appeared to be in
shock as she watched an

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entire swath of the city burn.

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I was told they are stretched too thin.

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They can't be everywhere at once.

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The words came out as if the young woman was

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simply repeating something she had been told.

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Rogers watched as Harvest Guild members bore pails
and buckets to fight the

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flames. Many of the homes had already burned out,
leaving nothing but

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charred cinders behind. He knew that many of the
Harvest Guild members helping

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were thieves, doing their best to assist the city.

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The Greenbelt stretched along the north side of
the major road that split the

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Flats and the Lower Triangle. Officially named
Founders Path, the

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road was commonly called by the simpler name of
the Throughway.

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Wide enough to fit three wagons, the Throughway
was the major artery that

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linked the Warehouse District with the many shops
in the Flats and Lower

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Triangle.

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The Greenbelt featured bigger homes with larger
lots than were found in the

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Flats, which made it clear that if you lived
there, you were wealthier.

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The phrase, "from the wrong side of the
Throughway" was a common description

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for the residents of the smaller houses on the
Flats side of the road,

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and one that indicated the often divisive conflict
between the two

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sections of the city.

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The fires had shown no such prejudice, striking
both sides of the Throughway

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with equal ferocity. The lush lawns that were one
of the reasons for

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the Greenbelt's name stretched nearly from the
river to Founders Park and

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Merchant Tower,

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and as Rogers rode along the Throughway, the
houses behind every

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lawn seemed to be burning.

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Rogers couldn't understand how that could even
happen.

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The houses weren't packed as close as those in the
Flats, and yet the fires were worse

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here than there.

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Part of it was clearly due to the lack of fire
protectors.

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The houses burned, the embers floated to nearby
houses, and the flames

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took hold. But it was obvious more was at play.

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The ride toward the river along the Throughway was
heartbreaking.

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The fires started near the river and had spread
toward the east, and what

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started as frantic guild members fighting newly
burning buildings turned into

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stunned masses of families staring at the last few
flames licking the

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splintered wood of homes, minutes from collapsing,
and finally to the

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smoldering ruins of the early fires, with nothing
left but ash and

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dust. As he rode, another tragedy unfolded, the
brazen

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efforts of the merchant guards to clear the
Harvest Guild out of the Flats and the

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Lower Triangle.

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Rogers had his suspicions the night before, but as
he continued to

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organize the fighting of the fires, all he could
do was watch the blue

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wagons take people away.

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Of course, it appeared that they were being taken
to shelter, but Rogers had seen

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far too many machinations from the merchants to
believe that.

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What was a suspicion in the Flats was confirmed in
the Lower Triangle.

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It was as obvious as it was heartless.

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There weren't enough wagons to clear all the
people out, so while their own home

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smoldered, merchant guards used swords and clubs
to push the Harvest

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Guild families toward the great river.His deputy
captain was

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overseeing firefighting duty, so Rogers looked for
a thief that he recognized.

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He finally found one as he was about to give up
and head back to the still-burning

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fires.

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An older thief, who had retired from active duty,
was holding the arm of

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an elderly Harvest Guild member and guiding her
away from a Merchant Guild

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wagon that had pulled up. "Killian."

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The thief turned and bowed his head slightly to
his thief captain.

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"Old friend." Rogers strode up to him and lowered
his voice to a whisper

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as they gave each other a firm handshake.

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Killian whispered in the woman's ear and pointed
her to someone further up the

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road.

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As she left, Rogers spoke in a hushed whisper.

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"The Merchant Guild is marching the Greenbelt
residents toward the river.

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Do you know where they are taking them?"

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Rogers wondered if Larson had some insane desire
to take over the

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Greenbelt for a palace or something and was
forcibly relocating the

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Harvest Guild members to the Flats.

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Killian's face was set in a grim frown.

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"Afraid not, sir, but you are right. Even with the
distraction of the fires, it

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is clear the merchants have something in mind for
the Harvest Guild members.

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It would not surprise me if they plan on moving
hundreds of families." "Could they

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be moving them to the Flats, sir?" Killian
shrugged. "We should send someone to look. I...

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I would go, but my best days are behind me."

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Without waiting for a reply from Rogers, Killian
called out, "Feros."

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A young boy, probably as new to the guild as
Relin, ran up.

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"Captain Rogers has a mission for you." Killian
turned to Rogers.

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"I need you to travel toward the Great River and
follow one of the Harvest Family groups being
marched away

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by the merchants.

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They are being forcibly relocated, and I want to
know where they are taking them.

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When you find out, I want you to find a
fast-running guild mate and have him or her

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take a message to the Black Tower telling the
guild master or deputy guild master what

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is happening. The Merchant Guild is attacking the
Harvest Guild and marching them as prisoners

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to whatever destination you find out.

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Then you return to me here and tell me what you've
discovered." "Yes, captain."

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And without even awaiting a dismissal, the young
man named Feros was off.

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While waiting for the scout to return, Rogers put
all his efforts into containing

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the fires. It was at that moment that he realized
something he should have caught

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earlier, the knights were in league with the
merchants.

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The fires in the Flats were either burnt out or
under control, and yet there

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were no members of the Fire Protectors fighting
the flames in the Greenbelt.

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The wagons with the pumps that shot water, the
large buckets and teams of

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people to douse the flames with them, all the
materials that would help get the

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Greenbelt fires under control were missing.

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As an ember set fire to yet another straw roof,
Rogers felt a hand

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roughly grabbing his sleeve. As he turned in
anger, he saw that it was

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Feros. "Feros, what have you found?"

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The young boy looked stunned. "The Merchant Guild
is marching the Harvest Guild members over the

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Great Bridge and forcing them into the Old
Quarter."

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Feros looked stricken. "Hundreds of people,
captain. Hundreds.

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They're going to overrun the Old Quarter.

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There are too many for us to turn back by force."

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Rogers grabbed the boy's shoulders.

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"Did you send a messenger to the Black Tower?"

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The boy nodded. "Then you did good, Feros.

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Thank you."

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Rogers wondered what would happen next.

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The fires would finally die out, but the anger of
the Harvest Guild never

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would. Turning back to Feros, Rogers asked, "How
fresh are your legs?

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Can you make it to Moss in the Flats?" "Yes, sir.

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I am winded, but will recover soon enough." "Good.

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As soon as you can, go find Moss. Tell him that he
has a new mission.

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He is to no longer prepare for fighting fires."

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Rogers shook his head as he said the words.

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"He is to prepare for civil war."

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(instrumental music plays)