The sun was dissipating the morning fog, revealing the squared shapes of stone houses. Ben was running down the cobbled streets of Gravelroy with hell on his heels. It wasn't hell, not really. Except if you considered demons to be overweight, knife-carrying and very angry butchers. His back was slick with sweat from the chase now, as he steered his course towards a busy merchant street. It could work, big folks usually did poorly in crowds, he thought. But they weren't supposed to run so fast, and for so damn long either. Ben had to shoulder his way through a group of people, the usual dirty and rag-wearing citizens of the free city. He cursed when he let his bounty slip from his hands to the ground.

The thief hesitated before giving up on the piece of beef. A bunch of street urchins jumped on it instantly, and he resumed his flight. It wasn't all bad luck though, for the commotion slowed his pursuer down. Ben turned at the next corner, in hope of losing the fat man. He had been stupid, getting confident after a few lucky 'findings', only to nearly lose it all minutes later. 

He kept a hard pace as he went down another lane towards the lower town. His feet were racing on dirt now, while he did not bother to look behind him for his foe. The whole ordeal shouldn't have happened, he thought. Leaving your shop unattended to pursue a burglar was the dumbest thing to do in these parts. You'd find the place wiped clean when you returned to it, that was a given. Maybe there would be a new tenant and a different sign already, Ben mused. Criminals here sure worked fast.

It hadn't been his fault, or not so much. It has been a while since he and Mae had any meat so his hand had moved almost on its own. Back in the Wilds, he'd rarely spend a day without eating some, let alone a whole damn week. Idiot, that had been damn sloppy, never go for a larceny before checking how many folks tended the place. An apprentice must have been in the back somewhere, and the large owner had left him in charge to run after the thief, Ben concluded. He would have noticed the lad, if he had taken his goddamn time!

He was now in view of the slums, his destination. It was the poorest part of town though not necessarily the most dangerous. Shady types usually lurked closer to the stone docks or the cobbled merchant streets, where there was at least some money to be made. The ground under his feet was now turning slowly into mud as his home drew closer. Habitations had regressed from carved rocks to wood. Their shapes as well had had their own evolution: from rectangular and topped with tiled roofs to just 'somehow standing'. -Damn, I forgot!- He glanced behind him to find no sign of pursuit. He must have lost his company at some point, he sighed in relief.

Ben's stomach growled, and he wondered if he could ever get used to having to pay for food. Nothing was growing in this stinking city, and there was not much in terms of game but for rats and pigeons. Nothing hard to catch for a woodsman such as him, but hunting in these parts was nothing like back home. Here you found competition, lots of it. You had to fight your way through the gutter rats to get to the actual animals, and Ben didn't fancy beating on brats much. Not that he was a saint himself, or that the nasty buggers were any better. -they made some of the creatures living in the Wilds look meek in comparison-. But everybody must have a line they didn't cross right? Else you ended up doing stuff such as burning villages and killing babes.

As for pigeons, Ben had spent a nasty few days in the city watch's jail for "endangering the life of the good citizens of Gravelroy". As if the assholes cared about the population's safety, the damn hypocrites. A shakedown is what it had been! Three fresh birds and a good hunting bow! Cursed place. No fruits to pick and you couldn't hunt, no wonder half the population was starving. All things considered, one could be forgiven for a bit of thieving here and there. Ben's lips twitched up at the thought. Good timing that was, for he was going to need his smile. He slowed down his walk.

He was now in front of the door to a rundown shack. One standing among hundreds of similar shelters, made of rotten wood and holes, or mostly holes. Wood, another thing he never thought could cost money in the Wilds. The stuff used to be lying around everywhere, same as food. You just had to pick it up and there was no fat asshole to chase you with a knife when you took some! But here in the free city you found no trees for miles around, it was surrounded by water, between swamps and sea. Ben wouldn't mind the pitiful shed but for Mae's illness, they'd slept in worse places after all. Various doctors kept saying living in such a wet environment didn't help her getting better, while Ben kept asking if there was a single goddamn dry place in the whole city. There probably was a few though, uphill in the high town with them rich folks.

He shook his head and set out to review the day's findings. He took out the leather bag from under his dark wool tunic and peeked inside. A loaf of bread with barely any mold on it, this alone made for a nice day. Unidentified vegetables, probably an overseas kind. One of the benefits of the harbor, -apart from adding to the city's smell-, was that you could eat weird stuff coming from countries with weirder names. Last but not least: a bunch of fresh pastries, Mae's favorites. A good haul he concluded, and most importantly, last night's job had somewhat worked. Things were looking up then, he thought, now all Ben had to do was to summon his best smile and...

"Blessed cunt and holy balls!" A loud, husky female voice shouted inside.

Ben didn't need to force his grin then. Nobody, not even the worst cutthroats or hardened mercenaries in town, cursed the way Mae did. He opened the door and got inside without ceremony. She was sitting on their single stool, working on her long dark hair, fighting week-long knots with a comb. She was holding out a small bronze mirror in the other hand, squinting her eyes at the reflection. Ben sat down on the straw bed wich occupied most of the space, careful not to let her see his damp back, and waited.

"How do I look?" She asked after giving up and putting her weapons down.

She had always been the most beautiful person in Ben's world. Even now, years after he had got over his childish adoration of her. Even now that he was facing a middle-aged, skinny and frail woman. Wrinkles were trying to undermine her fair skin without success. A few teeth had gone missing, in a futile attempt to besmirch her smile. Some treacherous streaks of white had slipped in her mane, and again, failed in graying it. She was still Mae.

"I had to duel a few princes on my way here. They were lining up for a chance to look at your beauty." He said, in his best impression of a fancy nobleman, or what he imagined one sounded like. Her smile widened at that, adding to Ben's joy.

"You must have hit your head somewhere, lad. Last I checked, princes don't smell of piss and cheap wine, like the kind usually lining up in front of my door." She jested.

These eyes and that tone though, those were as sharp as when they first met, Ben recalled fondly.

"Smelled many of 'em princes in yer time, have ya?" He teased her. She rolled her eyes for an answer, picked her comb and went back to her battle.

"How goes thieving?" She asked, wincing as she defeated more of the tangled hair.

"Ain't bad." He showed her his bag, less empty than usual. She nodded in approval before giving him an inquisitive stare. Ben tried to put his most innocent expression on.

"Did something stupid again, did you?" She finally said. -Damn, it never worked with her.- 

"Jus' had a little jog is all. Keep m'self in shape." She snorted at the excuse, and Ben let his face slip into a sheepish smile. "How goes business?" He said, trying to change the subject. She shrugged in response.

There was no judgment between them, never has been. Just two people making conversation, asking how each other's day went. Ben understood that some folks, mostly them godfolks, would find something to say about both of their professions. But he didn't give a damn. He only cared about Mae. Ben couldn't remember smiling before he met her. No smiles no, only pain and despair. The young man didn't know much about God but he was pretty sure his flock was wrong about whores. If Ben had ever met an angel, it was Mae. She was the reason he came to the damn city. She was worth enduring the stench, the weird inhabitants and the constant struggle for food. A small happy cry upon her discovering the pastries took him off from his thoughts. He grinned at her delight.

"Howdya do lasht nit?" The woman asked him, her mouth now full of the stuff.

Ben had to compose himself. Keep smiling he told himself, things were hard enough, no need to had to her burdens. Feeling bad for Mae wouldn't help. The thief used to think her getting old was a good thing, he didn't mind her looks fading for it meant fewer customers and abuse. Less money of course, but out the Wilds Ben could provide for the both of them. He used to dream of Mae retiring and him taking care of her somewhere quiet. But time was having its due. The whore's body was growing tired, her joints aching and now disease had taken hold. The two had tried the few doctors they could afford and none had proven helpful. Only the smoking of some foreign weeds seemed to work these days. Of course, it had to be the illegal sort, more expensive and harder to find. You had to go in the worst parts of town to get it, and folks down there didn't blink once at robbing you. Not much different than the rest of the city then, Ben remarked, or maybe they'd blink twice there.

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"Went as planned." He responded, and she gave him her customary 'I told you so' smirk.

Mae knew the city, it was in her blood. She had left it about ten years ago as she was already aging then. 'If you ain't the prettiest whore round' the corner, you end up spending all yesterday's coin prettying up for today's tumble' she had explained. She had traveled quite a bit since, but Gravelroy had always been always her home. The free city, whose people were too tough and too stubborn to rule as they claimed. No king took it in a hundred years they said. Ben had a different opinion: it was the horrible smell that kept the invaders away. Now Mae had returned, and she wasn't the prettiest around the corner, she had to suffer the very fate she had fled from. The woman had only managed to delay the inevitable by a few years. A sad little victory, but in their world, it was a victory nonetheless. Ben's gaze went back to her, she was crossing her arms, waiting for him to elaborate on his report.

"Got mugged as you said I'd get." He said.

It had all been her idea. Going down there in the slums, taking his 'dumb country bumpkin' accent and clothes as she called them, and asking around for drugs. It had not taken long for some bastards to jump Ben and shake him down. Then they had asked questions, disappointed by the few coins they had found on him. Ben's ma' was sick and he had come a long way to buy weeds to ease her pain, went the story. -Not much different from the real one-. He wasn't going to get much of the stuff with a handful of coppers they had told him. It was his uncle who kept the purse containing the silver, the tale went on. He was waiting in a tavern located in a more proper part of town, having sent his dumb nephew for the errand.

The trick, Mae had said, was to ask for the right amount. Enough so that the thugs had to go and see the middle guy to get it, but not so much as to arouse suspicion from the upper guys, the ones with half a brain. It all had worked in the end, of course it had, for Mae understood the city and its residents. It came with the job, according to her. You didn't grow old as a whore if you didn't. Ben had learned a lot about people from her, he still was.

"Told the story, cried a bit, 'n when they heard 'bout the silver they stopped. Sorry they said, return tomorrow with it they said. Then I left real quick, came back the other way and followed 'em to the middle guy."

She nodded approvingly, and Ben felt as a proud little kid performing a trick he had just learned. He couldn't help his grin then, for he was definitively too old for that.

"In the end, I sat on him a few hours before he went fer the upper guy."

She coughed violently for ten long seconds, before answering. Damn sickness.

"That was quick. Either you got lucky or you got made." She pointed, raising an eyebrow. Ben gave her a derisive snort.

"More like 'em who got stupid." He protested.

"Don't get cocky lad, We're in the city now, things are different here."

She was pointedly avoiding a particular topic. See, Ben was a good tracker in the Wilds, and sneaky when needed. One of his first thoughts arriving in Gravelroy, after the initial shock, was how easy it would be. So much stuff lying around for grabs. So many places to hide among so many people, so much noise and smell to cover his tracks. In the end he'd been thinking like... well, a dumb country bumpkin. Folks here weren't looking for your tracks on the ground, putting their nose up for your smell in the wind, nor were they listening for your footsteps. People here were reading people. They could tell you didn't belong in their neighborhood in a single a glance. They saw him coming from miles away. After many failures, a few days in the city jail following the 'pigeon incident', he had resolved himself to ask Mae for advice.

He'd never seen her laugh so hard, and for so long, than when she heard about the misadventure. 'You actually tried hunting pigeons...' she had paused to catch her breath '... IN THE CITY?...' she'd been rolling on the floor by then '... WITH A FUCKING BOW?'. Ben's face had never felt hotter or more red. He wasn't one to get embarrassed easily, but a lot of passersbys had drawn close to see what all the commotion was about. Soon enough Mae had been telling the story to a crowd. She had sung the tale of 'Ben, pigeon-bane' for days.

She was now giving him a knowing grin, as if reading his thoughts. Ben couldn't help but smile in return. Now, thinking back on these events, he'd do it all over again. Looking ridiculous and all, just to see her have fun that way once more.

"I should have put down a hat on the street and made a show that day. People pay good money for stories like that." She said wistfully.

"I m'self recall some damn silly mistakes bein' made in the woods, by a certain person. On more 'n one occasion." Ben shot back at her.

"Oh, I am not denying doing a few mistakes here and there." Ben snorted at the understatement. "But none that would make people on the street stop and piss themselves laughing." She continued. Ben rolled his eyes at her, faking annoyance. The truth was he was holding down a smile himself.

"Aw' come on lad! You have no idea how it felt all these years in the Wilds. Hearing you saying stuff such as: 'follow the birds' or: 'listen to the leaves', and such shit". She said, imitating him.

Damn if that woman's humor wasn't contagious. Ben's mouth widened and then, right on cue, Mae burst out laughing. Ben followed in defeat, and they went on for a good minute or so. He realized they hadn't had such fun in weeks. It felt really nice forgetting their worries for a bit.

"A'right now, it's been months, I'm a lot better. Pretty sure I didn't get made" He told her as they both finally had cooled down.

It was true, Ben had learned a lot. You HAD to have a suspicious air when walking around low town, Mae had explained to him. Trying to look innocent made him stand out, especially with his facial scars. It made sense, you didn't walk into a wolves' den wearing sheepskin, ben had agreed. 'Drop the dumb smile. And let your hair and beard grow, it's so short it looks plain weird. Like a kid who got lice.' she had advised. Long hair was stupid, it could get dirty and then smell, or get into your eyes at the wrong time. But Ben had complied and now he had the appearance of a proper criminal. One with short blond hair, and a week old beard covering most of the cuts on his face. Ben didn't use to like his somewhat middling size. Small and nimble could be useful to hide, climb and such, whereas tall and big helped in a fight. Medium size was just stupid. But here in Gravelroy, it helped. Too short was same as catnip to petty bullies, while too large attracted other big bastards for pissing contests. All in all, he now looked shabby enough, but not too much.

"Watched the upper guy the rest of the night, lookin' fer any deliveries goin' to the nicer bits of town." He continued.

"You being back and bringing groceries to boot tells me you already found something." She noted.

Ben winced before answering "Aye. Got an address. Weird place though..." He hesitated. She raised an eyebrow at him.

"Looks to be an old church, but different. Like it's not one anymore. Like some folks took a church and turned it into some kind of prison. Got bars on windows, guards, walls and such."

"Aw shit." She winced.

He paused and waited. She seemed to have recognized the place during his description. The plan was to rob some customer. One from a wealthy neighborhood who bought directly from higher in the criminal chain, meaning quantity. Such types would surely not make a fuss, Mae said. They couldn't really complain to the city watch about stolen drugs, nor would they investigate the slums. Rich folks didn't go there.

"The loonie bin!" Mae exclaimed, finally remembering the place's name.

"The what?" Ben asked, startled.

"You know loonies, loons! People not right in the head, demented and such. It's a place where they put them. The drugs must be to keep them quiet." She explained.

"Never heard anythin' of the sort." Ben answered, bewildered.

"It's the only one actually. Some priest got in his head to help them loonies years ago, it explains the church I guess." 

"Ya mean, I got to sneak in a place full of lunatics? What if I catch the crazies myself? What about 'em walls, bars on windows, guards and all that? What if I get got? They gonna lock me up with 'em cracked folks?" He ranted, distressed.

Ben had already thought it a bad idea, upon seeing the building the night before. The security was much more than expected and now it sounded well... crazy. He'd seen some of the insane things people can do, drunk on alcohol, drugs or violence. And there was the special kind of madness that happened at war, in the heat of battle. But in this case, it sounded like full-time crazy folks. And a place filled with them! He'd have to go back and sit on the drug guy a few more nights and find an easier prey. No way he was going in there.

"I think you can do it. Ain't that many loons inside, they just keep the wealthy ones or so I heard." Ben was not looking very convinced, so Mae went on:

"Well the poor ones don't grow old, nobody can afford to spare bread for them."

Ben nodded. Of course, folks here had a hard time enough feeding themselves, who else could afford taking care of mad kids but the rich? But raising crazies? You'd have to be one yourself to have such an idea. The more Ben heard about rich folks, the less they made sense to him.

"What 'bout security then? Seems to me they got a shitton of it." He asked. He still didn't want to go there.

"Think about it lad, who would try to break in such place?" She raised both hands in askance. "The guards and everything else, It's all here to keep the loons inside." she concluded, with her 'I got it all figured out' grin.

Ben couldn't believe he was now considering the whole enterprise. Sneaking in such a mad place, what did that make of him? He looked at Mae. There was a bit of worry behind her smile, worry and some guilt. Mae didn't like asking him to do this for her sake, but she knew him well. He'd try something anyway, so she might as well do the planning. Ben sighed in surrender, before standing up. He kissed her fondly on the forehead before heading for the door.