The city of Natieburg lies on an island in the middle of the giant Naties river, both named after an ancient deity. Few people remember the name of said god anymore, but Natieburg is renowned throughout the Midderns. It’s strong defensive position and placement on the river made it an important economical stronghold, and it also had the only viable river-crossing for several miles. Settlements had existed here for over a millennium, and the island changed ownership several times during this time. Currently, it belongs to the Gerhardts, a noble Kleureckian family and vassals of King Alfons.
Just outside the walls lay a large harbour with all the necessary authorities and business needed for seabound mercantile. Here lay also several taverns, one in which we find can find a man of ill repute. His name is Vangelo, and he is a thief. His frame is unassuming due to his heavy black coat, but underneath he is as trained as an elite athlete. His deep green eyes and black hair are his only distinguishing features, his face could only draw attention in its inconspicuous nature. This was all according to plan, for the man was indeed a scoundrel who sought to deceive any and all potential targets. He spent a few moments looking over the crowd while taking sips from a cup of local brew. After seeing neither interesting characters nor anyone looking his way, he put a silver coin on his table and left the tavern.
He sauntered down to the river shore. A circus had come to town and set up camp at a prime fishing location, which obviously caused some irate fishermen to make complaints to the local law. They attempted to evict them twice but ended up with elongated ears and droopy noses as a result. The chief of law gave up, as they were not causing any real harm and had never kept the fishermen from fishing in the first place, even if they were indeed a curious pack. Among them could be found a man Vangelo had met many years ago in a Saragesian prison, an incredible acrobat named Ghil. But Ghils talents did not end at his physical abilities. He was also a master mage with quite a few magical tricks up his sleeve. Supposedly undetectable if his claims were to be believed. He had confided in Vangelo after the latter had the former’s back in a brawl with the prison-guards. They were thrown into the Pit, a 20metre deep hole with a slick surface and runescript on the walls, negating any use of magic. The entire prison was obviously protected by a barrier to keep magic locked inside, but in the hole the effect was heightened to prevent conjuration of even the most basic food and the like, supplies that could make the experience milder. In those dark depths, time moved slow, and the men slowly but surely started conversing. By the end of the three-day sentence they were deeply intertwined spiritually, and friendship soon bloomed from the experience.
Vangelo went straight through the camp towards the riverbank. Suspicious glares shot his way, but he ignored them. If any true danger came his way, the pebble kept in his right pocket would let him know by vibrating. He found Ghil hanging by his feet from a line tied across the river, silently humming to himself. Ghil appreciated the act of meditating deeply and considered it an essential part of his abilities. ”Meditation centers my physical and spiritual being within myself. It gives me focus and a calm mind that makes what I do possible. Most people would be busy thinking about all manner of things while doing these moves: how fast am I going, what if my grip slips, where do I go next. It clouds your focus. With clear focus you can think while you act and create a more flowing movement. It is all in the spirit, my man.”, he once told Vangelo. To him, Ghils philosophy sounded like ramblings but he supposed it was a personal thing. As for the hanging upside down, Ghil always did like attention.
He stepped down to the shore and crouched down by the water. He grabbed a stone and threw it casually at Ghils reflection. The rogue kept his eyes shut as he opened his mouth to speak:
” I couldn’t hear your breathing dear friend, I take it the training paid off?”
” How could you tell it was me, could have been a farmhand come to fawn over the boastful acrobats.”
” Ough, not my pride, Vangelo. You know that mean comments makes me all sad inside. I could tell because you still have the same stomplike walking pattern. They teach you to conceal your breath but not change your habits? So much for being untraceable. Sloppy.”
” They” refered to a group of thieves the pair had met in jail, led by a man who called himself Yujak. Yujak and his band considered their own abilities of subterfuge superior to all others, and so Vangelo slowly developed a relationship with the group by performing small tasks for them. Smuggling contraband, taking blame for ”disagreements” with guards and even assisting in the occasional murder of rival inmates. After his release he sought them out to learn what they had to teach.
” Turns out Yujak had a pretty big mouth that fed his ego beyond what could be delivered. He perished along with his group when guards stumbled upon them mid-heist in some country noblemans estate.” Vangelo left out the part where he had informed the guards of the bands actions. He knew that Ghil would understand. ”This breathing technique is all I really have that is of any use to us. I can however cook a delightful duck over flames and tie about 30 different knots. So there is that I suppose.”
” At least it is one less group to compete with. Now I take it you didn’t come find me only to tell me tales of third rate thieves and their lackluster skills.” Ghil spoke with a soft voice, his eyes still closed and his face in a completely serene expression.
” Indeed, old boy. I have something. Something that will pique your interest without fail. However, I fear that curious eyes and ears might snatch it right from us. Meet me at Elsatoria in two days time, I’ll prepare a secure room for us. Think ’Anastasia’, Ghil.”
At the mention of Anastasia, Ghil’s eyes flew open and he turned towards Vangelo, but his friend had already turned and walked briskly up the riverbank towards the camp. A sensation spread through Ghil’s body, a combination of exhilaration, glee… and fear. Anastasia was his deceased love, a fierce soul with burning auburn hair and eyes like a stormy sea. She had been executed for heresy in Ballakonika nearly a decade ago, an event that had led Ghil down a dark path of debauchery and depression. He hunted down her executors, ending their lives slowly and gruesomely, and was finally captured in Sargonia for theft. However, the Ballaks and the Sargonians were at open war with each other, and so he was simply imprisoned for his crime. In prison he had battled the darkness that consumed him from inside for months when he had a vision of himself and Anastasia reunited on top of a gallow of gold with the monarchs of Sargonia, Ballakonika and Haggagrio hanging by their necks from chains of silver. As he woke up he could have sworn that he still felt her lips on his. From that day, he had gained a second wind in life. He met Vangelo a year after and told him of his vision. He knew Vangelo didn’t believe in superstition, visions and clairvoyance but his friend was none the less supportive. “I too have lost precious things to zealots”, and so they swore in blood to assist the other if the time came when their goals where within reach. They were not weary of the sacreligious ritual for they had nothing left to lose.
His reminicing was interrupted when he felt he was being watched by malicious eyes. He turned his head towards the camp and he saw, quite far away, the latest addition to the performing troupe staring at him. It was a young man who always wore a lavish mask from the Saragesian masquerades of old. The only thing he could see of his face were his almost glowing eyes, a pale lemon yellow that pierced deep into anyones soul. He hadn’t given any name or title when joining, so the showgirls named him Limoneia because of his eyes. He stared straight into Ghil’s eyes for a moment before he slowly turned and went towards the cantine. Ghil felt a chill run down his spine. He didn’t trust the masked man; he never flinched even when accidentally struck by a knife during a rehearsal and his breathing was so regular as to be irregular, it was as if he was ghost manifesting a physical form. Beyond anything concerning mortals, and yet by any measure there and alive.
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He stretched up and grabbed the line with his hand and then swiftly made his way towards shore. After a swift dismount he made his way towards his own tent. It was furthest from the wall, next to a massive field that stretched for miles, only interrupted by small dirtroads and paths leading towards small villages and farmsteads. His wish had been to be placed near the river, but beggars can’t be choosers and the field was serene enough for him to sleep calmly. He had developed a theory that sleeping in an environment that was calm would in turn bless his dreams, and ever since he started living after this theorem not a single nightmare had troubled him.
His tent was not grand, but it did fit a myriad of personal treasures, strange magical utilities and a hammock. He refused to sleep on a cot or on the floor. An exotic musk was ever present around his tent, something that gave him some subtle privacy since most people would give the tent a wide berth for fear of falling under some form of transic spell. The smells were from harmless incense and ingredients, but Ghil was not about to tell anyone that. He prepared a diguise for the evening, as well as a magical alibi. He scrounged up a cream hidden in a pile and rubbed it on his left pinky finger. The finger slowly began to dissolve and reform as a full-size clone of Ghil, a perfect replica. The replica could not speak or think really, but it was only going to be sleeping anyway until Ghil returned, after which it would once more return to being just a pinky. It laid down in the hammock and soon started snoring. Ghil placed another cream on his chin and cheeks and dabbed it lightly on his lip. A beard and mustache swiftly formed from the cream, and he snapped his fingers to turn it a dark red. He then dressed in an inconspicious outfit of a coat, sailors hat and working-class trousers. When he was finished with the diguise he took a deep breath and jumped lightly in the air. As he landed his body vanished into the earth. It reappeared down by the river, a place Ghil had distinctly imprinted to memory. Transporting himself like so could be dangerous unless you knew the destination perfectly. He made sure that there was no one aware of him, and then set off towards the city with a brisk walk. He passed through the gates of the huge walls and made his way towards the tavern by small winding alleys and streets. People passed him by in a general hurry; they ran the gambit from old maids returning from the market to errant children sprinting from pursuing guards. Ghil remained in the perfect spot of inconspicuousness. He stood out just enough to be ordinary. Before long, he was at the Elsatoria, a midsize three floor tavern for travellers and merchants. A perfect location to stand aside from the focus of others. The door was open, and a musical troupe could be heard from inside, singing songs of the countryside. After making his way inside he walked up one flight of stairs to a balcony overlooking the first floor, sat down at a table and brought out a pipe. He quickly prepared and lit the tobacco inside after which he whipped forth a small book, Archives of the Kaleian Dynasty. The Kaleians were a noble family from the west that died out a century back, and their alleged endless treasury had yet to be found. Naturally, a subject of interest to the two thieves who used the subject as a signal to one another. Sure enough, a few moments later a man took a seat next to him at the table. He wore an emerald coat and a wide-brimmed hat, with only his glimmering orange eyes visible in the darkness, but Ghil could tell that it was Vangelo by the rhythm of his breathing, or rather lack there-of. The smoke from Ghils pipe inconspicuously enveloped the table like a bubble, a magic precaution to keep curious ears from hearing their sensitive conversation. Vangelo started speaking in a low voice once the coast was clear.
“I take it you were not followed here. Good. Now, listen carefully. A few nights past I met a man in a town down south who claimed to be the former treasurer of the royal family in Klereucken, personally chosen by the late King Alfons Hake. Seems the Crown Prince saw fit to renew his cabinet immediately after his coronation, and so about eight tenths of the nobles at court were thrown out and replaced by younger allies of the prince’s. Naturally, it aggravated quite a few of these stroppy old fools, and said treasurer blabbed eagerly about various pieces the royal family kept in their vaults. Among them was an old signet ring of Hildefons, the Bull of Veffel. I’m sure you can recall someone who would be quite interested in it.”
Ghil leaned in towards Vangelo, and replied softly: “Is it really the ring that Cavod yammered on about?”
A smile crept over Vangelos darkened face. “The very same, I had it described in detail, and it would indeed seem to be the same ring. It’s true that we have nothing but anecdotal proof but considering Hildefons was indeed Klereuckean it doesn not seem too far fetched. The story does not end there however. Another patron approached the man asking about details, where the relic could be found. It is resting in a chamber inside the Lockbox and is under permanent guard as well as protected by countless charms and magic seals. Impenetrable for anyone who is not privy to its secrets. Unfortunately, the good old treasurer had his memories locked away with what appears to be a bronze chain. Not broken so easily.”
Ghil leaned back in his chair. “I take it you found a way to crack it then?”
Once more a grin spread across Vangelos shadowy face. “Aye, the other patron was a cerebral expert. It took us about two days, but we did break the seal. Our poor treasurer sadly did not survive the procedure, but we have a complete schematic of the Lockbox’s innards. Every trap, seal, lock and barrier mapped out. We can get in, Ghil. And here’s the best part: our partner, who called himself Pascci, apparently works with a small party of magical experts around the world. One of them is researching reanimation. And before you scoff with skepticism, I saw it with my own eyes, Ghil. A dead flower returned to life, with no defects. Obviously, a flower is not a person, but it is promising, no?”
Ghil stared at his feet for a moment, heavy in thought. Vangelo leaned back and brought forth a big cigar. He lit it and took a few puffs. “It would be preferable if we can have it done within a week. If you are in, we should start planning and preparing right away. I have a sketch of a plan ready that you should look over for any mistakes or points that might result in failure.”
Ghil did not take his eyes from his feet as he began to speak. “This reanimation...was it a gruesome thing, or did it appear holy and pure? I would not have her rise...a husk, or worse.”
Vangelo placed a supportive hand on Ghils shoulder. “It was shocking, but certainly miraculous and pure. Trust me, Ghil, it is worth a try.”
Ghil looked his friend in the eyes. Vangelos eyes may have been transformed, but deep within them Ghil could see the honesty of his intentions. The skepticism Ghil felt was in no way a sign of distrust towards his dearest friend, nor was it serious doubt towards the plan. It was more a feeling of disbelief towards the fact that he could ever hold his beloved in his arms once more. An interanl moral battle raged as to wether he could trust the purity of the magics used for these resurrective experiments. What if she was not resurrected, and it was in fact an imposter, a walking carcass decked out in a fine disguise that appeared before him as his one and only love. Could he perhaps learn to love such a thing? Maybe...
No, the thought revolted his insides as soon as it had entered his mind. It was an offense towards Anastasia, an insult that he would never suffer unto her. However, he was desperate, and it was a unique opportunity...
“Fine, I’m with you. Let’s see this plan of yours.”
A massive, gleeful smile poked out of the shades on Vangelos face. He hastily pulled forth a scroll of parchment and unfurled it across the table as he spoke. “Fantastic. I knew you would be interested. Now I have already done some scouting of the surrounding areas and the men on guard...”
As Vangelo described his plan to Ghil, surrounded by the sound-dampening cloud of smoke, a shadow crept across the ceiling. It was almost unnoticeable in the candlelit tavern, but it formed the shape of a man. The shadow came closer and closer until it stopped above the two thieves table. Two eyelids formed in the black shade, and when they opened a pair of pale eyes peered down onto the scroll, lemon yellow their colour.