Chapter 4 - Lessons with the Sword

Jaron stared out the window of his sitting room at the outer gardens below. He daydreamed about what life outside the walls that contained the gardens would be like, life as a regular citizen and not the son of a high nobleman. He found his life to be dreary. His daydreams usually consisted of what it would be like to be the son of a farmer, or a blacksmith. He knew that their lives were no source of adventure, but they had something he didn’t; freedom. They had the freedom to leave whenever they wanted; the freedom to take risks and chances. Almost anything had to be better than sitting stuck in a manor all day taking various lessons on subjects his father and mother thought would be important for him to have when he took control of the family estate.

Jaron wanted something more, something that filled his life with the unexpected. His days were monotonous. What he wouldn’t give for some variety. He knew what was going to come before it actually happened. Within minutes there would be a knock at the door and a servant would look in the room at his acknowledgement. The servant would inform him that it was time for his swordplay lesson to begin.

Jaron loathed his swordplay lessons. Of everything he had to endure, his training with the sword was when he felt as if he were treated like the weakest child. His trainer was Cedric Eddes, the Captain of his family’s personal guard. Jaron had seen the large man training and working with the other guards and when he worked with Jaron, it seemed as if he were holding back.

When the guards practiced, they were fierce, giving their opponent no mercy. When Cedric sparred with Jaron, there was no fierceness, no danger. Instead there seemed to be a fear of sorts, the fear that if Jaron were injured that Cedric would face the wrath of his father, or worse yet, his mother.

What use were lessons with the sword if after three years of training he was still ineffective with a blade? The knock came at the door, followed by the servant entering after Jaron acknowledged him and the servant told Jaron that it was time for his swordplay lesson. It was all as Jaron had predicted, all as it was every time.

Jaron left his sitting room and walked through the busy halls of the manner. Servants were bustling about; cleaning, redecorating and whatever else needed to be finished before the banquet. The manor had been that way for nearly three days now, as if it would never be done.

Jaron walked out into the inner courtyard, squinting in the bright light. He saw Cedric standing in the center of the clearing holding two wooden practice swords.

“Ready for today’s lesson lad?” the man’s thick accent marked him as originally being from the Rhodaron province to the south, as did his thick blonde head of hair and his beard, though both were marked with some gray and his deeply tanned skin. The man wore a sleeveless tunic which revealed his massive arms, and a pair of loose leather pants.

Jaron removed his jacket, placing it to rest over the rail the seperated the walkway from the gardens and clearing. He unbuttoned his shirt and removed it, setting it beside the jacket. He stood before the large man wearing only his slacks. The sun felt warm on his bare skin.

“I’m ready Cedric,” Jaron said as he held his hand out for one of the swords. Cedric tossed one of the practice blades to him. He swung the well-worked piece of wood a couple times, getting a feel for the balance and weight before finally letting his arm drop to his side.

Cedric watched a few paces away and readied himself when he saw that Jaron was finished. Cedric never attacked first, letting Jaron make the first move. Usually the first strike was deflected followed by instruction on what Jaron had done wrong.

This time, Jaron intended to catch the man off guard. Jaron charged without warning, darting towards his much larger opponent. As he moved in, Cedric shifted his stance, widening his feet and brining his blade up before him. Jaron tightened his grip on the practice blade in his right hand, feeling the grain of the wood in his palm and fingers. The craftsmanship was good, the grip of the wood was just smooth enough to be comfortable, but rough enough to maintain a solid hold.

Jaron began to move to the left. As he did so the large man began to shift his weight to his left foot, ready to parry the blow he expected to come in from his right side. Once Jaron saw the move begin, he quickly moved to his right and leapt into the air. Cedric’s eyes began to widen as he realized he wouldn’t be able to shift his significant weight in time to block the blow. Jaron swung down as he fell back to the earth.

Rather than attempt to block the blow, Cedric continued his motion already started towards the left and moved out of the way of the strike. The attack whistled through the air that Cedric had just been. Jaron quickly recovered, spinning to meet the strike that Cedric threw. There was a loud crack as the two pieces of wood struck each other.

Jaron wasted no time recovering, there was no time to waste. If he was going to force Cedric into fighting him, truly fighting, he would have to maintain the offensive. Jaron delivered blow after blow at the Rhodaron. Cedric deftly blocked each blow, however he was beginning to move back.

Finally Jaron found his opening. He began an overhead swing, bringing his sword straight down towards the older man’s head. Cedric blocked just as he had expected, but rather than continuing the strike Jaron began to spin, purposefully directing his blow to miss the man and his blocking sword. He dropped to one knee as he spun and struck out with the piece of wood.

Cedric cursed as the practice sword connected with his knee. He limped away from Jaron, holding a hand out to ensure that Jaron stopped his assault, “Damn lad, well done,” Cedric said through gritted teeth as be bent down to rub at his knee.

“You know, it’s your own fault Cedric,” a voice said from behind Jaron. He spun to find the source.
Leaning against one of the pillars of the walkway rail was a man. He wore a soldier’s uniform, from its make and cut, Jaron thought it was an officer’s coat. The man was taller than both Jaron and Cedric both, and well built from what Jaron could tell by the way he held himself. The man pushed himself off the pillar and walked over to Cedric.

“Quiet boy, don’t you think I know it’s my own fault? I trained the boy, I should have know he’d be crafty,” Cedric stood, stretching his leg and working his knee, using the man as a support as he did so.
Jaron used the moment to further inspect the man. From his red hair and lighter skin, Jaron marked him as a native of Garlin, or at least the area. Though the people of Garlin were varied in their appearance, there were not many from elsewhere in the world that would have that hair. Jaron quickly noted that there was a single star embroidered on his lapel and shoulder. A lieutenant, Jaron thought to himself, trying to piece together the relationship between the two men.

“So, this is the young lord you were telling me about?” the man asked as he looked Jaron over.

“Yes, yes. This is Jaron Kensly, Lord Kensly’s son.” Cedric said as he motioned towards Jaron.

“I see, not a bad swordsman from what I saw. It is an honor to meet you Jaron. I am Lieutenant Alexander Varross, commander of the Sixth Cavalry Unit of the Beldinian Army,” the man gave a salute and a slight bow before offering his hand.

“And it is an honor to meet you,” Jaron said as he inclined his head and took the man’s hand, giving it a firm shake before releasing it.

“Now Cedric,” Alexander said as he turned to look at the man that seemed to be moving around better than he had a moment ago, “how is it you think you are training this boy. He had you back into a corner, and he struck you no less. Are you afraid that you’ll break him?”

Jaron was shocked. Cedric was an intimidating man when he wanted to be, and to see the taller, yet noticeably smaller man approach him in such a way was strange.

“I’ll teach the boy as I see fit Alexander, or would you rather that I broke the poor lad.”

“I seem to remember you giving me more than my fair share of bruises when you trained me, and a broken arm or two if I remember correctly,” the soldier said frankly.

Jaron’s eyes widened slightly at the statement. Though the statement placed another piece into the puzzle that was the connection between the two men.

“Aye, I did, and your mother had my head for every one. The only reason you ever got hurt was because you were reckless and stupid,” Cedric said in defense of himself.

The two men stood staring at one another. It looked as if they might come to blows. The two suddenly burst into laughter. Jaron stood dumbstruck, having no idea what had just happened. The two settled themselves after a few more moments and Alexander turned to look at Jaron with a smile.

“Perhaps you’d like a different opponent while Cedric recovers from that strike. It’s been a while since I’ve had a decent spar and I could use the exercise. I’ve spent the last month on a horse getting here and my muscles are a little tight,” Alexander didn’t even seem to wait for a response before he was standing by the rail removing his officer’s coat and gray tunic.

Jaron began to worry. With the coat on, the man looked well built, but no more so than Jaron was. Looking at his back, Jaron knew that he was wrong. The man’s back was a tight knot of well toned muscle. The man turned and Jaron had to keep his jaw from dropping open, his arms and chest were no different from his back. Alexander stretched his arms and back and Jaron almost tried to think of a way out of what he was sure would be a lot of pain.

This is what you wanted, Jaron thought, an opponent that would challenge you, that wouldn’t be concerned so much with who or what you are.

Cedric held the practice sword away from Alexander when he came to grab it, “Don’t hurt him too bad, please, it’s my job to protect the boy and it’ll be my hide if anything happens.”

“Don’t worry so much,” Alexander said as he snatched the sword, “I’ll be sure that any bruising will heal within a few days. And besides, I’m sure you know a good healer here in Garlin that could look to him.”

Jaron moved towards the center of the clearing, waiting for Alexander. Cedric stood, arms crossed and jaw clenched, watching. It looked as if every muscle in his body was tensed, ready to jump in if things got out of hand.

Alexander stepped into Jaron’s line of vision, “Ready?” he asked matter-of-factly.

Jaron nodded, readying his stance. Alexander dropped into a low stance and immediately charged. Jaron was stunned, he wasn’t use to going on the defensive. Almost instinctively he brought up his sword to block the blow. Wood met wood with a loud crack. Jaron leapt back, increasing the gap between the two men. Alexander did not waste a moment, he lunged back in, swinging the practice sword at Jaron’s head. Jaron ducked and rolled to his left, away from the blow.

Jaron jumped back up to his feet. Alexander was on top of him. Jaron brought up his sword, barely blocking blow after blow. His ears began to ring as the sound of the two pieces of wood connecting drummed inside his ears. His hand began to pound. The force with which Alexander struck jarred the practice sword in his hand, but he refused to let go, if he let go, there would be nothing to protect him.

You’re the one that wanted a real fight, and now you have one, do something! Jaron screamed at himself.

He leapt backwards and immediately charged in, going on the offensive. Alexander easily deflected the blow and let Jaron’s momentum carry him past. Pain shot across Jaron’s back as Alexander struck him with the flat of the blade. Jaron was stunned. Cedric had hit him before with the sword, but he usually pulled back on the blow so that the pain was minor.

Jaron spun around just in time to see Alexander charging back in. Jaron feigned a block and rolled to his right, striking Alexander in the back as he had just done. He barely seemed to notice it. Jaron took the opportunity while Alexander’s back was still to him to strike. He swung his practice blade and was stunned when it stopped short with a loud crack.

Alexander’s back was still to Jaron, but his sword was held over his left shoulder, blocking the entire length of his back. Alexander flicked his wrist and threw Jaron off balance and stumbling backwards. Alexander then spun, swinging his sword and dropping to a knee, just as Jaron had done to Cedric.

Jaron jumped. He watched as Alexander’s strike flowed through where he had just been. He managed to right himself in mid-air and jumped back two more times creating a distance of nearly fifteen paces between himself and the other man. Jaron panted for air, sweat streaming down his face. He had never worked this hard before. Jaron looked at Alexander as he stood straight, sweat beaded on his forehead but stuck. His breathing was even and calm, no sign of laboring at all.

Alexander charged. Jaron decided that evasiveness wouldn’t help, the other man was just as agile, if not more, than he was. He took a wide stance, readying himself to take the charge head on. As Alexander got in range Jaron stabbed at him. Alexander shifted himself to the right. He grabbed Jaron’s wrist with his left and and twisted.

Time seemed to slow, every detail becoming clear. Jaron watched as the practice sword slid from his own hand, tumbling to the ground. He felt his knee fold as Alexander kicked it out. He watched as the grass below him became sky above him while be spun, falling to the ground. Then the fear came as he watched Alexander spin his practice sword in his hand, reversing the grip. Jaron tried to move but Alexander held him fast to the ground with his left arm. The blade began it’s descent. Jaron squeezed his eyes closed as he prepared for the pain that was about to come.

The pain never came. The pressure was released from Jaron’s chest. He opened his eyes to find Alexander holding his practice sword a sliver’s width fro his throat. He other man stood up straight and offered his hand.

“Not bad at all,” Alexander said as he pulled Jaron to his feet, “you’ll make a fine swordsman, as long as Cedric trains you properly.”

Jaron gasped for air and doubled over. It seemed impossible to breathe. A strong hand pulled him up straight and lifted his hands behind his head.

“Stand up straight and keep your arms up, give yourself room to expand and breathe.” Alexander said as he demonstrated, filling his chest with air.

Cedric still stood by the railing, arms still crossed, though a shaky smile marked his face now.

“You… you’re bare… barely even breathing hard.” Jaron said, gasping for air.

Alexander smiled knowingly, “You need to learn to control your breathing better, breathe in as you prepare for a strike and breathe out as your deliver it. There is a rhythm to combat. Find that, and match your breathing to it. It’ll take some practice, but you’ll get it.”

Cedric approached the two finally, giving a slight chuckle, “Well, that was impressive,” he said, markedly less worried than before the sparring match, “but that thing there at the end, where’d you learn that, I sure didn’t teach it to you?”

Alexander spun the piece of wood he still held, demonstrating the reversed grip, “This? A couple years back I was sent to Sumadur with a small contingent of my men. There was a group of Quel’dan that were said to be causing some trouble for a local lumber mill. We were sent to mediate a solution. However, as we approached we were attack be a group of the Quel’dan. Their leader fought entirely with this style. It was quite impressive to see. Once we calmed everyone down and mediated a solution, I asked if he might teach me some of it.”

Jaron lowered his arms, breath finally coming easier to him. He looked past the two men towards one of the entrances to the courtyard. He saw his father standing just outside the door along with his retainer, Waltence. When his father saw that he had been noticed he approached the small group.
Cedric stiffened as he saw the approaching men. Alexander noticed the reaction and looked towards the two that approached. His demeanor didn’t seem to change at all.

“Cedric, have you decided to bring another in to teach my son the ways of the sword?” Jaron’s father asked calmed, though his voice still held a tone of command, as it always did.

“Oh, uh, of course not Lord Kensly, this is merely an old friend,” Cedric replied worriedly, motioning towards Alexander and giving a deep bow.

“Is that so?” Jaron’s father asked as he looked to Alexander.

“I am Lieutenant Alexander Varross of the Sixth Cavalry Unit Lord Kensly,” he gave a salute and bowed, “It is an honor to meet you. I hope I haven’t overstepped my bounds, I merely asked your son if he would like a change in sparring partners. I apologize if…”

Jaron’s father cut Alexander off with a raise of his hand, “Nonsense Lieutenant, quite the contrary. I believe that it was good to experience something different, something closer to a real fight,” Cedric released a breath he had apparently been holding.

“Your son is quite the swordsman, a little rough in some areas, but those will smooth out with a few more months training. He is more than capable even now, what he lacks is more than made up for in his determination and his courage.” Jaron thought he could feel his cheeks redden at the compliments, though he hoped the others took it as exhaustion.

“I believe it was good for the boy to experience some fear in combat. It hardens a man and prepares him for any conflict he may face in the future, physical or not,” Alexander nodded in agreement to Jaron’s father’s statement, “Lieutenant, later this week my family and I are holding a banquet to celebrate Jaron’s coming-of-age. I would be honored if you would attend.” The inflection in the man’s voice was more that of an order than a question.

“I would be glad to attend. I would have to clear it with Captain Edbar when he arrives, though the break from soldiering would be appreciated.”

“Excellent, I will have invitations sent for you and Captain Edbar, it wouldn’t be appropriate for a higher ranking officer to not be invited to an event of this caliber that his subordinate was.”
“Lord Kensly,” Waltence interrupted the conversation, “I’m afraid that you still need to prepare for Lord Danar’s ball for this evening.”

“Indeed, the duties of a nobleman, sometimes what I wouldn’t give to be in your place Lieutenant. Well, I look forward to seeing you again, and may the Great Weaver keep you safe,” Jaron’s father gave a nod as he turned and headed back towards the manor. Cedric and Alexander gave bows, though no one was watching.

“Well Cedric, I should probably get back to the barracks before Captain Edbar arrives, wouldn’t want to give him any more reason than he already does to hate me,” Alexander said with a chuckle.

“Sounds good boy, if you get the chance to see your parents give them my wishes, and feel free to stop in and chat if you get the chance,” Cedric said, shaking the other man’s hand.

“Jaron, again it was a pleasure meeting you. A few words of advice, keep your sword arm up and you body turned away ever so slightly. It makes it more difficult to read your moves before you make them.” Alexander gave a bow before turning and collecting his things, pulling his tunic over his head and replacing his jacket and exiting the courtyard.

“Well boy,” Cedric said as he collected the two practice swords and tossed one to Jaron, “I don’t believe your lesson is over yet and I think I’m in good enough shape to spar yet.”

Arm up and body turned, Jaron thought as he readied himself.

Chapter 3 - Old Friends and New Enemies

Alexander pulled the reins, bringing his gray gelding to a stop. Alexander had rode his men hard to make it to Garlin early in the day. He looked out before him at the walls of the city, the sun barely broke over them. History told that those walls had stopped numerous attacks before Beldin managed to gain control of the city. He knew the walls well. He had grown up only a couple days ride from Garlin.

Thinking of home brought a pang of guilt up in Alexander. His parents hadn’t been happy with his decision to leave and join the army. He still did what he could to help them, sending money regularly to help with the maintenance and the higher of hands to make sure crops and animals were taken care of. His mother often wrote back, thanking him for his help. He was sure his father complained every time the writ for a withdrawal came in, but the money was always taken from his accounts.

Perhaps I’ll ask for a couple days leave and visit home, Alexander thought. He had not been home in nearly ten years, and the last time was only a couple hours on his way through the area. He missed his home, the days toiling in the fields, the evening meals and tales told by his father. He even missed his older brother, who had his own family now, though he no doubt still worked his father’s farm.

Alexander recognized the sound of the horse’s canter coming up from behind him, he was not surprised when Jogan spoke, “Lieutenant, Bosber has returned, the city guard has been informed of our approach and are preparing for our arrival.”

Alexander nodded, not even looking at the man, thoughts still focused on home, “Good, signal the approach, look casual, we don’t want people to think we’re there to attack. Only swords, any other weapons should be put in saddle bags or secured in some other way. Anyone still wearing their leather should take it off now. Anyone found not following the order will find themselves in more trouble than they’d like.”

“Very good Lieutenant, I’ll spread the word.” Jogan wheeled his horse around and road back to the unit leaders. Riders spread out from the small group of men and word was spread throughout the unit.

Alexander smiled at the organization of his men. When he had been given the command of the Sixth Cavalry, they were a good unit. Alexander brought in a new chain of command, much to the displeasure of some of the senior riders, but it had formed a much more proficient chain of communication. Now, if he gave an order, he knew that within ten minutes, every man in the unit would know the command almost as if they’d heard it directly from Alexander’s lips. Alexander chirped to his gelding and started of towards Garlin at a casual walk.

The ride to the city was easy, and he could tell that the guard was anxious, but not worried as they approached the Western Gate. There was a group of five men standing a few paces outside the gate. Alexander soon recognized the uniforms of Garlin’s High Guard.

Alexander saluted as he pulled his gelding to a stop before the men. They returned the salute and Alexander dismounted. He walked forward, standing before who he assumed was the Captain of the Guard.

“May the sun grace your fields and your family thrive,” Alexander started in the formal greeting of Garlin.

“And the rain waters come and go, bringing only life,” the Captain finished, “It is good to meet a soldier that knows the ways of this city,” the man said, offering his hand.

“I grew up on a farm not far from here, this is home for me, I am Lieutenant Alexander Varross charged with the command of the Sixth Cavalry Unit,” Alexander replied as he took the man’s hand.

“I am Jefell Russent, Captain of the Guard here in Garlin. So, to what honor are we graced by you and your men?” the Captain said as he eyed Alexander’s riders.

“We have been sent here by General Therad. My men and I were sent ahead by Captain Vanles Edbar to prepare for the arrival of him and the rest of our men.” Alexander explained.

“Very well, how many men should we prepare for?” Jefell asked.

“With me I have one hundred fifty men, and as many horses. The Captain will be leading 1,150 men, with about two hundred more horses.”

Jefell’s eyes betrayed a look of shock, though he quickly covered it, “I see, I will send word immediately to ready the barracks and stables for you.”

Alexander could see the question on Jefell’s face. He wanted to know why so many men were being brought to Garlin. Of course, Alexander’s mind held the same question.

“If you will follow me and my men Lieutenant, we will lead you to the barracks.” Jefell turned and started back into the city.

Alexander mounted his horse and signaled his men before following the Captain of the Guard into the city. The looks on the faces of the people on the street were those of shock, anger, and awe as Alexander led his riders through the town. The men formed three perfect columns as their procession made its way down the street. A hush fell over the crowds as they watched. The ride through the city to the barracks seemed to take forever.

Finally, Jefell turned and looked to Alexander, “Here are the barracks. There should be men arriving soon to take your horses to the stables.”

Alexander dismounted as Jogan signaled for the rest of the men to do the same, “I thank you Captain Russent.”

Alexander squinted in the sunlight as he watched a carriage pull up to the barracks. The driver hopped down and quickly moved to the door, opening it and bowing a man through. The man was of decent age, silver marking his temples. He was well groomed and well dressed, obviously one of the nobles of the city. He wore a dark green suit of typical Garlin cut and carried an ornate dueling cane fitted with a large sapphire.

Jefell noticed Alexander’s sudden interest and turned to see what he was looking at. He started when he noticed who it was, “Ah, High Lord Bething, to what do we owe the honor?”

“Nothing to worry about Captain, I merely heard that there was a group of soldiers that had entered the city and came to see what the commotion was about.” The man’s tone was demanding and clear.

“Lord Bething,” Alexander said as he stepped forward, giving a salute and small bow, “I am Lieutenant Alexander Varross, commander of the Sixth Cavalry Unit of the Beldinian Army. It is a pleasure to meet you.”

“Lieutenant, I am Lord Juston Bething of House Bething. If you don’t mind my asking, what brings you and your men into our fair city?” Bething’s voice seemed to hold a tone of displeasure.
Alexander suddenly remembered the name. House Bething was one of the few noble houses that survived the capture of Garlin. They fought to maintain self-sufficiency in Garlin to keep a degree of separation from Beldin. Most of all, the family hated any the military in any respect.

“I’m afraid I have nothing to share with you. You will have to wait for Captain Vales Edbar to arrive with the rest of our men later this day, though I do not believe that it will be until sometime this evening.” Alexander explained while trying to maintain a level of formality.

“The rest of your men?” The Lord started, “Just how many do you bring to our city?”

“Thirteen hundred total Lord Bething, on the orders of General Lofric Therad.” Alexander said frankly.

Lord Bething’s eyebrows rose in what appeared to be shock and anger, “You will inform your Captain Edbar that I will be visiting him at my earliest convenience.” It wasn’t a question.

“Of course Lord Bething,” Alexander said with a bow.

As Alexander straightened, Lord Bething was already started back to his carriage, “My apologies Lieutenant Varross,” Jefell began.

Alexander cut him off, “It is no trouble Captain Russent, I assumed that we would be met with some anger when I first heard we were coming here. Now, if you would see to my men and their horses, there is an old friend I would like to visit.”

“Of course,” the Captain said as he turned to give orders.

Alexander turned to Jogan, handing him the reins to his horse, “Would you look to Cloud for me Jogan?”

“Of course Lieutenant,” he said as he took the reins.

“I’ll be back soon, there’s just an old friend here in the city I would like to see. You are in command until I return. The men are not to move from the barracks or the stables until I get back. Is that understood?”

“Yes Lieutenant,” Jogan nodded.

Alexander saluted before he turned and started down the street. It had been a long time since he had been to Garlin last, but he was certain that he could find what he was looking for.

Alexander made his way through the streets, stopping on Merchant’s street to buy a kabob of roasted meat and vegetables. While he was there he asked for directions to insure that he still knew where he was going. Many people gave him a wide girth, recognizing his uniform. There was little doubt that the news of soldiers in the city had been spreading like an uncontrolled fire throughout it’s inhabitants.
Finally Alexander found himself in front of the gates to manor estate of House Kensly. The gate guard eyed him carefully as he approached.

“Can I help you?” The large man asked, a hand resting on his sword-breaker.

“Yes, I am Lieutenant Alexander Varross and would like to visit with Cedric Eddes if that is possible.” Alexander noticed as the guard stiffened at the mention of the name.

Cedric Eddes had been a friend to Alexander for as long as he could remember. The man was a good twenty years older than Alexander, but had helped his father on the farm while Alexander was a child. He had taught Alexander the sword and so much more.

The gate guard waved down one of his fellow guards and gave an order. The second man hurried off in the direction of the manor house. Alexander waited patiently, standing outside the gate.

After a few minutes, the guard returned, giving a nod to the man at the gate, “All right, looks like you can see Captain Cedric. He should be in the courtyard this time of the day, I’ll have this man here lead you in.”

The guard opened the gate and Alexander walked through. He followed the second guard through the outer courtyard and into one of the entrances to the manor. Servants bustled through the halls; replacing flowers, cleaning tables, straightening tapestries and making any other changes to make the appearance of the manor that much better.

“Is it always this busy?” Alexander asked the guard.

“Wha… oh, no, not usually at least. Lord Kensly has a banquet coming up soon, so the whole house is busy in preparation.

Alexander nodded in understanding, remaining quiet until the guard stopped in front of a door, “The Captain is through here.”

“Thank you,” Alexander said. The guard turned and left. Alexander pulled open the door and stepping out into the inner courtyard. It was modest, at least as far as Alexander could tell. He assumed that most nobles had extravagant manors and gardens, yet from what Alexander had seen of the Kensly Manor so far, it seemed rather contained.

In the middle of the courtyard stood Cedric working through forms with a wooden practice sword. The man was just as Alexander remembered, if maybe a little larger in the middle. His skin was deeply tanned and though it held some gray, his hair and beard still held on to more of the blonde that Alexander now recognized as wholly Rhodaron.

Alexander walked into the courtyard and waited to be noticed. Cedric kept working through the forms until he turned and noticed Alexander standing there. The man grinned.
“One of my men told me that there was some soldier wantin’ to see me,” he said with a chuckle.

“Indeed, how are you old man?” Alexander started his way to his old mentor.

“I’m doin’ all right, I see that you’ve made lieutenant,” Cedric stated as the two men shook hands.

Alexander smiled, “I have, though I can’t say as it has been the joy I always thought it would be. Now I find myself here, two days ride from home, following orders I don’t understand and answering to Captain Vanles Edbar who I think would rather see me discharged than follow his orders as he gives them.”

“Welcome to the life of an officer,” Cedric said as he balked a laugh.

“And what of you?” Alexander asked, “Mother’s letter said that you had left the farm to join the guard here, not command it.”

“Ah, she doesn’t know the second part. When I left workin’ for your father to join the guard here, it was just with the intention of being just that, a guard. However, when Lord Kensly saw my skill with the blade, and how I worked with the men, he made me captain, just as soon as the previous captain retired,” Cedric explained.

“So, you went from working for my father to living in this?” Alexander said as he motioned around him.

“Trust me, it’s not always what it’s made out to be. Speaking of your family, you goin’ to visit them while your here?” Cedric had a knack for jumping into the area of your life that you wanted to talk about the least.

“I don’t know, I was thinking about it, but my father and I didn’t exactly part ways on the best of terms. I’m not too sure how much he’d appreciate a visit.”

“Don’t worried ‘bout none of that. He’s your da, if’n he gives you can trouble, let me know and I’ll be sure to stop by and knock some sense into him,” Cedric said with a laugh.

“So, what is it you do around here?” Alexander asked, trying to change the subject.

“Too much of what I’d rather not be doin’ and not enough of what I’d like to, quite a bit like you I’d imagine,” Cedric laughed again, “however, here in a little bit, I’ll be givin’ a lesson to the young lord. He’s decent with the blade, nothing like you were, but capable.”

“I see, perhaps I should be on my way then.” Alexander said, not wanting to get in the way.

“Nonsense, just be sure to stay out of the way and keep quiet, I don’t need you going and confusing the boy,” Cedric said sarcastically.

Alexander shared a laugh with his old friend. At least I know that I’m welcome here, Alexander thought as he continued his conversation with his old friend.

Chapter 2 - Preparation

Matthew stood ten paces from the wall, knife in hand. He stared at the point in the wall he hoped to hit. Knife throwing wasn’t a strong point of his. His accuracy at ten paces was mediocre at best. He could sometimes hit the target, however, most throws missed their mark.

He remembered everything Vansen had taught him when it came to throwing knives. The importance wasn’t the distance as much as it was in the throw. Of course, Vansen was deadly accurate at nearly forty paces.

Matthew took a deep breath, imagining the throw, imagining the distance being closer than it was. He began to throw the knife, releasing the breath as he went. The knife cut through the air, quickly closing the ten paces before slamming into the wall. The blade was buried nearly the length of the first knuckle of his first finger. The depth was good, but he’d missed his mark by a hand-width.

“Not bad,” Vansen said from behind him, “But you’re still concentrating too much on the throw. Just let it come naturally. You’re mind will fill in the gaps automatically, you don’t have to force it.”

Vansen flourished his hand and a knife appeared in it. He quickly threw the knife, only glancing at the wall as he did so. It pierced the mark on the wall. Quickly he threw two more knives. They both crowded the first knife on the white circle.

Matthew let out a laugh, “Maybe you’re just better at it than I am. I’ll stick with the skills I do have for now.”

“That might be for the best. Come on, time for the meeting.”

Vansen turned and headed for the office, shouting for everyone to gather up before he went in. Matthew followed him through the doorway and found his corner. He leaned back against the wall and waited as everyone entered and found their spots.

Once the last members sat down, Vansen began, “All right, you all know I’m not one for beating around the bush, so here’s the deal. We’ve been asked to pull a heist…”

Vansen was cut off before he could continue, “Wait a minute, I thought we didn’t steal for others?” It was Sarrich, the young boy had only joined the crew a couple months before and had a problem with Vansen’s rules, always pushing them to their limit without actually breaking them.

Matthew had always thought that the rules were simple. Only steal what you or the crew needed and don’t rat out anyone on the crew. Anyone found breaking those rules was turned out on the street and left on their own. Sarrich thought the rules were unfair. He thought that just because some people had jobs and could live a comfortable life, why should he suffer with the bare minimum. The crew was about survival, something that Sarrich didn’t understand. But he knew that he couldn’t make it on his own, not without getting caught by the guard, and following Vansen’s rules seemed easier than a life in prison.

“Usually we don’t, but I’m making an exception this time, we don’t have enough saved up for the warehouse payment yet and the request came from an old friend,” Vansen looked around the room as many people gave him curious looks, “Miktan Lonstrat.”

There were a few looks of shock, but more of happiness. There wasn’t a child that came out of the orphanage that didn’t know Miktan. He regularly visited, recounting tales and legends. Miktan had been a bard before retiring and living a life of comfort in Garlin. He was a friend to any of the kids, and his visits were always met with gifts and great stories.

“All right then,” Sarrich started, “What’s the job.”

Vansen smiled, “We’ve been asked to retrieve an item of his that is currently held in one of the noble’s treasure rooms.”

“Which one?” someone asked before Vansen could continue.

Vansen shot a look to whoever it was that had spoken before continuing, “House Danar.”

There was more than one gasp that went through the group. Even Matthew was surprised. He never imagined that Vansen would dare pull a job against one of the high houses, let alone Danar. Lord Danar had a reputation in Garlin of being one of the cruelest lords. To ask mercy from Lord Danar was like trying to ask a starving hound to not eat a cut of meat set before it.

“You’ve got to be crazy,” Randson exclaimed, “I heard the last thieves caught in Danar’s vault were tried and executed before the day was out. You’ve got to be mad to think we could pull off a job like that. Even if it was to steal a flower from his outer gardens, it’s mad. His guards might as well be ordered to kill first and ask later.”

Vansen waited for the crew to settle before continuing, “I know it is going to be dangerous, but as with any job I organize, involvement is completely voluntary. If you don’t want in, or think that it is too dangerous, you are welcome to leave.”

A large number of people stood and exited the room. Randson and Sarrich among them. Matthew was surprised to see Tavira stand and leave. She tended to be more of a thrill-seeker than any other in the crew, besides maybe Vansen. Soon it was just Vansen, Matthew, Natt, and Dell left in the room. Natt and Dell were new to the crew, and had only joined in the last month or so. Vansen looked at the boys and motioned to the door.

“Aw, come on Vansen, we deserve to be part of this as much as anyone else. We want to pull our weight around here.” Natt spoke up.

“Yeah Vansen, give us a shot.” Dell said.

“Guys, it’s nothing against you, I just need people with a little more experience for this job. The Danar estate isn’t someplace you guys need to be, not yet at least. Just keep up with what you’re doing and we’ll see about getting you in on the next job.”

Matthew smirked as the two left the room, heads hung low, “I know how they feel,” he said after the door closed behind them, “it’s rough at that age, being part of the crew.”

“What’re you talking about, each one of them is twice the thief you were at their age.” Vansen smiled before motioning Matthew over to the table, “All right, let’s get started on this plan.

————————

Alexander had finished setting up his camp just as Jogan approached him. The man saluted before speaking, “Lieutenant, the patrols are all back and report that there is nothing in the area we need to be concerned with.”

Alexander brought his right fist to his chest, just over his heart, returning the salute, “Very well Jogan, I’ll be sure to report to the Captain. Make sure everyone’s camp is set up and that everyone has gotten something to eat. We should be arriving at Garlin tomorrow, so be sure to get a good nights rest tonight.”

“Of course Lieutenant,” Jogan paused for a moment before speaking, “Lieutenant, some of the men are concerned about this transfer. Why are we being sent to Garlin?”

“I assure you Jogan, as soon as I know, you’ll know.”

“Of course Lieutenant, sleep well.” Jogan saluted again and made his way back through the men, stopping on occasion to speak with some of them.

Alexander understood Jogan’s confusion. When the order came down for him to select three hundred of his riders and join up with Captain Edbar’s infantry unit, he didn’t understand. His confusion wasn’t relieved when he met up with the Captain, who wouldn’t give him any more information other than that they were to make way to Garlin, a city that hadn’t had a military unit stationed there in nearly a century.

Alexander wasn’t sure if the Captain’s unwillingness to pass on the orders was because he was ordered not to say, or if it was his disdain for Alexander. Captain Vanles Edbar had always viewed Alexander as a thorn in his hide. Alexander wasn’t sure what he had done to Edbar to garner such an attitude, but it didn’t seem to matter what he did. Before being transferred to his current post as the head of the Sixth Cavalry Unit, Alexander had been in command of the mounted brigade within the Third Infantry Unit under the command of Captain Edbar, though, Edbar was just a Lieutenant at the time and Alexander a Sergeant.

No matter what it was that Alexander did, Edbar seemed displeased. In the beginning, the Captain had assigned him to meaningless missions, apparently trying to bore Alexander into asking for a transfer, however, Alexander knew that the best chance he had to become an officer was to stay with the highly decorated Third Infantry Unit. After it became apparent that boring him wouldn’t work, Edbar began assigning Alexander to missions that were of the highest difficulty.

During the war between Beldin and Actaron, the infantry unit was often sent to the front lines. Edbar took the opportunity to send Alexander’s cavalry behind the enemy line. The thing that Edbar was unaware of at that time was that Alexander had always prided himself on his skill as a tactician. It was rare that Alexander couldn’t find some way of pulling a positive outcome from a near hopeless situation. When Alexander couldn’t find a way to a victory of some sort, he could usually find a method of retreat that kept the majority of his unit safe.

It wasn’t long before Edbar realized the benefit to having Alexander in his unit, however, when General Therad heard of Alexander’s exploits, he promoted him to Lieutenant and transferred him to lead the Sixth Cavalry. Alexander had originally hoped when he heard that Edbar was leading the troop transfer that his past disdain for Alexander had waned. It was quickly apparent that was not to be the case.

Alexander made sure that his tent was set up to his standards and began his way through the troops towards the Captain’s tent. As he approached, the two soldiers at the entrance to the tent saluted. Alexander returned the salute as he ducked into the tent.

“Captain Edbar,” Alexander said as he saluted.

Edbar held up a finger and continued to write something down. Alexander remained at attention and held the salute until he was recognized.

Finally, Edbar looked up, “Lieutenant Varross, what can I do for you this evening.”
Alexander released the salute but remained at attention, “Captain, I wanted to report that my patrols have returned and that they found nothing that we should be concerned with.”

“Of course not, we are a days march from Garlin with one infantry men and three hundred of your cavalry. Who in their right mind would try to attack us here?” Edbar looked back down to a sheet of paper before looking back up, “Is there something else?”

“Captain, excuse me for bringing this up again, but some of my men are concerned. Are you certain that there is nothing else about this assignment that you can share with me?” Alexander had asked that very question multiple times in the last month of travel from Beldin to Garlin and had always been met with silence and a dismissal. He hoped that this time would be different.

Captain Edbar placed what he was reading on his small desk before looking up at Alexander. He stood from his chair and walked over over to a large wooden chest. He opened the chest and rifled through it, finally pulling a sheet of paper out. He walked over to Alexander and handed him the sheet.

“That is exactly what I was given, if you can glean any more information from it, be my guest.” Edbar said before walked back to his chair.

Alexander unfolded the letter. At the top was the crest of the Beldin Army.

            Captain Vanles Edbar,
                    Your orders are to take one thousand of your infantry to Garlin. You will be met by Lieutenant Alexander Varross and three hundred of his riders. Soon after you arrive, you will receive a missive. The missive will explain your presence in Garlin. Until you receive this missive you are to assist the city guard in their protection and patrolling of the city. May your mission be a success and The Great Weaver watch over you.

                    Third General of the Beldinian Armed Forces
                        Lofric Therad

Alexander looked up at the Captain to find him staring back, “This is it? We are going to enter Garlin with no real reason and then we will receive new orders?”

Edbar smirked, “That’s it, however, the seal and the signature, as well as the handwriting as far as I can tell, are that of General Therad, so if it’s a forgery, it’s one of the best I’ve ever laid my eyes on.”

Alexander set the letter on the Captain’s desk, “Well then, if you have nothing for me Captain, I’ll be on my way.”

“Yes, yes, you’re dismissed.” Captain Edbar said waving his hand as he returned his attention to what was on his desk.

Alexander exited Edbar’s tent and started back to his own. As he approached he noticed Jogan standing outside the door flap impatiently. As soon as he noticed Alexander’s approach he stood at attention and saluted.

“Lieutenant,” Jogan spoke before Alexander could say anything, “You must come quickly, Corporal Bargun has been attacked!”

Alexander stiffened, “What? Quickly, take me to him.”
Jogan immediately began his way through the soldiers tents, “I’m not entirely sure what happened, I was making my way through the ranks as you had ordered me to. When I came upon the Corporal’s tent, I found him struggling with another man.”

“Was it one of ours?” Alexander asked.

Jogan’s head spun back to look at Alexander questioningly before returning to the path before him, “No sir, at least not that I’m aware of. He wore no uniform and I didn’t recognize his face. He is being held in another tent, under guard by six of our men.”

“Very good, how badly injured is Bargun?” Alexander hoped it wasn’t anything serious. Thomas Bargun was one of his better riders and could always be counted on t think for himself when it was needed.

“It didn’t look like anything too serious. The attacker had a knife, but it seems that the Corporal made it out with minor injuries.” Jogan quickly looked back at Alexander.

Alexander wasn’t sure how accurate Jogan’s report was, he had the tendency to misread injuries, making them seem like less of a trouble than they truly were.

Finally they came upon the group of small tents that Bargus had set up in. There was a medic looking the Corporal over as Alexander approached.

“Lieutenant!” Bargus said as he tried to stand. The medic held him fast.

Alexander saluted the man, “Don’t worry about about protocol right now Bargus,” Alexander looked to the medic, “How bad is he?”

“Well,” the medic said with a nasally voice, “He has a rather serious cut along his arm, but other than that he seems to have made it out with rather minor injuries. Once we stitch up the arm and he gives it a couple weeks rest, he should be back in optimal condition.”

“Nonsense Lieutenant, it’s just a small cut, I’ll be fit to ride by the morrow.” Bargus said confidently. Alexander saw the cut along his arm. It ran the length of his forearm. The medic had managed to slow the bleeding, but Alexander could also see the pile of rags it had taken to do so.

“Corporal,” Alexander began, “you’ll follow this man’s directions to the letter, if I hear that you have disobeyed him it will be as if you disobeyed me, understood?”

“Of course Lieutenant, to the letter.” The Corporal responded.

Alexander turned to Jogan, “Take me to the man that did this.”

Jogan spun on his heel and made his way about four tent groups over. There stood six guards with their swords trained on a lone man tied up and sitting on the ground.

Alexander stepped into the fire light. The six men noticed him and nodded, not wanting to take their swords from the man to salute. Alexander pointed to one of the soldiers, “Go and fetch the Captain, I think he’ll want to know about this.”

The soldier sheathed his sword and trotted off towards the Captain’s tent. Alexander stepped between two of the men guarding the prisoner and drew his sword. The rasp of steel against the scabbard rang out in the silence of the night.

“I am Lieutenant Alexander Varross, you are going to tell me who you are and why it is you attacked one of my men,” The man looked at Alexander and spat at his feet. Alexander chuckled before placing the point of his sword at the man’s neck, “I assure you, you would much rather tell me the answers than to wait for my Captain to get here. He’s not nearly the pleasant individual that I am.”

The man stared into Alexander’s eyes defiantly. Alexander examined the man’s face. The dark skin and the slight slant to his eyes marked him as Actarian. Alexander pressed the sword point against the man’s throat until he saw a trickle of blood run down his neck. The man’s eyes widened.

“Are you going to speak?” Alexander asked with a slight curve to his mouth.

“Y… yes, I’ll talk,” The man said.

“Good,” a voice said from behind him, Alexander turned to see Captain Edbar standing beside the fire, a hand on his hip, the other scratching his face, “have him brought to my tent, I’ll question him there. Alexander, good work catching him, is your man okay?”

“He’ll be fine Captain.” Alexander said as he stood and returned his sword to it’s sheathe.

“Very well, you’d best get some rest, I’m sending you and half of your riders ahead of us in the morning to prepare for our arrival and so that your man can get looked over by a healer.”

Alexander was surprised, he didn’t expect that, “Very well Captain,” he turned to the five men left encircling the prisoner, “Escort this man and the Captain back to his tent, stay there as long as Captain Edbar needs you,” he turned to Jogan, “I’m leaving it up to you to select the riders that will be going with us tomorrow, find them and let them know tonight, we ride with the sun. Captain, if there is nothing else, I’ll take my leave.”

Alexander stamped his fist to his chest, Edbar did the same. Show a strong front, Alexander thought to himself. There was no other reason Edbar would have shown the respect to Alexander he just did if it weren’t for the prisoner. Alexander left the tents and headed back to his own.

He sat down on his cot after making it back to his tent. He kicked off his boots and laid back.

Tomorrow we enter Garlin, what a fuss that’s going to cause, Alexander thought as he closed his eyes.

Chapter 1 - The Chase

The sun sat high in the cloudless sky above Garlin. Matthew could not help but smile at the beautiful day as he walked down the street looking for a good stand to find his lunch. It wasn’t long before he spotted Old Man Hantan’s bread stand. It wasn’t the only bread cart in Garlin. It wasn’t even the only bread cart on Merchant’s Street. However, Matthew knew it very well. Old Man Hantan boasted that he made the best bread in the city, and Matthew agreed.

He approached the cart, eyeing the goods, looking for what he would like. A medium-sized loaf sitting on top of a pile of similar breads caught his eye. Matthew watched the baker as a man approached the stand, pointing to a pile of pastries. As the baker took the man’s coin and turned to grab the man’s order, Matthew snatched the loaf and quickly headed off in the other direction.

Matthew was almost certain he hadn’t been spotted until the call went out, “Stop, thief!”

Matthew’s head spun to look back behind him to find the balding baker pointing a long finger at him. He noticed that the baker was moving to the side of his cart, torn between protecting what he had left and trying to get back what had been taken. Matthew turned back around to run only to notice that the crowd was parting for a pair of guards.

“That one, that’s him right there!” The baker continued to shout. Matthew knew the baker was still pointing at him. He spun back the other direction and began to maneuver his way through the thick crowd.

Whenever Matthew managed to find a small clearing in the street, he would pick up his speed, hoping to put as much distance between him and the guards as he could. When he glanced over his shoulder, he found the guards where keeping pace with him. Luckily the crowd that Matthew had originally intended to use for cover was impeding the guards as much as it was him.

“Get him!” The baker shouted at the guards.

“You’ve got to be kidding me,” Matthew muttered under his breath as he pushed his way past another man.

Matthew found himself standing in the middle of a busy intersection. He quickly surveyed his options. Continuing on down Merchant’s Street would keep him in the crowd, however, the cross street was clearer, allowing Matthew more speed. He was certain he could outrun the guards. He wasn’t sure how long it would be before the crowd truly noticed that the guards were after someone and began to work against him.

Matthew glanced behind him one more time to see the guards now beginning to shove people out of the way and closing in on him. He made his decision and began down the side-street. He broke out of the crowd in the intersection and began running. He was glad for his thinner frame, as he often was. It lent him more maneuverability in the street than the guards would have.

Matthew spotted two more guards almost one hundred paces in front of him. Before he would get to them, as long as they did not notice what was going on, he would make it to another intersection. Maybe, just maybe, he could make it.

“You there, stop him!” A voice from behind shouted.

Matthew glanced back to see that the guards chasing him had broke out of the crowd and were sprinting towards him. People jumped out of their way as they ran, something they did not do for him. Matthew looked ahead again to see one the head of one of the guards in front of him spin to look his direction. The man quickly took in the scenario and elbowed his partner before beginning to move towards Matthew.

Run, Matthew thought to himself, pushing himself to run faster, to get to the intersection before the guards. It was going to be close, but if he could manage it he would have a chance at getting free.

“Out of my way!” Matthew shouted at the people in front of him. Heads jerked up and people quickly moved before getting run in to. The intersection was close, but the guards were closer.

Matthew leaned forward, hoping to push himself to move even faster. He shoved a hand into one of his pockets on his vest to hold the apples he had stolen earlier that were bouncing against his hip in an uncomfortable manner. Those weren’t any trouble stealing, Matthew thought. Of course, fruit was easy, it could be put in his pockets. The loaf of bread however was too big for a pocket.

As Matthew and the two guards in front of him both neared the intersection, a wagon drawn by two large horses moved into it. Matthew almost laughed when he noticed that it was on the guards side of the intersection.

Matthew cut the corner, losing very little speed. He heard the guards curse as they had to stop to keep from running into the wagon. He could hear the argument as the guards and the wagon driver exchanged words. Matthew took the chance to glance back. The two original guards were coming around the corner. He could tell from one guard’s manner that he was winded. The other, however seemed to be in fine shape.

Matthew dashed down the clear street creating more distance between himself and the guards. Few people stood in the way, most heard the commotion and cleared a path.

Another intersection, Matthew turned left. He ran as fast as he could. Another turn, right this time. He glanced back down the street as he took the turn. The guards had just made the last turn and spotted him as he made his.

Matthew saw an alley and decided to take his chances. He dove into it and ran to the back. He pressed himself into the corner hoping that he could not be seen in the shadows cast by the buildings surrounding him. He remained as silent as he could, crouched down low into the corner.

One of the guards stepped into the alley and Matthew’s breath caught. Don’t see me, by the weave don’t see me, Matthew thought to himself. The guard took a few steps into the alley, squinting. His eyes passed directly over Matthew. The guard took another survey of the alley as the larger guard stepped in behind his partner, gasping for air.

“You… you see him?” The guard asked between breaths.

“No, he must’ve kept going, come on!” He said as he jogged out the alley and continued down the street. Matthew could see the second guard roll his eyes before trotting after the first.

Matthew waited what felt like an eternity before finally releasing his breath and gasping in air. He sat crouched in the alley for a short time before finally moving to the opening out to the street. He pressed himself against the rough wall of the building and peeked out onto the street in the direction the two guards had gone. Matthew did not see the men. He quickly glanced back the other direction, assuring himself before he stepped out.

He strolled back down the way he had come, retracing his steps back to the first intersection on Merchant’s Street. The street was back to its usual pace now that excitement of the chase had passed. Matthew kept his eyes open for any guards, especially any that might have seen him before. Not seeing any, Matthew started his trek to the warehouse.

He kept the loaf tucked under his arm, protecting it from any that might think he was a good target for theft. Once he entered the storage district he began to jog towards his destination. There was not a single section of Garlin that Matthew considered extremely dangerous, but the storage district was definitely the worst.

He finally approached the warehouse, his home. He walked up to the door and knocked in the predetermined rhythm.

“What’s the password?” A high-pitched, nasally voice called in from the other side.

“Open the door Randson, there isn’t no password,” Matthew called back.

There was a scrapping of metal as the lock was moved back and the door began to open. Matthew shoved it the rest of the way, knocking Randson back. It was not hard, there was little mass to Randson. He had always been thin, even back in the orphanage when they ate rather well, at least Matthew thought it was rather well, he did not have anything better to compare it to.

“Hey, easy Matty-boy, wouldn’t want to get you into any trouble,” Randson chided after he had regained his balance.

“Like Vansen would really believe you if you told him I’d hurt you. Here, have some lunch,” Matthew said as he broke off a chunk from the loaf of bread and tossed it to him.

Randson’s mood changed when he caught the piece of bread and nodded to Matthew. Randson closed the door and slid the lock back into place. Matthew looked around the empty warehouse. Only four or five of the crew were there, most of the others were probably out getting their own lunch. He noticed that many of the ones that were in the warehouse already had theirs.

He made his way across the large room towards Tavira. Tavira had always been a friend to Matthew, even back in the orphanage. She was a couple years younger than he was, but that did not matter much to him. He dropped to the smooth stone next to her and broke what remained of the loaf in half, handing one piece to her.

“Lunch is on me today,” He said as she took the bread.

“Why thank you Matthew, how very kind of you,” She replied. She smiled, revealing her the teeth that seemed too large for her mouth. The smile pushed the freckles that she hated so much up around her eyes.

“No problem. Though, the trouble I went through to get it almost wasn’t worth it,” Matthew reached into his pocket and pulled out an apple, which he handed to her.

“Oh, what happened?” Tavira asked with a mouthful of bread as she took the piece of fruit.

“Old Man Hantan spotted me before I could get away,” Matthew said, “Just so happened there were a couple of guards nearby too. It was quite the chase, thought for sure I wasn’t going to make it this time.”

“Oh, I’m sure your just exaggerating to impress me Matthew,” She said with a mocking grin.

“That or he’s getting sloppy,” A voice said.

Vansen was walking by and had obviously overheard the two of them talking. Vansen was the leader of the crew. He had been at the orphanage too, just like most of the crew-members. Vansen had been released from the orphanage nearly seven years before Matthew and immediately started stealing to survive.

Matthew tossed another apple from his pocket to Vansen as he walked past them. Matthew knew that he did not need to, but he tried to give back to Vansen whenever he got the chance. If not for him, Matthew probably would be imprisoned or dead by now.

Matthew had been almost two years old when his parents died, or at least that was what he had been told. He did not know much about his parents and all he had were fuzzy memories and blurry images when he tried to remember them. After their death, he was taken to the orphanage, where he lived a reasonably comfortable life until his fourteenth birthday. That was when the children were put out from the orphanage, given five copper fangs and told to find work.

The problem was that being fourteen, and not having any trade-skills, there were not very many people that were willing to hire, let alone train him. It was the case of most of the children from the orphanage. Matthew had still tried to find work. He looked for nearly a month, spending his coins only when he had to. Still, five fangs barely lasted him two weeks. Vansen eventually found him and brought him into the crew, teaching him how to steal and survive on the streets of Garlin. That was four years ago. Matthew owed his life to Vansen and tried his best to repay it whenever he could.

Matthew took a bite of the bread, chewing it, savoring it before swallowing. He was glad to have something to eat. There were not many in the crew that dared Old Man Hantan’s bread cart, he had a sharp eye and a fast hand. But he made the best bread on Merchant’s Street without a doubt and Matthew believed it well worth the risk.

“Hey Matthew!” Vansen shouted from the door of what was once the office of the warehouse, “Don’t forget about the meeting tonight!” Matthew nodded to Vansen and he disappeared into the room.