6 years ago

Servilia walked at a leisurely pace through the town market, a small basket tucked under her arm. Though she had only just begun it was already nearly filled to the brim with an assortment of fresh fruits and bread. She smiled at one of the vendors, a rather plump woman with large eyes and a freckled face, who gave her a cheery wave

"Hello Jill," Servilia said as she stopped at the stall. She eyed the assortment of apples Jill had on display.

"Good afternoon Servilia! How goes the guild?" Jill said. She picked up one of the apples and cut a slice for Servilia who took it with a soft thanks

"Quite well," Servilia said, nibbling on the apple. It was sour and she made a face, pursing her full lips together into a pout, drawing a laugh from Jill.

"These are special. From the royal gardens. They do take a bit of getting used to though." Jill shrugged as she popped a piece into her mouth and chomped on it merrily.

"I see," Servilia said as she took another piece. Prepared this time, she found it a more enjoyable experience.

"I hear Jiana has you doing more and more work every day," Jill said. She leaned over the stall. "The word is you're the front runner to be the new mistress."

Servilia waved her hand. "Even if that were true, that time is a long way off. The Mistress is still young and healthy. I don't think there is anyone in our guild that is even close to being ready to challenge her position."

"Well that is good to hear." Jill finished off the apple and tossed one into Servilia's basket. "Give that to Jiana, from me."

"Of course." Servilia nodded.

"By the way." Jill gave her basket a pointed look. "That's more food than you normally buy. Are you entertaining?"

Servilia frowned. "No such luck. Lately it seems our food stores have been dwindling faster than normal."

"You don't say," Jill said as she rested against the counter. "You wouldn't happen to have some small trinkets missing too, or maybe some gold or silver?"

Servilia gave a grim nod. "You've been hit as well?"

"Me, you, everyone." Jill sighed. "Whoever the thief is, he is good. I didn't even realize I had been robbed until I was told to check my inventory and count my money. He doesn’t take much, so it was hard to even notice."

"No, he does not," Servilia agreed. "But he is still committing a crime."

"You Dragons going to do something about it?"

"Possibly." Servilia frowned. "The Mistress has yet to decide what action she wishes to take. So long as no violence has occurred it is unlikely that she will have anyone take up the case personally. We are, however, permitted to investigate on our own."

"Sounds like you've already made your decision." Jill laughed. "Well, just be careful Servilia. A handful of coins aren't worth getting hurt over."

Servilia smiled. "Don't worry. I won't be the one who gets hurt."

xXx

Banksy let out a soft breath as he began to work the lock open. The shopkeeper had left for his nightly meal at the tavern only minutes ago. He went to the same place every night, ordered the same food, and took roughly the same amount of time to eat. That meant he had just under an hour before the man would return.

He smiled as the lock clicked open.

An hour would be more than enough time.

He carefully shut the door behind him, wincing as it squeaked shut. Why couldn't people keep their doors oiled? Wasn't that some kind of common courtesy? If he ever had a shop it would be flawless.

He would also invest in much better locks.

He stopped as he reached the safe that was pathetically hidden in the floor beneath a tattered rug.

He would also buy a better safe. Or at least he would hide it better than this.

"Alright baby, talk to me," Banksy whispered as he pressed his ear to the cold metal.

The safe was almost as poorly made as the lock on the door and he had it open in a matter of minutes. Banksy frowned as he looked at the gold inside. It wasn't a lot, which meant he could only take a few coins. Anymore and he would risk raising an alarm. Also, people tended to hunt down thief's who took too much. Only a few coins, however, and most wouldn't think it worth their time.

Ideally, he would like to hit that guild again. They were obviously loaded and he hadn't even found any of their main holdings. Even so, he had a feeling they were going to beef up security. The last thing he needed was to be caught.

Not when he was so close.

Still, they did have really good food. He did feel slightly guilty for taking so much of it, but he had to eat when he could and passing up food simply was not an option at this point in his life. Really, he couldn't pass up anything without cause.

"I'm sorry," Banksy said quietly as he pilfered a few coins and slipped them into his back pocket.

"If you are truly sorry, perhaps you should consider putting that back."

Banksy stiffened.

Someone had snuck up on him? How? He hadn't even heard them come in? The door would have alerted him when it squeaked.

Slowly he turned around and nearly gasped in surprise.

An angel stared back at him. An angel with long black hair and olive skin. She stared down at him through dark blue eyes that felt like they could pierce though his soul. Banksy was completely frozen, unable to move under her gaze.

"Oh." He croaked out.

"So, you're the thief," Servilia said, peering past him to look at the safe.

"Y-yeah. I uh, I guess I am." Banksy said lamely. "Are you going to turn me over to the guards?"

Servilia raised an eyebrow. "You're giving up already?"

"You have a knife." Banksy lifted up his hand and pointed to the thin blade Servilia thought she had well concealed. "If you have that, you probably know how to use it."

"You have a keen eye," Servilia said as she drew the knife and spun it on her palm.

Banksy watched the blade spin with a mixture of awe and horror. "I have to. No point in trying to pickpocket someone who doesn't have any money on them."

"I see." Servilia sighed. "At least you are an honest thief. You don't carry a weapon?"

"I'm not good at fighting." Banksy shrugged. "If I were, I wouldn't be here trying to collect money."

Servilia tilted her head. "What do you mean by that?"

Banksy fidgeted. "Nothing."

"It's obviously something, otherwise you would not have brought it up." Servilia returned her knife to her hip and ran a hand through her hair. "Very well, come with me."

"To the guards?" Banksy sighed as he returned the coins to the safe and stood up. He dusted himself off. A prison cell at least offered room and board of sorts. "Alright."

"We're not going to the guards," Servilia said as she led him out of the store and down the street.

"Then where?" Banksy asked.

"Here." Servilia ushered him into a restaurant She raised a hand to the large man behind the bar and took an empty table. In a few moments two steaming bowls of stew were sitting on the table.

"What's going on?" Banksy said as Servilia began to eat.

"We're having dinner." Servilia said after dabbing her mouth with the edge of her napkin. "It's obvious you aren't eating enough. You'll stunt your growth if you don't receive the proper nutrition."

You might be reading a stolen copy. Visit Royal Road for the authentic version.

"Well… I mean… okay. I guess." Banksy didn't know what else to say and began to eat. The stew was good and under normal circumstances he would have quickly slurped it all down, but in the presence of the woman before him he did his best to mind his manners. Not that it mattered all that much, he realized, considering his tattered attire. Not to mention the fact that she had caught him stealing red-handed. He wouldn't call that the best of first impressions.

"You were going to explain to me what you meant earlier," Servilia said as she finished her meal. "But first, I have been rude. My name is Servilia. Pleased to meet you."

She reached across the table and held out her hand. Banksy hesitated a moment before taking it gingerly in his.

"Nath…Nathanial Bank."

"What a nice name," Servilia said. She griped his hand firmly. "Now Nathanial, this is how you properly give a handshake. Firm up your wrist and keep your grasp strong."

Banksy quickly adjusted his grip and Servilia smiled. He felt his face go hot and looked down as she released his hand.

"Now Nathanial-" Servilia began but he cut her off.

"They call me Banksy," he said quickly. "Nathanial is too formal."

"I'm afraid I am not a fan of nicknames," Servilia said. She gave her head a small tilt. "Very well, would Nathan suffice?"

Banksy nodded.

"Very will Nathan, now that we have got our introductions out of the way, please elaborate on what you told me earlier."

Banksy frowned. "I…"

"I assume from what you said earlier that you have some sort of debt to pay. If you don't, I assume you will be harmed and because you lack the ability to defend yourself, you have chosen this option instead."

Banksy nodded.

"I see. And to whom do you owe these debts."

"To the men who brought me here," Banksy said softly.

Servilia's eyes narrowed. "What men?"

"I don't really know who they are." Banksy admitted. "When they learned I can… well I can pick any lock. It doesn't matter what it is. If you give me enough time, I can get through anything."

Servilia didn't miss the pride in his voice and a small smile graced her face.

"So, they want you to steal for them." Servilia said as she tried to piece together the puzzle. "Yet you are not a partner otherwise you would not owe them a debt.

Banksy remained silent.

"Are they slavers?" Servilia words were so sharp that Banksy flinched.

He quickly shook his head. "No, they aren't slavers. They're just… I know a few are wanted in Gorin. That's why they had to leave."

"And how did you come to be with them?"

I… I was living in a border village between Voy and Gorin. My parents they… they got sick. I was living alone when they came through village. When they learned what I could do, they took me with them."

"I'm sure your skills are quite valuable to them."

"They gave me clothing and food, so they said I owed them," Banksy said. "So, I've got to pay them back... or else."

"I see." Servilia leaned back in her chair. "Have you considered not being a thief?"

"Not… not really?" Banksy knew that wasn't a great answer but he couldn't lie to the imposing young woman in front of him. Even if he had wanted to, something about her sharp eyes told him she would see right through him. "I nearly starved to death in my village before they came. Even though I don't like being with them, it's better than what I had."

"You could work," Servilia said. "Make an honest living."

"For who?" Banksy couldn't stop the bitter laugh. "I'm nobody. I have no papers, no home, no family." The laugh died in his throat and his eyes began to mist. He quickly rubbed his sleeve across his face.

"What do you plan to do once you are free of your debt, then?" Servilia said, allowing the subject to drop for the moment.

"I don't know."

"Will you stay with them?"

"No." Banksy bit his lip. "I don't like the way they do things."

"And how do they do things?"

"They're fine with hurting people. Good people.”

"And you are not?"

Banksy shrugged. "I prefer it if the people I steal from never even know I was there. It's better for everyone involved that way. There is no need for anyone to get hurt."

"That is a very noble thing for a thief to say." Servilia smiled and Banksy felt his face burn again. "How much is your debt."

"I don't know. They won't tell me. But any time I get anything from them, I know it goes up. That's why… Well that's why I was stealing food. Sorry."

"I see." Servilia's brow furrowed for a moment. "How would you feel if I were to offer you a job?"

"You?" Banksy's eyes went wide. "What kind of job?"

"Very similar to what you are doing already, but unlike your current situation you would be paid a fair wage, along with room and board at the guild. That is, once you reach the proper age. Until then, you will stay and work at the orphanage, to pay off the people you have robbed. You will also give them a formal apology, of course."

Banksy blinked repeatedly. Things suddenly seemed to be moving far too fast. "I don't understand."

"It's quite simple," Servilia said. She leaned forward. "You have a unique skillset. I believe it would be beneficial to my guild. Therefore, I would like to employ you, at least on a trial basis for now. If you find yourself unhappy, you will be free to leave. Or not. You could stay at the orphanage and have no relation to the guild at all. It would be entirely up to you. Once you have paid back your debts to the town, that is."

"That's impossible." Banksy shook his head. "They would never let me leave like that. They'd come here and get me. They'd hurt people."

"Oh, I very much doubt that."

"They would!" Banksy protested.

"I will have them dealt with." Servilia waived her hand. "Well, more accurately, I will deal with them personally. I believe you will find your debts to be void before the morning."

Banksy collapsed in his seat. Logically he couldn't believe what Servilia was saying, but the confidence in which she said it was quickly overruling the logical side of his mind.

"But…" He struggled to find the right words.

"I can see this is going to bother you until it is dealt with." Servilia sighed. "Very well. I trust your 'friends' are waiting for you somewhere outside of town?"

Banksy nodded.

"Good, then we can take care of this immediately." Servilia stood up. "Shall we go?"

Banksy opened his mouth to say no. More likely scream it. But as Servilia extended her hand his voice failed him. He gave a single nod and allowed her to lift him up from his seat.

"Lead the way." Servilia gave him a warm smile and his hand a gentle squeeze. In that moment he actually believed everything would be okay.

That moment faded quickly and was a distant memory as he suddenly found himself outside of the city, standing in front of a dying fire. The glowing coals cast a harsh, red light, illuminating the three men sitting around it. Banksy tried to swallow but his mouth was far too dry. He stepped back as the largest man, Rile, stood up."

"Who is this?" Rile asked, tilting his head towards Servilia.

"My name is Servilia, it's a pleasure to meet you." Servilia dipped her head politely. "Mr…?"

"Rile. This is Ville and Tampin." He spat on the fire. It hissed in response.

"Wonderful." Servilia smiled and clapped her hands together a single time. The sharp noise echoed loudly through the still night air. "Now, as I understand it, you have been having Nathan here work as a thief for you."

Ville let out a bark of laughter. "Thief? What are you going on about woman? Has the kid been telling you stories? We're just travelers going on our way. Whatever the boy does is his own business."

Rile laughed as well. "Of course. We would never force the kid to do something like that. We're all here of our own accord. Come on Banksy, tell her the truth."

Tampin remained silent, his eyes fixed firmly on the fire.

"I see." Servilia said. She glanced back at Banksy. "Is that True, Nathan?"

Banksy slowly shook his head back and forth.

Servilia turned back to Rile. "It seems he doesn't agree, but that's no matter. If it is as you say, then we have no issue. Nathan shall remain in town and you will be free to go on your way."

The mood around the camp changed as Servilia finished talking. A tension hung in the air. Banksy felt it settle against his skin. Only Servilia seemed oblivious to it as she continued to smile politely at the trio before her.

"Now, let's not get too far ahead of ourselves." Rile glanced at his companions. "We couldn't just leave him, could we boys?"

"Of course not," Ville laughed. A fake laugh. "He's one of us."

"I'm afraid it seems that is exactly what you are going to be doing," Servilia said. "Nathan is not leaving with you. Furthermore, any debt you believe him to have with you is now void."

"What?" Rile's voice came out a growl ashe glanced at Banksy. "What is she going on about Banksy? What have you told her?"

"I…" Banksy shook his head.

"What he told me does not matter," Servilia said, drawing Rile's attention back to her.

"Enough talking, just kill the bitch and be done with it." Tampin sighed as he drew a knife from his belt. With a flick of his wrist he launched it towards Servilia.

Banksy let out a shout and jumped forward, but he was too slow. The knife hissed through the air on a direct path towards Servilia. Banksy closed his eyes and waited to hear the dull thud and scream. The same noise he had heard so many times before.

"Oh dear," Servilia sighed.

Banksy opened his eyes and jolted back. Servilia held the knife Tampin had thrown at her lightly in her hand, spinning it over and over again. She looked back at Banksy and smiled.

"This knife isn't properly balanced for throwing, you know," Servilia said as the camp stared at her in shock. She let the weapon drop to the ground and pulled her own blade free. It glinted in the low light. "In that way, it is much like this one. It's far too heavy in the blade to throw. Much longer, you see. I prefer my blades long."

She bounded forward and flashed her blade towards Tampin. The steel cut through his cheek before he could even react. In shock, and pain, he recoiled back, falling over and onto his back. Servilia followed after him, dropping her knee against his forehead. With a loud crack he went still and Servilia returned to her feet. She spun the knife around and looked towards Rile and Ville.

"The increased range is a good trade off." She explained. "It means I can keep my distance, or I can get close. It allows me to easily decide if I want to wound, or to kill."

She was between them just as they began to draw their weapons. She cut low on Ville, catching him just under the knee before spinning around and plunging the blade into Rile's shoulder from behind. He howled in pain and dropped his weapon. Servilia kicked it across the ground and ripped her blade free. Rile dropped to the ground next to Ville.

"Personally, I don't enjoy killing and I do my best to avoid it. I have seen enough death to last me a lifetime." Servilia said as she wiped her knife clean on Ville's shirt before sheathing her knife. "That does not mean I do not know how. The wounds I gave you are not fatal and you will survive. Consider that your final payment from Nathan." She ran a hand through her hair and glanced at Banksy. "Is that all, Nathan?"

"I… yeah." Banksy could think of nothing else to say.

"Good. Very well, gentlemen, it was a pleasure to meet all of you, but please be sure never to allow me to see any of you again." She nodded and began to walk away before pausing and looking over her shoulder. "Come along Nathan."

"Oh… right," Banksy looked at them one final time before jogging to catch up with Servilia.

"Is it really okay to leave them there?"

"Oh, the guards will be here soon enough. I will allow them to handle it."

"Won't you get into trouble?"

"I very much doubt it."

"Won't… won't I?" Banksy asked.

"Perhaps, but do not worry." Servilia looked down and gave him a gentle smile. "I will keep you safe."

"Thank you," Banksy said softly. He bit his lip and came to a slow stop. Servilia noticed and stopped as well.

"Nathan?"

"I… I want to join your guild!" Banksy said, louder than he meant to. He took in a deep breath. "And… and I want to pay you back one day."

Servilia smiled. "That isn't necessary, Nathan."

"I don't care!" Nathan held out his hand. "If you ever need me, I'm yours. For anything, anytime. I don't care what it is. I swear."

Servilia reached out and took his hand, meeting his firm wrist and strong grip.

"Very well, Nathan. I may just take you up on that one day."

"I'll be waiting."