Vol: Ch1 - Phantom Thief
A hermit moved out at midnight, carrying a only his backpack and his bag of break-in tools, threading through the forest, rock to root to rook, every step of the way memorized. Not a single boot print nor anything relating movement was left behind. It was cold and near damn moonless, an ideal night for a raid, if only he wasn't sick and worse off, this blizzard wasn't here. But choosing not to complain furthermore, he continued to hike downwards a mountain right into a small fort. A demon fort bordering a human kingdom, he was frighten at the though of capture, but he had to risk it. There laid a small castle surrounded by walls, but it was the cabin's and other houses spread along the walls that mattered. Making his way along the walls, and into alleys, finally he found the building he was looking for. With an expert twist of his tool, he popped open a door of a large dining hall and slipped inside, slowly locking the door behind him. Always weary for other intruders, he scanned the pantry shelves and other possible places for supplies, if only it wasn't so dark.
Jerky! Always welcomed. A half eaten loft of bread too, all stuffed into the backpack. Followed by some jars of jelly, he just stumbled upon in some drawers, odd place to leave them in. But this was barely anything at all, he need more, or else this winter would be his last. He searched around, but sadly found not much more, however he spotted a double steel-reinforced door. On a previous raid here, he had stolen a key, hopefully to this door. The key had attached a dried up four-leaf-clover key chain, strike that, a three-and-a-half-leaf clover. Lucky or Unlucky, who knew but he needed the food.
Normally he would have already left long ago, he had taken far too long, made too much noise. The reason he was never caught was that he would break in, immediately head to the pantry or whatever held food. Loot what he could, be gone under two minutes and head towards a different building or go home, if he took to long. But being desperate, for food and maybe medicine, as he was sick, he chose to remain. He then to slowly put the key in the lock and turn it around.
Goodness! The door lock clicked incredibly loudly, scared him stiff, only to quickly entered. He could have used a bit more of luck, but to no avail he still wasn't caught. Inside only laid some barrels, another pantry, along many crates and sacks. A tripwire, quite an obvious one too, carefully walking over he tip-toed towards some barrels. Lifting the lid, only to find them empty, he choose to try his luck elsewhere. He could not open the crates, not as he was anyway, so sacks it is. Untying them revealed what looked like rotten dried vegetables. Lastly peeking into the pantry, he found his old friends, Duke Darkness and Nancy Nothing, how dreaded to meet them here. Now what? A tea party? Should I invite over Miss Fortune and Sir Prize? He had enough, this welcome was overstayed enough. Closing the door and locking it, this time slowly, he turned around to meet spears. RATS!
Well as if this wasn't a bad enough night to begin with.
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*Priorly on those streets*
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A guard patrolled the streets, he was utterly unlucky, at such a frigid night too. Disheartened he willed himself, only a few more hours till daylight, he thought. With cold hands he held this spear and shield close to him. It didn't give him comfort, but he had to keep himself distracted. Looking towards the blizzard, he pondered the point of this endeavour.
What?
He almost missed it in this weather, but he spotted it, a moving silhouette. The figure moved slowly, almost painfully into the alleyways. Who could it be? Not wanting to ponder on it, he trailed behind it. If it weren't for the fact that it moved slowly and struggled to advance, he would have lost him twice over. Then he saw the figure breaking into the dining hall. A Thief?
He barely now realised, how had he avoided the other detection methods? There was a perimeter of detection magic around the walls, just in case of an invasion. Although he was low on magic, he ran a quick detection spell, but it gave no results. Could it be? Was it him? Unsure of what to do he ran towards another cabin, arriving there he vigorously knocked on a door.
"WHO is it at this TIME?"
The door cracked halfway as a demon looked at him from inside. "Not important, the Phantom Thief, he's HERE." Exclaimed the guard.
Finally edging out of the house an old bearded demon gazed straight at him as if pondering the meaning of such words. "WHERE?"
The guard stood straight flexing his fingers nervously. "At the Dinning hall, just now."
Quickly did the man retread inside, only to come out with his spear and shield. "YOU go boy, I'll alert the rest."
Immediately he ran back to the dining hall, hoping the thief hadn't already left or had heard his footsteps, he made his way back. Odd, he felt exited, knowing this may be the downfall of this thief. Slowing his breath, he calmed himself. He knew if this thief stepped back into the darkness, neither he nor anyone else might ever find him again. Not wasting any more time, he speed up his pace. Finally arriving, he hoped he wasn't late, he looked through a crack of a window.
And there he was. Probably. The person stealing food appeared entirely too clean, his clothes well too kept. Not looking at all like a beggar or the stereotypical thief's in bondage black or brown leather, with a massive buckle belt fetish. NO. Nothing of the sort. Just a simple person wearing normal clothes with a hood over his head, not that was suspicious at all, there was a freaking blizzard out here. Was this really the Phantom Thief, the one who tormented the local surrounding communities for years -almost a decade- yet no one even knew his name, much less his origin. Glad to have called his captain priorly, he simply waited patiently for him to leave the dinning hall.
REALLY?
He heard a startling loud sound, surprised as he expected this supposed legendary thief to know better. He looked again to see the thief entering a double door, their supplies cache, and closing it behind him. After some time pondering his choices, the guard decided to discreetly enter the dining hall, leaving the door behind him open for the other guards to come in. Then, he and other soon to arrive guards, would lie in ambush for the thief.
Not long after, some men quietly entered behind him careful to not make a sound and disturb their dear guest, and locked the door behind them. Without a single word they all the men quickly hid, waiting in ambush for the thief to return. They couldn't hear a single sound from the room, and it made them anxious. Did he exit without us knowing? Couldn't be, the was no other way out. Finally after some time they heard as the thief opened the doors, to gently close them behind him. Before he could turn around they surrounded him, with spears held forward.
Then they finally saw his face, was this really the legendary thief.. No the myth that haunted everyone for years. The Phantom Thief, could it really be this kid? Silence ensued for a brief moment until...
"GET ON THE GROUND!" bellowed a fellow guard bluntly, breaking the silence.
The thief complied, no resistance, no comments, he just laid face down on the ground, jerky spilling out of his backpack. After they tied him up, the guards demanded to know who he was. He refused to answer, or maybe couldn't reply, probably didn't even know the language to begin with. His skin was strangely pale with expressionless eyes, I simply glanced back at him before he started staring at the ground. He wore a nice set of clothing, his backpack, some other bags, and his sturdy boots. The guards searched him, but nothing that could indicate where he came from could be found. Only some food and the amazingly bountiful emptiness of his bags and backpack.
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*After escorting the suspected thief to jail, not before beating the other crap out of him*
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(Child abuse is bad, M'Kay. Only trained law-enforcers were allowed to such a thing. So please to only try at home, if and only if, you could get away with it. Like these guards.)
Another guard, this time a woman and possibly a succubus, the only who really knew multiple languages, was left alone with the kid. She entered his cell, removed his handcuffs and laid a glass of water in nearby table. Although glass was quite expensive, especially nowadays, she personally still treated this possible phantom thief, although bloodied and ragged looking, with some respect, even if he was just a child. She asked questions, in many languages and different dialects, even repeated herself over many times but no answers ever came at first. After what felt almost like hours, he finally did something different. He started sobbing, only very softly and timidly. Only little of course. When she asked if he simply didn't want to speak, he was as talkative as the bars that held him prisoner. Only making noises when beaten furiously. Such a dull woman couldn't understand the problem. Really? She could tell he was bloodied and ragged, not to mention sobbing softly from time to time, but apparently could not make the connection.
Enjoying this book? Seek out the original to ensure the author gets credit.
He finally, after so long, spoke haltingly, uncertainly and as soft as whisper. Only to be question again by the lady, all this resulting in him immediately withdrawing back. But over the next couple of days, he gradually opened up. Good thing the lady had slept with enough humans to understand one of their main languages.
Although his name never revealed, as he himself didn't know it, nor was his age either. She was unsure of what to do. Such a long time for him to start speaking, although barely, but now he seemed to about himself just as much as they currently did. She opted to ask the only viable question she could think off, where did he live.
Timidly he stared down and almost as a soft whisper responded, "In the woods... N-near the mountain tops".
Hearing this the woman was shocked, really? The mountain tops? Even if the nearby mountain was a fairly small one, it's still not a habitable place, especially not for a boy like him. How could this young boy survive every winter, it was known that winter was long and cold. As stunned as she was left, she knew she had to continue the interrogation. After some time of pondering, she believed she had found the best follow up question, this would hopefully break the silence that had ensued. Maybe even confirm his time line as either the legendary thief or just another abandoned kid.
"How long?"
The kid only stared at her, pondering an answer, but he himself probably didn't know. "As far as my memory goes... "
After having replying so, he look at the ceiling no longer responding to any form off stimuli, who knows what thoughts could plague such a young mind like his.
For her the silence was almost unbearable, so she decided to attempt to investigate more about this kids life. Although she was supposed to be interrogating him, as in bashing his head against the wall if unresponsive like the other guards, she wasn't angry at the lack of answers. Despite so, she kept inquiring about his life, and every so often she'd actually get answers. While she was interrogating him, the guard captain had days ago gone inform the lady of the castle, but not before he and the other guards went to get drunk.
What would be decided for him is unknown, but most wouldn't expect him getting a light treatment. Especially after what he had already suffered at the hand of the guards.
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*In the town hall, not so far away*
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A few days later, a quick summoning was given to inform, those who attended, to the current events.
The Phantom Thief was arrested, charged with burglary, theft and somehow resisting arrest along sides with assaulting the interrogating guards. He had been transported to the castle's dungeon for further punishment as he awaited for his trial.
For the first time in over 3,000 days, the thief had slept indoors, but it came with traumatizing consequences.
News of the capture stunned the citizens of all the surrounding region. For almost a decades, they’d felt haunted by... something. It was hard to say what. At first there were only some strange occurrences. Signs of water drained from their local well. Food disappeared from their pantries. New tools from their workshop had been replaced by old ones. "My grand-kids thought I was losing my mind," said a blacksmith, whose forge was broken into at least fifty times.
Then people began noticing other things. Wood shavings near window locks; scratches on door frames. Was it a neighbour? A gang of teenagers? The robberies continued: daggers, bows, winter clothing, books. Fear took hold. "We always felt like he was watching us," one resident said. The guards were called, repeatedly, but were unable to help.
Locks were changed, new magic spells were installed. Yet nothing seemed to stop him. Or her. Or them. No one knew. A few desperate residents even left notes on their doors: "Please don’t break in. Tell me what you need and I’ll leave it out for you." There was never a reply. Others choose to purposely leave out poised food and water out in the open. At first that poised food also disappeared, but soon enough that was avoided.
Incidents mounted, and the ghost morphed into legends. Eventually he was given a name: the Phantom Thief.
At the town hall meeting currently held, although only around a hundred people were present, it asked who had suffered break-ins. Sixty-two raised their hands. Campfire-like stories were swapped. One noble kid recalled with indignation that, when he was 13 years old, all his birthday candy was stolen. That kid is now 19.
Still the robberies persisted. The crimes, after so long, felt almost supernatural. "The legend of the thief lived on for years and years," said the Guard Captain, whose pants and belt were worn by the hermit, thief, when he was caught. "Did I believe it? No. Who really could?"
The thief’s arrest, rather than eliminating disbelief, only enhanced it. The truth was stranger than the myth. One kid had actually lived in the woods near the mountaintops for about a decade, possibly in an unheated home. Winters around here are long and intensely frigid: a wet, windy cold, the worst kind of cold. A week of winter camping is an impressive achievement. An entire season only possible by experienced rangers and some other less law abiding bandits, but years? It was, and still is, practically unheard of.
Though hermits have been documented for thousands of years, his feats appeared to exist in a category of its own. He engaged in zero communication with the outside world. He was never sighted before. He did not keep a journal on himself. His camp was still undisclosed to everyone.
There may have been others like him, who committed to isolation, but his was absolute as it seemed he planned to live his entire life in secret. Capturing him was the human equivalent of netting a giant squid by chance. He was an uncontacted tribe of one.
Scholars and adventurers, as they should be better called... bandits, across the region and the whole demon kingdom, who apparently had nothing better to do, would soon enough want to attempt to contact him. What could he had to tell them? What secrets had he uncovered? How had he survived? Yet he remained resolutely silent. Even after his arrest, the Phantom Thief remained a complete mystery.
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*At castle's Lords Bedroom*
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All of this information vexed Lady Cassandra, the Castle's Lord Wife, what was she supposed to do with this kid? Laws required he be publicly stoned followed by his trial. Even in the best scenario his hands would be mangled, all the way up to death sentence. Yet she didn't really want to do anything of the sort. She simply wanted to idle around like any other noble woman. Unfortunately she couldn't just let him go, he might return to his thieving ways, but cutting of his hands, or killing him, felt too over the top for her. She had never before had to take tough decisions, it was always her husband, but he was unavailable at the moment. Not to mention the guilt she'd have to carry knowing she ruined this poor boys life and possibly drove him to a worse profession, should he be spared. Perhaps it was just the pheromones from her being pregnant but she really didn't want to hurt the boy. Maybe he could be reintegrated into the community as a.. A Locksmith?? Maybe? Such naive thoughts clouded her mind, stagnating her decision. She was unsure of what to do, follow proper punishment protocol or try otherwise?
Weeks of indecisiveness passed as she kept postponing the decision, unhappy of that the citizens demanded she now had to go through with it, or else they would do to it themselves.
Since the lord was gone the citizens didn't show any hint of respect for her or her decision. Clamouring for power, many other nobles planned to use this as an excuse to disturb the peace, maybe even take over. Knowing that she will soon what have to do something or risk a revolt. She finally announced the proceeding of the trial and she had till the next daylight to choose what to do to him. Since trials were a bunch of lies, trials were only held for the entertainment of plebeians and more eccentric nobles. The decision of how to punish, or torture, prisoners was usually already taken long before they were even captured.
Everything pointed towards a bad ending for the child.