Fanfic: Paths of Balance

Hammerman on 12/5/2004 at 05:26

This is my first fanfic attempt, hopefully it will get put up on thecircle soon. In the meantime or just incase it doesn't, here goes. A few things to point out:

1) This series takes place between Thief II and Thief III. I may create more stories that run alongside the events of Thief III, and whether or not I continue it after I beat DS depends on the ending and if it leaves anything to be desired.

2) I treat the setting of The City like Middle Earth in LOTR. While it does take place on "earth", it cannot be traced to a specific geographic location. I will also assume that alongside the Hammerite, Mechanist, and Pagan religions, the Judeo-Christian religions also exist in The City's world. I will place the rise of Lutheranism just after the events of TMA, thus placing my stories right after the Protestant Reformation.

So without further ado, here's the first episode of Paths of Balance, The First Apprentice Arrives.

THIEF
PATHS OF BALANCE
Episode 1: The First Disciple Arrives
Music, laughter, and wine filled the City streets on this day, the one day of the year the peasantry actually appreciated and respected the lords and nobles of The City. Nobility Day was originally conceived as a gesture of thanks toward the Baron and the banks for establishing and maintaining the upper classes’ extravagant lifestyles, but it inevitably became a City-wide festival for those of all financial and social standing to partake at the nobility’s expense, and, after the most recent hard times befallen The City, one of the few means of entertainment left for the vast majority of citizens to enjoy. Feasts were provided on tables spanning the length of an entire marketplace, banners of The City’s nobility displayed their master’s crest and colors in every window in their district, and the guard forces of each house matched skills with each other in contests of archery, swordsmanship, strength and speed, as the working class population stood on, contentedly sipping a cup of wine and cheering on the house of their favorite lord. Street vendors still hawked their wares, though they called for business with bouncy jubilation, rather than the usual trepidation that a lack of profit would mean an inability to feed their families. Even the City Watch patrolled the event with a vibrant happiness and greeted revelers with a smile. While most in The City took Nobility Day as a time to escape the tension of daily life and fear of crime and hardship in a time and place of physical danger and financial trouble, pliers of one substantial trade saw it as an opportunity for quite lucrative business.
The boy leaned on the base of the great statue, and gazed upwards at his source of inspiration. Before every robbery, he drew his strength and courage from this controversial statue. Some considered him a hero, having saved The City on at least two occasions. He was especially popular among the lower classes, with the many stories circulating about his escapades inside the homes of the wealthy, resulting in a “redistribution” of wealth. For this reason, he was despised by the majority of the nobility, who regarded him as nothing more than a common thief. Lord Bafford was particularly known for his hatred of him, and had lobbied before the City Council to have the statue torn down. While the statue remained standing, one alteration was made upon request by the Baron and at the protest of no one. In his outstretched hand, lay the remnants of a gear, the only part of the icon remaining still cemented to the palm. The statue was meant to commemorate his role in bringing about the Metal Age, but once The City learned the truth about the Mechanists, they were all too eager to erase this part of their history. To the delight of the nobility, the statue itself almost did come down for this reason, but once rumors surfaced that he was responsible for stopping the demented plans, just as he had defeated their enemies a year earlier, it was allowed to stay. The boy took one last look at him and moved toward the crowd.
The boy could not enjoy Nobility Day the way most of The City’s inhabitants did. As large as they were, the feasts still accommodated a limited number of people, and even sleeping on the streets all night, he could not find a place at the table, and even if he could, he could not risk a previous victim or City Watch officer recognizing him. Though vendors lowered prices for the day, food in the market still cost money, something he did not have. There was time still for the boy to walk away with a full belly, but first he must walk away with a full purse. Luckily, today provided the best opportunity he would have all year. As bad as times were, people still managed to put together tremendous loads of money on Nobility Day for various trinkets in the marketplaces and pawnshops (the boy found this especially bewildering, since these trinkets almost immediately found their way back into these exact same shops when their owners needed money to pay the rent or buy food). Revelers would be so lost in the merriment of the feasts and excitement of the games that they would not notice, or even care, that they were missing a purse. The City Watch would present little trouble. Even the by-the-book Sheriff Mosley loosened her uptight ways once every year. The only service the Watch performed on this day occurred after the festivities as they removed the remaining drunkards from the city streets as the Department of Public Works cleaned up the rest of the debris. As long as he did not make any blatantly stupid mistakes, he should walk away unscathed and at least temporarily richer.
The boy moved to a relatively dark, isolated area under a roof and began to scout for potential targets. Even with the lax security, he could not get near the nobles. Aside from the fact that they all sat in the great plazas in full view of the entire city, even today they would notice a missing purse and ensure that he ended up on the gallows or the stocks and pillory. The boy scanned the crowd until his eyes came upon a dark cloaked figure winding through the hordes away from the hysteria into an alley. He moved rather swiftly, but still appeared to be an older man, one who would not put up much of a fight should the robbery turn bad. He walked with a paranoid step, determined to avoid contact with anyone. The boy glimpsed a rather large purse on the old man’s belt. He drew a crooked dagger from his belt and advanced on his victim.
The boy followed the old man through a dark, twisting alley. When he passed the last of the drunkards and beggars, and was sure nobody could come to the old man’s aid, he charged forward reaching for the purse with his left hand while brandishing the dagger with his right. He could see the old man turn his head slightly, but he had no time to escape. Suddenly, the old man dropped from his view, and the boy felt a shoulder clip into his shins. The ground rushed up to his face, and suddenly went blue. A split second after the boy realized he was on his back looking up at the sky, the old man’s head appeared over him, his eyes still hidden under his hood. The boy turned his head to see his dagger a few inches from his face. By the time his mind processed this thought, a boot shot into the picture, sending the dagger clattering across the street. The boy looked back up to see another blade resting on his jugular, that of a sword. A voice cold as ice and hard as granite issued forth from the old man’s lips. “Did someone send you to kill me,” he inquired as he leaned forward to confront his assailant “or do you just have a death wish?” The boy looked up at the old man’s face. He wasn’t particularly old, but he wasn’t young either. He seemed to hold a certain wisdom, the wisdom of the streets, that could only derive from the same life experiences the boy grew up with. His demeanor seemed calm, he had obviously survived countless others’ blades and arrows in the past. A mixture of amusement, inquiry, anger, and hate danced in his eyes…or was that…his eye. His right eye was obviously a fake, with a dull metallic gray iris, covered by a glass lens, in which swam a bluish-green fluid. The boy had heard of this eye, its origin one of the most famous stories in The City. Only one had ever been made, and the recipient had later killed its creator. The boy instantly realized he had made a possibly fatal mistake, yet simultaneously marveled at finally learning the legends were real. It was him.
“You! Y…you’re…you’re Garrett!” the boy stammered. The man kept his cold, hard stare on the boy in his good eye, while his mechanical eye projected a chillingly similar hostility. “You do exist!” “Hmph. I guess you just have a death wish,” Garrett replied, slightly easing the pressure from his blade once he realized his assailant was not an assassin sent by one of The City’s many inhabitants who would spare no expense to see him dead. Garrett looked down on the boy. He was a tall, skinny youth, around two or three years younger than he when he attempted his fateful pickpocketing on his eventual mentor. He had attractive features, longish blond hair, and pale blue eyes, which, though frightened, held a strong sense of determination and will. “Please,” the boy said, “Don’t kill me. I had no idea it was you. Please, Mr. Garrett, sir, it’s Nobility Day. I’m just a pickpocket trying to survive. In fact, I’m a lot like you.”
“Oh, really?” inquired Garrett, with a tinge of venom upon hearing of the day celebrating those he continuously victimized.
“Yes. You see, my name is Harlan. Just like you, I lost my parents as a young child, and had to live on the streets. Every day, I live off of what I can steal, and when I can’t steal gold directly, I’m not guaranteed I will get paid the worth of my loot. I’ve heard the stories about you around the fires. Your life was very similar until you became a master thief, when you met your teacher.” Suddenly a thought crossed Harlan’s mind, one that could possibly save his life, in his future as a thief as well as at this very moment under Garrett’s sword. “Hey! Why don’t you teach me? I can carry on your legacy in The City!”
At this, Garrett pressed his sword even harder against Harlan’s throat. “You must really have a death wish,” he grumbled.
“Please wait and listen,” Harlan urged. “When you received your training, you left this life. You stopped living cold, hungry, and scared that all you worked hard to steal that day could be snatched from you in your sleep, or another thief would put a dagger in your side, or one mistake and you would end up in Prisongate or Cragscleft. I’m sick of living that life, especially when the nobility only gets richer and richer. Every time I see them walk by with their newest silk cape imported from Cyric, when they hit me on the head with their jeweled scepters, when I walk outside the gates of their mansions and look up in the windows and see all they have, all that space that the average person in The City, let alone a street urchin like me could only dream of, all that food that can feed so many starving children, and I get so mad I can think of nothing better than to walk around in those mansions, in every beautiful room, and take all those stupid vases and jewels and fancy silverware they spend their money on, just like you did. And today, Nobility Day! The day people celebrate the fact that a few people in The City who kiss the Baron’s hand get rewarded with money and a seat in the City Council. The nobility puts out all these feasts and games and throws around their money to show everyone just how great they are while I can’t enjoy any of it because I’m just a damn thief! I want to make them pay. And if I learn from you, the greatest thief The City has ever known, I know I will.”
“Forget it,” Garrett replied as he finally sheathed his sword. “I’m retired. I’m not teaching anybody. I do steal occasionally to make ends meet, but I’m through creeping through the sprawling mansions. Every time I do, I learn something major is going to happen in The City unless I stop it, or someone comes after me, and then I have to be a hero, and people have to build things like that.” Garrett points down the alley in the direction of the gigantic statue. “That’s not me, and I don’t want that kind of recognition and responsibility anymore. Besides, if you get mixed up with me, chances are you will have a very short life. Everyone, from the nobility to the City Watch to the Hammerites to the City Wardens, not to mention every other thief in The City wants me dead. And those who trained me are going to make me do something huge some day soon. And I made a promise to myself I won’t let anyone else get mixed up in it.”
Harlan sprang to his feet as soon as Garrett returned his sword to its sheath. His light blue eyes still burned with intense ambition, and now he aimed it directly at his hero, inches from his face. “I don’t care. My life can end just as easily out here on the street from starvation or disease as from a blade or arrow in the throat. I’ll take my chances against guards, where people can at least say, ‘he died standing up to the nobility and making a statement against their greed,’ just like they said about you. I could go on picking pockets rather than breaking into mansions, I’d be a thief either way. But aside from the thrill, I would feel much more justified taking money from fat merchants who exploit their workers and abuse their servants than from a poor commoner who did work hard to earn a living, only to have what little he made snatched away from him.
“Besides, you say you’re retired, but you have to keep stealing. You want to quit, to leave it all, but because there’s hardly any money in The City since the First City Bank and Trust collapsed, the thief in you keeps pulling you back in whenever you need to pay your rent. As much as you want to, you can’t stay away, and you know it will get you killed. I can make sure that doesn’t happen. If you train me, what you want I get. You’ll never set foot in another mansion again, you’ll get a solid share of what I take, and neither of us will be hungry again.
“I have one more reason you should take me in. I know why you didn’t retire years ago. You could have easily pulled off ‘the big one,’ cleaned out the richest lord in The City, and retired in style. But you wanted fame, not just fortune. You wanted thieves to gather around their fires on the streets and in the back rooms of pawnshops and tell stories of Garrett the master thief who plagued The City’s inner circle, crept through the halls of the extravagant mansions, outwitted the toughest guards, and stole the rarest, most secure treasures ever known to man. You accomplished this, and so much more, when you saved The City from both the Trickster and Karras. But now, what else is there to do? What else can you steal that people will tell stories about? How else are you going to save The City? Maybe that’s why you still take the occasional job. If you train me, your stories will continue. You will go from master thief to master teacher. The thieves’ tales will still be told, but the new chapters will be about how you trained the second-greatest thief in the history of The City. You will continue to plague the nobility, only by releasing a new breed of thief into their homes and after their trinkets. I can help you live on!”

Hammerman on 12/5/2004 at 05:28

Garrett stood and stared in astonishment. No matter what he said or did, this boy was not leaving unless he received a positive response. Personal history aside, he and Harlan did share many traits. They both loathed the nobility and lived for the act of taking both their possessions and their dignity. Like Garrett in his youth, Harlan had great potential that only a mentor could truly unleash. Garrett thought he had lost everyone in that crowd, yet this youth selected him, of all people, and tracked him to this alley to rob him. Had he fully understood the concept of stealth, the purse on his belt would have been merely a memory. And his determination was only further sharpened and supported by his astuteness. Garrett actually found it frightening that Harlan was able to get inside his mind. Nobody else had ever been able to read him with such accuracy except for the Keepers. For these reasons, Garrett decided he would much rather have Harlan as an ally than an adversary should their paths ever cross again. Furthermore, he was intrigued at the idea of an upgrade from thief to thieves-pawn, a profession that could see more money and less nightly risk. Finally, it was obvious that unless he gave the boy a chance, only one of them would leave the alley alive.
“Okay,” Garrett said as he turned to walk down the corridor, “I’ll train you, but only if you agree to abide by my rules. First, you will obey everything I say. If I say to steal something, you will steal it. If I tell you to kill someone, you will kill them. Second, you will only complete projects I give you. No…extracurricular activities. That’s how you get the attention of the City Watch or the Hammers. Third, I will receive 30% of the profits from all jobs, subject to change at my discretion. Finally, you will work only with my associates. If you go to any fence or intermediate outside my contacts, or let anyone else know of my existence, I will kill you. Do you understand?”
“Yes,” Harlan replied. “I’m willing to do everything I can to become the greatest thief since you.” He spied a drunken man waddling down the street singing a traditional City tune. He turned to Garrett excitedly. “Let me show you what I can do. I’ll just grab my dagger and…”
“I’ve already seen what you can do when you attacked me,” Garrett interrupted. You have to learn my way of thievery, otherwise that will happen every time. Right now you are not a thief; you are a robber.”
“What’s the difference?”
Garrett rolled his eye in frustration. “You have potential, and a desire to learn, I can see that. But you are obviously not ready to work for me. You don’t even know the difference between stealing and robbing. Anyone can be a robber. Anyone can just hold a dagger to a defenseless man and force them to give you their money. Your… ‘technique’ is a disgrace to a fine and delicate art. True thievery, on the other hand, requires finesse, patience, and skill. The first thing you must learn is stealth. Your victim should never see or hear you under any circumstances.”
“I understand,” replied Harlan sheepishly. He did not tell Garrett that for his last “job,” he accosted a minstrel with his own lute and made off with the money he made singing love ballads. “I think I can sneak up on that man over there. I just have to stay in the shadows to avoid being seen, and move slowly enough so he won’t hear my footsteps on the cobblestone.” Harlan slunk into the shadows projected by the setting sun. He gradually crept up on the drunkard with a silent gait. At a foot from his unwitting victim, Garrett’s voice broke his intensity in the silent, dead air. “Hey!” he called just as he was reaching for the purse. The drunkard jerkily turned toward Harlan, who quickly shoved him down with a hand to the face and flew down the alley. When he realized nobody was pursuing him, he crouched in a doorway, bewildered. After a few minutes, Garrett joined his flustered, outraged student. “That was very good, you mastered stealth with almost no instruction from me. But could you have picked an easier target? Come on, it’s Nobility Day. If you want to become a master thief, you must steal like one. No more amateur targets. From now on, you will only go after the big fish. And seeing what today is, they’re all gathered in one place. Let’s go get one.” Garrett and Harlan turned back down the alley and at the edge of the Stonemarket square holding the evening’s festivities.
Above the crowds, Harlan could see the banners of The City’s lords and ladies flapping above the thrones upon which they sat, presiding over the throngs of peasants gathered in their names. He turned to Garrett, who began surveying the banners, reading for targets. “Lord Bafford, Lord Gervaisius, Lord Rumford, Lord Van Vernon, Lord Toby, Sir Christopher, Lady Caughlin, Lord Church…” Garrett recited the names of the nobility as if he were reading the menu at the feast table. Finally, his finger came to rest upon the red-and-gold banner of Lord Bassel, and he recited the name with a definite sense of finality. “Notice the crown on his head, engraved with that ‘B’ in sapphire between every jewel. He had that made so he could show it off today. He took half of the pay from the serfs on his farms and the workers in his factories to buy that crown. You starved so he could wear that today.” Harlan needed no more encouragement. In fact, Garrett’s speech provided a little too much encouragement as Harlan emitted a furious scream and dashed forward to elbow his way through the crowd and would have gone to snatch the crown directly in front of Bassel’s eyes had Garrett not grabbed him by the back of his cloak and flung him back into the alley. “This test is to see if I taught you anything.” Garrett said. “Apparently, you haven’t learned as much as I thought you have. Stick to what you did to that drunken taffer in the alley. Stealth and silence are the key.”
When Harlan regained his composure, he dissolved into the shadows and slowly navigated his way towards Lord Bassel’s throne. Despite the immense crowds, he did not have to become truly invisible until he reached the nobles’ area; at the moment he merely needed to blend into the crowd. He knew he would be noticed if he collided with someone directly, so he shifted his weight with anyone who brushed up against him. Once he reached the upper class’ thrones, he quickly dashed behind them, and moved in towards Bassel, crouching behind the podium upon which the seats rested. When he saw an arm clad in red silk deposit the crown to its right on the table, Harlan quickly mantled up onto the podium. His landing produced a slight sound on the hollow wooden structure. “Hello? Is there anybody there?” came the weak voice of a nobleman accustomed to servants and guards doing everything for him save chewing his food. Harlan crouched back down and leaned forward slightly, anticipating a hasty escape. Fortunately, seconds later, Lord Bassel declared, “Guess it was nothing.” Harlan began to stand back up, until he was eye level with the table and the crown. He saw that Bassel was fixated on some jugglers performing in the square, lost in his own thoughts, mumbling about the rat problem that even plagued Nobility Day. It was now or never. Harlan guided a trembling hand to the customized crown on the table.
“Hey, you! What do you think you’re doing?” boomed a voice directly behind him. Harlan did not even need to hear the words. The commanding tone and touch of cocky triumph projected the unmistakable voice of a guard. He heard the guard unsheathe his sword and stomp up on the platform. He had not picked up his dagger after his attack on Garrett, and even if he had, the ancient blade would have been no use against this weapon of war the guard wielded. Harlan’s hand quickly moved to the left, from the crown to a nearby bottle of wine. He would only have one chance, and he could not turn around for it, less he lose his head. “That’s it, you’re...” As soon Harlan heard the guard’s voice again, he swung the bottle directly back over his head toward its source. The bottle shattered over the guard’s head, sending him sprawling backwards into the mud behind him. A second guard, standing in front of Bassel, turned around to investigate. With no more weapons available, Harlan struck the second guard in the face, sending him flying over the table and into the crowd. Surprised by the incident, uninhibited by the ale, and violent by nature, the drunken revelers in the front of the crowd ran forward to investigate, bumping and shoving each other out of the way. The peasants inevitably struck each other in the face, leading to further violence. When he regained his balance, the second guard attempted to hold back the brawling crowd, but he merely became the recipient of more blows. The peasants spilled back behind the podium as well, attacking the first guard and his associates who by that time had come to investigate his noisy fall. As the wave of anarchy spread throughout the crowd, the City Watch marched into their midst to stem the riot. With everyone distracted and fearing for their lives, Harlan once again saw a tremendous opportunity to grab the crown. This time, as he reached, his hand connected with that of Lord Bassel. Both grabbed the crown, and both simultaneously dropped it. Harlan quickly spun Bassel’s chair around and pushed the nobleman out to the ground. He quickly looked back to see a red-faced Bassel, his expensive red silk robe sullied with mud, screaming for his guard force. “Stop him! Thief!” However, as the guards were trained, they immediately descended upon Bassel in a circle to protect their master. Harlan noticed that amidst the chaos, other guards were doing the same to their lords. He quickly grabbed the crown, as well as various other coins, jewels, and trinkets that the guards and nobles had neglected and slid under the table. He crawled along under the table briefly, then, pretending to be struck, tumbled off the podium to the ground. He crawled on his forearms, using fallen bodies as shields and camouflage, until he came to the nearest alley. Finding a shadow, he spun to his feet and raced inside unnoticed.
Harlan had escaped the brouhaha he had caused, but he still needed to meet Garrett. Luckily, the life of a street urchin allowed him to navigate the alleys and side roads of The City with automatic ease. Unfortunately, he could not control who he ran into. Crossing an intersection, Harlan heard that voice again. “You won’t get away this time, thief! I’m taking your hands as a trophy!” Turning, Harlan saw the first guard he attacked with the wine bottle. His face was cut from the broken glass, his black hair under his helmet was matted with wine and blood, and his eyes burned with the darkest hatred he had ever seen. Not wasting time thinking about any path or skill, Harlan immediately took off down the road. Despite the advantage of not wearing heavy armor, the money and goods Harlan stole weighed him down. Having been trained to pursue and eliminate any target, the guard swiftly began gaining on him. Luckily, Harlan eventually passed a ladder. Leaping backwards, he caught it in both hands and began to climb. Once he reached the roof, he began to run again. He leapt from rooftop to rooftop at godlike speed. Eventually, he came to rest in an arch to inspect the area. As he caught his breath, he realized he had no idea how to meet back up with Garrett. Surely he left their meeting place after the riot broke out. At least he was able to steal a decent haul today. As he looked down, he noticed the figure of the guard running down the alley, screaming obscenities up at him. He took one more deep breath and continued on, but noticed that the guard was running almost exactly alongside him down below. Eventually he came to a gap in the rooftops too large to jump, with a ladder down below. Harlan gave thought to climbing down, but as he hung his leg over, the guard sprang up and grabbed his foot. He struggled to free his leg, but the guard hung on with an iron grip, pulling himself up the ladder. He took several swings at Harlan’s leg with his sword, but each time, he was able to kick out of range. Soon, the guard mantled up onto the roof. Harlan attempted to push him over, but the momentum sent both nearly tumbling over the edge. The guard stuck his foot in an uneven spot in the roof to stop his slide downward, but Harlan barely managed to grab onto the overhang, and dangled three stories up in the air. He looked up to see the red-eyed guard standing over him, his sword raised to thrust a final blow into his skull. “Say goodnight taffer!” he roared. Suddenly Harlan heard a dull thud and the guard fell forward. As he spilled over the edge, Harlan managed to swing his legs onto the ladder. The guard managed to briefly grasp his torso before losing consciousness and hitting the ground with a solid crash. Harlan began to fall backwards before a firm hand gripped his arm and yanked him back onto the roof. He peered over the edge to see the guard lying spread eagle on the ground, a small puddle of blood forming about his head, and then looked up to see Garrett with a blackjack in his hand.
“Did you kill him?” Harlan asked.
“Probably not, but it doesn’t really matter,” replied Garrett. “You did well for your first real job. Not the prettiest I’ve ever seen, but you made a good sneak, and you managed to get the loot and then some. I’ll only get a share of the crown. Anything else you steal is yours. Anyway, I’ll put you up somewhere tonight. Meet me in the bell tower at midnight.”
Later that night, Harlan looked down over The City from the bell tower. Garrett had to show up. Why would he put him through all that and make him steal all he did and then not arrive to claim his share of the profits? Sure enough, Garrett flung the door open and emerged from the spiral staircase leading up to the massive bell. “Welcome to the Thieves’ Highway,” he announced. This is a great area for burglary, as well as the path you will take to your new home. Follow me.” Harlan followed Garrett over rooftops, balconies, and even through apartments and estates (where he pilfered even more valuables) until they climbed a ladder to a massive, imposing, yet decrepit structure. “You’ll be living here,” Garrett said.
“The old Mechanist Tower?” asked Harlan.
“Yes, Angelwatch,” Garrett retorted. “Nobody will look for you here.” After the events of the Metal Age, when the Baron learned the truth about Karras’ plans to bring about the Builder’s Paradise, he quickly outlawed the Mechanist religion. The Eastport Seminary was razed to the ground, and the massive tower was ransacked and pillaged. All Mechanist symbols and statues were destroyed, and only the enormous stature of the building prevented it from being condemned. Soulforge Cathedral still stood sealed, but the inhabitants of The City were too scared to touch it. Rumors persisted that the Builder’s Children still patrolled the rust-covered fortress, and on some nights, people have sworn they have heard them clanking about. The ghost of Karras himself was said to inhabit the cathedral, moving about in the rust, waiting to be unleashed upon the world. For these reasons, nobody dared break the seal. “You won’t find anything valuable there, though,” Garrett warned. “I cleaned them out a long time ago.” He opened a trap door and told Harlan to step inside. “This will take you to the second floor,” he said. You can have the tower to yourself. Nobody will bother you here. I’ll be back tomorrow with your money and a new job for you.” As Harlan jumped inside and shut the opening, Garrett made his way back to the bell tower. After exiting Lady Louisa’s suite, he heard a commotion in the building ahead of him, and a noisemaker arrow came down from above. Garrett readied a broadhead arrow and mantled up into the room to confront his baiter.
“So, you have an apprentice now.” Garrett turned to see two figures emerge from the shadows in similar black cloaks, yet Garrett recognized the keyhole rings on their fingers. “I remember teaching you those same techniques.” “I tried to keep him away,” Garrett responded shamefully. “I don’t want him to ever cross paths with you. Remember what happened to me when I followed you, Keeper Marcus.” The second figure laughed, before reassuring him. “Don’t worry, Garrett. What we need involves you and you alone, yet the glyphs might have a role for your student. Keeper Nate and I have come to tell you about some important developments within the Keeper Council.
“The glyphs tell of an impending dark age,” Keeper Nate announced.
“The Trickster?”
“We’re not sure. But whoever, or whatever it is, it looks to be a great menace. Right now, we seem to be faced with more of a challenge than either the Trickster or the Mechanists presented. All we know is that it’s coming soon, and we will need you badly.”
“Need me to do what?” inquired Garrett.
“Like we said, we don’t know yet,” Keeper Nate responded. “Even the Keeper Council is split over what role you should play, if any at all.”
“Some even think you yourself will bring about the Dark Age,” Keeper Marcus added. “But some of us believe that you are the chosen one to prevent it. Second Keeper Orland has proposed allowing you full access to all Keeper libraries to prevent this dark age, something I support fully, as I believe that my former student is the only one who can preserve the balance in The City.”
“The renegade who is both brethren and betrayer,” said Garrett, reliving the writings about him in the Chronicle of the Metal Age. “How long until you need me?”
“We don’t know, but soon,” Keeper Nate replied. We will let you know. Until then, we will keep you informed.” The two Keepers turned the corner and disappeared from view. With his mind heavy with the pressure of both Harlan and the Keepers, Garrett dropped back onto the roof and started back on the Thieves’ Highway bathed in the moonlight.

Hemebond on 12/5/2004 at 06:09

The Hammers are representative of the Judeo-Christian religion.

Tintin on 18/5/2004 at 10:29

The Hammerites are representative of Christian's from the Medieval Era to the Reformation when the Church dominated society and didn't go by God's Word but created their own rules and laws.
Not all of us Christian's are like the Hammerites you know!

hallucifuge on 18/5/2004 at 12:43

righteously enjoyable!
good job!
it un-reddened my eyes like visine and was a fun fun read!

THIS I DECREE!

;)

Tintin on 18/5/2004 at 13:35

Very well written fan fiction!
Apart from some of the plot inaccuracies spix's circlet pointed out, you're story is very good. Did it take long to write? A good interesting story concept, but I highly doubt Garrett would take anyone on as an apprentice, let alone Harlan. Garret's more of a solitary character. Also when Harlan steals the crown his theft is very obvious and Garrett seems to think he did well! If I was Garrett and saw Harlan do that I would think he was the most pathetic excuse for a thief at all. Granted he was very young, but he should have been a better thief.
Sorry, its very good, but there are those plot flaws I mentioned earlier.
Don't be disheartened, your'e writing style is very good, its the thief details that need to be thought out more.

Hammerman on 19/5/2004 at 07:55

I may not have addressed all of these inconsistencies right away, but just to address some of spix circlet's concerns:

Nobility Day is an escape from all the problems of daily life. Like how people in America loved dance marathons and musicals during the Great Depression, it took their mind off everything else that's wrong in their lives. Like I said, it was one of the few means of entertainment The City had. Also, I'm placing this a good few years after the events of TMA. Harlan was a very young kid during TDP and TMA (right around then would be when he lost his parents), so I might make adjustments depending on the time between TMA and DS (which I'll need to play to find out).

I thought about that inconsistency with the statue of Garrett, but remember the statue shown at the final cutscene in TDP. I was referring to that. I'm almost certain that would be Garrett. It did not look like Karras, it had the traditional thief's cloak, and you could see the eyes were different, indicating that it would be Garrett who unofficially started the Metal Age with his defeat of the Trickster.

Garrett would be known, at least among thieves. Thieves would gather in back rooms of pawnshops sharing stories of their greatest plunders and most precarious situations. Garrett would surely have had some of the best stories. Eventually, these would get passed down from generation to generation in a sense of "Let me tell you of the greatest thief there ever was." Word probably would have gotten out to the mainstream as well, as in the new DS trailer, Garrett says he has even been called a hero. His origins as an orphan were probably well-known, and as the Dark Project was a major, major event in The City's history, the eye incident would be well-known. And I should have been clear: while Harlan knew Garrett had a mentor, he would not know who it was. He does not know the Keepers exist (yet; for now I plan to have my series run parallel to DS without much overlap).

Tintin, about Garrett as the lone wolf: this first episode was how Garrett would absolutely refuse to take Harlan or anyone else on as an apprentice, but Harlan was able to break through and establish that trust with him. I also made him somewhat clumsy at first, as he can mature throughout the series. My idea for Harlan is that he will eventually challenge even Garrett's skills, but the major (tragic?) flaw in his character is that he lacks Garrett's cynicism and detachment, and becomes extremely emotionally charged to the point where he jeaprodizes the mission and even his life. I wanted to convey this emotion, but looking back, I may have just made him sound whiny. I will plan to tweak characters and the storyline as I go, and learn from DS.

Still, thanks for any feedback you have given me. I plan to do at least one more episode before starting DS. Unfortunately, I'm waist-deep in midterms and papers right now. Before today, I was neck-deep in them. But starting Friday, I will get the creative juices going again.

Tintin on 19/5/2004 at 10:59

Sorry, I didn't mean to be cruel. Thanks for clearly some of those points up.
I'm looking forward to the next part!

Hammerman on 24/7/2008 at 07:07

It took 4 years, but I finally completed Episode 2. I'm sorry this is being dragged up so late, but among the things that have gotten in my way are:

-Real life, taken over by law school the past 3 years.
-Any holidays and breaks I had, I was nowhere near the computer where I had my fic saved.
-Writer's block, especially when it came to mapping out and detailing the mansion
-Pursuing other games, hobbies, and interests.
-Uncertainty if I would ever play Deadly Shadows due to technical deficiency.
-Technical problems submitting the story to thecircle.

But now, I have a renewed interest in Thief, and more time to write and plan out stories. But this will likely be the last time I post here. I will be starting an account on fanfiction.net, where I will likely post any future installments. I'm really posting here so I can have a reference if something happens and I can't post from the one computer I have the story saved on. So without further ado:

Episode 2: Rite of Passage
The setting sun ducked behind the control tower, turning the sky a dull gray, much like the tower itself and the surrounding buildings of the City Reservoir. The Hammerite patrolman stood on an observation deck and watched the water rush from the openings in the wall into the pool below. Luckily, his patrol route included the reservoir, but if anyone observed this meeting, he could risk excommunication, and possibly even imprisonment in the facility he occasionally guarded. A cracking noise sounded behind him, and he whirled around to see the splintered shaft of a broadhead arrow. “By the Builder’s hand!” he exclaimed, “I shall find thee and crush thee!” When he turned around again, a blackjack descended on him, stopping inches from his head. His assailant stepped from the shadows, a grin on his face. “Would’ve had ya,” he said, as the Hammerite expressed his annoyance.
“In the name of the Prophet Jeremyn, Garrett!” the Hammerite exclaimed. “I thought thou sawest me as a friend. Now thou tryest to kill me?”
“Calm down, Brother Adrian,” Garrett replied. “I was just testing your reflexes. You still need some work.” Despite knowing each other for many years, Garrett often greeted Brother Adrian in this manner. They first met in the catacombs beneath the great Temple of the Hammer during the Pagan invasion. Grateful for his having saved the High Priest from the Trickster’s minions and foiling his Dark Project, Brother Adrian remained one of the few individuals Garrett could consider a friend. Every week, they met at the reservoir where Brother Adrian would fill Garrett in on affairs within the Hammerite Order, City administration, and the efforts of those hunting him. However, few other Hammers remembered the events of the Dark Project firsthand. For this reason, the Order of the Hammer would consider both individuals as treacherous criminals should they learn of these meetings.
“So, whatever happened to the other Mechanists?” Garrett asked.
“Most hath fled The City,” Brother Adrian replied. “We believe they hath settled ‘neath the earth, in that great passageway on the edge of The City.” This unsettled Garrett slightly. He often passed by that marble doorway built into the rock with the Mechanist Gear above it. Rumors abounded that the remaining Mechanist clergy and order fled to an underground sanctuary, where they continue to construct their machinery and plan for the day they will once again take The City and prepare for the Builder’s arrival. “We hath welcomed back some of the novitiate, but most of those we hath detained were sent to Cragscleft. Now they labor in the factories, ‘neath the punishment of the heretic.”
“Have any…asked about me?” Garrett inquired.
“Some speak of a master thief who hath slain their leader Karras. They do chant of the day they exact retribution on the one who refused the Builder’s Paradise. They do not mention thee by name, but the tales of the sabotage at Soulforge canst only suggest thou weret responsible.”
“Normally, I don’t brag to Hammers,” Garrett said. “But if you want to hear how…business is going….”
“Nay, speak not of thy sins,” Brother Adrian admonished. “Thou knowest ‘twould be an offense to mine Order and mine Builder shouldst I overlook a crack in a wall.”
“Alright,” said Garrett. “Listen, I have a favor to ask you. I’m looking after someone, and I’d hate myself if anything happened to him. If I told you who he was, could you keep the rest of the Hammers away from him?”
“Nay, Garrett, I canst not make such promises,” Brother Adrian replied. “Though I consider thee a friend, I canst not turn my back on the Builder, lest I be torn down like a rotting shed. The Tenets of the Master Builder state that thievery is a sin, and thieves must be punished. Shouldst I catch thine apprentice or even thee in the act of thievery, I must dispense justice forthright.”
“I never said he was my apprentice,” said Garrett. “But I guess you’ll never be able to meet him.” Garrett jumped over the railing, scaled down the wall, and disappeared on the entrance as he reached the street level.
Garrett entered Angelwatch via the second-floor passageway and took the elevator down to the main concourse. He called for Harlan, but received no response. He wandered over to the pillars on the sides of the room, and looked around for his student. Just behind his head, he heard the sound of a footstep on marble, and he swiftly turned around, grabbed Harlan from the slanted pillar leading to the rafters, and threw him on the floor. “You’re getting better,” he remarked. “If it was anyone else, you would’ve had him. But remember, there’s a reason people call me the world’s greatest thief. Besides, I found that passageway in the rafters years ago.”
Once again, Harlan gazed straight up to see an upside-down view of Garrett standing over him with his sword bearing down on him. This time, however, he could see a smile underneath the hood, and suddenly Garrett turned his sword around, extending the handle to his pupil. “Take this,” Garrett urged. “You’re ready to try real burglary, so you’re going to need real tools.” Jubilation and fear spread across Harlan’s face. “Are you sure?” he asked as he grasped the sword and pulled himself to his feet. “Are you ready to give me this?”
“I don’t need it anymore,” Garrett replied. “I’ve always found swords bulky and heavy, and besides, I’m a thief, not a warrior. I’ve tried swordfighting before, and did not make out well. If I ever have to kill someone again, it’s going to be with this.” Garrett reached into his cloak and pulled a small dagger from his belt. “Not as useful in a straight fight, but that’s not what you’re looking for in this business.”
“If you’re going to use a dagger, shouldn’t you train me to use a dagger too?” Harlan inquired.
“No, you’re going to learn with a sword,” Garrett answered firmly. “You have talent, but you’re still an amateur. As such, you will need as much protection as you can get. At this point, you will need to fight eventually. I’d rather you have everything possible to protect yourself.”
Understanding the logic behind Garrett’s explanation, Harlan realized the first thing his master had said. “You say I’m ready for burglary?”
“I believe you are. You picked off Lord Bassel’s crown in a very difficult environment, and were able to think on your toes. What you have shown me in the shadows here has demonstrated that you understand the concept of stealth and can master the art. Now it’s time for your rite of passage. You are going to take the fight to the nobility’s home turf. You are going to infiltrate a guarded mansion and steal a little trinket for me.”
Harlan’s eyes lit up at the prospect of finally fulfilling his dream of humiliating the wealthiest elements of The City who exploited and oppressed him and thousands like him. “I’m ready,” he said definitively. “What am I going to steal, and who am I going to steal it from?”
“You’re going over to Lady Waterdike’s tonight,” Garrett replied. “Your prize is a crystal vase, the envy of every other lady in Dayport. Supposedly, every noblewoman in The City can only talk about that vase, and how Waterdike beat them to it. I say we give them some cold comfort by assuring that nobody owns it.”
Garrett reached into the bag he had brought with him and produced an array of armaments and gadgets. “You’ll need more than that sword,” he said. “I’ll show you what other…friends a thief has.” He reached into the pile and produced a blackjack. “Under the best circumstances, you won’t need to use any of this, but if you absolutely must take out a guard, this should be your first line of defense. Silent, and no bloody mess or guilty conscience.” When Harlan had stowed the blackjack, Garrett once again hunted through the pile, next handing him a bow. “For eliminating potential threats and enemies who can’t strike back. I must say, though, try to avoid using it when there is more than one guard. You may take out one of the targets, but you’ll give away your position doing it. If you absolutely have to take on a group, kill any archers first. If you stay hidden in the shadows, the swordsmen won’t find you, and they’ll just wander around while you pump arrows into their throats. As for the arrows themselves,” Garrett continued as he produced a group of arrows with large, sharp tips, “these are broadheads. They are for killing. They can also be used to make some noise if you want to create a distraction.” Garrett rummaged through the pile again, pulling out a series of arrows with clear blue tips. “Next, we have your water arrows. As the name implies, the tips are water crystals. They are best used for putting out torches to create shadows. You can also clean up blood that may give away your position.” Garrett then lifted out a series of arrows with murky brownish-green tips. “These are moss arrows. If you ever find yourself walking on metal grating or tile, just shoot some of these beauties on the floor. You can traverse the room without making a sound.” Garrett hunted through the pile again before handing Harlan a series of arrows with strange metallic devices at the end. “Here are some noisemaker arrows. Shoot one of these, and it will click and chirp like mad. It will get the guards worked up into a frenzy. Then you can…”
“Wait,” Harlan interrupted. “You always talk about the importance of stealth, and how not to make a sound. Why in the world would I need a noisemaker arrow to deliberately attract a guard’s attention?”
“I used to think the same way,” Garrett replied. You’ll know when to use this. Believe me, it’s more helpful than you think.” Garrett held out the last remaining batch of arrows, which glowed bright orange at the end. “Finally, we have fire arrows. These are absolutely deadly. But they are also loud; they echo throughout the entire manor. And if you misfire, you can burn yourself badly. Be careful with these. That’s all I have as far as arrows. However, there are some other important tools…like these. Lock picks. There are some new teeth and patterns that were cast within the last few years. This should make lockpicking and safecracking easier than in my day.” Garrett next handed Harlan a pair of gloves. “I haven’t tried these out yet, but I hear they work well. Used to be, if you wanted to climb somewhere, you’d shoot a rope arrow into the ceiling and scale the rope. But those were fragile and expensive to make. Now, we use these climbing gloves. You should be able to scale a wall with these. Finally, I’ll give you some flash bombs. If you know you can’t kill a guard with your sword, throw this down and it will blind him. Then run like hell.” Garrett reached into the pile one more time and produced three vials of a yellow fluid. “Healing potions. Use these in emergencies only. You’ll know when you’re wounded badly enough to need them. Just don’t look for trouble, and you shouldn’t have to waste them.”
“Aren’t there invisibility potions?” Harlan asked. “I know I heard of a potion that made you invisible. And one that you drink when you’re falling to slow you down so you don’t get hurt.”
“They don’t make those anymore,” Garrett said. “Those were created by Pagan magic. Now, with the Pagans weakened after the events of the Metal Age, their smugglers haven’t been able to bring any more into The City. But what I gave you is more than enough. We’ll leave for Waterdike’s in two hours. Relax and plan your strategies. This will prove if you can truly be a thief.”
Lady Waterdike’s manor was only a few rooftops and balconies away from the abandoned tower. Garrett led Harlan along the Thieves’ Highway until they dropped from a ledge onto the roof of their target’s house. “Waterdike’s master bedroom with the vase is right below us,” said Garrett. “But getting in is not going to be that easy.”
“What’s the best way in?” Harlan asked.
“If I told you, we can’t see your true skill,” Garrett responded. “You have to find your own way in.”
“But what happens if I…” Harlan looked up, but the rooftop was empty. “This is it,” Harlan mumbled to himself, as he dropped onto the balcony leading to Waterdike’s room.
The balcony was flanked on both sides by a walkway guards used to circle the mansion to scour for intruders. Harlan knew he had to open the door quickly. He reached for the handle and heard an abrupt click. Off in the distance came the sound of approaching footsteps nearing the balcony. Harlan rummaged through his loot bag until he produced the triangle-toothed lock pick Garrett had given to him earlier. He stuck the pick in the keyhole and started to turn, but was greeted with a sharp click. He could hear the guard singing to himself and rambling about the low pay he receives for his thankless job. “What’s so special about that stupid vase anyway? I almost wish someone would steal that thing so I won’t have to hear about how blasted important it is anymore.” He quickly switched to the square-toothed lock pick, but was met with the same stubborn sound and refusal of the door handle to budge. Harlan leaned out and could now see the guard rounding the corner and heading his way.” “Hello? Show yourself,” came the guard’s voice, now suspicious as to his presence. His last hope was the new circular lock pick. He jammed the pick into the hole and began to turn, but, to his dismay and horror, this final pick did not do the job either. There were no shadows in the spot Harlan was standing, and he was not in a position to knock the guard out with his blackjack. His only option was to kill the guard. However, he did not have time to ready his bow, and did not want a swordfight at this stage in his career. “I’m coming over there, taffer!” the guard exclaimed. “You can’t hide forever!” A quick glance showed the guard was creeping over to the balcony, his sword raised. Out of desperation, Harlan pulled out his new climbing gloves, threw himself at the wall, and scurried like a lizard over the doorway just as the guard approached his hiding spot. “Hmm, he’s gotta be around here somewhere,” the guard said, and started circling the balcony. After a few seconds, he produced a key from his belt and opened the door, checking the bedroom to make sure the intruder had not already found a way in. Harlan realized this was his chance. He quickly mantled up onto the roof, shot a moss arrow onto the balcony, and as the guard emerged from the room with his back turned, silently dropped to the mossy covering, dashed inside, and hid in a small crevice out of view from the balcony. “Oh well, guess it was nothing,” the guard declared, locked the door, and moved on his way.
Harlan waited until the footsteps had died down before creeping out into the room. Lady Waterdike was fast asleep, snoring in a manner he did not think possible for a lady, much less one belonging to the upper class. To her right was a small button on the wall, no doubt an alarm to send the guards clamoring, bringing about the worst possible scenario for him. Suddenly, Harlan realized that he was projecting a large shadow directly over Waterdike and onto the wall. He turned around to see the roaring fire in the fireplace casting an orange glow onto his cloak. He heard the noblewoman mumbling in her sleep, reverting to a semi-conscious state. He quickly pulled a water arrow from his quiver, and sent it into the flames, plunging the room into darkness. With the fire completely out, Harlan could see his prize on the mantelpiece. The vase glimmered in the smoldering remnants of the fire, appearing almost to be made of liquid. Gazing at this masterpiece, Harlan could understand the squabbling of the ladies who unsuccessfully sought the vase. He crept over to the mantle and swiftly plucked the treasure from its resting place. At that exact moment, Lady Waterdike sat bolt upright in bed. “Hello? Who’s there?” she inquired. Harlan immediately froze in his tracks, his extended arm holding the vase above the mantle. Noticing her treasure mysteriously hovering above its proper place, Waterdike stood on the edge of her bed to examine the situation, and slowly began walking toward Harlan. Realizing he had to react quickly, Harlan thrust the vase into his bag, prompting Waterdike to approach the figure she by now had determined was an intruder. Harlan quickly spun around and found himself face to face with a noble for the second time in as many outings. “Help! Guards!” Waterdike shouted and immediately turned to sound the alarm. Harlan, in anticipation of such an event, grabbed his blackjack, lunged towards the noblewoman, and delivered a forceful blow upon her head. Waterdike gave a pained grunt and collapsed beneath the alarm button. Harlan was lucky to have scored the knockout when he did; had he waited another second, she would have activated the alarm, sending every guard in the manor to her room for Harlan to fight off. He quickly slung the unconscious lady over his shoulder, and deposited her inside a closet beside the fireplace. As he shut the door, he noticed a blue chest leaned up against the wall. He opened it to find a rather large diamond that he stashed in his loot bag along with the chief prize. He crept back into the room to scour for any other valuables he might have missed his first time around. Sure enough, he recovered several stacks of coins on the table beside the bed, two jewel-encrusted chalices from similar chests, and two golden candlesticks from the mantelpiece. Satisfied with his haul, Harlan turned to leave. Unfortunately, he realized that only the appropriate key would open the balcony door. The only person to hold the key was the guard he had encountered upon entering the room, and he had no hope to snatch it from his belt, as the guard patrolled from the outside. Harlan realized that he would have to trek through the manner to find an alternate means of escape.
Harlan silently snuck over to the door leading into the main hallway. As he sprung the lock with his picks, the door produced a sharp creaking sound. Almost instantly the voice of a guard issued forth. “Hello? Anyone there?” Fortunately, Harlan was able to duck into a shadow inside the room. “No one there now,” the guard mumbled, and turned to patrol the hall the other way. Harlan reached for his blackjack, glided up to the guard, and delivered a forceful blow, instantly rendering him unconscious. At that very moment, a second guard rounded the corner and headed their way. Harlan produced his bow and found the water arrows in his quiver. With incredible dexterity, he fired off three arrows in rapid succession, dousing the torches along the hallway. As the guard approached, Harlan lifted up the unconscious body of the first guard and dragged him into Waterdike’s bedroom, out of sight. He emerged back into the shadowy hallway, where the second guard stopped just before reaching his hiding place and turned back down the corridor. Harlan once again snuck up to his unsuspecting victim, raised his blackjack, and brought it down forcefully on the guard’s head. He dragged the second unconscious guard into the bedroom, and deposited both bodies alongside Waterdike’s in the closet. He closed the door, and continued his search for an exit.

Hammerman on 24/7/2008 at 07:08

Harlan crept along the corridor until he came to another door. He stepped inside, and found himself in a dark spare bedroom. He scoured the room for trinkets, and his eyes came to rest on two strongboxes on the floor. The first opened easily, yielding a small golden chalice. The second required Harlan to use his lock picks, and he pulled out another large diamond. As he opened the door, he noticed another room on the opposite side of the wall. He entered to find himself in a room stocked with fine silverware and kitchen supplies. He pilfered several golden dishes, bejeweled chalices, and bottles of rare, valuable wine. When he was sure he had taken the last of the valuable items, he once again started down the corridor.
As Harlan turned the corner, he pushed a door open to find himself in a large, Spartan room. The lack of frills and rows of beds lined up led Harlan to realize that he had entered the servant’s quarters. Two manservants lay in their beds fast asleep. While servants generally carried little money, it could not hurt to look for whatever trinkets they could have. As he crept across the room, his footsteps produced hollow echoes on the floor. After his encounter with Waterdike, Harlan decided he would not risk any further confrontations. He covered the ground in moss arrows leading to the servants’ beds, and delivered powerful blows upon their heads. The servants quickly jolted up before falling back into deep unconsciousness. As expected, the loot available was scarce. Harlan managed to obtain only a few small handfuls of coins before he emerged back into the hallway, closed the door so as not to reveal the servants’ unconscious bodies to the guards, and continued on his way.
Harlan peered out into the corridor and cautiously continued down the hall. He traveled several feet before reaching another door. He entered another large, barren room, this one lined with bunk beds. Harlan surmised that this room was the guards’ quarters. At the foot of each bed lay a strongbox. Once again, Harlan did not expect these boxes would yield much treasure, but at least hoped for one valuable trinket. Sure enough, he procured a small stack of bronze coins among a collection of junk, including worthless vases, stale bread, and overripe fruit. The only other item of value Harlan was able to take was a set of ten additional broadhead arrows. He quickly checked for patrolling guards before continuing down the corridor.
Harlan scoured ahead to see three more doors lining the hall. He was sure one of these rooms contained a key to the balcony. Between the vase and the various treasures, Harlan felt satisfied with his haul. He did not want to spend more time in the mansion than necessary with the low level of experience he had with this type of thievery. He tried the first door on his right, and entered into another spare bedroom. He recovered a golden vase from above a fireplace before spying a door off to the side of the mantle. He opened the door to step into a washroom, where he lifted a pair of golden candlesticks and a small bejeweled goblet. He stepped back into the main room and opened the door once again. At that moment, he heard the now-common sound of off-key humming and loud footsteps. He readied a water arrow and doused the torch illuminating the bedroom just as the guard passed by. When the guard passed, Harlan silently snuck out into the corridor and rendered him unconscious with the blackjack. He dragged the guard into the bedroom, extinguished the fire with another water arrow, and opened the door for the next room. He had barely taken a step inside, when he heard gruff voices exchanging banter.
“I hear Mosley’s not in charge of the City Watch anymore,” came one voice.
“Really, why not?” asked a second. “She was the best Sheriff this city has ever seen.”
“It’s because of what happened on Nobility Day. A drunken riot was bad enough, but a thief was able to get right up to the nobility’s tables and rob them of nearly everything. After that night, Lord Bassel went right to the Baron and demanded her head. Something about a customized crown of his getting taken.”
“It’s a shame. Under Mosley, the Watch was actually useful. She was able to undo the damage from that corrupt skunk Truart, and made the Watch effective at fighting real crimes. I’ve seen several Commissioners stay in after far worse incidents, and not just one of them, either.”
“It wasn’t just this one incident. There were also complaints that she was too soft on the Pagans. The Hammers have been calling for her removal for years.”
“But the Hammers haven’t been influential for quite some time now. Most people regard them as a fringe religion with almost no real influence anymore.”
“If the history of The City has shown us anything, it’s that we’re better off with the Hammers on our side than against us. The Hammers have had their ups and downs, but the Baron knows it’s best not to antagonize them.”
“Yeah, maybe. So, who’s Mosley’s replacement?”
“The way I hears it, as soon as the nobility got wind of the change, Bafford barged right into the Baron’s castle, blustering about Garrett and the scepter incident, as usual. He demanded to oversee the appointment committee. It sounds like he wants an older man who will bring back the old Commissioner system. He wants someone who has seen Garrett, can recognize him, and is willing to dedicate practically all of the Watch’s time and money to capturing or killing him.”
“Great. From efficient crime control to chasing shadows. Looks like we won’t be getting much help from the Watch in protecting that vase.”
“Don’t worry, we won’t need any help. Ain’t nobody sneaking past us to take it.”
Harlan chuckled to himself as he shut the door and leaned into the shadows. When it became clear that the guards were not going to leave the room, Harlan quickly skipped past, believing it would be best to leave them undisturbed and unaware, rather than risk unnecessary attention attempting to nick whatever small amount may be in the room.
Harlan opened the third door to find a large staircase. Harlan began his descent to the first floor, and hopefully, a way out of the manor. When Harlan reached the bottom of the stairs, he entered a massive room filled with banners displaying the Waterdike family crest and a large fountain at the center. As he approached the fountain in search of valuable, loosely-secured pieces, his footsteps emitted sharp echoes that carried up to the ceiling. Harlan looked down to see the solid marble floor, the worst surface to traverse aside from metal. He looked back up to see a guard on the far end of the room with a puzzled look on his face. “Hello? Who’s there?” the guard asked. Harlan reached for his water arrows, only to notice that the lights in this room were generated by an external power source impervious to the water tips. He quickly backpedaled to the foot of the staircase, which not only produced more loud echoes, but did not even afford him a shadow to slip into. At this point, the guard broke into a run, drew his sword, and charged at Harlan full-bore. Harlan drew his sword and prepared to strike, but the guard easily parried the blow and returned the attack. The guard’s sword barely managed to scratch Harlan before he managed to jump out of the way, pull a flash bomb from his cloak, and hurl it towards the ground. Unfortunately, he forgot to shield or avert his eyes while doing so, and was greeted with a white flash and sharp pain in his own eyes. As the white wall began to dissipate, he could make out the outline of the room, and the blinded guard still staggering around. He scrambled towards what he believed was a corridor, and found himself in a dark patch of hallway just as his vision fully returned. Over the cursing of the angry guard, Harlan heard a second booming voice from the far end of the main room.
“What’s going on out here?”
“There’s an intruder! I saw him! Keep your eyes open and your sword ready!”
Harlan fired a moss arrow onto the marble floor and quickly leapt into the nearby room, which turned out to be a type of study. He snuck over to the desk on the far end of the room, where he noticed six stacks of gold coins, which he quickly shoveled into his loot bag. At that moment, a horrid, shrill sound came to life, piercing Harlan’s ears-that of the house alarm. He crept over to the doorway, and momentarily stood to the side, his sword raised in anticipation of a guard. He creaked the door open ever so slightly, and when he was certain no guards were waiting on the other end, he snuck back out into the hallway and continued towards the next door.
Harlan’s first attempt to open the door was unsuccessful, as the lock sharply held in place. However, Harlan quickly produced his lockpicks, and sprung the door open in a matter of seconds. As he closed the door behind him, he noticed that the small room contained a chest at the foot of a desk. The lock on the chest also required picking, but he soon sprang it as well, and fished around inside before lifting out a large silver nugget. Once again, Harlan crouched up to the wall, opened the door slightly, and drew his sword above his head, ready to strike whoever entered looking for him. When he was satisfactorily convinced that he was once again safe, he swung the door open fully and emerged into the hallway.
Harlan continued down the corridor until he saw another door to his right. He could see the end of the hallway ahead of him, but this sight included a guard strutting down the corridor, heading right for him. He pulled out his lockpicks and quickly sprang the lock, dove inside, and slammed the door behind him. Upon catching his breath and gathering his bearings, Harlan noticed that he had entered the kitchen. A golden dish and goblet and a bottle of rare wine sat on the small table in the middle of the room. Harlan lifted these trinkets into his bag, and hid in a shadow in a corner, waiting for the guard to pass by. Unfortunately, he heard voices stop just outside the doorway.
“Stay alert! There’s an intruder somewhere about!”
“I haven’t seen him. Maybe we could try in here.”
To his shock and horror, Harlan saw the handle on the door turn, and the door move into the room. At that moment, Harlan saw two buttons just by his head. He pushed the bottom button, hoping it was what he thought it was. To his relief, he saw a platform lower into the small compartment for the dumbwaiter. Harlan crouched inside just as the guards burst into the room. He quickly hit the top button, sending the dumbwaiter back to the first level. The guards, hearing the machine activating, snapped their heads in its direction, only to see their black-hooded pursuer’s ascent. “Over there!” one shouted, pointing his sword at the machine. However, it was too late. Harlan could see the guards disappear from view, replaced with the sight of a solid brick column. He thought about giving a smug wave, but his adrenaline, and the pounding of the alarm in his ears, only kept him glued to the platform, fixated upon escaping the manor.
The bricks eventually gave way once again to light and open air, and Harlan found himself looking out into a dining room, the room he skipped over on his first trip through this level. He crouched down and emerged from the dumbwaiter into the room. Directly opposite him was an open door leading out into the hallway. He did not bother scouring the room for treasures; the room was fully lit, contained nothing to hide him, and he was sure the guards would return any minute. Sure enough, as soon as he set foot in the hallway, he could see a swordsman and an archer staring off in different directions, scouring the hall. Harlan broke into a raging sprint, deciding to pass the archer first. The route was longer, and he knew he risked an arrow in the back, but guessed that on the initial pass, he was safer, as the archer was not equipped for close combat. Sure enough, by the time the guard readied the arrow, his sword-carrying compatriot had begun heavy pursuit, chasing Harlan down, but standing directly in the archer’s path. With the two guards close on his heels, Harlan led the chase back to Waterdike’s main bedroom. As he opened the door, he noticed the door leading out to the walkway wide open, and the guard who patrolled the outside standing in his path, his sword raised. The two pursuing guards entered behind Harlan, sandwiching their prey in between themselves and the third guard, who held out his sword, ready to skewer the thief. Harlan, however, loosened a flash bomb, pulled his hood over his eyes, and threw the device down at the third guard’s feet. Harlan could make out a white flash and the sharp, pained cry of the blinded guard. The flash bomb had no effect on the other two guards, but they were unable to catch Harlan as he ran directly out the window, launched himself off the balcony, and into the moat below. After a few moments of silence underwater, Harlan emerged triumphant. He began to swim towards the main gates, but as he swam, he heard the unmistakable sound of a bowstring being drawn. He kicked his leisurely float into a full stroke, but could only hear a whistling sound before feeling a sharp pain in his shoulder. He sank below the surface, rounded a corner, and sprang up as he believed he was out of the archer’s range. He found that he had reached the main gate, at which two guards were stationed at the manor’s entrance, as well as by the doors leading up to the mansion. Fortunately, he spied a drainage system leading away from the manor. He allowed himself to be sucked into the current, which whisked him away from Waterdike Manor, and down the streets of Dayport.
When the flow lost its force and Harlan floated into a secluded area, he pulled himself out of the canal and flopped onto the stone streets, panting and exhausted. He reached back and extracted the bloody arrow from his shoulder. While not life-threatening, the wound was certainly painful. He reached into his pouch and procured a bottle of healing potion. As he gulped the medicine down, the pain turned into a warm, relaxing relief at the point of the wound, as well as allowing the ringing in his ears from the alarm bell to subside. Harlan felt his strength return, allowing him to smash the empty vial in his hand. He set his loot bag down and rummaged through until he extracted the chief prize. Once more, he marveled at its beauty, and for the first time, realized that he was responsible for taking a wonderful antiquity from the upper class. Harlan sat in tired but joyful wonder, admiring his trophy, and all he had done to obtain it.
“Put it back,” a sharp voice behind him instructed. Harlan turned around to see Garrett standing over him, a stern look on his face. “Now,” he insisted. Harlan quickly threw the vase back into the loot bag with his other prizes. “What do you think you’re doing?” Garrett pressed. “You’re leaving a valuable item you just stole out in the open for the whole world to see.” Garrett’s voice, however, took on a softer, proud tone. “Well, aside from displaying your prize where the City Watch could see it any time, you pulled off a nice little job tonight. Although, some of your decisions were not well thought-out.”
“Stealing the vase was easy enough,” Harlan admitted. “It was getting out once I had it that was the tough part.”
“Sometimes, acquiring the prize isn’t the hard part,” Garrett answered. “I chose this job for you specifically to show you that all parts of a job have to be thought through beginning to end. Remember, acquiring the loot is only half the battle.”
“I had it under control,” Harlan insisted, “Until I got downstairs. I walked right down the stairs into the full view of all the guards in the main room. I was lucky to have my flash bombs on me, and that I found the dumbwaiter in the kitchen when I did.” At this point, Harlan noticed Garrett staring down at him intently, waiting for him to make the connection. “That’s it! I should’ve used the dumbwaiter first, instead of…”
“…the main stairs, which always lead to the most heavily-guarded part of the manor,” Garrett finished. “It took a nasty confrontation, but that’s the only way you can learn to become a master thief.”
“But, Garrett,” Harlan protested, “When I first tried to get into the dining room with the dumbwaiter, it was filled with guards, and they weren’t leaving. How was I supposed to get past them?”
“There are ways,” Garrett answered, “as long as you have the right tools.” Harlan reached behind himself into his quiver. Suddenly, he understood his mentor’s point as he pulled out a noisemaker arrow. “Didn’t you say you would never need to use those? That you couldn’t understand why you would want a guard to hear anything?” Garrett inquired.
Harlan’s eyes lit up, as he finally understood the value of all his equipment. “I didn’t get to use all of this,” he stated. “Maybe if I had, the job would have gone perfectly.”
“It’s not about unloading all your equipment on the guards,” Garrett remarked. “It’s about being prepared for what you could face, and using the right weapons and tools when you do need them.” Garrett turned and walked down the street. “Let’s get back to the tower,” he instructed. “Waterdike’s guards may be looking for us, or at least alerted the Watch about the break-in.”
Garrett and Harlan arrived back at the Mechanist Tower and made their way to the fifth floor, where Harlan had chosen to stay. Harlan emptied his loot bag, displaying the vase, and all the other various coins, jewels, and valuables he had taken. “You hold onto the goods tonight,” Garrett told his student. “Tomorrow I’ll take you to my fence and get you your payoff. Just to let you know, right now, I’m taking inventory. If I find that anything’s missing tomorrow…” Garrett leaned in to Harlan, holding his dagger to the boy’s throat. Harlan gave a breathless nod of understanding. As Garrett emerged from the tower onto the second-floor ledge, two hooded figures immediately greeted him.
“We have urgent news from the Keeper Council,” the first man announced.
“First Keeper Curran has passed away,” the second man said. “The Council is soon to appoint a new leader.”
“While the balance of our own Order is in limbo,” the first Keeper continued, “clues continue to pour in regarding the upcoming Dark Age. We still don’t know its engineer or the events that will precede or follow, but your time is coming. Very soon.”
“We will keep you informed,” the second Keeper concluded, before the two men jumped off the ledge, secured the side of the wall with their climbing gloves, and disappeared into the smoky haze at the bottom. Garrett could only shake his head and ponder the Keepers’ words as he left Angelwatch and headed towards his home base in South Quarter.