View Full Version : A Contact and a Church
"Why does this place have to be so cold!" Eric muttered under his breath, pulling his cloak tightly around him in an attempt to combat the chill of the wind, "Corone has much better weather."
He had just arrived in front of his destination. The Mug's Edge was a sturdy looking building, perhaps two or three floors, made of stone, the color inperceptible in the gloom of the night, though it would most likely be the same gray stone that most other buildings were made of around Knife's Edge. A large wooden door was situated at its front with a brightly lit window to the right. On its left it had what seemed like a small stable, most likely for a customer that made use of the rooms in Mug's Edge.
"In we go," Eric said as he pushed the door open, warmth hitting him in the face, the light blinding his eyes and music assaulting his ears. He quickly shut the door to keep the heat of the inn's interior from escaping, turning quickly to survey the room.
He stood in a small reception area, containing two chairs, a counter behind which stood a homely woman and a small fire hearth. The counter itself was next to a flight of stairs leading to the upper floors. The room opened up to its right to another, much larger room. That room contained multiple tables and chairs, its own, much larger counter, behind it barrels of alchohol and another hearth occupied the furthest wall.
There was quite a number of people in the inn, the owner himself stood behind the bar, whilst two men, musicians, were stationed in the corner next to the fire hearth. The rest of the persons in the room ranged from what looked like merchants to day laborers. This was apparently a good place to warm one's bones. There was also a man and woman working as servers of food and drink.
Eric pulled back the cloak of his hood as he slowly began to warm, feeling Radan scurry from the nape of his neck to his shoulder as he exposed the creature to the warmer atmosphere. Eric gave a slight nod to the woman off the inn as he strode pass her to the adjacent room. The entire place smelled of ale and food and the lute and flute that was being played contrasted the bleak outside of the inn heavily.He smiled broadly as he walked to the bar counter, rejuvinated by the life of the place.
"Hello, my good man!" he said as he approached the innkeeper, "How about a warm plate of food?"
The burly man behind the counter was cleaning a mug with his apron, his eyes flicking over Eric and then resting on the rat that sat perched on his shoulder.
"We don't allow vermin in here or charity," his voice was deep and his beard reverbrated as he spoke. "No money, no food."
Eric was caught of guard slightly by the man's remark, "Vermin? Where?" He looked around him, purposefully ignoring Radan's existence. "And I have coin, Innkeeper." Eric quickly dug out a few coins from the pouch at his waist, placing them on the counter in front of him.
The Innkeeper looked at him a moment before shrugging and scooping up the money, "Take a seat and you'll have your food in a bit." He then looked around and shouted at the nearby waiter.
Eric hurriedly looked for an open table and finding one, situated a small way from the musicians, sat down, getting comfotable as he waited.
Life on Althanas was rather like one grand costume party to Agnie, and this occasion was no different. The fairy hadn't the opportunity to spend much time in Salvar before tonight and was quite beside herself with excitement, more enthralled with the thought of a business trip than the actual job, though the client who beckoned seemed quite convinced it was worth her time. As for the truth to that, she was about to find out.
Portals were always selected with utmost care, usually placed within the entrances of establishments known for the best food and most colorful company, but the Mug's Edge was chosen quickly out of necessity. As Ags strolled into the cozy embrace of the inn, completely bypassing the frigid climes, she sincerely hoped it wouldn't disappoint.
Eric had obtained Agnie's business card through a mutual friend who did her the favor of describing his appearance so she could spot him efficiently in a crowd. Surely enough it didn't take long to pinpoint the dark-haired half-elf in a crowd of very human, very fair Knife's Edge natives, and soon Eric found the seat next to him occupied by his newest best friend.
Unfortunately for Eric, Ags' appearance wasn't as consistent as most individuals'. They hadn't met before which didn't much matter, but if they had, it may have taken some effort to recognize her past the glamour she'd donned just for this glorious event. The usually garishly-clad fairy blended miraculously into the bustling tavern, inhumanly bright hair traded for a pale blonde akin to the Salvarians who populated the space. Similarly she wore an unassuming dress in drab browns and blues styled after the local fashion, laced up the front with a heavy wool cloak drawn over her shoulders. Her face was her own, however, as well as her tell-tale mismatched eyes and Cheshire smile.
"Hello, Eric," Agnie greeted him with ill-concealed glee, grinning as she leaned in to inspect Radan. "And who is this?"
Their introduction was interrupted by the arrival of food, upon which Ags flagged down the server for a second plate with a little too much enthusiasm. This was going to be so much fun!
Surprise was evident on Eric's face as the small, blonde girl planted herself in the seat next to his. Her voice chiming as she greeted and leaned closer to him inquiring about his familiar. Radan returned her gaze as she studied him, as if he was trying to show that he was superior to this little Fey.
'This surely can't be her,' Eric thought stunned as a plate, filled with bread, meat and what seemed like potatoes, was put in front of him. The truth is, he had expected someone that was a lot more serious for the job he was concidering. Not anyone can burglarize a church in Salvar, because of the positions and power its members held. That was why he decided to contact Ags at the recommendation of a friend of sorts.
He couldn't help, but feel a smile split his face as he saw her hail the brunette waitress and order the same heap of food that was now in front of him. She would sure make things interesting in the next few days and who knows, perhaps he could use her again later.
"Hey! You must be Ags?" Eric inquired, reaching over his plate and holding out his hand. "Not to sound rude and all, but I was kinda expectin' someone a little... different." As he spoke Radan quickly moved down his outstretched arm, to stop on his forearm. "Eric, and Radan."
"Well, I'm not quite sure how to respond to that, but it's a pleasure to make your acquaintance, sirs," Agnie replied cordially, accepting Eric's hand for a business-like shake. He was likely aware that Resolve certainly wouldn't recommend someone ill-suited for the kinds of missions he did, but from the look of it, even if she was the most competent break-and-enterer on the whole of Althanas, it would take a bit of effort to rein all that energy back down to earth.
"Is it really arctic here?" The fairy began to chat, glancing over her shoulder to a rowdy group of tradesmen who were enjoying some relaxation after a long day of labor. They were burly and fur-clad, satisfactorily viking-like for the impression she'd hoped to gather from this faraway land. "I heard it gets so cold outside that your nose runs icicles." She looked back to Eric with intense intrigue, gold eye glinting almost metallically in the lantern light. "Has that happened to you?"
The subject of the half-elf's mucus only held her attention briefly as there were plenty of other goings-on to absorb her attention, but fortunately for the sake of linear conversation, the brunette waitress soon returned with more food. This seemed to gather Ags' concentration back to the table and as she picked up her piece of bread, she looked back to Eric. "So, what are we doing?"
"At the moment I am eating with a pretty, but slightly strange, girl that seems to know less of the area than I had hoped," Eric said jestingly, stabbing a potato with his fork. Her eyes were presently locked on him and bread disappeared fairly quickly into her mouth. He should probably keep talking before some other trivial matter flies into her mind he decided, taking a bite from his potato.
"I was hoping that someone, you in this case, help me procure an item," Eric said through a mouth that was still half-full of his food, swallowing after his sentence. "The item itself isn't that much of a problem though. It's more the people it belongs to."
Eric was glad to see he still held the pale haired Fay's attention, though honestly her motley eyes made him feel slightly uncomfortable. Radan was by now sitting next to Eric's plate, grabbing some food and munching it hurriedly, looking from Eric to Ags and back again.
"You have no affiliations with the church do you?" Eric asked, the room suddenly a lot quieter.
While Eric talked, Ags plucked a particularly good-looking piece of crust from her bread and offered it to Radan. The rat accepted it with a respectable level of caution for a domestic pet and the fairy was colored impressed.
"Church?" she echoed quietly, then considered his question as she tried some of her own potatoes. "No, but surely we can invent some." She glanced up to him and grinned mischievously before going back to her food. "Or rather, we can if there aren't heavy wards. Magic is illegal here, right? What sort of security is there?"
Even if Agnie's first impression on Eric wasn't particularly comforting, at least they were getting somewhere with their discussion. She hadn't lowered her voice at all in the mention of magic, but it appeared not to raise any eyebrows in the busy pub when it should have been overheard. It was easy enough for her to mask their conversation with her illusory ability, though Eric may not have been aware of the extent of her talents.
After a short moment, the fairy looked up from her meal again. "Am I really strange? I think I fit in quite well here," she said defensively, glancing down at her clothes.
'Little traitor,' Eric thought grudgingly seeing Radan taking food from the girl neither of them really knew. It was very unlike the animal to warm up to others this quickly, though he assumed it had a reason.
"Magic... Not really a strong point of mine. That's why I need someone like you," He said still eyeing the feeding creature perched next to Ags' plate. "As for security, a few guards here and there. Inside is pretty much a normal church area, a door to an adjacent room that has stairs leading to what I assume is a basement. Somewhere down there is where I want to be, but it's a mystery how things are guarded."
Eric had started pulling pieces of meat apart in his plate and holding it out to Radan in an attempt to entice him back. He kept his eyes on Ags as he did though, trying to figure what Radan was attracted to.
"And it ain't that you're strange, it's more that you're too... plain. Except for the eyes. Everything fits too perfectly with the populace and then there's your eyes." Eric turned his head to quickly look around him.
"Oh." Ags rubbed her eyes and, when they blinked back open, they were pale blue as was the norm amongst many Salvic humans. "Better?"
At this point the fairy's interest in her meal was quickly waning and she started people-watching again as they talked. She found herself preoccupied by a particularly barbaric-looking man who seemed to be missing an eye, an ear, and several fingers, and his great blond beard was streaked with white and incredibly festive. His mustache was waxed into grand curls that were almost as big as the ruddy apples of his cheeks, and for once in her life, Agnie wished she could grow splendid facial hair.
"Perhaps we should do a test run," she suggested after considering Eric's description of the church layout. "I can go in, see if any of my abilities are blocked, and from there we can recoup and make a real plan. Is it open to the public right now, or is it a bit late for that?"
Eric viewed her now unassuming eyes, slightly amazed. 'That's a neat trick,' he thought seeing her stare of to the customers around the room. Radan had finally decided to him and was nibbling at a piece of meat.
"Churches are only open in the day so far as I know and then there's at least one priest or something in there," He was stroking Radan's darkish fur. "What kinda abilities precisely?"
He didn't expect to here them all, but the girl seemed so in thought she might let slip something she wouldn't usually tell. Eric gave his rat a quick poke and pointed in Ags' direction. It snapped what he meant easily as always and was soon on its way down Eric's body, leg and under the table to Agnie.
The rat climbed up Ags' skirt to search through one of her pockets which was empty save a small, egg-shaped trinket box, embedded with jewels that likely should not be waved about a busy tavern. "Clever, you've found my stash," the fairy said to Radan, taking the object from him and flipping it open. It appeared to be too little to contain anything more than a couple coins or some small jewelry such as earrings, but lo and behold, like a rabbit out of a hat, Agnie extracted a piece of shortbread. She gave it to the rat then pulled out a bit of money to pay for her dinner before snapping the trinket box shut, and replaced it safely in her other pocket.
Realizing Eric may have felt left out, she extended her magic trick by leaning in, reaching into his breast pocket, and plucking out another biscuit. Much better than pulling coins out from behind ears, in her opinion. "Well, I can do that," she grinned. "It also applies to doors and humans, amongst other things, and likely whatever you're after in that ominous-sounding church."
Though Ags had enough foresight to cover up the more potentially controversial bits of their conversation through slight of illusion, it was probably unwise to go into too many details in public. "So, we shall commence this job tomorrow morning and go in on a scouting mission of sorts, yes? Where are you staying?"
Eric sat back in his chair, eyes on the rat that had by now found its way back onto the table with the piece of shortbread it received from Ags. A slight current had run through him when she conjured up a biscuit from his pocket. It was that feeling that made him realize that it was magic and not just some slight of hand trick that many of the street magicians used. That Ags was the real thing and even though he wasn't entirely sure of what she meant by her words and the limits of the ability, he decided to trust her.
"Tomorrow. Yes, just for recon," Eric said carefully, his eyes now back on Ags, her now blue eyes glittering back at him. He motioned Radan towards him with his index finger, allowing the creature to scurry up his arm and to his shoulder.
"And as for staying somewhere I'll probably get a room here for the night," Eric voiced as he stood up, the scraping of his chair inaudable against the other patrons' noise. The brunette waiter that served them, quickly came to retrieve the plates and the money Ags had placed on the table.
"Where are you staying? Alone perhaps?" Eric asked the still seated blonde female, a grin over his features.
"At home, of course," Ags replied as she stood and smoothed her dress. "Never alone." Her meaning in that was vague as she led the way through the tavern, seemingly toward the reception area where they assigned rooms, but she was distracted about halfway there by a middle-aged woman swilling ale next to the bar. She had accepted a folded note from the man next to her on the sly and placed it secretly into her pocket, concealing it. It obviously intrigued the fey to no end, but she was able to tear her eyes away to bring them to the front desk.
"This gentleman needs a room," she announced quite officially, as if accustomed to having things done for her. "A nice one."
The clerk, a frail, elderly man with arthritic hands, inspected the ledger through some spectacles and then glanced between them suspiciously. "How many nights?"
"One for now," Ags answered for Eric, perhaps to his discontent. Then, in spite of the mistrustful glances, the clerk wrote the half-elf in, asking for his name and payment to do so.
"Room 214," the fellow said, holding out a knobby old key to Eric. "Checkout's at 10 am."
Agnie led the way with a bounce in her step until they were on the second floor and in front of the designated room, which she opened with a shiny gold key on the end of a fine chain. It worked in the lock, surprising since the clerk hadn't given her a copy of the room key, and she let herself right in without much thought for Eric's feelings on the whole matter.
"Perfect!" she chirped, discovering a freestanding wardrobe in the sparsely furnished guest room. Opening the doors, she glanced over her shoulder and nodded to her new acquaintance. "Well then, I shall see you in the morning," and with that, she climbed in and closed the doors behind her. As she disappeared, she drew something from her pocket that looked suspiciously similar to the slip of paper exchanged at the bar downstairs.
While Eric slept in the wee hours of the morning, Ags went on a little errand. After returning the eavesdropped love note to its rightful pocket the night before, she had extracted something else: a paper receipt, upon which she'd communicated with one Rickard Thorne. This experienced thief owed her a favor, you see, and this was the perfect opportunity to cash in, his current whereabouts offered in hasty penmanship across the bottom. Conveniently, he was staying in Knife's Edge not too far away from her current location, and after some restful sleep in her own bed, she was game to go find him.
This all seemed like a fantastic idea until the princess realized that pursuit of this fellow would require her to actually go outside and test the frozen snot hypothesis, herself. She trekked the dark, frigid streets of the city under several layers of wool and furs, looking rather like a beast more than a fairy, until she found the dingy inn which Thorne currently called home sweet home.
By the time Ags arrived she was quite miserable, convinced that she was chilled so deeply that even her bone marrow had crystallized, but she still managed to summon a guise that earned little attention as she crept her way up to her victim's –– er, potential business partner's –– room.
It was locked, but that didn't matter. With the finesse of her enchanted skeleton key she slipped in without a sound, the first pale rays of dawn illuminating the room just enough that she recognized Thorne's reclined form. He appeared somewhat like a dead person, not in that his sleep was particularly deep, but in that he didn't seem particularly relaxed at all, rigid on his back as if expecting some ruthless murderer to creep up on him.
Well, he'd be almost right in that, but the fairy didn't pay heed to the fact that it was likely a terrible idea to sneak up on a paranoid man, her first priority at the moment being warmth. She tracked snow right straight into his bed and attempted to curl up next to him, bulky overclothes and all. "Good morning, sunshine," she piped up, hovering over his face. "Want a job?"
Thorne sighed softly to himself as he slipped into his inn room, dropping his backpack and stuffed belt pouches onto the lumpy matress. The room itself wasn't that much bigger than the bed, but for the amount he was paying for it, the man knew he couldn't grumble. He hadn't slept in days anyway, so the lack of comfort in the bed was a small thing. He walked over to the small fireplace, and stoked the coals; soon he was getting a meager heat to ward off the northern chill.
Even in the privacy of his own room, the rogue kept his hood up, his scarred face hidden in the deep shadows. Sitting on the small chair next to the fire, Thorne started sorting through the spoils of his night's work- emptying his pack, he let his practiced eye roam over the assorted valuables he'd.. procured. Silver candlesticks and cutlery, a few purses of gold, some gemstones (though too few for the thief's liking) and finally, a small gold statuette he'd lifted from a noble's estate. By the time he managed to find a fence, and shift this lot, he'd be lucky to have enough gold to pay for the next few night's inn rooms.
It had been a rough few nights since he had first arrived in Salvar, after his hurried flight from Radasanth.
So far, all Thorne had managed to do was burn through his reserves of gold, while trying to plan his next job. He had some leads to follow up on while he was here in Knife's Edge, but the work was going to be difficult. Or suicidal, he shrugged, putting all of his loot into separate piles to be fenced later. From one of his belt pouches fluttered a small folded sheet of paper; it was his receipt, leftover from the fairy who had used her magic to whisk him out of Radasanth. Granted, the blonde-haired little eccentric had dumped him on his ass in a foot of snow, north in Berevar, but he still owed her a favour. As he knelt down to pick up the slip, a shiver went up his spine- before his eyes words were appearing on the paper, as if written by an unseen pen. His fingers went numb, but then his sharp eyes picked out what the note said- it was Agnie, asking where he was.
With a deep sigh, the cross-trader picked up the paper, and lifted a quill and inkwell from the tiny table by the window. Sitting down again by the fire, he read over the note, and answered it as monosyllabically as he could.
His paranoia had him moving on to a different inn every night- sometimes even twice a night if he thought he was being followed, but even as paranoid a man as he didn't see the danger in telling her this location. If Seraph had a hold of the fairy, he would have Thorne's location, but it would take him at least a week to get to Knife's Edge; he could be gone long before that. But, if it was Agnie herself, she could get here almost instantly.
The thief got up, moving over to lock the door. His hand was resting on the hilt of his dagger, making him chuckle when he realised. Getting paranoid, he smirked to himself. But the voice in his head answered him back- Just because you're paranoid, doesn't mean Seraph isn't waiting outside to slit your throat as you sleep.
The smile died on his face, and the rogue took another look around the room to make sure it was as secure as he could make it. He would have set up booby-traps, but the last thing he wanted to do was accidentally maim some poor maid. He was trying to keep a low profile. No reply was forthcoming on the note, and after three days awake, Thorne knew he had to get some rest: If he didn't sleep, he would steadily lose focus, and in his profession, that was as much a death-sentence as the guillotine. He laid the note next to his pillow, and dumped himself on the lumpy mattress without even bothering to undress. With a hand on the hilt of his dagger, the thief fell into an uneasy, light sleep.
He had been lying there, half-asleep for all of an hour, when the soft click came- someone had unlocked his door. A lifetime of training allowed Thorne to resist opening his eyes; he used his other senses to track the movement, edging his dagger out of its sheath with almost glacial patience, the moonlighter waited for his chance to strike. The soft footsteps padded closer, the smell of damp fur reaching his nose. If I'm lucky, it's another assassin come to spoon me, he mused dryly.
The second he felt weight press down on the bed next to him, he lashed out. The thief sprang up, from a standstill, his dagger in his right hand, his left catching the intruder round the throat. Twisting at the waist, using his momentum to throw the person over, Thorne landed on top of them, the tip of his dagger pressed against their throat...
**"Good morning, sunshine,"**
It took a moment for Thorne to realise who it was talking. Hidden under her voluminous layers of fur, and with a glamour to change her appearance, the only thing that gave her away to the thief's keen senses was the musical lilt to her voice. Growling to himself under his breath, the rogue re-sheathed his blade, moving from on top of the girl. He pulled his hood lower, out of habit, and moved over to stand next to the door of the little room. Crossing his arms over his chest, he shook his head slowly, eyes never leaving the blonde-haired fairy on his bed.
"Don't know how to knock?" he sneered. He may owe the girl a favour, but that didn't mean he had to like her.
**"Want a job?"**
There was a single heartbeat's hesitation, before a slow smile crept up the corners of Thorne's mouth.
"I'm listening..."
The fairy grinned, the knife disturbing her less than Thorne would have liked. "Today we're scouting out one of the Sway's churches right here in town," she explained, not budging. "We could use your expertise. You do owe me that favor, but if you're in need of some cash, such could be arranged."
The man mulled his options over for a few minutes. He didn't like being indebted to the fairy, but at the same time, he needed money. "Alright, you have me for the next twenty-four hours. Details," he snapped, his mind already turning it over.
"Some guy asked me to help him get into a church. He's aiming to break into their stash for an item, but I imagine the rest is fair game. And I've got coin, if you name your rate."
Thorne nodded slowly to himself. "Yeah, I'll lend a hand," his voice quiet in the small room. "As long as we have an understanding: I get the rest of the loot, and we can discuss my rate when I know more about the job."
"Fair enough, though I get claim on one item of my choice when we're there, or else it wouldn't be worth my time, either." With a smile, Ags rolled off the bed and walked to the door, placing her hand on the handle. "Are you ready?"
Giving a slow shrug, slightly wary of what item the fae creature would choose, he accepted. "Deal," he muttered, grabbing his belt pouched and backpack, the rest of his gear already on him.
"Excellent." With a click the door opened to a much smaller entry, the portal linking to the armoire in Eric's room in the tavern, and Agnie stepped out. Sunrise was in full swing and the room was bathed in gold, her hair vibrant as she dropped the last of her glamour, and she beckoned Thorne to go with her. "Eric," she chirped, without the manners of at least offering a knock or checking if he was awake or not. "I brought a friend!"
Eric had been up early enough, curious and not exactly knowing what to expect after the strange exchange and greeting of the previous night. Seated on a wooden chair with a straight back and no cushioning, he watched the armoire, a small fire heating his back. He wasn't sure whether the peculiar girl would reappear where she had disappeared the previous night and had decided to keep a close eye on this magical wardrobe.
Radan on the other was less than pleased at being disturbed from his warm bed at the crook of his master's neck so early in the morning. It was cold as always in Knife's Edge, something rat and master were not truly accustomed to. The creature had hurriedly tried getting under the blankets where some body heat was left, but was scooped up by Eric before being placed on his shoulder.
Now the Half-Elf and rat sat, eyeing the seemingly normal piece of furniture. Radan had by now moved to a more comfortable spot in Eric's lap, with only it's head peeking from the folds of the cloak that was wound around the young man. There they sat for quite a while, the crackling of the fire the only sound in the room.
"Women sure take their time, don't they?" Eric's words scarcely left his mouth when the creak of the armoire door sounded, a chiming voice following it.
"Eric," it said, a furry head popping into view. "I brought a friend!" She stepped into the room, Ags scarcely recognizable under the layers of clothing. She was followed by a lean, hooded man, almost the same height as Eric.
Eric had stood as soon as the door opened, moving to Agnie whilst Radan desperately clinged to his clothes. He was stopped in his tracks by the materialization of this second visitor, though. 'Probably what she meant by "Never alone"' he thought grudgingly, eyes locked on the hood darkened face of the man.
"Eric, Thorne. Thorne, Eric," Ags introduced them, smiling and motioning with her hands between them. Eric made no move to shake Thorne's hand, following the man's example. Something about the man made him uneasy, perhaps just the dark demeanor, but he was sure there was something else. The Fairy seemed to ignore the slight tension in the room now, or perhaps didn't notice. She continued talking, telling that she thought Thorne would be a great help as she went to the unmade bed and smoothed it over. She also asked Eric to explain what exactly they'll be doing on this 'mission' of theirs, as she sat on it.
Dumbstruck by her casualness, Eric took a few seconds before he replied. "Well like I told you, I'm looking for something inside the church. Around here the churches are pretty high up, in a manner of speaking. That's the problem," his eyes flicked to the Thorne now leaning against the closed armoire. "Though it seems easy now, seeing as you can transport."
"Don't see what use he'd be though," the Half-Elf pointed to Thorne. "Besides I can't really trust someone who hides his face among 'allies'."
Thorne followed the fairy through the door, ducking under the low entrance it led to. He was slightly more wary after the last time he availed himself of the girl's powers, and ended up in Orc Country, with no winter-clothing, for heat or camouflage. Still, this time at least, it led simply to another inn room. The thief stepped out of.. an armoire, apparently. He couldn't think of any response to that, so he kept tight-lipped, letting Agnie- Ags, as she insisted on being called- do the talking.
**"Eric, Thorne. Thorne, Eric,"** she chirped, waving between him, and the room's occupant with her ever-present smile plastered over her face. She had finally dropped the glamour masking her true features, and now in the sunlight filtering through the windows, her hair shone golden in its curls. The thief didn't let himself get distracted though, instead letting his eyes dart over the room, taking in all the details he needed in a flash; two exits, one door (unlocked, he saw, from the lack of a bar visible in the door jamb through the narrow gap), one window (also unlocked); fire in the fireplace made that unlikely as an entrance or exit; judging by the view through the window, they were a storey up off the ground; and from the noises outside, they weren't far from a market.
The thief instantly felt better knowing how he would escape the room if he needed to.
He allowed his eyes to roam over the other man for a moment, his sharp eyes taking in the important details almost as fast as his brain could process them; he was a half-elf, tall, dark haired; he had a rat clinging to his clothes (a pet, Thorne guessed); he obviously didn't like the cold, going by the way he had a fire burning and a cloak to ward off the chill; and he was seemingly jealous of the fact Thorne had entered with Ags. That little tidbit brought a wry grin to the thief's face.
Ags kept talking, telling this Eric why she had brought Thorne in on the job, as she made his bed. Through it all, he could feel Eric's gaze on him, his distrust of the thief almost palpable. The rogue merely raised an eyebrow, but declined from commenting. He leaned against the armoire, folding his arms across his chest, making sure both of the other people in the room never left his field of vision. It wasn't that he didn't trust them.. Alright, maybe it is that, he thought, his mismatched eyes dancing between the fairy and the half-elf. But, after the week he'd had, he didn't like taking chances. He walked over to the seat the half-elf had recently vacated, taking it over to the far corner of the room- the only one facing both the door and the window- and sat down, reversing the chair so the solid wood-back was protecting his torso. Crossing his arms on top of the chair, his hood kept low, Thorne waited for Eric to give him more details on what they'd be doing.
**"Well like I told you, I'm looking for something inside the church. Around here the churches are pretty high up, in a manner of speaking. That's the problem,"**
A Sway Church, eh? Might be good practice for my job, he mused, nodding for the half-elf to continue.
**"Though it seems easy now, seeing as you can transport."**
At this, Thorne couldn't resist a wry chuckle, earning a curious look from Eric.
"I wouldn't put too much faith in her.. abilities, kid. Might end up ass-deep in snow three days walk from where you want to be," he said, his voice always low and soft. He looked to Ags with what could either be a scowl or a smirk, and the fairy giggled, looking at her feet. But, Eric didn't seem to be paying the "hired help" much attention, still talking to Ags, his back mostly turned to Thorne.
**"Don't see what use he'd be though,"** the Half-Elf pointed to Thorne.
A sneer curled the thief's lip, and his mismatched eyes narrowed on the man before him. Another whelp, thinking he's the be-all and end-all. Just what I need, he thought. But, he hadn't made it this far in his trade by giving in to his temper- no, Thorne kept to the time-honoured principles of rationality and logic. So, he let the half-elf carry on.
**"Besides I can't really trust someone who hides his face among 'allies'."**
Thorne looked to Ags, nodding in Eric's direction, his meaning clear- this is who you expect me to help?
The thief didn't move from where he was sitting though, keeping his face deep in the shadows of the cowl, his arms folded over the back of the chair. He sighed in irritation, his temper already frayed after the week he'd had, and his incessant lack of sleep. But, after taking a few slow breaths, the rogue nodded to Eric, his voice seeming almost monotonous, with more than a hint of condescension.
"Listen, kid, if you want 'trust'", Thorne grimaced, as if the word left a bad taste in his mouth, "you're in the wrong line of work. You don't have to trust me, just trust the fact I've been doing this since you were at your mother's tit. And let's get this straight- I'm not your ally. I'm being payed to help you out, and even though I'd gladly watch you make a mess of this on your own, spite doesn't pay the rent. So for now, just accept the help on offer."
It was probably the longest sentence the thief had uttered in a while, and by the end of it, his throat was dry, slightly croaky from not being used. But, he didn't like it when people doubted his abilities- he had worked hard to develop the reputation he held, and even though he couldn't say anymore without giving away far more information than he was comfortable with, Thorne considered the matter closed.
His hand had, he realised, moved to rest on the hilt of his dagger out of instinct. But, there was no threat in the room. He crossed his arms back up in front of him. From the way Agnie's amber and gold gaze lingered on him for a moment longer than usual, she had noticed it too.
"So," he said, his voice back to its usual icy calm, "we're doing the recon today. Sway churches are open to the public until sundown for worship, so getting in won't be a problem. Shall we?"
He stood up, glancing to both of his "companions".
Eric stood, fists clenched, glowering at the arrogant rogue in front of him. Thoughts of hitting the man or something else had flooded into his mind, but common sense hadn’t left him. A man such as Thorne, judging by his attire, weapons and attitude was sure to be much more skilled in battle than Eric and he hadn’t escaped Corone to die now.
Radan had made his way up to the Half Elf’s shoulder during Thorne’s speech, watching the room’s occupants carefully. It had looked forward to another treat from the Fairy, but decided to give up on the venture of getting something, because of the tension in the room created between his Master and the other male.
Ags made no move to interrupt this slight confrontation between the two men; smiling all the while she stayed seated as if enjoying the interesting development. She knew she’d be going along on the job, whether Thorne would be there or not. So she continued looking at them, her eyes glittering.
‘How dare he call me a “kid”,’ Eric thought just as Radan gave his earlobe a bite. He gave a small flinch, reaching up to grab the animal. The others, Agnie and Thorne, looked on in slight confusion as Eric turned away from them, holding the creature in his hand in front of him and seemingly communicating with it. A few seconds passed before Radan was replaced on Eric’s shoulder as they turned back.
“Let’s go then, old man,” The Half Elf voiced opening the door of the room, motioning the man and girl out.
*** *** ***
It was as cold as the previous day, the darkened day sky foreboding a storm of sorts for the inhabitants of Knife’s Edge. The weather did not seem to faze the Salvarian citizens though, as they made their way along the streets, going about their daily business. The trio, with Eric in the lead, were occupied with fighting the chilly wind, as they continued to the church they intended on breaking into.
It was a small church, compared to the well-known St. Denebriel’s Church. It shared some features though, like the grey stone its walls were built of and also stained-glass windows. It had no garden like the bigger one and no moat with spikes in it either. It did have a low wall that Eric hardly considered a hindrance. The building was at a street corner, fashioning it so that two of its sides were facing open road and the back and left side, if one stood at the entrance, were facing other buildings.
The wall surrounding the church had an iron gate adjacent to the large, wooden, double door that was its entrance. Otherwise the wall was uninterrupted. The building’s doors sat at the left corner, to their left a large window, depicting some images of what was apparently the Ethereal Sway. The right corner of the front was home to a bell tower, one that seemed to be synchronized with all the other church bells. The right side had a window of stained-glass as all the windows appeared to be. The wall of this side of the church was shorter than the left, effectively making the building an L-shape, blocking off the view of the back.
The iron-gate was already open by this time of day, though almost no one seemed to enter the religious building except for an old woman and what was apparently a grandchild. Eric stood watching the building, but not truly paying attention. Something was bothering him, something Thorne had said when they were in the inn.
‘What had he meant by being paid to help out? Was Ags paying him? And why would she? Come to think of it, we haven’t really even talked compensation,’ He turned to look at his companions. Thorne looked as if he was trying to watch every single person as they walked around, whilst trying to examine their target as well. And Ags, having disguised herself as soon as they had left the inn and still donning the large amount of warm clothing, appeared to be trying to keep her nose running from the cold. Eric grinned as he remembered her snot remark, pulling his cloak tighter around him.
“What payment are you exactly receiving?” Eric called out to Thorne.
Though the fey expressed some dismay at the iron gate, she seemed well enough in spite of its looming presence, her face rosy with cold as she beamed up at the stained glass windows. She wanted some of those for her own place, more splashes of color for the kaleidoscope of an apartment, but she imagined these ones would be rather difficult to make off with, to her disappointment. Ags was sorting out just where she might obtain some in Radasanth –– perhaps Resolve knew of an artist, that girl seemed to know a person for everything –– when Eric inquired Thorne about the mentioned payment. She sniffled under a lacy handkerchief, the contents of her runny nose not quite icicles but surely on its way there, then spoke up.
"He owes me," she explained in a vague sort of way, keeping her voice down as not to attract attention. She wasn't using her favor today, she imagined, but she also imagined Thorne wouldn't decide on a rate until he learned more about the establishment in question. "So it's on me," she grinned, nudging Eric with a furry elbow, "Partner." Though she was using the disguise from the night before, as she winked at him, he might have sworn he caught a glimmer of gold in one iris. Such an offer was generous and unlikely of someone the half-elf had intended to hire, himself, but the way the fairy's mind processed such business was atypical of those raised in Althanas' civilized societies; as far as she was concerned, she'd been invited to partake in an adventure, and pooling her own resources would ensure it would be an excellent one. She was much less concerned about profits, as money was really no object. She wanted entertainment, and entertainment she would have, quite shortly. Going home with a souvenir would be a bonus.
Her flirtation didn't quell Eric's curiosity and he offered her a concerned look, his glance mirrored by the rat curled in the warmth of the collar of his cloak, to which she sighed.
"You said you wish to procure a specific item, yes? Well, I want my pick of an item, as well, and then who cares about the rest. What is it that you want, anyhow?" It was rather bold to speak of this on an open street, but little did the others know, she was using a touch of glamour to cover up the specifics of conversation. After all, it was easier to be inconspicuous in plain sight instead of lurking about like the criminals they were.
Eric, as well as Thorne, gave a quick look around as the Fairy mentioned the procurement of an item. Agnie had been so open in their conversation the previous night as well, making Eric wonder if she was just simple minded or actually made sure people couldn’t hear their exchange. The few people on their daily business hardly paid attention to the odd trio though, not even looking up as they passed much less listening to the fragments of talk between them.
“Let’s go inside,” The Half-Elf said after a moment or two, preferring to ignore the question. “Bet it’s at least warmer in there.” He made his way to the church, feet crunching in the snow, not waiting for the other two. Only once he reached the wooden door did he look back to see them follow, Ags obviously more joyed at their expedition than Thorne.
Pushing the coarse wooden front door open, his words were proven true. Though not entirely hot, one could feel a warmth hit the face as they entered the building. The inside was lined with reddish carpet, the stone walls covered by tapestries. The room was rectangular, a door leading to supposedly the bell tower entirely at the back. A table stretched from the wall on the right of the entrance, a bowl of clear fluid standing on it, followed by a statuette of what was probably the church’s symbol. Moving past the table were pews on either side of the room, leading towards a podium. The podium stood a few meters in front of the bell tower door, near it a cushioned, high-back chair.
A young looking priest was lounging in the chair, clothed in a light blue, full-length robe, eyeing the three dully as they entered. The old woman and child that had entered a while back were sitting about three rows from the front, she muttering to herself whilst the child, a boy, stared wide-eyed at the windows. Light filtered in through the glass, filling the room with various colours. The church was otherwise empty and there seemed no apparent source for the heat in it.
Eric pulled his hood off and rubbed his freezing ears quickly, “Much better!” The door shut loudly once all three were in. “See?” Eric said to Ags, lowering his voice, “Only a single priest.”
Thorne sneered to himself, his features hidden under the heavy cowl. The mottled grey and black stood out in this environment, the light dusting of snow settling on the thief's clothes showing a stark contrast. But, no matter the environment, the rogue stuck with his tried and tested attire. Yes, there was no denying it stood out more during the day. But then, he thought, chewing his lip thoughtfully, I don't work during the day.
His mismatched eyes darted over every person to pass the trio, instantly sizing them up; were they used to fighting, what sort of conditions they lived in, their general mood, where they kept their coin, and how much they carried. All of this was registered with a moment's attention, but the hooded moonlighter didn't give any of them more than that scant attention.
Years of training had enabled him to spot threats almost without thought. There were none here.
As Eric voiced his question of payment, Thorne shook his head softly. Well, maybe one, he sighed. The veteran criminal considered it poor etiquette to ask another professional about their slice of the proverbial pie, or to discuss work in such a public venue, but he didn't deign to respond, letting Agnie do the talking. He was busy turning over plans in his head, each more developed than the last. He shivered slightly at the chill in the air, his breath misting before him, but with his three layers (light clothing, armour, and baggy, heavy clothing over the top) he didn't feel it as much.
So far, he had spotted a few promising approaches for gaining entrance to the church, but he would have to have a look at the interior first, before he could decide on any one. The wall was not even worth considering as an obstacle, and that in turn made the iron gate below his notice.
He strolled casually over to the other side of the street, and leaned against a wall, one boot up against the rough stone, arms folded across his chest. He knew he was paranoid, but that didn't make the threats leveled against him any less real. So knowing no-one was able to approach him from behind left the thief feeling a little more relaxed. More relaxed, yeah. But I'm still tighter than a bowstring, he mused. Still, that was one of the reasons he'd lived as long as he had in his chosen trade- 'stay wary, stay alive,' as Seraph had taught him.
His fingers worked with a mind of their own, checking each of his picks were in place, stashed in his bracers, and running over the surface of the flash bombs secreted away in one of the many pouches on his belt. The clever little devices were hard-earned, but Thorne hoped he wouldn't need them for what seemed like a simple enough job. I'd rather have them and not need them, than the other way around. He kept his fingers moving constantly, warding off the numbness and loss of dexterity the cold brought with it. It wouldn't do to bungle picking a lock if they needed a quick entrance or exit.
Satisfied, the rogue moved back over to his "accomplices", his light steps barely leaving a trace in the thin layer of snow blanketing the ground. Glancing at the dark clouds above, from under the peak of his heavy hood, Thorne knew a storm was on it's way. If it hit tonight, it could work both for and against the job. But it didn't concern him o'er much- he had worked in some of the worst conditions Althanas had to offer, and still pulled off the heist.
It's not my skills that are in question, though.
His keen gaze slid over the pair before him, trying to judge their suitability for the work ahead. The fairy was obviously capable of at least appearing subtle, with her ability to change appearance at will. That might come in handy if things go wrong, Thorne noted, storing the little snippet of information away in the back of his mind for later use.
As for the half-elf, the older thief could tell right away the kid had an aptitude for this profession. With the right training, he could be a talented burglar. But, whether or not he had the necessary skills remained to be seen. Clicking his tongue against the roof of his mouth, Thorne let the thoughts linger for another moment, before he got back to the here and now. He nodded for Eric to take the lead, as he strolled into the small church. He let the half-elf get a few steps ahead, before he grabbed the fairy princess by the arm, pulling her out of earshot of the young half-elf for a moment.
"One-hundred and fifty for this job. If your boy messes up, makes my job harder, it'll go up another hundred. Deal?" he asked, his voice low and soft. He flicked a glance to Eric, before he released his grip on the fairy's multiple cloaks.
Thorne followed them into the interior, noting the balmy heat enveloping him instantly. A quick check showed no torches, or any other visible explanation for the heat permeating the small building.
An old woman and her accompanying child entered behind the trio, and Thorne held the door open for them, even offering a slight smile for the inquisitive child as he peered under the man's hood.
He let the door go, wincing a little as a sudden gust of wind hammered the door shut behind him. A harbinger of the storm to come. Across the length of the building, sat in a plush, ornate chair, was a priest; Thorne could surmise that from his flowing robes, dappled in the multi-coloured light streaming in through the stained glass windows. A smirk crept up at the corners of the thief's mouth- That'll make it easier to blend in, if we hit when we have light, he thought. So whether they were under a stormy cloud, or the moon's light, they had cover to obfuscate their presence.
Behind the priest was the narrow doorway which, if the rogue had measured right from the outside, led down from the belltower. A satisfied smirk spread fully across Thorne's mouth, his eyes hidden behind the thick cowl.
Think I have a way in, he mused. That would leave the basic entrances- front door, and presumably another exit somewhere near the rear- for Eric and Agnie.
**“Only a single priest.”**
Thorne leaned in close, his mouth close to the half-elf's tapered ears, his voice little more than the barest breath. He knew the kid's mixed heritage would grant him the heightened senses hereditary to the elven races.
"Don't always trust what your eyes are telling you. You have other senses for a reason."
It was a friendly word of advice, the closest to amiable Thorne was likely to be with Eric. That said, he took another look around, trying to judge where the Sway Priests who owned this place were likely to stash their valuables. But, with a building this small, there weren't many places to hide items of worth.
"Seen enough, kid?" he asked, still keeping his voice barely audible, even in the quiet confines of the church. "I have enough to work with, so if you're ready we can hit the place tonight."
Ags was fine with Thorne's rate, but she was generally fine with most anything, especially when distracted. Such was the case as the trio entered the building, the proud stone structure like a museum of richly woven tapestries and darkly polished wood and plush red velvet just out of reach of the worshippers. Rather a fan of pretty things, the fey wandered off from her companions as Thorne shared some advice with the less experienced burglar. She followed the older woman and the child with her eyes as they went about their routine, strolling up to the front pews where they chose their seats and took a quiet moment together.
The fairy's curious gaze then moved to trace along the wall as she admired the interior of the church, slow steps carrying her just far enough around the perimeter of the pews that she could see one of the passages leading behind the altar area where the priest sat. She wondered silently if that was where they'd need to go later and, when a child in uniform came into view from a doorway within the shadowy hallway, Agnie decided it would be wise to test her abilities at this level of the structure.
The boy carried an armful of fresh candles and, as he approached the main room, the fairy played a harmless little prank on him. Using a fleeting illusion she dropped a couple candles from his grasp, littering on the floor where he scrambled to retrieve them. Satisfied, she went as far as to practice a link on one of the doorways further into the passage, and when the outline of the structure suddenly took on a halo of light, she knew her ability worked. It glowed ominously in the gloom for a mere moment before she broke the connection, quick enough to go unnoticed by the embarrassed candle-bearing boy. Thorne was welcome to get in the hard way, but she assumed she and Eric would sneak in through easier means.
Content with the reassurance of her little tests, the princess rejoined her conspirators, offering them a toothy little grin. "Now, how about some breakfast?"
Radan was sitting in the middle of the floor, watching Eric pacing in front of the fireplace. Their room was stuffy, thanks to the lack of an open window or door and the lit fire, but the rat had no qualms with it considering the freezing cold of Knife’s Edge’s nights.
He could see the Half-Elf was irritated and didn’t need to guess at the reason for it. The older thief’s constant superior attitude and treating the Eric as a “kid” was getting to him. He knew this thanks to the incessant complaining the first few hours after they were alone. Part of the complaining was also due to the newly learned fact that Ags could only move between doors and to be more specific doors she has seen. The animal had no problems with either the companions though, to be truthful he particularly liked the female and the snacks she conjured up, while the male had yet to acknowledge the rat at all.
‘It’s nearly time for them to show up,’ he thought, glancing at the closet, still in the same area as the morning. After the breakfast, which Radan thoroughly enjoyed and that was filled mostly with Fairy babble, everyone had parted ways and agreed to meet here. Eric suddenly plopped down in front of the rat, facing the closet, legs crossed.
“What does an old man know anyway, right?” the thief voiced, looking at his friend. A click, harder than the crackling of the fire, announced the arrival of the others as the wooden closet door swung open. Ags, followed by Thorne, quickly entered the room.
“All set to go?” Eric smiled at Ags, eyes only fleetingly passing over the man behind her. As discussed during the meal they had that morning, they would be entering the church via a door the Fairy had seen as the altar boy had exited the door leading to the bell tower. Whether Thorne would be following them was still not clear, but considering he was here...
‘Eric seems a different person now that the others were here,’ Radan thought as he steadily clambered up the back of the Half-Elf’s cloak and perching himself on his regular spot on Eric’s shoulder. Eric moved quickly to the closet door and opened it before realizing that there would be nothing on the other side and backing away from it to give Agnie the lead. Other than the swift surge that was usual of magic, the transition of areas wasn’t that miraculous.
They had entered into a short hallway, no more than three paces long and one pace wide, ending in stairs on their left and the door to the church’s main area, where they had been earlier that day. The walls here were bare and it seemed the door they were exiting from was the only one to occupy the passage. The stairs on the left spiraled upwards towards the bell, but Eric had no interest in that way.
Stairs that he was seeking, led downwards.
Powered by vBulletin® Version 4.2.5 Copyright © 2024 vBulletin Solutions Inc. All rights reserved.