"Naivety" thought Efren, watching Gestas pilfering the stall "is a luxury."

"...which is why your blatant disregard for the laws of this city is an affront not only to my own sensibilities, but to all that is fair and just in all of the King's lands! Why, I've half a mind to notify the Watch this very moment of your egregious trespasses, perhaps then you'd at least think before brazenly disregarding our sacred customs!"

For a brief moment the farmer simply stared at Efren in stunned silence, his mouth open ever so slightly as if wanting but unable to formulate a reply.

"Wha...what in Dagon's name are you on about!?"

"Could it possibly be that this simpleton is unaware of his boundless ineptitude?" Efren mused out loud. The farmer's face visibily reddenned. "Very well potatoe hocker I shall deign to educate you. This" Efren pointed at the ground between them "is land belonging to His Grace Duke Peter the fifth. It is my duty as a loyal subject to prevent those such as you who seek to trespass and defile His Grace's lands from doing so, to this purpose I demand that you remove your unsightly stall from these grounds immediately!"

"Now hold on just a minute" the farmer started, indignant "I paid the tolls and I have a permit for this spot until tomorrow" he pulled free an official looking writ of paper from his back pocket "it says right here-"

Efren snatched the sheet out of the man's hand in one swift motion. "Hmm let's see, yes this does all seem to be in order, but how am I to know this isn't a forgery?"

"There's a- wait a minute, why should I have to prove anything to you? For that matter who in the hells are you?" From the corner of his eye Efren spied Gestas, signalling him that they were done here.

"Me? No one in particular, good day sir." In three fluid steps Efren deposited himself into the crowd of people on the high street opposite the stall. The farmers's beleaguered shouts followed him as he sped through the crowd, but they soon faded, drowned out by the din of the seething mass of humanity Efren had embeded himself in. I almost feel sorry for him. Efren thought as he made his way home. Almost.

...

"So what's the haul?" Efren asked as he replaced the faux well-made clothes that he and his partner kept for distractions like the one they'd just pulled. In his usual ware he would seem just another poor raving madman, but dress up a bit and suddenly he was a rich raving madman, which was far more dangerous to ignore, as far as merchants were concerned at least.

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"Few silver pieces and a couple sacks of the nicer produce, nothing special but least we'll be eating I 'spose." Gestas replied, shrugging.

"Oh I think we'll be doing more than eating." Efren grinned, pulling out the permit he had appropriated from the farmer.

"Wassat then?" Gestas asked, one eybrow raised.

"This, my ever curious friend, is a permit for the setting up of a stall in the market today only. More importantly however it is signed by one Magistrate Thalantyr."

Gestas let out a low whistle. "Va'dar'll pay you a pretty penny for that, old Thalantyr's been stingy as a banker givin' out his signature since he got into office, way I hear it none of the forgers have even had a glance at his handwriting yet. Why'd you think he signed that one instead of his underlings?"

"Don't know, and frankly, I don't care." Said Efren "You've got the right idea about this signature but I don't intend to sell to Va'dar."

"Who then? Sigmis? You know better than to trust that weasel to give us a fair trade."

"No Ges', I mean this could be our ticket to a real score, think about it. There are no forgeries out there yet, we're the only ones with the genuine article. I'll get the signature copied onto whatever document I we need. Think of the places this could get us to if everyone believes we've got a writ from Thalantyr himself, nobody'd question us, after all the man barely ever signs anything."

"You can't be serious. We're thieves Ef', what would we do with an offical writ, no matter how convincing? Go around telling the merchants "This is ours now, Magistrate's orders"? Wonder how long that'd last 'til they hang us both."

"We're made for better things than petty theft, we both know that. With this we could do a real job. I'm going to put in a word with Aran, say we're ready for bigger things, see if The Spider has any jobs open, we could make some real money Ges'. Look, just... think about it, okay?"

"Alright alright I'll do that, no promises though." Gestas grumbled. "We'll have a proper talk about this tomorrow, just don't do anything 'til then, right?"

...

The slums of the city of Abelon were enough to make a plague rat want a bath. To Efren they were home. Not a particularly pleasant home and not one he wanted... but home nontheless, and like any good homeowner he knew every nook and cranny. Gestas had found him wandering the quarter alone as a child and paid him kindness, treating him like a nephew, Efren intended to pay him back for that one day the best way he knew how, with enough money to leave the slums and never look back.

Nobody waved hello to him or gave him a "Good afternoon" as he walked the streets, it wasn't that sort of place and these weren't those sort of people, but that was just fine by Efren, far as he was concerned the less attention the better, that's a lesson you learnt pretty quick growing up here. Any attention was bad attention. And so Efren felt all the more nervous for what he was going to attempt next.

To get the attention of the most dangerous man in the slums; Aran The Bleeder, one of The Spider's own.