Into the West

~The Court of Thieves, The Raven Arise, Sanc~


News of the king’s assassination had spread through the city like wildfire. Most of the population had been on the Silver Mile when it happened, but that fact had not stopped the story from being twisted.

Already tonight, Flent had heard at least a dozen different accounts of it. Everything from a troop of assassins fighting their way through to the king and then out of the city, right down to the heathen gods themselves casting the knife.

The stories were ridiculous but at least they were entertaining.

Leaning back in his large chair by the fire, Flent gazed into their depths. Of all the things that could have gone wrong on a market day, this incident had topped the list. It had been something he was sure every leader on the continent had thought about doing to Ozoni but had also thought impossible.

He had not thought she had come here to do this, but it had not been totally unexpected either. Considering who and what she was.

Around him the thieves of the city talked, some of business, but it was mostly of the goings on of today. Masking this from listening ears was the noise of the drunks and others that would not shed a tear over the death of the king. For as long as he had been alive he had caused the thieves trouble.

The dimly lit common room of the Raven was slowly coming to life, hours later then it normally did and it was all because of her.

“Majesty, ‘ya al’right?”

Looking up from the fire, Flent met the innkeeper’s muddy brown eyes, “Fine as can be expected on a day like this Solom.”

“Ah…so you heard what went on, eh?”

Flent nodded his head slightly, “Saw it. Never thought she’d go that far.”

“Ya ought to know better, Majesty. She’s a funny one for sure. I’ve found that ya need to expect the unexpected to understand ‘er,” the old innkeeper chuckled.

“Bet you didn’t expect this,” Flent whispered solemnly.

Solom shook his head and topped up Flent’s tankard, “Can’t say I did. She was in earlier as well. Still, ya can’t blame ‘er for it, can ya?”

“After what she told me, no. But others will, and they’ll be look’n for her.”

“True, true…” whispered the old man as a small group of cloaked figures entered the inn’s bustling common room and sat down. “She’s in it deep, and I don’t think she’ll get out of it this time. What says ya, Majesty?”

Toying with the tankard for a moment, Flent cast his black gaze towards the cloaked group who had just arrived.
“If she’s still alive, there’s always a chance. Someone just has to warn her.”

Solom chuckled again and nodded, “But ya’d have to be cautious like. General Othello’s got every man out look’n for ‘er. We all know what he’s like; won’t rest till he has ‘er in chains. Ya wouldn’t want to lead ‘em right to ‘er.”

“If he caught her, he’d have her in chains alright, but I’d bet that they’d be attached to his bed. Not that he’d ever get that. Besides, she’d be able to handle them,” Flent chuckled. “I don’t think we’d have to worry ‘bout her. She‘s not some delicate flower who‘d faint at the first sign of trouble. But we already knew that.”

The noise of the common room died for a moment and the sound of stools scraping against the floor alerted the pair to the movements of the cloaked group. One of them had just stood up and was heading their way.

Cursing beneath his breath, Flent palmed a dagger and watched the figure advance slowly across the room towards them. All around the room, cautious eyes watched the figure. Rogues loyal to the king crowded the tables closest to the fire in case he needed them.

“Solom. Go find Merric for me, I need a word,” whispered Flent to the old innkeeper.

With a worried look, Solom nodded and left his king to deal with the stranger.

Leaning back in his large chair, the thief king closed his eyes slightly and listened to the footsteps as they came closer.
The stranger was taking their time Flent noticed and he could not help but wonder if it was caution or courtesy. A moment later the footsteps stopped and Flent felt the edge of the strangers cloak brush against his leg.

“Are you the one known as Flent?” asked a soft musical voice.

Opening his eyes, the king smiled mockingly at the dark figure, “It depends on who’s asking.”

“I am an old friend of a wolf demon we both know.”

Flent’s eyes widened slightly at the stranger’s reply; it was not what he had expected. Placing his feet up onto the table, the thief king looked back into the fire and motioned for the figure to take the seat opposite him. “I’m the one you’re looking for. Tell me, what is it I can do for a friend of a demon?”

Leaning back the figure sighed, “Do you wish me to remove the cloak? Most people find it uncomfortable talking to a hooded stranger.”

Casting his guest a curious look Flent motioned for a serving girl, “Do as you wish, it doesn’t matter to me. Do you want something to drink?”

“White wine, but only if it is good. I detest that gut rot some taverns serve.”

Flent smiled and whispered something into the girl’s ear before she turned away and disappeared off into the sea of people. “We don’t serve that gut rot here. We may be thieves but we have better taste then that.”

A soft chuckle slithered from the hood and Flent felt the hairs on the back of his neck stand on end. All of a sudden he had a very bad feeling about the cloaked figure. “Remove your hood stranger,” he growled threateningly.

“Do you not trust me? Could it be that you think I am a dog of the house of Farr’ell, thief king?” the figure said in a silky smooth tone.

“Remove it before I call my men over.” A tight smiled curved Flent’s lips as he added, “Just caution and instincts. In my trade you have to trust them, and mine have saved my neck more then once.”

“That I would believe,” the figure whispered dryly. Leaning back in the seat the figure crossed their arms and calmly added, “Normally I would ignore your request for spite, but since I did ask earlier I shall do as you wish. But in case we ever meet again after this thief king, I should warn you; it is a very bad idea to threaten me.”

Reaching up the stranger slowly lifted the hood from their head and smiled coldly.

“You’re a…man?” The words had left Flent’s mouth before he could stop them. The voice had been so light that he had thought it must be a woman, and the tall, elegant figure had echoed this. But he had been very wrong.

The stranger who sat before him was definitely a man. It was almost a shame, he would have made a beautiful woman; delicate angles and high cheekbones, with large slightly tilted eyes, a face to vaguely echo a certain red-head in all but skin tone and eye colour.
His clear green eyes were fringed with long lashed and set below elegant brows. His pale hair looked short from the front, but Flent caught a glimpse of its braided length when the man turned slightly.
In the firelight he could see threads of metallic gold and silver shining within the heavy mass.

“Yes, the last time I checked I was,” replied his guest.

Placing his tankard onto the table before him, Flent shook his head, “I’m sorry, you surprised me. I could have sworn that you were a woman.”

Across from him, his guest frowned and raising an eyebrow replied, “And I assumed that I was speaking to someone with half a brain, but I was obviously mistaken. From the glowing impression she gave me of you, you seemed vaguely intelligent. I shall have to inform her to choose her words more carefully next time.”

Disdain dripped from his guest’s voice and Flent had to wait until he had his temper under control before he could answer. “If you came here just to insult me, then get out before I throw you out!”

Rolling his eyes slightly, the pale haired stranger tilted his head and gazed at the thief as if he were an insect to squash. “For that, I would not have even bothered to come here. I have far better things to be doing, and if you recall it was you who insulted me first,” he replied with cold indignation.
“However, as it happens I need your help in a matter of grave importance. I would not have come here if it had not been absolutely necessary, believe me, but unfortunately it has become so.
She told me I could trust you, and generally I would not question her word because she is hardly ever wrong about such things. And since time is against us, could we please over look this small misunderstanding and get back to business?”

Biting his lip, Flent glared across the table at the obnoxious man she had inadvertently sent to him. It took all of his self-control to stop himself from leaping across the void between them and beating the man into the floor.

“State your business,” the thief said softly. Even he could hear the irritation caught within those few words.

It had been a very long time since anyone had annoyed him this much; it had been even longer since anyone had spoken to him like this man dared to. He had lived longer then he cared to remember and for the last ten years he had ruled the thieves court.

Smiling tightly the green eyed man settled himself back into the chair, “I want to know the current whereabouts of a red-headed woman we both know.”

“Why do you want that knowledge?” Flent asked as a maid returned with a glass of wine.

Curling himself into the chair the man frowned lightly, “She was supposed to meet with us several hours ago but she never appeared. I am convinced something is wrong and it is my duty to find out what. But, as I am a stranger to this city, I need help.
The last time we spoke, she told me that you had invaluable resources that if worst came to worst, could assist me. I do not want to remain in this city any longer then is necessary. That is why I came here seeking your help. This is all I ask for, help me find her. Help me make sure she is alive and safe.”

Sitting silently, Flent watched the other man turn towards the warmth of the fire. His handsome face was inhumanly pale and his eyes were now distant. He looked like he was in shock, but it was worry that made him look this way.

The light hit his eyes and for a breath they flashed with metallic brilliance; spring green scored with countless veins of gold. It was vaguely like looking at the sun through a curtain of spring leaves. They glowed, just like hers did when the light hit them the thief remembered, and that could mean but one thing.

He had known from the beginning what she was, but strangely it had never occurred to him that beyond her there were any more left alive.
For almost a century they had hidden themselves. For almost a century they had pretended to be dead and gone. Now, there were few alive who remembered the differences between Andine and Anvarian.

“Tell me, what is she to you, stranger?” Flent asked faintly.

Turning back to the thief, the pale haired stranger stared across the distance and slowly blinked. When his eyes opened again the worry had all but disappeared from their green depths.

Sitting up, he placed his elbows on the table and in a voice that was almost lost in the sea of yelling, whispered, “She is the one I love above all else.”

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Well, there you have it, another chapter!

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