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The Thieves Guild,

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by Jake Kerr

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(dramatic music plays) . Episode 80.

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A message in the streets.

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With Rafe and Allard gone, and Mailer imprisoned
by Polo, Raylan had

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not felt so lonely in a long time. He stood on his
balcony

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looking out on his guild lands, an entire half of
the walled city.

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In the distance, he could see smoke, but no fires.

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There was the suggestion of movement near the
great bridge, but the distance was too great

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for him to see more than that. It was odd.

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He was one of the most powerful men in Ness at the
moment, yet he felt like there was

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little for him to do. He missed running through
the Knight Tower to rescue

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Allard, galloping toward Gautland to reach Karch,
and even

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the Founder's Day parade that left him gagging and
covered in filth.

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At least it was something.

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But what could he do in that moment? It was as his
brother had said when he

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first informed Raylan that he was the guild master
thief, he was but a

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figurehead.

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Of course for Larsen, the guild master thief was a
figurehead of scorn.

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Now he was a figurehead of a real guild, with real

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responsibilities, but he was still a figurehead.

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Raylan wanted more. He wanted to do something.

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Marching back into the tower, Raylan entered his
quarters and put on his

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traveling clothes: leather breeches and a black
shirt with black

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boots. Flowing behind him was a black cape made of
liquid cloth,

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the rarest of materials in Ness. There would be no
mistaking

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he was the guild master. Striding out, he
approached Philos.

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I am going to Founder's Square to meet and talk to
the Harvest Guild refugees.

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Philos was too experienced to even think of
contradicting the

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guild master. That was Allard's job.

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He simply nodded and replied...

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Will you require a carriage?

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I'll be riding my horse.

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As you wish. I shall attend to it, sir.

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Very good. I'll meet you in the stables.

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Raylan knew Philos would be escorting him, and
while he wanted his outreach to

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the Harvest Guild refugees to be his personal
mission, he knew it was wise

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to have his guard with him. Thinking of his guard
also reminded Raylan that he

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should arm himself. Returning to his quarters,
Raylan secured the

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long dagger that Allard had given him to his waist
and thigh.

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He doubted it would do any good against a
formidable opponent, but

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its presence made him feel better.

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The stables had come a long way since their former
unused and collapsed

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state. Raylan's horse, the majestic beast gifted
to him by Lord

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Wilhelm, stood proudly in front, Philos holding
his reins.

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He is a mighty steed, Guild Master.

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He was a gift of the Outlanders. He was raised on
the plains.

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Raylan rubbed his hand along the horse's neck.

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I've named him Calisto.

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It was the name of a city that Rafe said was far
to the west beyond the

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Outlanders. It sounded exotic and wild to Raylan,
and it seemed

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to fit the horse.

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Like the glittering prize, Philos replied.

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Glittering prize?

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Yes, the children's verse.

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Do your work and focus your eyes, and you too can
make it to Calisto, the glittering

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prize.

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Philos shrugged.

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I figured it was some ancient treasure of some
sort.

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Your horse is definitely a treasure.

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The city and treasure. "I wonder if they are the

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same thing. More hints of our past hidden in plain
sight,"

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Raylan thought.

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It is indeed the source of his name, a glittering
prize

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indeed.

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Philos handed the reins to Raylan and vaulted onto
his

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horse. Philos was surprisingly nimble for a large
and muscular

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man wearing chain mail. He had been installed by
Allard, and Raylan

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was certain that Philos was one of the deadliest
fighters in all of

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Ness.

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Raylan climbed onto Calisto, and they spurred
their horses out of the

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stables and on to the old quarter and Founder's
Square.

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Green tunics, robes, shirts and cloaks were
everywhere as the flow of

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Harvest Guild members across the bridge didn't
seem to be abating even a full

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day or more after it had started.

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They are clearing the entire quarter.

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That they are, Guild Master.

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Raylan hadn't truly believed that Larsen could do
any such thing, so it

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helped him focus on the scale of what he was
seeing. The crowds were enormous.

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It took a moment, but Raylan discovered that there
was order to the crowds he was

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seeing flowing through the streets.

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Thieves Guild members in black were guiding groups
to various houses and down

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various alleys. Each group was organized and
escorted by a member

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of the Thieves Guild. Despite the chaos of
humanity, everything seemed

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to be moving with an orderly flow.

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Raylan pushed his horse forward and through the
people so that he could be in the

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center of Founder's Square, a large open area at
the center of two

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intersecting major thoroughfares in the old
quarter.At the center

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was the base of a statue with nothing upon it.

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Relan assumed that back in the migration from the
old quarter, the statue had

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been stolen or destroyed.

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Stopping, Relan yelled out...

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"Welcome to your new home and shelter. The Thieves
Guild welcomes you.

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We are here to help, to heal, to feed, and to
shelter you.

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We are your friends. If you have questions, I will
answer them.

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You have nothing to fear."

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Relan crossed his arms, not expecting anyone to
say anything, although he hoped

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his words were calming.

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A large number of Harvest Guild members had looked
at him while he spoke, and one

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of them yelled out...

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"You are thieves. You have stolen from us.

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Why should we trust you?"

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Relan looked at the woman. She appeared older, and
from her clothes, looked

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like the kind of guild member who would not need
the assistance of the thieves.

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She would see them solely as just that,

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thieves.

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"We take so that we can give. The food and
clothing we have stolen will now

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feed and clothe you. It is as it has always been."

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Relan looked around.

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"Anyone else, we are here to help. But if you
would like to know our

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history or more about our guild, you can simply
ask any of us.

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We no longer have any secrets. Your well-being
demands our openness."

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While the refugees had listened to him intently,
none of them seemed to have

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any further questions. As groups made their way
through the square, Relan

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would greet them and introduce their benefactors
as the Thieves Guild.

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He was not naive, and Relan knew that his words
would not change

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anyone's opinion of thieves, but he hoped that his
words would provide the

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proper context for the kindness that the guild was
showing everyone.

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They may not believe the words, but they couldn't
help but believe the

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actions.

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As the hours drifted by, Relan enjoyed himself.

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He spoke to fellow thieves, asking of their health
and applauding their

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efforts. He answered questions from Harvest Guild
members, wishing them

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well and offering to listen if they had

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any concerns or problems with their treatment.

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He listened as many would angrily condemn Larsen
or Orion or Sax

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or all three in one expletive-filled sentence.

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As he considered whether it was time for him to
return to his tower, a middle-aged Harvest

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Guild member approached. Relan looked down at him
and smiled.

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"You are a difficult man to approach, Guild
Master,"

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the man stated.

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"I'm right here."

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Relan spread his arms and smiled.

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"You are here now, but previously, you have not
left the tower in days."

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What is this? Relan thought. Philos moved his
horse

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forward and unsheathed his sword, laying it across
his saddle.

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The man held up his hands.

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"I mean no harm."

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The man lowered his voice and took a step toward
Relan.

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"One more step and you die."

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The blunt statement was delivered with the
precision of an executioner's swing.

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"I have a message for the Guild Master from the
Crown of Gautland."

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Lord Wilhelm,

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the leader of the Outlanders. Relan looked closer
at the man.

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He had pale blond hair and striking light blue,
almost white

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eyes.

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This is an Outlander spy in Ness.

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"Speak your message." "You have lost control of
the

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city. You were to open the trade routes.

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If you do not restore order soon, Lord Wilhelm
will do it for you."

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Relan stared at the man, who appeared bemused more
than anything.

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"A threat, then?"

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The man shrugged.

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His face was inscrutable.

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"Alas, your message is a lie.

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You forget that I have traveled to Gautland.

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This horse was a gift from Lord Wilhelm himself.

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It is a multi-day journey. There is no way that
Lord Wilhelm would know of the

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violence in Ness and respond to it via

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messenger.

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There is no time."

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Relan turned to Philos. "Philos, I believe the
dungeon has room for

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another resident, a liar."

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Looking completely unperturbed, the Outlander
laughed.

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"You are a sharp one, I will give you that. You
are correct, of course.

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I am Lord Wilhelm's hand in Ness. I have the
authority to speak in his

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name."

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A hand, probably akin to what guild masters called
captains in

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Ness.

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Relan wondered if he could embed a captain in
Gautland without discovery.

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He filed the thought away. "So, he doesn't know
what is happening here?"

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"Not yet, but he will soon."

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The man spoke in a jovial tone.

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"You have time to..."

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The man waved an arm across the square,
encompassing all the refugees.

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"... fix this problem."

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"What if this isn't a problem to be fixed?

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What if this is the first step in the path to
opening the trade routes?"

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Relan peered at the man, challenging him with
nothing more than his force of

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will. The man ran his fingers through his hair.

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"You're clever, Relan. I admit that the paths
forward may not be as clear as I

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have outlined. I will amend my message and provide
you with time.

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Let us hope that it is enough to get the job done.

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I will await your progress."

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The man went to turn, but stopped and looked back
at

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Relan.

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"Do not look for me. I will contact you."

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Relan was going to object, but the man had already
blended into the crowd.

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(dramatic music)