(instrumental music plays) The Thieves Guild
by Jake Care.
Season 4:
The Order of the Dragon.
Episode 4:
The Blade and the Blade.
There was a knock.
Come in.
He entered as quietly as a breeze.
Maela had been arranging her and Dala's new quarters in the tower.
Raylan had made it clear he valued her remaining as his blade, and Dala seemed
enamored with touring and discovering not just the tower, but the entire old
quarter. They had found a large abandoned set of rooms on the third floor,
but it was dusty and disorganized, and full of old furniture that needed
replaced.
Maela looked up and Vespa was standing next to her.
He hadn't even disturbed the dust.
I am told you reached Polo in his quarters.
You are the craft blade, the one sent to assassinate Raylan?
My name is Vespa.
He crossed his arms as he seemed to take in Maela, looking at her intently.
And at this point, I think it would be more accurate to say I was the craft blade, but I
was indeed sent to assassinate Raylan. I failed and am glad I did.
Vesper uncrossed his arms and lowered his head.
I was also sent to assassinate Polo, and in that, I also failed.
But I am angry at myself that I failed in that.
Ah, so this is about Allard?
Vesper nodded.
I knew him about as well as anyone.
So you understand my pain?
Perhaps.
Maela placed the dusting cloth on the table and waved toward the side of the
room.
Come, let us sit.
You're hurt because Allard was kind and generous to you.
He was more than that.
Vesper followed Maela, who sat at a chair in what was a small reception
area. The sofa was covered with new clothes, but facing it were
two chairs, which is where Maela sat, beckoning Vesper.
He sat down and turned toward her.
It appears neither of us fully understand Allard's meaning to each other, and it also
appears that we are both hesitant with our words.
So, tell me your story.
Vesper was quiet for a long time before speaking.
Allard saw in me self-interest and a desire to align with power.
He wasn't wrong.
Yet I saved him.
Did you know that?
He was in the flats and about to be overwhelmed with knights, and I saved him.
It was in my best interest to just watch or leave, but I helped.
I didn't know why at the time. Perhaps it was that I respected Allard's courage to take
on insurmountable odds.
Vesper's gaze was intense as he looked at Maela.
But I know now that it was the first stirring in my heart that I wanted to be like him.
He was hated by everyone, as us blades are for the role that we play.
But he stood tall, and his understanding that he was doing the right thing was greater than the
hatred the knights had for him for saving the outlander family, or the city had for him for
being a thief.
What do you mean he saved an outlander family?
Vesper smiled, but it wasn't of mockery.
It was of a connection about to be created that didn't exist previously.
The knights hated him for taking the side of the outlanders, but he simply saved an
outlander family from slaughter.
How do you know this?
Allard told me.
Maela had trouble understanding why Allard would tell Vespa the story when he
absolutely refused to talk about it with anyone else, including her,
whom he essentially saw as Pietro's daughter.
Rather than be bitter or upset however, Maela realized
that Allard had a reason for doing so, and trusting this blade.
You said that it was the first stirring.
When did your goal of being like him become reality for you?
It is a fair question, and one I haven't fully answered for myself.
Perhaps it wasn't one event, but the sum of all of them.
But I knew that I had a debt to pay when Allard sacrificed himself so I could escape the
mines. And the debt wasn't to him, it was to myself.
I don't understand.
It's simple. I had to become the type of man worth saving.
Before Maela could reply, Vespa put his hands together and leaned forward,
his demeanor one of a curious friend more than a ruthless blade looking for
information.
So tell me your story.
Maela considered how much to share. She had told no one the story of her
youth, including Darla, but there was something about Vespa, a
connection that existed where it didn't for anyone else.
Perhaps it was the common thread of Allard, perhaps it was simply the shared
experience of one not knowing who they truly are.
Whatever the reason, for the first time in her life, Maela shared the story of her
youth.
I'm an outlander.
She waited, but Vespa didn't move at all.
He just remained still, listening.
Or, I should say I was born an outlander.
Allard found me abandoned or lost, or something else perhaps more horrible.
He refused to tell me.
He brought me to the old quarter and I was raised by a kind man and his wife, who died when I was old
enough to know that I lost her, but young enough not to understand why.
I didn't remember my parents. I was a vicious little bastard that was seen as a
tool by those who needed vicious little bastards.
Maela nodded.
My adopted father was my guide and mentor, and Allard was his right-hand man.
My father was perhaps a bit too lenient with me,He gave me jobs in the lower quarter, and his
trust in me meant the world. But I wasn't very good with that trust.
I was perhaps not a vicious little bastard, but I was a handful.
Vesper smiled at that.
My father was my joy, while Allard was my guide.
I never appreciated Allard enough, I fear, and it hurts me to say that now that he is gone.
Pietro was your father?
My adoptive father, but yes, my father nonetheless.
And Allard was?
A mentor, a guide. An intimidating man who scared me when I
misbehaved, but defended me when I was threatened.
Maylor looked Vesper in the eyes.
I don't really know what you call that.
Perhaps he was an older brother.
Perhaps.
They were both quiet for a while, respectful in silence of each other's
honesty.
Finally, Maylor broke the silence.
So what brings you here, Vesper? Surely it was not to share family stories.
You've done something that no other Blade has been able to do, and
I want you to tell me how to do it.
And what might that be?
You reached Polo's quarters in Harvest House.
I considered such a feat to be impossible without an army, yet you did it.
How?
And why do you want to reach Polo?
Maylor spread her arms.
The city is unstable enough, don't you think?
I
don't care about the city. I care about avenging Allard.
I intend to stab Polo in the back in the same way that Allard was.
The Baros Treaty detailed very clearly the
requirements of a robust and thriving trade between Gautland and Ness,
and it outlined, also very clearly, the freedom of travel between the two
cities.
Raef had read every detail of the treaty, including the very
specific details on maintaining and guarding the critical Dragon Road.
What he was surprised to see were notes about maintaining, for a certain period of
time, the older road that led to a small town and outpost at the
western edge of the mountain notch, where Ness sat.
Presumably, this southern road, which was paved in dirt and had no name,
connected Ness and Gautland south of the Great River.
The outpost, which was simply identified as the Southern Watch, guarded both Ness
and Gautland from danger from the south.
The nature of that danger wasn't mentioned, but that's not what Raef was interested
in as his horse clip-clopped through the abandoned southern foothills.
He was interested in its roundabout way of getting to Gautland.
He would travel southwest, and then when he reached the presumably abandoned
outpost, he would turn north and approach Gautland from a direction that
wouldn't raise suspicion.
One wasn't mentioned, but he hoped that the bridge over the Great River was there,
or at least a shallow crossing.
He had been traveling for three days, and felt confident that whoever Raylan had
sent to stop him had assumed he would head over the Great River and to the Great
Road, and had lost him.
Stopping to look around, Raef grabbed some dried meat and an apple as he sat in his
saddle.
The road no longer existed as a road, but from the smoothness of the path and
its width, he could tell it was still somewhat functional.
And off in the distance, he could see the edge of the mountain range that had turned
west at Ness, and then from what his maps had shown, sharply turned
south and continued in a straight line from there.
He squinted, but the sun was setting, and he couldn't see a town or anything
else in the distance, other than the nearly sheer cliff face.
That was fine. He didn't expect to find anything.
The Baros Treaty was signed centuries earlier.
Any distant outpost would have been long since abandoned.
All he needed to find was the remains of the road turning north, and then his
next stop would be Gautland and Pietro's library.
He dismounted and decided to set up camp.
He tied up his horse, undid his bedroll, and looked around for some wood.
A small, warm fire and a night under a glittering sky were his favorite
things about this trip, which turned out to be not nearly as dangerous or
difficult as he had feared.
As he wandered up a slight rise in the foothills looking for some wood, a
glittering in the distance caught his attention.
It was about halfway up the massive mountain corner where he expected to find
the outpost at its base.
He squinted again.
Was that firelight? Glass glittering in the sunset?
How could either be so far up the mountain?
It looked impenetrable, even from this distance.
And as the last sliver of sunlight disappeared, an entire section of the mountain
lit up in bright lights.
It was obvious and clear and unbelievable.
The southern outpost was within the mountain,
and it was occupied.
When the sun rose, Raef would approach with stealth, assessing his options.
If he had to, he'd take a long detour north and walk along the Great River on the
south side, even if the ground was uneven and hard to navigate.
But before then, he wanted to get a closer look.
At that moment, Raef heard the snap of a branch and a shadow enter
his ring of firelight. He quickly reached for his dagger.
Hold, youngster. You're better served inviting us to join you than inviting us
to kill you.
The men who walked into the light looked unlike any Raef had ever
seen.
(instrumental music plays)
(bubbles popping) A Podcast Alchemy production.
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