Spirits of the Earth

[S C E N E    M U S I C] (http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=ywc6W5Jg1Y8)



One would have to be almost crazy to steal in the central marketplace of Reajh...

"Stop, THIEF!!"

... but crazy was something Kassom Sercha excelled at. Covered head to toe in a concealing heavy cloak he dashed as quick as his legs could take him, weaving gracefully in and around the shopping crowds who flocked here in droves, especially around midday. Clutched in his hand was what looked like an ornate glass lantern, clearly an expensive -- but uncharacteristically large -- take for any thief.

Today, however, he didn't have the liberty of being picky.

Hot on his tail were half a dozen Connlaothian guards, but that didn't have much of a chance. Even in a nation as obsessed with military training as this it was hard to find someone who could keep pace with a Feral; Kassom was smaller and nimbler, and the clutter and obstruction of the crowds worked to his advantage. The thief smirked as he hooked a sharp corner and dashed down a side street, the guards gradually falling further and further behind but shouting commandingly for him to stop all the same.

'This thing had better be worth it...' He thought darkly. It wasn't everyday he stole something like this... this client had better be worthwhile.

Dodging around a particularly thick cluster of shoppers, Kassom came within inches of running headlong into a particularly tall man dressed in fancy looking segmented plate armor. Backpedaling for half a second -- quite surprised at such a towering individual seemingly coming out of nowhere -- the cloaked thief dashed around Brin to one side and ran onward, the cries of 'Thief! Stop, thief!' still echoing behind him.

'Seems like there's a soldier on every street corner in this crazy city!' He thought to himself, exasperated.

When Brin's family had promised to make the trip up to see him in Reajh it had been sold to him as a visit of only a few days. They had been in the city almost a week now and he had trailed them round every church, market place and tourist site in the city in a vain attempt to bore them enough to go home. It wasn't that he wanted them to leave per se - but it was a weight of his mind when they weren't around. He had so much more freedom.

He was mulling glumly on the avocado in his hand - an exotic purchase from the central fruit market - when Kassom spiraled into him, bumping back his shoulder and catching his attention.

"Stop, THIEF!"

The cry from somewhere behind him made Brin's heart leap. This was something exciting!

He didn't waste his breath joining in the hullabaloo. The thief was fast but pretty shady looking. Brin had to hope he might be obstructed by various 'upstanding citizens' - Connlaothians tended to have a hands-on attitude to law enforcement. By contrast people tended to move aside when Brin barreled towards them.

"See you later, Sal," he grunted, leaving his somewhat dazed sister in his wake as he sprinted off after the cloaked thief.

They were already on the fringes of the market. The crowd thinned out here, but also slowed down. There was less bustle for the thief to hide in, and larger groups of stationary people taking stock before they plunged into the market proper. Brin was only a few seconds behind - Kassom's backpedaling had reduced any start he might have had - but knew that once they reached the side streets he could well be given the slip.

He would have to try and slow the fugitive down now. He saw his chance as Kassom jinked sideways to avoid a tight knit and particularly hapless group of tourists. The thief was forced to decelerate into the turn, and the heavy cloak billowed out behind him. Brin's fingers found the hem of it and with some effort (and a tenuous grip) he yanked it back.

As he did so he caught a glimpse of Kassom's ears. They were long and feline and - were those whiskers? He couldn't help an exclamation of disbelief:

"A Feral?"

Kassom felt a firm hand pull at his cloak, drawing back the hood and quite nearly jerking it off of him entirely. He'd heard the heavy footfalls of someone in pursuit but had figured on it being some unusually swift guard -- glancing back to see that it was some warrior decked out in armor gave him a momentary cause for alarm. This guy was keeping pace with him, in gear that heavy?! Even with the occasional bystander trying to get in his way or grab at him he shouldn't have been slowed down that much. Who was this guy?!

"A Feral?"

Kassom snarled at the comment, hastily undoing the clasp of his cloak with one hand. "Yeah, a Feral." He spun on his heels, flinging the large billowing garment at Brin in an attempt to trip him up. "A Feral that you'll never catch!"

Hooking the stolen lantern onto his knife belt, Kassom decided it was time to get out of the flow of traffic. To the terror of the merchant running it Kassom vaulted up onto the display table of a booth -- knocking over assorted trinkets and jewelry pieces in the process -- leapt gracefully past the seller and onto a stack of barrels behind him. From there it was a short leap to the nearest building wall, which he started to climb one handhold at a time.

Brin threw up an arm to shield his face and had to struggle his way out of the enveloping cloak, costing him precious seconds. As he took stock he realised that he was still holding on to that accursed avocado (crushed reflexively into pulp whilst he was running) and felt a stab of irritation. Fantastic - now his left hand was all slimy. But there was no way he was going to let this insolent thief get the better of him.

Although Kassom was rapidly making his way up the side of the wall Brin allowed himself a moment more to analyse the building front, weighing up his options at lightning speed. Leaping onto that display table was out - the merchant was twittering away somewhere to his left and it probably wouldn't take his weight anyway. Other options. The houses round the square had their first stories overhanging the street, with timber beams bracing them. They were low down, in proportion to the small Connlaothians. He could probably clamber straight up.

He covered the distance to the wall in five long strides, springing upwards from his right foot and scrambling for purchase on one of the beams. He could feel the weight of his armour dragging him backwards as he hooked his arms over but couldn't abandon it; there wasn't time to anyway. His flailing legs found the stack of barrels that Kassom had leapt from and they provided all the purchase he needed to hoist himself up completely.

He squinted upwards to see the thief swinging over the lip of the roof. There was a large glass lantern dangling from his belt. It was this, Brin reasoned, that he had stolen.

You're going nowhere, he thought. Although already half way up the wall, by the time Brin was standing on the rooftop proper Kassom was already sprinting away. He didn't have many options to slow the thief down. Reaching behind him to the shield strapped to his back he pulled out one of his throwing darts. These were steel, almost five inches long, and heavily weighted to fly true. Kassom was still in range, and up here there were no bystanders to hit. Brin launched a dart, aiming for the legs, then began his pursuit again, skipping nimbly over the roof slates on the balls of his feet.

He didn't have the breath to shout 'stop thief'.

This guy was nothing if not persistent, Kassom thought to himself as he looked back to see Brin, armor and all, clamber up over the ledge behind him. Fairly impressive, actually. But Kassom didn't have time to pay respect to his opponent's endurance -- he knew there was only one way this chase was going to end.

He turned and ran.

Unfortunately, he was running straight -- giving the knight a fairly easy target. Speed and skill seemed to compete for a moment as the steel dart flew through the air... but as far as physics was concerned there was only one real outcome. Weighted steel bit through leather and flesh, painting the rooftop tiles with a crimson spray. Howling for just a moment in pain Kassom went down, clutching his lower leg and screaming curses. The knight's aim had been true; the thief was running no more.

'...Guess this'll have to do.' He thought, grimacing at the wound. Taking a bolt to the leg certainly hadn't been part of the original plan.

"Alright, alright! You've got me. **** it all!"

Brin skidded to a halt beside him. Part of him was simply fascinated at seeing a Feral so close - he hadn't believed there were any left nowadays. He didn't get too close however; content at having prevented the thief from running away he saw no need to come within an arm's distance. Did Ferals have claws? He didn't know - and didn't really want to find out.

"Will you come quietly?" he asked, (the pun unintentional). The screaming was a little distracting, but, he reasoned, the wounded man did have quite a good reason to scream. The darts were designed to kill if aimed for the neck or face, and he had thrown it hard. He felt an uncomfortable twinge of sympathy. "I'll have to turn you over to the guards, but we can get that leg seen to."

And then, curiosity overpowering him, he spoke again before Kassom had a chance.

"And what's that lantern?"

Turn him over to... Kassom's eyes narrowed as he glared at the armor-clad man who'd brought him down, then he gave a huff and a dry chuckle. "I thought you were one of the guards. Heh... credit for persistence, I guess."

Just some guy in armor, then. The Feral thief chewed that thought over for a little while. Maybe this guy could be useful...

The momentary quiet was interrupted by a slight clamor below; not long after, the top rung of a wooden ladder emerged and town guard began climbing up onto the roof, drawing swords as they came within range of Kassom. The thief, for his part, simply lay back -- it was hard to tell whether he was relaxed or merely consigned to his fate. One of the guards, who seemed to be of higher rank than the others, gave a smile and a nod to Brin before turning his attention back to their captured prey.

"Take the prisoner into custody... and don't be gentle."

Two of the guards hoisted Kassom up onto his feet and bound his wrists behind him with shackles -- he grimaced at being forced onto his feet but otherwise didn't react. The same two held him securely as a third took the lantern from the thief's belt and handed it to his superior... then turned and leveled a punch right into Kassom's gut. The blow was hard; the three that followed it knocked the wind out of the Feral, leaving him coughing and gasping for breath.

"This inhuman thief broke into the manor of the Captain of the Market Guard two nights ago and stole some important documents." The lead guard explained to Brin as Kassom was dragged off, tossed unceremoniously off the roof's edge to more guards waiting down below. The man clapped Brin on the shoulder. "You've done a service to Reajh and, indeed, Connlaoth itself today! You should come with us; I expect that Captain Halverk will want to express his personal gratitude as well. What's your name, my friend?"

Brin had glowed at little at Kassom's half compliment, "credit for persistence, I guess", and despite his respect for the Connlaothian guardsmen couldn't help but wince at their rough treatment of the miscreant. A less common soldier, he thought, would have handled the affair with somewhat more tact and less needless brutality.

Of course, had had shot Kassom in the leg - but that was different. Anyway, to make sure it was different he would go and make sure the wound got some medical attention later. That was the courtly thing to do. Also, he was very curious of anyone who could break into the supposedly impregnable house of the Guard Captain. He could only assume that some element of fear was dictating the guardsmen's attitude to the thief, as distasteful as he found it.

"Erm, steady on there," he muttered in some embarrassment as Kassom was hurled unceremoniously down the ladder to be caught like a sack of potatoes by a guardsman below.

He drew himself up a little, disregarded the plight of Kassom, and regained his composure as he replied.

"I am Sir Attlee. And I would be delighted to receive the thanks of Captain Halverk."

A certain thoughtlessness prevented him from asking the senior guard's name in return; he simply followed the man down the ladder, making use of his considerable bulk to push through the inquisitive (read: nosy) crowd that had gathered. He could see Sal at the back of it, looking somewhat resigned if not surprised, and gave her a covert miniature wave.

From the main market square it was no more than a five minute walk to the barracks - Reajh liked to keep its military priority at the forefront of citizens' minds. Brin had briefly met the Commander before but retained only a vague recollection of the man; knights obviously had their own autonomy so it had been a polite visit only. Kassom and his gaolers vanished without his noticing as they stepped inside.

[[ Ooc: Left it hanging rather awkwardly there - I assume you'll play Captain Halverk? ]]

(OOC: Yep, and very well played thusfar by the way. You handled that chase scene nicely -- the terrain, the decision making, even your character's struggle against his armor's weight as he climbed onto the rooftops all basically reaffirm my confidence that you'll be an excellent Sparrer in time.  :D

And sorry for the delay in posting -- I'm in process of moving out of state, so I've had a lot flying the last few days. Hopefully soon I'll be much more freed up, so posts should come more often.)



The Guard Captain's manor was the epitome of Connlaothian stateliness -- an artful fortress of stone (http://media-cdn.tripadvisor.com/media/photo-s/01/16/b2/b7/adare.jpg) not far from the main barracks, with numerous watch towers and chimneys dominating the rooftop and iron-crisscrossed windows of expensive glass looking out on the grounds and surrounding moat. Brin and the market guard crossed over a gated stone bridge where two warriors in full heavy plate mail stood watch, the Halverk family crest embossed on their pauldrons. These, then, were the Market Captain's private retainers keeping watch.

Brin's escort explained their business to the servant at the front door and they were asked to wait while the master of the house was informed; it wasn't long afterward that they were ushered inside, through long, lavish hallways and elaborate galleries flush with paintings. This was, no mistake, a family that had done well from its post. At length they reached the office of the Market Guard Captain himself, who rose from his desk to greet them.

"Daelus, so this is the upstanding young man who caught the wretch?" Captain Halverk was a large, brawny man with a thick beard and mustache, having about him the look of a man who'd been through a lifetime or more of military service and come away with a particular taste for it.

"Yes m'lord," The guard stepped back into a bow. "May I present our hero, Sir Attlee."

"Attlee? Sir Brin Attlee?" Captain Halverk grinned at the name. "Yes, I do think I remember being there for your knighting, sir Attlee. Well, today I am in your debt -- you've done both myself and the Market Guard a great service, as I'm sure my old friend Corporal Daelus Vrisnlae has already mentioned." His eyes traveled to the lantern that the Corporal was still carrying and gave a scoffing chuckle, walking over to take it in his hands and examine it.

"I suspect, based on the documents that blasted thief took, that he was searching for certain contraband, likely objects with some kind of enchantment on them." From one of the pockets of his robe he pulled out a small spherical crystal about the size of a large marble, etched with miniscule silver text in a strange foreign language... possibly even arcane script of one sort or another. He held it up to the lantern and, after a few moments of nothing happening, pocketed the gemstone again with a satisfied look. "That's the chief purpose of the Market Guard, sir Attlee: we prevent anything forbidden or sacrosanct from corrupting our proud Connlaoth through the streams of commerce. Nowhere is our mission more vital than here in Reajh."

"Fortunately, our thief picked the wrong mark -- there's no trace of magic on this. You can return it to the merchant, Daelus."

Corp. Daelus nodded, receiving back the lantern from his superior and, after a respectful bow to each of the other two men, left to return to his duties.

"How would you like to stay for dinner, Sir Attlee? It's the least I can do considering your selfless heroics earlier today." Captain Halverk offered.

[[ Ooc: Thanks very much - it's a pleasure roleplaying with you! :)
I'm afraid my replies may be slowed too in the next few weeks as the slow trundle towards exams has begun. -- Though roleplaying is actually a great stress reliever, as it makes me think but not about work. :P ]]

"I would be delighted to stay for dinner," Brin replied. "And really, selfless heroics is too much, my friend." (He was positively glowing inside at the compliment, and would almost certainly repeat it to Sal and Edda later.)

He liked the look of Captain Halverk; the display with the magic-seeking glass had impressed him greatly, as had the professional and noble manner of speaking. He didn't think to feel any jealousy at the size or opulence of the manor (though it was far larger than the Attlee residence, which comprised a great hall in the old style and not much else) but simply marveled again at the guards and watchtowers and the presumed skill of the feral thief.

"I have to say," he continued, as they were escorted by a livery clad servant through to what Brin could only assume was the private parlour, "I am extremely impressed by your devotion. And I'm particularly intrigued by that 'glass eye' of yours. Tell me - how can it detect magical contraband without being enchanted itself?"

The table was laid for only one (though as they walked through the door another servant scuttled in with a set of cutlery and crockery), so Brin threw himself, still talking, into one of the armchairs nestled at the other side of the room. As soon as he did so, his whole body went rigid, as he realised that he had only implicitly been invited to sit down. Caught in a quandary -and unsure if leaping to his feet again would make things look better or worse - he grinned awkwardly up at the still standing Halverk.

"Forgive me sir."

Capt. Halverk's laughter echoed through the parlor as he clapped Brin on the shoulder, a gesture of mirth and generosity, before taking a seat nearby himself. "Please, be at ease Sir Attlee. We're both military men, albeit after differing fashions -- strictness and formality have their time and place, but you are an honored guest here. Relax a bit." He turned and gestured to one of the servants. "Bring us some refreshments."

The servant bowed and withdrew from the parlor; the captain reached once more for the curious crystal trinket, grinned at it, and tossed it for Brin to catch.

"Simply because Connlaoth does not abide the corruption of magic does not mean we must isolate ourselves from understanding it, Sir Attlee. Not completely, anyway. And in that regard it seems that nature itself is on our side -- for that 'glass eye', as you called it, is a recently discovered material we're calling 'Adharite', in honor of the Knights of the White Lily."

"It was a chance find by workers in a silver mine near the Kilanthro mountain range," Halverk explained, settling further into his chair and gesturing to a large, antique-looking map of Connlaoth hung over a nearby fireplace. "The men thought they'd struck diamond, but when the foreman got an expert to appraise it the stone was revealed to be something else entirely. It's quite the remarkable material -- in it's natural form it has all the gleam and translucent beauty of a crystal or gemstone, but with an especially hot-running blast furnace it can be melted down and forged like metal. In either state it possesses a unique quality: the ability to siphon ambient magical energies into itself, releasing them back into the natural world as a silver-blue light. This quality was discovered quite by accident when a pendant with a small quantity of Adharite was delivered to a provincial nobleman by a repentant mage working as a courtly courier. When the nobleman's wife saw the pendant shining in the courier's hands she had him arrested for magic use and suspicion of trying to kill her husband with an enchantment -- the investigation, quite to the surprise of all involved, proved otherwise, and the penitent was quietly exonerated of all wrongdoing."

"It's still very rare and hard to come by -- this bit of crystal would fetch a lord's ransom in the right market, to say nothing of the wrong market, if you understand my meaning. But its usefulness to the tasks of the Market Guard makes it an invaluable tool. Right now Adharite is simply a magic detector, though there are those working to see if it can be turned into something more. Only time will tell."

"Now then," He extended his hand to take the small orb back, Brin having had ample time to examine it. "You must tell me about how you captured that accursed thief, Sir Attlee!"

"Fascinating," breathed Brin, who had been turning the Adharite crystal in his hands and holding it speculatively to his eye. He smiled, and shook his head as he handed it back with a slightly bemused smile. "Quite, quite remarkable."

"And oh, the thief? Tell you the truth, Captain, I was glad of the excitement." He leaned forward a little, and his whole body animated at becoming the center of attention. Brin did try to be generous in conversation but couldn't deny that he loved talking about himself.

Forgetting that, as far as he knew, Captain Halverk had not even seen Kassom, he launched straight in to the middle of his story.

"He nearly got away actually - I collared him on top of a rooftop near the market square." A fleeting expression of distaste flashed across his face as he recalled bringing down Kassom with his dart. Those darts were classically only to be thrown in a pitched battle - he didn't think it was very sporting to hit people in the back with them. "I don't think he reckoned on me following him. They do say they're very agile though, Ferals. They're a bit like cats, aren't they? You know, I didn't think there were any left."

He paused for a moment, mainly just to draw breath.

"Actually, they said that he had broken into here -" he gestured around him with an expansive hand. "I wonder what on earth he was after? Although it seems he didn't find it," he added with a chuckle. He had no sympathy for ineptitude; the thief had been after enchanted goods but had risked his neck for something utterly mundane.

He settled back into his chair and folded his hands across his stomach, an attitude of contentment he often adopted with friends. With every moment he warmed more and more to the blunt and businesslike Captain; Halverk reminded him somewhat of the senior Attlee - a figure he idolised. Usually anything to do with trade would have bored him to tears, he had always viewed the Market "Guard" dubiously as the protectors of merchants (dull), but the involvement of magic and an inhuman thief had thoroughly captured his interest. Also, he was looking for any excuse to ditch his family for something more diverting.

"If you wouldn't mind telling me, I'd be intrigued to hear more details of the break-in."

The captain listened with rapt attention to Brin's tale, nodding occasionally to convey his interest or agreement. "We don't see many this far north; as I understand it their kind is very nomadic, chiefly wandering the less inhabited forest regions of Serendipity and certain coastal regions. Which makes the appearance of this thief even more suspicious, in my estimation. That you managed to capture such a fleet-footed creature is no small accomplishment."

Leaning forward and resting his chin on interlaced hands, Capt. Halverk closed his eyes and took on an air of grim seriousness. "As to the break-in here... yes and no, I suspect. As I said, the thief made off with certain documents which we've yet to recover. We're still looking into exactly what could have been his target, though I have my suspicions. In any event, the stolen records detailed items under lock and key in a very important vault, built into the basement of this very estate. It is for the safekeeping of seized goods and such items as have yet to be returned or disposed of by the Market Guard-- thus, you are right when you say that the Feral likely didn't find what he came for. Either that which he sought was not in the records or he was unable to break into the vault; it is constantly guarded and secured with a very special lock, all with the intention of making it unassailable by anything short of a small army."

"One way or the other, Sir Attlee, the thief started his illicit work here... and somehow it led him to the market to finch, of all things, a lantern..." He stroked his beard thoughtfully, gaze distant. "Something doesn't add up about it. There's something bigger going on."

"But," He leaned back, taking a slightly more at ease posture. "Details are sketchy at best. The servants who first sighted the Feral were attacked and knocked unconscious; the retainers whose job it was to guard my office and thus the documents claim never to have seen or heard anything out of the ordinary, though it's impossible for any thief, no matter how gifted, to simply walk through walls of solid stone. We have yet to work out how the break-in was actually done, and were it not for the servants we wouldn't even have known what the culprit looked like. I am personally investigating... but none of the conclusions I can come to are anything but unwelcome."

"This occurrence has brought shame upon my house and upon the Market Guard. It has to be dealt with swiftly, the truth learned and acted upon. No other course is acceptable."

The refreshments arrived -- goblets of wine and a plate of small assorted baked goods, cheeses, and meats were placed on a table within easy reach of both men. Some of the tension in Capt. Halverk seemed to drain away as the delectables arrived, and he gestured to Brin to enjoy.






Dinner, as one would expect, was a somewhat grand affair -- though the meal lacked the over-the-top pomp and circumstance one might expect of the indulgent nobles of Serendipity it was still possessed of bounty and dignity. A hearty stew with thick cubes of beef and generous wheat rolls buttered with a touch of honey and cinnamon was the main course. The captain's young wife, two sons, and daughter were  all in attendance, eager to hear Sir Attlee's exciting story of roof-climbing and thief catching.

Shortly before the meal began the very same guard from earlier, Daelus, entered and spoke briefly with the captain in hushed tones, both men nodding in agreement before he left. "Seems we've been unable to find the merchant our thief stole the lantern from." He explained. "I've asked Daelus to secure it in the vault for now, at least until proper ownership can be established."

"As for the Feral... he hasn't spoken a word yet, but we'll see what a night in a cell does to loosen the fiend's tongue, eh?"

[[Ooc: Your post made me unbelievably hungry!]]

Despite having taken it upon himself to try one of every variety of the delicacies that had been set out for them in the parlour, and therefore having already eaten a considerable amount, Brin tucked into dinner with all the appreciation that the simple yet exquisite dish deserved.

The beef flaked apart on the tongue and all but dissolved in the mouth. As he excavated further into the stew Brin discovered that even better than the meat were the fragments of carrots, swollen with stock, which carried the flavour of the whole dish within them. After months of living alone in his apartments at the tender culinary mercies of his rather rough-and-ready housekeeper he could not help rhapsodising. For the first few mouthfuls he sat in silence, allowing Captain Halverk's family a chance to talk, staring meditatively at his plate.

The lively dinner company did not take long to draw him out of his reverie. At the slightest of prompts from the children he was telling the rooftop chase scene again. This time Brin threw in an impression of the merchant as Kassom had vaulted from his stall, cursing the thief as soon as he was sure that he was out of earshot, playing the scene for as much comedy as he was able. The gawping tourists were also not spared from Brin's merciless impressions.

When the tale had been recounted Brin settled back a little in his chair.

"I have to admit, Captain Halverk, to this whole affair quite intriguing. I don't know when I may be called away again, but until then I would be honoured if I could assist you in any way. Perhaps when you go and speak to this feral I could come too?"

(OOC: Your description of Brin's enjoying the stew was golden -- I guess hunger helps the imagination as much as the appetite! XD Seriously, that was some excellent writing right there, and the bit about the carrots was brilliant. As students go, you might turn out to be one of the most talented I've ever had. ^_^ )


Grinning, and lightly pounding his fist on the table in the manner of a jovial titan, the Captain grinned and pointed at Brin with an utterly pleased look on his face. "Dedication to duty -- take note, children, for this is the mindset of a true knight of our nation. And as it so happens, Sir Attlee, I was just thinking the very same thing. The thought occurred to me during dinner; if the thief's pride silences him in the face of my guards, perhaps it will equally cause his tongue to waggle in your presence. You know how the criminal element are, all ire and bluster once they perceive an affront."

"Can we go with you, father?"

"Yes, can we please? I want to see the Feral!"

Halverk chuckled good-naturedly, waving his hand. "No, no. The prison is no place for children, and it's getting late. Now we'd best be --"

"But father," The youngest piped up, clearly confused. "I thought the thief was in the undercroft. That's what you said to sir Harrowstone earlier, in your office."

From the mouths of babes, as the saying went. All at the table seemed taken aback -- save the children, who had apparently kept the secret amongst themselves until now. For a fleeting moment the expression on their father's face faltered and betrayed something a shade colder; only for a second, though. He coughed, cleared his throat, and then swept his gaze across the youngsters.

"We have spoken on this matter before, children: the duties of my station are not fit to be heard by unseen ears and whispered amongst you. Must I treat my own children like spies in my house, just to keep you safe? If anyone wanted to ruin the Market Guard or learn the secrets of the vault, and were to hear that the three of you do this, can you imagine what horrible danger you would be in?" He sighed and massaged his forehead, tone wavering from a stern scolding to a vexed worry, before looking back up. "Yes, I briefly considered having the thief brought here for questioning but decided against it. Now, that will be the last of that."

He paused and drank from his wine goblet. "Sir Attlee, would you be so kind as to stay the night here? I can dispatch a messenger if you have other arrangements or anyone waiting on you. I feel it would be best that you and I proceed to the prison in the morning, when our prisoner has had a cold night alone to further diminish his resistance to our questions. What say you, my honored guest?"

[[Ooc: There was definitely some wishful thinking going on!]]

If there was something suspicious in Captain Halverk's tone, Brin missed it. When the jovial mood of the company had been briefly wrong-footed by the children's abrupt disclosure he had shifted uneasily in his chair; he could sense that their father's neat explanation had not fully satisfied the youngsters. But though somebody more impetuous than Brin might have challenged the Captain, he was by nature mild mannered unless provoked and content to accept what he was told at face value. And Halverk was a man he both liked and respected.

Any lingering discomfort was quickly swept away as he considered the prospect of interviewing the Feral. The creature had already proved to be an uncommon thief – with seemingly an aptitude for walking through walls – and Brin recalled the grudging admiration he had been shown on the rooftops.

"I think that's an excellent idea," he said, raising his own goblet in a kind of half-toast to 'Good Ideas'. "As a matter of fact, I think I may have already earned some of the thief's respect. I may very well be able to convince him to open up to me." This blind confidence was Brin all over. "As to messages to be passed on, my family are staying in the Duke's Arms on Tailor Street, so I'd better let them know I'll be tied up for a few days." He paused for a moment, mildly embarrassed to have been caught out abandoning his visiting relatives. "They, erm, expected me back late this evening anyway," he added, feeling the burn of a faint blush.

"Heh -- not to worry, we'll let them know you got tied up in official business." The captain nodded at Brin with a smile. "I'm sure when they hear you're doing work in service to the kingdom they'll understand. You are a knight, after all. Things like this are to be expected."

"At any rate," Halverk rose from his seat, motioning for the servants to clear the dishes. "One of the guest bedrooms will be made available to you for the night, Sir Attlee. And upon the morrow we shall see what truths we can pry from our uncanny thief's lips. Rest well, and let one of the servants know if you have need of anything."

Brin was escorted through the estate to a generously furnished room on the second floor; as the servant opened the door for him the candle she held cast its light upon a four-post bed, iron-and-glass windows looking out on the entrance bridge, a small bookshelf with several volumes, an oak table and two chairs near the center windows, and a large open fireplace vented into a chimney shaft set already and with a stack of firewood next to it. The servant lit the nearest wall candles, bowed respectfully, and quietly departed, closing the door and leaving Brin alone for the first time that day.


Or not alone. Having apparently been behind the door while it was open, Kassom could now be seen leaning against the wall, arms folded and a carefully neutral expression on his face. His wounded leg was wrapped in makeshift bandages, barely more than torn lengths of scavenged cloth that showed the stains of blood loss clearly even in the flickering candlelight. How the thief had gotten in without being detected, especially when the manor was so much a fortress... well, was no more or less remarkable than his first break-in, actually. His eyes watched Brin with all the wariness of a wounded wolf, though there was nothing aggressive about his posture or voice.

The thief, it seemed, had come to talk.

Brin had been caught off his guard, and felt naked without his armour. (He had divested himself of it before dinner, it really wasn't appropriate for wear inside.) His mind flew to a sword at his side that wasn't there but his hands remained steady. If the Feral were to come at him, he thought, he would have a good chance of wrestling him off. Mentally he noted the slightness of Kassom's frame and his wounded leg. Calling the servants did not cross his mind; it was dishonourable for one, and there was something in Kassom's stillness that asked for stillness in return.

"I remember you," said Brin, though it hadn't really been a question.

He took two steps back across the room, as light on his feet as a dancer, and pulled back one of the chairs. The curtains to the great window were closed, and the candle-light gave the room a conspiratorial air.

"Can I offer you a seat? My name is Sir Attlee." His manners were courtly. If the thief had made the effort to come and see him, he figured, there was no harm in seeing what he wanted. The surprise of his sudden appearance had also shaken some respect into Brin. The Feral was obviously skilled, very skilled, and that made him interesting. In the back of his mind he also knew that it would be harder to escape from a chair in the center of a room; once seated it would be difficult to rise quickly with only one good leg.

The thief waved off Brin's offer with a deliberately slow hand gesture. "I'm fine here, thanks, but go ahead and make yourself comfortable. Because we need to talk."

A slight smirk found its way onto Kassom's face, one that turned into a wince for a second as he shifted his weight. "So he's keeping you close at hand. I'm not surprised; he seems to want to keep all of this -- you, me, what's really going on here -- within easy reach. Not surprising, considering what it could do to his reputation."

"Kassom Sercha, by the way," He dipped his head a bit. "And I believe this is yours."

From the folds of his rags, quick as a flash, Kassom produced the self-same dart that Brin had expertly thrown into his leg earlier that day, holding it in his palm for the knight to see before letting it drop. The sound of metal ringing filled the air for an uncomfortable moment. Once on the floor, the blood dried onto it was plain to see in the candlelight.

"I appreciate you taking an interest in my misadventures today -- looks better for my reputation with certain unsavory individuals if I get captured by a knight rather than just some random guard. Didn't so much appreciate that," He kicked the dart, sending it rolling across the floor. "But that's beside the point. As of right now you're a part of all this; Halverk's got his eye on you and you, I'm sure, want to know why a Feral thief would come all the way to the crown city of Connlaoth to steal a common lantern. Or rather, you wanna know who hired me to steal it, and what the point is. Am I right?"

Brin wheeled one of the chairs around so that it faced Kassom and, as suggested, sat down. He lifted a foot to catch the dart as it rolled across the floor. Eyes still on Kassom, he picked it up and began to meticulously pick off the blood with a shirt sleeve as he listened.

"You are right," he said carefully, "I am curious, very curious. But I see no reason to believe that Halverk is 'keeping an eye' on me. Frankly I find it fairly insulting."

He gave the dart a last wipe over before tucking it into his belt. He had felt honour bound to slip in a comment on Captain Halverk - it wasn't right to let rogues like Kassom Sercha sully a good man's name. For a moment he thought, as the Feral's wolfish eyes bored into his, of the scene in the dining room - the suddenly hushed children - but Captain Halverk had made an otherwise unblemished good impression.

"I also wonder," he said, perched on the front of the chair and leaning forwards very slightly, "why you've come to talk to me now. I hesitate to jump to conclusions, but I sincerely doubt that I'm about to hear a truthful confession. What are you after? What do you think you can use me for?"

"Ah, he knows a thing or two about distrust. Good to hear. That's actually why I'm here right now, spending the precious time I have until the guards in the basement find out I'm not in my cell anymore talking to the guy who put a nasty hole in my leg."

The thief's sly look became less coy and more serious. "Take this however you want -- truth, lie, doesn't matter, just listen." He looked away, a strange look that was somehow both distant and annoyed on his features. "My... client... is trouble. Nothing is ever simple with this guy. The lantern today was a test and... well, maybe you'll find out what else it was." He shook his head.

"But that's besides the point. Your beloved captain has all sorts of magical goodies locked up under your feet, sure, but he's confiscated a few other... remarkable items that interest him personally. One in particular is the target of my client, and apparently it's urgent. Nothing's ever THIS urgent with him. It's like his insides are gonna catch on fire if he doesn't get this stupid old lantern Halverk has secreted away. Probably not, not really -- that'd be much too generous of the old guy -- but you get my gist. Anything that urgent with this guy absolutely cannot mean anything good."

He paused for a moment, ears twitching slightly, then smiled. "You want answers? I want insurance. Find me two days from now at midnight in the Sole Regret tavern just east of the market district." He held up one finger, expression strict. "And don't bring your captain or any Market Guard buddies, or I won't show up. You, me, and the client. That's the offer, take it or leave it."

There was a sound of heavy, rapid footsteps, someone running towards Brin's guestroom. Kassom grinned. "And that's my cue. Exit, stage left. Remember: midnight, the Sole Regret."

With that, Kassom leaned back -- into the stone wall. With a faint sound not unlike a distant mudslide the stone seemed to shrink back and slide around him, embracing and encompassing him, swallowing the Feral thief whole until no trace of him remained in the room. Mere moments after he'd disappeared one of the household guards was knocking furiously on Brin's door, shouting 'Sir Attlee, Sir Attlee! The thief has escaped!'

As Kassom melted back into the wall, he was vaguely disappointed (in a very Connlaothian way) that the thief's incredible skill was only magic. On the other hand, having never seen magic before, he could not stop himself from running up to the stones once Kassom had vanished and pressing his fingers to them like a child. Solid. He felt his pulse quickening, and very nearly jumped at the hammering on the door.

He opened it breathless, mildly disheveled.

"He was here! He can melt through stone!" He was met by a stunned silence from the guard and pushed past him impatiently. "Come on, he'll have gone back for the lantern. Where's Halverk?"

Even as he spoke, marching down the corridor with the junior guard bobbing in his wake, he knew that they would be too late. What hope did they have imprisoning someone like that? He found a flight of stairs and thundered down it, guessing that it was the right direction, glancing over his shoulder impatiently in search of prompting.

All further thoughts about Kassom he had carefully stowed in a corner of his mind. For now, his duty as a guest of Halverk's was to catch the miscreant. And if they couldn't catch him? Well, then he would mull over what the Feral had said. And he could see no harm in making the rendezvous. He was confident that he could have everything under control. After all, he had already caught him once.

By the time Brin arrived in the lowest levels of the manor it was abuzz with activity, none of which seemed particularly organized. There were servants giving each other disbelieving looks and household guards arguing or searching around without any apparent aim. At least, until the captain arrived -- at which point everyone was suddenly at attention. His gaze swept the vast, almost cavernous basement area, quickly finding Brin and motioning him over.

"It's impossible!" Halverk seemed furious, almost enraged. Even with his voice low the frustration, like a rumbling earthquake, could be felt just below the surface. He looked rapidly from Brin to the rest of the room, back, and then to his servants. "All of you, out! Now!"

And once more the room became a flurry of activity, quickly emptying up the stairwells at the captain's command. Halverk gestured for Brin to follow him as he led the way deeper into the undercroft. "This situation... it's just... unprecedented. Inconceivable. I don't know any other way to describe it." He led Brin through a heavy oak door that had to first be unlocked with two separate keys. On the other side was what could only be described as a prison in miniature -- cold dark bars of wrought iron were driven into raw natural stone, creating a half dozen holding pens, sealed with "doors" of criss-crossing bars that were made to be lifted and lowered on a heavy chain pulley system. None of it seemed gentle in the least; the cells didn't even have anything for a bed or a bucket, and by the torchlight that was cast over the room it was clear some even had shallow pools of water in them, dripping through the surrounding stone. Captain Halverk grabbed a torch and showed Brin to one dark cage in particular where the water was faintly stained red.

"I didn't want my children to get involved in this; they're not even supposed to know this room exists." He suddenly seemed more exhausted than angry. He held the torch close to the bars, casting as much light as he could inside. Aside from the dismal conditions nothing seemed out of the ordinary. "When I got word I went immediately to the vault. My men on duty were both knocked unconscious and the door was wide open. Somehow the lock was mangled from the inside, reduced to worthless scrap... and yet here the cretin was caged, and not a sign of how he got out."

The captain pounded his fist against the rock wall so hard he bloodied his knuckles. "I swear, that Feral will pay for this disgrace!"

Brin looked about him, feeling somewhat out of his depth. Knights didn't have much to do with prisons, but this place did look unusually unpleasant. Unnecessarily unpleasant, maybe? A drop of water from the ceiling struck the nape of his neck and rolled clammily down between his shoulder blades. He felt another drop strike him and moved a few paces closer to the wall to peer into Kassom's cell.

Was that blood there in the water? He noticed too Halverk's grazed knuckled, but politely refrained from mentioning them.

"The lock is a puzzle. I don't know why he'd have needed to break it at all," he said pensively. "Captain - he can walk through stone. I saw him - he came to my room. That must have been how his was able to escape, and how he was able to steal the lantern in the first place."

In Connlaoth, where most citizens had never seen magic before, this was almost unbelievable. Brin wasn't sure if he'd credit it if he hadn't seen it himself.

"But sir, why did you keep him down here? Why wasn't his wound seen to?"

"He can what...?!"

Halverk suddenly looked white as a ghost, staring at Brin in utter disbelief. It took him a few very long moments to recover, but his composure was still somewhat shaken and off balance. "Y-yes, of course. Perhaps the bleeding was a bit worse than the physician thought. But that's of secondary importance." He stepped towards the younger man. "You saw this? You saw him?! But... no, he couldn't! Both my vault guards and myself are Mordecai; no magic can possibly be cast here so long as I or they are in the manor." Face twisted with concern and consternation, Halverk turned and began pacing back and forth, clenching and relaxing his fists as he did so. "The creature must have some other power... something unholy and twisted. He must have been playing with us this whole time; if he could pass through stone like that then he could've escaped at any point he pleased. But then why... why wait? Why let himself get captured at all..."

"... Unless..." And the lightbulb went on.

The captain pounded fist into palm, smearing blood across the base of his fingers. "The lantern! He used it somehow! We'd stored it in the vault for the night, but that must be what he wanted, the scoundrel! Somehow he used it to force the lock from the inside..."

"We have to catch that rat; he's made a mockery of us all! Perhaps what he took from the vault will suggest his next move." The captain made for the prison door. "I have to rally the Market Guard, organize a search. Can I count on you to help me, Sir Attlee?""

"You can count on me, sir," said Brin, already moving. No question of double standards ever crossed his mind. Yes he was still planning to meet Kassom at the Sold Regret, but that was in two days time. Now he was helping Captain Halverk. Sometimes Brin was too clever for his own good, and adept and the kind of mental juggling that could keep these two contradictory intentions separate.

They broke into a jog heading towards the vaults, each man picking up on the subconscious urgency of the other. Brin wished again that he had his armour, which was tucked safely upstairs somewhere, but there really wasn't time to get it now. Besides, he was doubtful that they would meet the thief at all. He found it extremely unlikely that Kassom would have taken such a risk as a personal visit unless he had finished his work inside the fortress. He certainly wouldn't have done.

"So what else do you keep in the vaults?," he grunted as they ran.

(OOC: Thanks for being so patient through all of this. I know we've kinda spiraled away from the training elements, but the story's taken on quite a bit more personality than I was expecting. Anyways, I'll try to move things forward here at a brisker pace so we can get to the training parts I have planned. Don't worry, I promise you it'll be a good ride! ;D )



Captain Halverk went on to explain to Brin that, while magical contraband was by far the majority of the vault's contents, it was also used to store other sensitive items -- evidence in ongoing investigations, records on merchant activities deemed particularly vulnerable or especially valuable to Connlaoth, and on very rare occasion items that authoritative Mordecai, government officials, and even on even rarer occasion the Knights of the White Lily needed kept secure temporarily for one reason or another. He made no secret that he couldn't divulge the vault's contents, not even to Brin; as the captain and his highest subordinates surveyed the vaults' "secured" goods Halverk would occasionally confer in whispered tones with Lieutenant Daelus Harrowstone, his second in command. Whatever had been taken, apparently, was of paramount importance -- in a single night the Market Guard Captain's home had been violated, his impenetrable vault penetrated, and his honor and reputation tarnished gravely, but the matter of what had been stolen clearly outweighed it all.

And over the next two days, as the Market guard fruitlessly combed Reajh for any signs of Kassom's whereabouts, Halverk grew steadily more impatient and agitated.

And then, there was the matter of Brin's "appointment" with the thief...









The Sole Regret was, by appearances anyways, simply a normal tavern in Reajh. The mead, ale, and cider flowed; the main room was thick with customers eating, drinking, and either celebrating their fortunes or drowning their woes in frothy amber waves from their tankards. The air bore the scent of dry alcohol and fresh sweat -- not overpoweringly so, but enough to offend those with finer sensibilities. Occasionally a waft of fresh baking or roasting could be caught emanating from a kitchen in the back. There were all sorts to be found here; one needed only glance around the room to take in the good, the bad, and the ugly of Connlaoth on full display. Even at midnight it was a lively place, for as soon as patrons stumbled drunkenly outside or up the stairs to their rooms fresh faces walked in the door. The constant foot traffic created churning a sea of humanity that crested, shallowed, and roiled no different from any tide.

With so many present it would be hard to pick out anyone in particular, especially if they were trying to remain unseen. It was little surprise, then, that this would be where Kassom preferred to meet.

Still, one person did stand out. With every other table filled, anyone seated alone would naturally stick out like a sore thumb -- doubly so if the table was within sight of the front door. The man was old and gray, wearing an equally gray traveling robe. Piercing green eyes watched the door and looked around with barely concealed anxiety. There was no question that the man was waiting for someone... though when Brin entered the older man paid him no heed.

Still, this was the place and the time. Kassom would be here, or so he'd said.

[[Ooc: I don't doubt it! :D It's been great fun so far.]]

Brin knew the Sole Regret. It wasn't the sort of place he had imagined for a secret rendezvous - Brin had the kind of Romantic imagination that pictured meetings on empty bridges in the fog, or maybe in the rain, that sort of thing. He himself had been a patron of the Regret from time to time - in fact he thought he might have been thrown out of there once (a memory that still caused him some shame) - which was an image hard to square with the elusive, dangerous Kassom.

Yes, the elusive Kassom. As he had combed the city with Halverk's men the scale and importance of the search had become apparent to him. All Reajh, it seemed, was crawling with the Market Guard, and Brin was consumed with curiosity about the nature of the artifact and its significance to Kassom's client. Frustratingly however he had almost no time to think ahead to his meeting with the Feral thief. His unfortunate relatives, righteously abandoned for official business during the days, had demanded his full attendance for evening activities and given him precious few free moments to construct any sort of plan. The half hour's walk to the Sole Regret had been his first time alone with his thoughts.

Half an hour was much too short a time. Brin stepped through the door of  the tavern without even a nebulous plan in mind.

The familiar fug hit him like a wall of heat and noise. In one corner a small band, a few fiddlers and a flute, were packing away their instruments, set finished for the night. The barman glanced in his direction and gave him a cursory nod, enough to set his ears burning and a heat rising up the back of his neck. Though the tavern-keeper clearly no longer recognized Brin it was the same man who had previously forcibly ejected a band of the young knights, Brin among them. Not wanting to face Kassom with a blush, Brin allowed himself to be swept up in a swell of people and blended in.

(OOC: Gotta say, I love the touch of personal history and flavor your post added to the tavern. I'm starting to take a shine to the ol' Sole Regret thanks to your post, and we've only just arrived. Nice work!)


It was only a minute or so into the crowd, trying to remain inconspicuous, that Brin would feel a leather-gloved hand slap his shoulder jovially. In a room full of drunken frivolity that shouldn't have come as a total surprise... but turning in that direction to see no one paying him any attention would doubtless be a touch unexpected.

As would be a figure clad head to toe in dark gray traveling robes stepping suddenly in front of him, holding up a gold coin. The youth had dirty dark red hair and a boyish face, though it was clear from the way he carried himself he was no child. Pale blue eyes smiled warmly at Brin as the young man said "I think you dropped this, sir knight."

The coin was held up plain to see... and on its surface one word, written clear and plain.


"Oh, you're here to meet him, aren't you?" It wasn't a question; the young man's eyes glimmered with hints of knowledge and cunning suddenly, flipping Brin the coin to catch. "He's right this way, up the stairs. Follow me."

Without even waiting for Brin to agree or say much of anything the red-haired youth turned and began making his way through the crowd, leading to what was almost certainly the meeting with Kassom Brin had been told to expect. At the back of the tavern rose a large staircase with hefty wooden steps that looked to each be hewn logs or small tree trunks; Brin's "guide" mounted them with a graceful ease, weaving past others who were descending or ascending the steps. At the top there was a long hallway of doors, each with a cast iron lock built into them to make sure patrons couldn't just wander upstairs in a drunken tizzy and flop down on a bed for the night -- they actually had to pay for the use of a room, after all. Brin was led to one that was standing open... and inside was the odd old man from earlier, the loner sitting by himself near the door. He looked up with a quirked eyebrow as Brin and the youth approached.

"Ah, so this is the one we've been waiting on, hm?" There were two candles sitting on a dresser against the far side of the room, casting flickering light across the older man's aging features as he sat on the edge of the bed, stroking his wiry beard thoughtfully. "I'm still not sure I see the necessity of it -- time is short, after all. But.. if we must, we must." He eyed Brin with a gaze that was somewhere between watchful, curious, and uncertain. "Will he be able to keep pace, I wonder? Will he even be willing? I hope so, yes. Time, after all, is short."

"Please step inside, sir knight." The red-haired young man gestured to the room with a sly grin. "Your... thief... will be with you shortly."

So this must be the client, thought Brin. He could feel his pulse quickening at the mystery and the intrigue, filling him with adrenaline for which he had no useful outlet. In many ways this was still a game to him, the cloak-and-dagger business with the coin reinforcing the impression that this wasn't really real.

"Keep pace with what?" he asked, voice cracking a little as he struggled to keep his excitement in check. He'd have to keep a level head if he wanted any answers, these men were professionals. He cast a quick, impatient glance around the room - empty. The bells of Reajh had been ringing as he'd entered the Sole Regret. It was past midnight.