This contract is for retrieval of stolen property belonging to Bovario Chriss. Item in question is a painting. Verbal description of the painting was given by client. Item must be undamaged for the contract to be considered complete.
The city streets were bustling with activity while the midday sun loomed overhead as though it were an onlooker observing the goings-on of the people below. The sounds of children laughing and playing as they chased each other could be heard, conjoined with the general hum of chatter amongst people conversing and the many footsteps plodding along.
Adding to the cacophony were merchants both shouting over the crowd in attempts to hawk their wares and cursing loudly as they yelled at the children running around for fear the prized commodities they had for sale would be caught in the crossfire of games of tag, catch, and wrestling. The occasional sound of a jar falling off of a tabletop and shattering or a ball crashing through some proudly-stacked merchandise broke through the hordes of voices in entertaining contrast.
Smiling to himself as he walked along the street, Lyght thought back to when he was younger and would engage in innocent mischief in much the same way as these children. He wondered how much more fearsome the scolding of a typical mother and father with more grounded day-to-day struggles was than the lax discipline Geren had utilized with him.
Despite his prowess as a fighter and mercenary leader, Geren had a very laid-back personality that always belied the serious nature he displayed when it came to his work. He would usually just let out a big sigh and shake his head before either assigning Lyght chores around the mercenary hall that he was too lazy to do himself or sending him across the town square to the Dice & Sword to help Shaugh around the tavern.
Lyght continued to walk along with his hands in the pockets of his trousers. The breeze that blew on this cool spring day made it easy to be content getting lost in thought and reminisce on younger days while the aromas of nearby food establishments drifted into his senses.
He was now sixteen; it had been just over seven years ago that he had started his life here in Davied. His dusty light-brown hair was medium length, hanging down so the front stopped just between his eyebrows and yellow-gold eyes, and the sides mostly covered his ears. It was not styled in any particular way; he would rather it just exist in whatever fashion it decided to do so. He had a slim but sturdy frame thanks to the years training with Geren and the rest of the Last Stand Mercenaries. His trousers were a color darker than gray, but not quite dark enough to be called black. The long-sleeve shirt he wore was colored similarly to the trousers, with the sleeves rolled up to the elbows. Over the shirt, he donned a sleeveless white vest with a hood, though the hood wasn’t up currently.
Taking a deep breath and welcoming the smell of some seasoned pork that was being grilled nearby, he was feeling quite relaxed until his daydreaming was interrupted by the sense of a sudden presence that was fast approaching. It seemingly came from nowhere, and he didn’t have much time to react—whoever was responsible must be close.
Without looking, he quickly crouched down as a leather orb flew over him from behind and replaced the space that his head had been occupying just moments before. He looked up at the object flying overhead—it was still within his reach. Without taking his hands from his pockets, he threw his head and torso backwards and swung his legs up in a swift backflip motion, making solid contact with the top of his right foot directly in the middle of the object.
A satisfying thud sound reverberated through the air as the contact occurred and the ball departed from his foot. It was a good kick. The ball whizzed back the way it had come as Lyght continued his backflip motion and the hood on his vest fell over his head. Landing smoothly on his feet, he figured the kick must have been an impressive feat of athleticism to other passersby.
He heard the satisfying sound of a surprised shriek. Pulling his hood back down, he turned to see a young boy, probably around age twelve he estimated, lying on his back a couple dozen feet away with the ball gripped tightly between his stomach and arms. Lyght couldn’t help himself as he grinned widely at the sight.
“Gonna take more than that to surprise me, kid! Good catch though! You didn’t get hit in the face this time!” he shouted over the clamor of the surrounding activity.
A few people stopped what they were doing to glance back and forth between the two of them, shaking their heads disapprovingly before returning to their business. The boy sat up in an upright position and let the ball fall into his lap with his legs crossed.
"I'll get you eventually! I was sure I caught you off guard this time! There's no way you could have known it was coming!" he shouted back.
Lyght smirked at the comment before walking back to the boy so they didn't have to continue shouting. He grabbed the ball with his right hand and crouched down, extending the other in an offer to help him up.
"Maybe when you're older I'll teach you my secrets. What's your name anyway? I think I deserve to know who keeps trying to assassinate me with a ball. Interesting choice of murder weapon, by the way."
The boy accepted the offer for help up while maintaining a pouting visage and not looking Lyght in the eyes. He grabbed Lyght's hand and stood to his feet before dusting himself off.
"Tobias. But my friends call me Tobi." He redirected his gaze to meet Lyght's and continued, “I'm already eleven. Surely that's old enough to learn at least one secret. Plus I caught the ball this time, like you said! Isn't that worth a secret?"
Eleven, huh? Well I was close. Besides, it was an estimate. Isn't that what estimates are for? To give yourself room for error so you can still claim you were right if it turns out you were off by a small amount?
"Well Tobi," he began saying as he could see a slight jolt of surprise flash across Tobi's face at the use of his nickname, "that was a pretty impressive catch. I suppose I can let you in on one secret."
Tobi's eyes widened as Lyght handed him the ball back before leaning in to whisper in his ear.
"I can use magic", Lyght whispered. When he pulled away, he could see a frown on Tobi's face.
"I already knew that." Tobi crossed his arms and maintained his frown. "That's not a secret so it doesn't count."
Visible surprise showed on Lyght's face. “Wait, really?
"Yeah! I dunno how, really. I just knew you could. It made sense with how you always know my sneak attacks are coming." Tobi stated matter-of-factly. "Now tell me an actual secret."
Lyght pondered for a moment before answering. “You know? I don’t think I will. From my perspective, I was telling you a secret. So yes—it does still count.”
He held a completely straight and serious look but had to put considerable effort into not letting a mischievous grin sneak its way onto his face as he teased the child.
Tobi looked shocked—the exact reaction Lyght was hoping to garner. The shocked look quickly transformed into a disgruntled frown as Tobi complained.
“That’s no fair. It’s not my fault you told me a fake secret instead of a real one!”
The mischievous grin that had been trying to break free finally did so.
“What’s so funny? What’s that look for?” Tobi asked as he seemed to be taken aback, feeling as if he had missed something obvious.
“Nothing, you’re just fun to tease, kid.” Lyght laughed as he shook his head. “Alright then, I’ll make you a deal. I’ll go ahead and tell you an actual secret. But you have to answer a question of mine before I do. Sound good?”
Tobi squinted a bit and his eyes moved up and down as if scanning Lyght, seemingly suspicious about whether he was trying to trick him somehow. Finally relenting, he returned his gaze to normal.
“Okay, fine. I guess it’s a deal,” he said, and nodded to himself seemingly satisfied.
“Alright then,” Lyght began, “tell me why you started this little game of ‘I’m going to hit this guy in the head with a ball’ in the first place. I’m curious.”
“Hmm…” Tobi scratched his head and ruffled his messy black hair as he talked. “I dunno. You were walking down the street once and one of the other kids dared me to try it, I’m not sure why. You looked tough and they bet me that I couldn’t hit you. The way you dodged out of the way the first time I tried was pretty cool. After that, I just kept trying because it was kind of fun.”
I looked tough huh?
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Lyght didn’t really think of himself as looking tough. He stood a few inches shorter than six feet tall and he didn’t have the bulky build some of the other Last Stand Mercenaries did, but he could see how an eleven-year-old would think that, at least. In addition to his clothing and overall slim-but-fit build, he also wore twin swords across his back and a belt that held several small pouches containing various runes, knives, and other useful tools around his waist.
He raised an eyebrow and replied, “So you thought it was a good idea to throw a ball at someone’s head who ‘looks tough’? You know, those are the kinds of people you usually don’t want to try and hit.”
It felt strange to be the one talking to someone younger than him, he realized. He was the youngest member of the Last Stand Mercenaries so he didn’t often get the chance to do so. Maybe it brought out some sort of older brother personality he didn’t know he had.
Tobi shrugged. “I dunno. I thought you looked nice. Tough—but nice. I wasn’t afraid of you hurting me or anything. I guess getting hit in the face with the ball could count as hurting… but you weren’t doing that on purpose. I… think. And even if you were, it was just part of the game, y’know?”
Digesting Tobi’s words, Lyght shrugged as well. “Makes sense I guess. Still, you’re lucky I’m such a good sport. Well whatever, a deal’s a deal. You ready for the actual secret then?”
Tobi nodded in response.
A twinkle was in Lyght’s eyes as he leaned in to whisper in Tobi’s ear. “Even though I can use magic, I haven’t used any magic to foil your attempts at hitting me with the ball. I’m just good, I guess.”
He was pleasantly surprised to see the dismay on Tobi’s face when he pulled away. The boy started to say something, but Lyght had already begun his escape. He winked and did a quick salute-style motion with his index and middle finger before turning around and running away, smoothly weaving in and out of the other people in the street without breaking stride as he disappeared from Tobi’s vision.
It had been roughly twenty minutes since Lyght left Tobi; he was now well clear of the busy street. He found himself instead strolling through a calmer residential part of the city. The brief distraction from work that Tobi had provided was appreciated, but now he needed to get re-focused on his objective. A job request had come in the previous day, which Geren assigned to Lyght to complete. Someone had stolen a painting that a local artist named Bovario recently finished. Simple enough.
Geren guessed the thieves would try to sell the painting to a buyer from out of town. They likely wouldn’t have any personal use for the piece, and it wouldn’t be very smart for someone living in Davied to display stolen local artwork in their home or business. A buyer further away in a city like Serafah or the Frelerian capital Wallesen would likely have better luck with the art going unnoticed as stolen. Lyght’s objective was to find the thieves and get the painting back before they offloaded it to the unknown buyer.
Bovario already had a lead to provide when he commissioned Geren to get his work back; a pair of young men he didn’t recognize had been hanging around on the streets near his studio in the recent days leading up to his completion of the painting. Lyght spent the previous day talking with other townsfolk in the area and trying to get information about the pair of presumed thieves. He had learned eventually that they were supposedly members of the Street Crows.
The Street Crows were a group of miscreants in Davied. Unlike larger gangs in other cities like the Black Knuckles and Ashsteppers, they were aptly named by the townspeople rather than naming their group themselves. Starting out as a rag-tag band of friends engaging in petty thievery, they eventually expanded their numbers and gained a reputation for thinking that anything not nailed down belonged to them. Snatching up anything shiny or expensive and taking it back to their nest, the name they were given fit quite well, and they grew to officially embrace it. Lyght thought it was likely better than anything they could have come up with themselves, in any case.
The painting theft definitely lined up with Street Crow behavior. Lyght already knew the location of the Street Crows’ storehouse from work he’d done in the past. With the painting having just been stolen yesterday, it was doubtful a buyer was lined up already. There was a good chance he would find it sitting idly at the storehouse waiting for the sale to be organized.
I should have guessed that the two guys Bovario saw were with the Street Crows and just went straight there instead of spending all that time yesterday talking with people.
He differed from Geren in this regard. Lyght would rather just throw himself into the fray of the situation and figure it out as he went along, whereas Geren was a calculating man. It was a trait that most people who met Geren were not aware of. They would only interact with one of his two outward appearances without knowing how his mind operated internally. Either they talked with him in regular conversation and took him for a lackadaisical man who went with the flow, or they would meet him on work business—whether client, partner, or foe—and see him as a peerless warrior who had no need for plans and calculations.
It was this combination of mind and body working together—careful and well-planned thoughts complementing raw strength—that made him the successful man he was through thirty-five years. The Unbreakable Wolf moniker he was known as didn’t really capture that intelligent and careful side of him properly. Lyght found that to be a shame. Ironically, it was a well-calculated trick that had earned him the nickname as much as it was his fighting ability, though that irony was lost on many who didn’t know him personally..
He made a mental note to have Geren tell him the story again sometime soon. Geren’s stories didn’t quite enrapture him the same way that they had when he was younger, but he held a great deal of respect for the man and enjoyed listening whenever Geren was in the mood to talk.
He’s still never told me the story about his first trip to the Outlands. I wonder if something so terrible happened that he refuses to talk about it.
All Lyght knew is that Geren would issue a word of warning whenever a foolhardy adventurer at the Dice & Sword would brag about how they weren’t afraid of the Outlands and had plans to soon travel there. ‘If it’s your first time venturing there, I promise that you’re not ready. Trust me.’ He would tell them.
A short time later, he arrived at his destination in the north-west corner of the city. He was now in the depot district, with many large buildings stretching ahead of him that were lined up in rows like crops in a field.
This section of the city contained a mixture of warehouses and silos. Merchants and artisans could rent space in the warehouses to store surplus merchandise and tools or use it to keep their goods safe when they traveled out of town. Farmers in the small communities surrounding Davied could similarly rent the silos for grain or animal feed; many of the small family-owned farms did not have their own on-site silos.
The city itself used some of the facilities for surplus equipment for soldiers and raw materials storage, though they of course kept money somewhere more secure. None of the buildings were numbered or labeled in any way, which made it more difficult for merchant competitors and other unscrupulous types to target someone specific. The building Lyght was looking for was a warehouse further back towards the edge of the city’s northern wall. This is where he would find the Street Crows’ storehouse.
He gave the gang credit for the clever ruse. The group had pooled together funds to pay for one of the warehouses so they had it to themselves. They had even gone as far as to forge documents and have some of their members pose as businessmen in meetings with the city’s administration to get registered and make sure their usage of the warehouse checked all the boxes if anyone were to look into the legal paper trail.
The depot district was typically very quiet as the tenants of the storage facilities here only needed to visit occasionally to store or withdraw goods. When they did so, there was rarely anybody else around. In the event there was, they likely wouldn’t pay too much attention to whatever activity was going on at the other storehouses. It was the perfect place for a group like the Street Crows to hide in plain sight.
It wasn’t long before he was standing in front of his target building—a large warehouse made of brick and mortar with a metal door squarely in the middle that covered a wide rectangular area several feet long.
Of course it’s shut. I couldn’t have arrived at the opportune time while they had the door open... That’d be too easy.
The door was capable of being lifted upwards and locked into place to allow ease-of-use for both people and merchandise to have enough space to come and go. However, this had to be done from the inside where the handle was located—the outside was just flat metal that provided no purchase. There was a more traditional wooden door flanking it to the right, like what could be seen in someone’s home. It required a key, of course, but that wouldn’t deter Lyght from getting in.
I’ll be nice and knock first. Why not?, he thought to himself with a wry smile.
“If you’re in there, open up! I’m just looking to retrieve a single item I know you guys have got stored here!” he shouted while knocking.
No one came to the door, and he heard no noise from inside. Shrugging, he walked to the left until he was squarely in the middle of the big metal door. Kicking at the ground a bit where it met the hard dirt as if he was testing it, he pulled one of his twin swords out from behind his back and crouched down.
Sticking the point of the blade into the dirt and pushing, he broke some more debris away and was able to get the point wedged fairly well underneath the door while being dug just enough into the dirt to hold its position at a diagonal angle and not fall flat.
The buildings may be made of metal and brick, but it’s not worth the cost to the city to go over the whole district with concrete with how infrequent the foot traffic is.
He gripped the handle of the sword and pushed down on it, using it as a lever to lift the metal door up and separate it from the ground. It rose up with a small shower of dirt and dust at the spot the blade was anchored. Lyght grabbed the bottom of it with his left hand, then reached down and grabbed his sword with his right before lifting the door up fully over his head and walking through.
Truthfully, he didn’t know how to lock it in place, so he simply allowed it to drop down shut behind him as he let it go and re-sheathed his weapon. He didn’t bother checking the blade’s condition. Despite the crude usage, he knew it would bear no scratches—both of his blades were forged from dragonscale.
The air inside of the warehouse was not as musty or stale as he had expected, cuing him to the fact it must have recently been open long enough to naturally air out. How recently though?
Small rectangular windows were evenly spaced along the top of the walls like a dotted line where one would sign their name on a document. The light from the sun shone through and illuminated the interior of the warehouse, providing visibility as Lyght surveyed the landscape of people’s pilfered possessions.
A blend of boxes and barrels formed a perimeter around the inside of the walls, stacked high enough in some spots to where they may as well have been walls themselves. There was one such wall of crates further ahead that ran across the middle of the warehouse and blocked Lyght’s view of the building’s other half, save for a gap over to the far right that was wide enough for a pair of people to pass through.
A few feet ahead of where he was standing—immediately to his front—stood tall double-open-sided shelves used for holding smaller items such as jewelry, pottery, and other trinkets. These were organized end-to-end and parallel to one another in such a fashion that it was as if they were aisles in a store, and the commodities they held were merchandise available for purchase.
Lyght gave an amused scoff as he began to peruse the Street Crows’ wares.
Time to go shopping.