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The Thief's Guild

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by Jake Kerr.

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Episode 6:

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Allard.

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Raylan set a brisk pace down the hallway as he
struggled to figure out whether he was

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angry, scared, or thrilled.

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He reached the top of the staircase and paused.
What was he to do next?

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He had to find his new quarters, which were
presumably in the basement, but what

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about his future? Could he walk the streets openly
like Pietro?

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Would the people see him as a symbol and not an
actual thief?

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Or would he be hated by everyone, a target for
abuse and anger?

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He also considered that this could turn out to be
the best possible result for

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him. He wouldn't have to worry about harvesting
the crops, or smelting iron,

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or keeping accounts, or guarding the wall.

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He could just wander the city like old Pietro.

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The final thought made Raylan smile.

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He was thinking that his brother may have
unintentionally done him a favor.

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Of course, that didn't include the Founder's Day
parade.

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Some people took the ritual punishment of the
thieves a bit too seriously, and Pietro

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had been injured several times.

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In the end, he didn't have much choice,

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so he started down the steps, wondering where
Guildmaster Pietro had

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lived.

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Larsen had said that his quarters would be in the
basement, but that could have just

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been another way for him to humiliate Raylan.

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Still, the thieves were the only guild without a
tower, and Raylan

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wasn't sure where Guildmaster Pietro lived.

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He only saw him at the parade and a few times in
the market district.

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It was possible, however, that Pietro lived in the
merchant tower.

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It was huge, with plenty of ways in and out of the
various attached

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buildings. Plus, Raylan did remember hearing once
that Pietro

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lived under the sufferance of the Merchant Guild.

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He figured that the guard on duty would know, so
he hurried down the final steps

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and approached the guard watching the front doors.

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It was Essil, who glared at Raylan coldly as he
approached.

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Excuse me, uh, Essil, but can you tell me where
Guildmaster Pietro's quarters are?

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Guildmaster Pietro left this world two days ago.

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Raylan bowed his head, figuring that respect would
get him further than

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demands.

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Essil frowned. He didn't seem disturbed by the
news.

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Ah. Yes, I'd heard that. I was wondering where his
living quarters are.

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Looking to steal from the dead, are we?

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Essil walked toward him, placing his hand on the
pommel of his sword.

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You wear the brown and think that puts you outside
the reach of the guilds.

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He slid his sword out a few inches.

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But it doesn't. It makes you less than all of
them. We could all crush you (snaps fingers) like
that.

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Essil shoved his sword back into its sheath, a
sharp clang when the pommel

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hit the metal lip, underscoring his threat.

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Raylan would normally have slunk away.

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He had felt the flat of Essil's sword on his back
and legs enough times to

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know not to provoke him. But things were different
now, and he needed to learn

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more about his new position. He couldn't afford to
let Essil bully

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him around when he needed answers. And besides, he
was a

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guildmaster now.

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You should watch yourself, Essil.

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Raylan stood tall and squinted at the armed
guildsman.

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I won't be wearing brown much longer.

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Essil threw back his head and laughed.

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(laughs) Did your brother finally get you a
position cleaning manure?

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As quickly as he had laughed, his face went cold
and he unsheathed his

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sword.

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I don't care what color you'll be wearing.

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You'll never be anything more than a pathetic
insect.

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He raised his sword.

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Enough.

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A deep, booming voice from the staircase behind
them echoed through the entry.

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It was a voice used to giving commands and used to
having them followed.

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Essil lowered his sword, and Raylan turned.

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A tall figure in a flowing black robe, his face
lost in the shadows of the hood,

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stood with his arms crossed.

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This is not your business, Allard,

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Essil said, but his voice was weak and tentative
in the face of the visitor.

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The figure said nothing, but approached with
deliberate steps.

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He stopped in front of Essil.

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It is Deputy Allard, merchant.

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Essil slouched and the man in black kicked his
sword, which had dropped down and was

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pointing to the floor.

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Now put your toy away before I beat you with it.

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The man pointed at Raylan.

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And don't ever speak that way to the guildmaster
again.

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His voice sounded like a clenched fist.

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Guildmaster.

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The man put his hand on the hilt of his sword.

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Do I need to tell you again?

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Essil scrambled back, sheathing his sword.

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He turned and returned to his position near the
great wooden doors, mumbling as

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he went.

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Allard reached up and tossed the hood of his robe
back.

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His skin and eyes were a dark brown, almost black.

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He was bald, which made telling his age difficult.

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He had some wrinkles, but not enough to mark him
as ancient.

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His smooth pate was interrupted by a thick scar
that ran from the top of his

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head down to his left eyebrow.

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His brows were furrowed and his lips were turned
down in a slight frown.

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Raylan wasn't sure he had ever met a more
intimidating man in his life.

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I'm sorry I was not present at your meeting with
the guildmaster merchant, sir.

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He folded his arms across his chest and stood up
straight.

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It seems that they neglected to inform me of it.

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... he smiled and his face was transformed.

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His eyes sparkled, and his face glowed with
kindness.

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"You are my deputy?" Raylan asked, not quite
believing what he was seeing.

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"Indeed, I am." The smile remained. "I'm pleased
to

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meet you, Deputy Allard."

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Raylan grinned and made one of his rare bows.

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The deputy nodded in return, but otherwise didn't
move.

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"Larsen mentioned that Guildmaster Pietro lived in
this tower.

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Is that true?" "Did you mean Guildmaster Larsen?"
The deputy's

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smile faded a bit. Raylan immediately understood
his lapse in

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respect, and he appreciated Allard's understated
correction.

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"I'm sorry. Yes, I meant Guildmaster Larsen."

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Allard nodded. "Indeed, sir. The guild quarters
are in the basement of the north

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wing." That was where the kitchen and various
service personnel lived and worked.

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Raylan had never even been there. "I didn't even
know the guild had a basement," Raylan

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replied, more to himself than to Allard.

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"The north wing is the only part of the tower with
a basement, and it is rarely used."

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"Can you take me there?" "As you command, sir."
Allard pulled the hood over his

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head and started walking to the east, where a
number of hallways from various

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wings of the building merged.

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Raylan still couldn't quite believe what was
happening, but every time he rubbed his

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eyes, the tall, ominous man in the black robe was
still there.

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It was hard to keep up with Allard's brisk pace,
and the fact that each step jarred

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Raylan's aching head only made things worse.

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They turned down the hallway that led to the north
wing and the kitchens.

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Just inside the archway that marked the entrance
to the north wing was a wooden door to the

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left. It looked like a closet. It was unlocked,
and Allard

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pulled it open and stepped aside, motioning for
Raylan to enter first.

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Raylan shook his head. "This is all new to me.

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Please lead the way."

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Allard nodded, but said nothing.

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Raylan followed him through the door, which opened
to cramped and rough-hewn stone

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steps leading down. The stairway was well-lit with
torches, and the floor

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and walls were dry.

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There were bits of wood and paper in the corners
of each step, although it wasn't very dusty.

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It looked clean, just unkempt. Their footsteps
echoed against the walls in the

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quiet. It didn't feel like the enforced quiet you
experienced in a church or a

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library. Rather, the walls were so close that
Raylan felt like he had to

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keep his voice down to avoid having it echo.

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The quiet walk to the quarters did have a certain
solemnity about it, and it

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reminded Raylan of the old guild master.

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"I'm sorry about Guildmaster Pietro." Allard
stopped and turned to face

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him. He was on a lower step, and yet his face was
still above Raylan's.

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He stood motionless for a moment, his face lost in
the shadows of his hood before

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replying, "That was very kind of you, sir, and I
thank you for saying so.

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He was one of the greatest of the guildmaster
thieves." "I'm not sure I even understand what
that

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means, to be honest, Allard." Allard leaned close,
and for a second, Raylan thought that he

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had angered him. However, the deputy's voice
dropped to a whisper as he stated in a soft

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voice, "Few know of his achievements or his
greatness." Raylan didn't want to be

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disrespectful, but he was at a loss as to what
Allard could mean.

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"But I thought it was a ceremonial position."

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Allard reached out, and Raylan flinched.

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But all he did was pat him on the shoulder.

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"Making the city believe that a guild of thieves
doesn't exist is quite an achievement, don't you

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think?" Raylan relaxed a little. "Well, we know
thieves exist,

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but there's no such thing as a thieves guild."
Allard turned back to the steps before

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adding, "Exactly." The steps ended at a stone
hallway.

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Like the staircase, it was littered with broken
pieces of wood, along with

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paper and what looked like bits of pottery.

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More than anything, it looked like the entrance to
one of the warehouses near the craft guild.

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Along its length were plain wooden doors on each
side.

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"What is this place?" Raylan asked, looking around
at the bare hallway.

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"This is a small basement that is used for
storage, mostly things that have only

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been used once and are wrongly considered too
precious to dispose of.

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That room holds the embroidered linens from
Guildmaster Galwey's elevation ceremony."

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Raylan shook his head. Galwey was the guild master
before his brother.

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He was elevated over 20 years before.

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"And here we are." They reached the end of the
hall.

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A broad door faced them. It appeared to be solid
wood and was different

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than the other doors along the hall, but it lacked
the decorative pretension of the

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door to the guild master merchant office.

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A wooden stool sat next to it in the corner.

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"These are my quarters." Allard pointed to a
smaller door set in the wall to the

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right. He reached into the folds of his robe,
pulled out a ring of keys, and flipped through

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them. He unlocked the door and ushered them in. It
was a single room.

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It looked comfortable enough, and it was quite
large,

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but it was closer to an apprentice dorm than guild
master quarters.

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There was a fireplace in the back wall and a pair
of reading chairs set near.

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They faced each other with several books sitting
on a table next to the chair on the

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left.

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The floor was flagstone with a threadbare black
rug imperfectly covering

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it.

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To the left were bookshelves that stretched from
floor to ceiling and wall to wall.

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To the right was a small bed with black linens.

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To the immediate left of the entry door was a
replica of the thief statue from Founders

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Park, two thieves reaching into each other's
pockets with the inscription,

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"Honor among thieves," on the base below.

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An empty work table was shoved into the corner to
the right with two chairs pushed under

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it. After taking it all in, Raylan muttered,
"Seems a bit austere for a guild

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master."... we could move you to the Thieves'
Tower if you prefer." Raylan's jaw dropped,

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and he turned to his deputy. "There is no Thieves'
Tower." Allard laughed.

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"Hah, of course there is. It has fallen from
memory over time, which I believe was

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Pietro's goal when he moved his living quarters
here." Raylan simply couldn't believe it.

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He had been over practically every part of Ness,
and he knew there was no such thing as a

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Thieves' Tower. "How long ago was that?" "It was
75 years ago.

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Pietro moved into Merchant Tower the same year he
was elevated." "Pietro was guildmaster

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for 75 years?" Raylan didn't even know anyone 70
years old.

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"Indeed. Your brother was the fourth guildmaster
merchant he had served with."

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Raylan walked over and sat on the bed.

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He knew Pietro was ancient, but he had trouble
comprehending someone, what,

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90, 95 years old? He looked up at Allard, who
stood just

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inside the doorway. "Where is the Thieves' Tower?"
"It is at the base of the mountain,

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where the Old Quarter meets the Ashfields."

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No wonder he or anyone he knew had never heard or
seen the tower.

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It was between the two most wretched areas of the
city, both across the Great River.

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No one from any guild crossed the river and
wandered through the desolate and dangerous

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Wretched Quarter, and the Ashfields were just
that, fields of dead crops and

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trees from over-farming during Ness' youth.

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The other side of the Great River wasn't even
considered part of the city anymore,

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even though it was inside the walls. Raylan shook
his head.

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He badly wanted to visit his guild tower, even
with its unfortunate location,

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but that would have to wait until later. He looked
around the room.

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It didn't look like anyone had ever lived there.

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"I assume Pietro's things have been removed."
"Yes, Guildmaster

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Pietro's belongings were removed this morning.

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Unfortunately, we haven't had time to bring in
fresh linens.

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Which reminds me, we will need to procure you
linens, clothing, and robes from the

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Clovers.

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It would probably do well to address that
immediately, as you ride in the Founder's Day
parade tomorrow.

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And you will need blankets for tonight."

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Raylan nodded, and looked around again. The books
were an interesting sight.

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He had never actually seen a book that wasn't used
for settling accounts, and there must have

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been dozens on the shelves. The rest of the room
was decidedly shabby though,

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00:14:38,195 --> 00:14:40,615
and he couldn't help but feel disappointed.

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00:14:41,035 --> 00:14:46,015
He knew that his brother was punishing him, and
that the guildmaster thief was nothing more

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than a laughingstock, but certainly he could at
least have a bed that was better than the

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00:14:51,055 --> 00:14:52,755
one he was leaving behind.

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00:14:53,575 --> 00:14:58,055
All in all, any hope that being a guildmaster
would provide him with luxury were

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00:14:58,055 --> 00:14:58,575
dashed.

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00:14:59,595 --> 00:15:04,115
Raylan's head still hurt, so he dropped it to the
pillow and stretched out on the bed.

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00:15:04,735 --> 00:15:08,735
He was starting to rethink his initial excitement
over his new position.

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00:15:09,035 --> 00:15:13,555
He had a title, but one that was a source of
amusement and scorn throughout

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00:15:13,595 --> 00:15:14,095
Ness.

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00:15:14,715 --> 00:15:19,675
He had some new clothes, but they would be black,
a color possibly worse than the brown of the

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guildless. He had privacy, but the price was
rather depressing living quarters in the

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00:15:24,715 --> 00:15:26,915
basement of his brother's guild tower.

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00:15:27,275 --> 00:15:32,015
And while he had never had particular luck with
girls, he doubted he'd have any chance

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00:15:32,075 --> 00:15:32,415
now.

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00:15:33,235 --> 00:15:37,915
He sighed. "Thinking of the parade?" Raylan had
forgotten that Allard was

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00:15:37,955 --> 00:15:42,255
still there. The deputy stood straight and
motionless near the door.

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00:15:42,715 --> 00:15:46,335
His arms were clasped behind his back. His hood
remained up.

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00:15:46,735 --> 00:15:49,655
Raylan laughed, but it was a laugh full of
bitterness.

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00:15:49,655 --> 00:15:53,835
"No, I hadn't yet gotten to that on my list of
things to be concerned about."

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00:15:54,595 --> 00:15:59,175
He thought about the Founder's Parade and the
tradition of the populace taking their

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00:15:59,255 --> 00:16:03,455
frustration out on thieves by pelting their
guildmaster.

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00:16:03,995 --> 00:16:08,815
Few took as great a pleasure in that tradition as
he had, but now it didn't

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00:16:08,855 --> 00:16:12,535
seem quite so amusing. He looked at Allard.

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00:16:12,535 --> 00:16:17,455
"So I guess I just sit in the cage and smile as I
get showered in fruit and vegetable pulp."

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00:16:17,455 --> 00:16:22,255
"That was how Guildmaster Pietro handled it."
Raylan realized he was being

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rude relaxing while his deputy stood at attention,
so he pulled himself up.

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The movement sent waves of pain through his head,
however, so he remained

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00:16:32,615 --> 00:16:34,595
seated. "There's another way?"

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00:16:35,235 --> 00:16:39,515
Raylan pictured a straw man wrapped in the black
robe of the Thieves' Guild.

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00:16:39,515 --> 00:16:43,115
"You could stand on the wagon without a cage."
(laughs)

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00:16:43,115 --> 00:16:46,515
Raylan laughed. He knew that some citizens threw
rocks.

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00:16:49,235 --> 00:17:16,015
(dramatic music)