“How fa?”

Thomas reached out and clasped his brother’s hand, “Nothin yet. I no trust that old woman. She like to dey lie anyhow.”

His sister laughed, “Na your fault. You go hear one thing jump this way. Hear another thing, jump that way. No check anything. Me sef, I would lie to you.”

They both laughed as he cursed them.

“Sha.” His brother began, “No mind am too much. Your brain fit for fighting, not for too much calculating.”

That didn’t make Thomas feel any better. He was still calling him a fool. Instead of a simple dullard though, he was a brute. Still no brains, just brawn.

He wanted to punch him, but that would just prove him right.

Eh.

He punched him anyway. It felt good.

His sister laughed at them both, until he punched her too. It turned into a bit of a scuffle, but Thomas won in the end. It was certainly a brutish means of dealing with being insulted, but the afterglow of victory was too bright for him to notice or care.

Within a few minutes they all got over it anyway and started playing cards.

After nine hands, he and his sister both had four wins. In the final round, he got down to two cards while both his brother and sister had six.

He smiled as his turn came, “Last card!”

They both groaned.

We’ll see who no fit calculate.

His sister went to the market, pickup up another card and groaning even louder. When she placed the new card with her others, he turned toward his brother in anticipation. As long as he didn’t have anything to make Thomas pick a card, he’d win.

His brother peeked at him, “Wetin you get?”

“Play and see now.”

His brother squinted while he continued to smile. That smile dropped when he spotted something from the corner of his eye.

“They’re here!”

His sister gleefully threw her cards on the stoll they’d been using as a table and left. Thomas's head fell.

His brother chuckled, “Next time, eh? Let’s go.”

The three fell on the merchant caravan they’d been waiting for like a plague. Every man and woman was killed quickly. They faced some resistance, but Thomas releasing his pent up rage on them sharply put it to an end. Within an hour they each drove a motorwagon full of goods.

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Lamar grinned as he fished hidden keys off the corpse. It was always lovely when others did his work for him. He’d have to thank Old Mya for the assistance.

Having secured the means to pass a particularly pesky set of locks, he returned to his safehouse to prepare. He applied his makeup, fit on his wig, slipped into his fat suit, and organized his outfit. After running a few speech patterns to correct his voice, he gave himself a thrice over in the mirror and headed out.

“Herr Meyer?” The guard outside his destination looked bewildered, “I thought you left with Frau Hanisch’s caravan?”

“Are you a fool? Low Sun approaches and you think I would be traveling?”

“But I swear I—”

“Enough.” He waved away the man’s confusion, “I have work to attend to. Where’s my wife?”

“She’s…” The guard turned sheepish, “Away.”

Lamar smiled beneath his faux frown, “Whore. No matter.”

He was swiftly granted entry into the manor.

A number of shocked servants and aides gazed at him as he marched through the halls. It would have put a younger Lamar on edge, but the more handsome, capable and mature version of him took it in stride. The glare he carefully kept plastered on his face warded him against any investigative efforts. He reached the merchant’s private quarters without another word said in his direction.

Inside, he hurried behind the desk and flipped through the keys. Welded into the desk itself, a safe sat in the bottom drawer. He found the key that fit its hole and slid it open. Various documents waited for him inside.

They got comfortable in their new home in a metallic folder while Lamar moved to the back of the room. Behind a fake bookcase, a set of three separate looks stared at him. The mischievous things had frustrated him to no need, but now no longer.

He found their matching keys and put metal to metal. The ring of the vault door opening was like sweet nectar.

Once the heavy door swung open, he pranced inside. The sight that greeted his arrival almost made him pop his eyeballs right out of their sockets.

Four brik coins laid on a white pedestal at the center of the room.

His lips couldn’t help, but curl into a smile. He hadn’t entered the vault to walk away with any coin, but he’d be the most foolish of fools to turn down such a gracious offer. That was the equivalent of a hundred darkgold just begging to find his grasp.

Ah. You silly man. You could have paid for much better security.

He didn’t forget his primary directive while pocketing the four mana laced coins, of course.

When he had collected all that he needed to, he locked both the vault and the safe and carefully exited the office.

He had been free to ignore the eyes on his approach, but he had to be very discreet in his withdrawal. That wasn’t truly a difficult task for Lamar. He’d stirred enough distaste for Herr Meyer that no regular servant would approach his section of the manor without being summoned. With his primary butler and assistant, both shivering out in the sand, gone, there was no one to see Lamar quietly make his way to a supply closet.

Fifteen minutes later he exited that closet looking like a completely different person. He also had a crate in his hands.

As he made his way to the back entrance, a guard called out to him, “Heading to the workshop so soon?”

Lamar frowned, “The fat boar left seven different work orders on my desk. Just cause his wife is sleeping with a better man, he wants to ruin every other good man’s life.”

The guard tried but failed to stifle his laugh, “Be careful. I heard his planned trip with that widow fell through. They spotted him moping around earlier.”

He spat to the side, “Good. She probably realized how cheap he is. I should follow her lead and quit.”

“I’ve been thinking about it too. I should be getting a darkgold a month for this position. Four gold is an insult.”

“You’re right.” He bumped the man’s plated shoulder, “Anyway, I got to get to the shop. I’ll see you around.”

“See ya.”