It was hard to tell what time it was in the room. There were no windows, and the only source of light came from the sconced hallways outside, their orange glow penetrating beneath the old wooden door. Blink didn’t need the light as others did. He had always had a keen sense for his surroundings. He sat up on the straw mattress that was his bed. The simple wooden frame creaked loudly as he did amidst the sound of the shifting hay within. Looking around the room his few possessions in the world were close at hand. An old scullery stool by the bed, a small metal dish with some oil and a wick, an iron wrought bucket with which to clean himself at the foot of the bed and in the opposite corner a series of wooden figures he had whittled himself in what little free time he could find. To Blink these things appeared as if within a grey world, a place of twilight and suspension. His eyes had always been able to detect that which others could not.

The room itself must once have been a servant’s pantry or dank storage. The smell of rancid soap fats and mildew were impossible to remove, especially for his nose. Blink reached out to a crooked nail in the stonework where he had hung the leather cord the night before. He was surprised to find it there at all after the night of drinking Ra’Handa had talked him into. The sour taste of her moonshine still hung on his breath and his head pounded at the remembrance. Blink dragged the bucket in front of himself and cupping his hand ran the cold water through his hair, the shaggy dark mass that it was. He smoothed it down and tied the leather cord around the back and into a loose bun for a day of work.

Blink tried to remember the night before. Ra’Handa had recently been moved up from the younglings in the Thieves Quarter and was finally able to work with the adults as a full-fledged Magpie. It had been a minor job of stealing from a noble’s house on in the Mercantile Circle, but Ra’Handa wanted to celebrate, nonetheless. She wouldn’t accept a no from Blink, she wasn’t one to accept a no from anyone. Blink still felt the dull ache from the bruise on his thigh where she gave him a corkscrew for trying to back out. Blink thought to himself that he would get her back for that, if only she didn’t always overpower him in their friendly sparring.

Ra’Handa was a half-orc and a strong, wiry one at that. They had grown up together and were like siblings more than friends. She was 20, two years older than Blink and had been a constant source of argument. Whenever they disagreed on something she would always muscle him into a headlock or punch him and demand obedience for her authority as his elder. There was no way to know if she was that much older than Blink. He didn’t even know his own birthday. He, like so many other street urchins had no idea of their age. Most chose a day that suited them and went with that. Others didn’t even bother. Being a half-orc and naturally larger than all the other children Ra’Handa assumed the role of a big sister. No one disagreed, especially since she was the one that took the hits for any mishap.

Blink grew up as a servant within a large estate near the docks. When he wasn’t scrubbing floors, cleaning out the grease traps in the kitchen or running errands, he was with them in the streets, playing and coming up with elaborate plans to escape and find riches. As they got older Blink’s duties grew and he found himself with fewer hours in the day for himself. Eventually the urchins he had ran with either disappeared, were taken in by the crafting guilds, or wound up in the Thieves Quarter for their own protection and overall profit of the thieves. Those less fortunate found themselves brokered into the slave trade, some branded with burns or tattoos, others needing so such marks for this master’s reputation was enough to stem escape.

‘I’m never drinking again’ Blink sighed thinking of the many times he had said that before. ‘I had better get a move on before Demera comes looking for me’. It was at this moment he heard those heavy familiar steps. There was a slight unevenness to them. Blink pulled on his worn leather boots and straightened his rough tunic in time before a heavy hand pounded the door. It was a grating thud of metal against wood.

‘Slum dog! You ad betta’ be ready!’ Before he could move to open the door, it swung open with the force of another bang. Standing in the doorway was Demera. She wore her usual yellowed shirt with a black leather breast plate. The leather was emblazoned with a golden axe surrounded by sever stars, the symbol of the master’s shipping company. She lowered her black spiked and plated arms ending in vicious gauntlets at her sides. Blink had been on the receiving end of those spiked fists many times. He winced at the sight of it.

‘Why are you late? You was due on the East Dock an hour ago!’ she barked. The expression on her face contorted with a grimace. The creases of disapproval merged with deep jagged scarring on the right of her face. The lines curved from her mouth and eye, along the side of her head. The remnants of an ear sliced in two from some fight long ago. She kept that side of her head shaved but the black stubble showed through. Her black hair hung loosely down the back and side. It always reeked of salt water and oils. Her features were hard, but she looked as though she may have been handsome once.

‘Sorry Demera. It won’t happen again.’

‘It has happened before and will happen again more like. If Master Horrog wasn’t expecting me upstairs, I’d be reminding you of discipline.’ Her brow furrowed and her tight-lipped expression showed it to be no idle reminder.

Blink nodded and moved toward the door, Demera made room for him and marched behind. The hall was part of the underground warrens that riddled the estate. Heavy cast iron sconces lit the way and the occasional worker going about their business. Slaves went about their cleaning duties and others were dressed in the yellow tunic and black leather emblazoned with the same axe and stars as Demera. The workers carried crates and boxes of goods. Horrog imported and exported a great many products around the Northern continent. From weapons and armour, to livestock, food, exotic jewels, and even arcane items. The bulk of his wealth originated from the slave trade.

They exited the tunnels and storage lanes coming out into a large kitchen. Cooks worked frantically over great pots and fire pits. The smell of the roasting meats filled Blink’s senses and overwhelmed them. His stomach ached and growled. The cooks sidled out of Demera’s way when they saw her. A few even turned and left the room pretending to have forgotten something or to work on something requiring the utmost attention. The only one that even acknowledge them was the Head Cook, a plumb and rosy cheeked woman. She was out of place working here but said it was good coin and she needed it for the brood she had at home. Her name was Constance, but everyone called her Cookie. Three of her daughters worked the kitchen with her; there were five other young mouths at home for her to feed when she was done for the night. Blink liked her endlessly and she was both kind and strong, not even Demera could shake that from her.

‘Finally awake are we then? A fine sight you were last evenin’ when you came home,’ said Cookie dusting the flour from her kneading of bread dough.

‘No time for your coddling cook. The welp has work to do that he is late for,’ sniped Demera as she glowered at the large and tender form of Cookie.

‘Oh enough of that Demera. Growin’ boy is meant to have some fun now and then,’ she said brushing her commands aside. Truely there was no other that get away with saying such things to Demera.

‘Slave. Not a boy. Slave cook and you would do well to remember it,’ she said through ground teeth. Cookie made a dismissing sound of annoyance and waddled in the way of Demera and Blink. She ignored the clenched features of Demera as she fished in among her apron for a small bottle and a large spoon.

‘Thought as much that you’d be needing this so whipped it up fresh this mornin’,’ she said handing the vial of black liquid to Blink. He accepted it reluctantly. He had been made to swallow much of the vile liquid throughout his life.

‘Eels, honey, cookin’ oil and nigh on five other tips bits among the rest. My old Harry swears by the stuff after one of his evenings,’ she went on as always. Blink was sure her old Harry must have lost all his taste buds if he could stomach the stuff. She watched patently for him to swallow, she would not budge until it was done with. Pinching his nose to maskt eh taste the downed the vial in one mouth full doing his best to not retch in the process.

‘Now then ain’t that much better. Here, a couple of honey cakes for being a good lad,’ she added and tossed him two freshly baked cakes. He wolfed them down immediately thankful of the sweetness.

‘Enough of this! Move and be done with you, you silly woman. You take the masters favour too far beyond your station,’ snapped Demera at the end of her patience, if patience it could be called. She grabbed at Blink and dragged him from the kitchens pushing Cookie out of her way.

‘Well I never in all my days with that woman,’ exclaimed Cookie to her staff. A chorus of giggles chittering after as Blink and Demera left the kitchens behind.

From the kitchens they found themselves in the main hall. A large staircase led upwards to the main chambers and study of Horrog. The carpet of the stairs a rich blood red in contrast the white marbled floors they walked across. Blink had only ever found himself upstairs in the master’s study on rare occasions. None of those occasions he cared to repeat.

Once they reached the main entry of the estate Blink felt a heavy gauntlet grip his shoulder. His stomach turned, what does she want now?

‘When duties are done at the docks you will return to meet with the Master. Do not make me come look for you.’ There was something of worry in her voice. Where normally she barked orders and threats, she now sounded stolid and concerned. Something weighed on her. Blink, confused, nodded, and walked to the stately double wooden doors at the entrance. Demera is never afraid of anything. What could have her so rattled?

Demera never faltered or showed any sign of fear. Whatever it was, Blink was certain he didn’t want to be late in getting back. As he made his way into the streets, he was greeted by warmth of the summer sun on his skin. His skin prickled and the rush of sea air filled his lungs. He took a deep breath and welcomed the freshness. Blink took off at a light jog toward the eastern dock.

The city streets were a lively place in Bonny, especially near the docks where traders from faraway lands came to visit with tales of adventures and sea beasts. Blink and Ra’Handa would spend their time here when new ships rolled in. They would mill about trying to catch any tales of the world beyond the city they knew. Blink and Ra’Handa would play games acting out the adventures they would have when they were grown and could escape as adventurers themselves.

Bonny was a fast-trading port, and the place people went when they had nowhere else to go. For this reason, many of the most interesting of Bonny’s residents arrived via ship with dark and mysterious origins. Blink had often hoped that his family had arrived this way, that they were great heroes that died on a perilous journey to bring him to a new home. Blink smiled to himself remembering these childish dreams. It’s about time I let these go. Slaves don’t get heroic stories. I’ll be lucky if I can get sold off to a blacksmith or merchant. Not much hope of that either now… I’m too old for an apprentice. Ra’Handa too joined him in these dreams as children, she didn’t speak of it anymore. Blink guessed that she had given away her childish dreams for something more profitable and practical, dreams had never put food in their bellies. She was grown now and had chosen her craft as a thief, she had plans of her own and wouldn’t sit and wait for someone to save her.

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Blink jogged to one of the new vessels that had pulled in. The clear black flag with the skull and cross bone flapping in the wind. The flag was a common sight in Bonny, in fact it was the only safe place for them to fly their flag. When travelling they would raise another as merchant ship or travel liners. Most worked for his master and his influence kept them safe and gilded their pockets regardless of the goods they traded in, even the slaves. The workers had already begun unloading the cargo. Several men dressed in breaches and leather boots hauled down sacks of grain and rolls of exotic fabrics.

‘Oi! I see you thar young Blink!’ the call came from atop the stern of the ship. ‘Late as always, I see. I’m surprised Demera hasn’t had your guts hanging from the flag poles’. Blink smiled at the sound of that familiar gravel voice.

‘She still might at this rate!’ he called back. Fisk made his way down the ramp to meet him. He grabbed Blink and tussled his hair.

‘Get off! I’m no youngling anymore.’ Blink fixed his hair and gave Fisk a friendly scowl, unable to control the smile that took over.

‘Oh! Not a youngling no more, ey? Well, I best be leaving you to your duties fine sir,’ he bowed mockingly. ‘I was going to get you to help with the loot aboard and tell you of my travels. But alas that be for younglings,’ he smiled.

‘Treasure?’ Blink exclaimed hopefully. ‘Where have you been this time? What did you find?’ Fisk stood up straight and tugged at the braids of black hair on his chin beard. His black coat billowing as he did. It always looked slick and wet no matter where he went. It was made from the hide of some dark-skinned animal and Fisk always seemed have different tale of the beast he had carved it from.

‘Oh… a great many things… but I’ll not get you inta’ more trouble with Demera. Go along and finish unloading the cargo and I’ll tell ye after.’

‘Come on! Nothing?’ Blink exclaimed. Fisk scoffed a laugh.

‘Some trading in the archipelago to the far east and sometime in south with the dessert scavengers, hence the spices and grains,’ he said.

‘The south desert? You mean where the Ghel are from. I heard they eat people there and wear their skin on their belts,’ Blink said trying to pry the story from him.

‘May the salt of the sea save me you believe such rot!’ he exclaimed. ‘That’s not but port gossip of folk that know no better. Odd folk yes but not cannibals. Besides you won’t find no Ghel in those parts anymore, just their leftover ruins and cities. But you’ll not find old Fisk going inland enough for that. Not with The Corruption being thickest there. Now get outta here an’ do some work. I’ve my things to attend to,’ he waved Blink on.

‘Alright, alright I’ll get to work. But I expect a tale as tall as the rest you tell.’ Blink gave the captain a playful knock to the shoulder. ‘But I’m still no longer a youngling.’

‘That’s yet to be seen boy… yes that has yet to be seen.’

Most of the cargo goods had already been moved off the ship and the dock master had begun sorting and directing them to storage buildings nearby. They were all owned by Horrog’s Seventh Star Company. Blink helped with what little spice and cloth still remained before Fisk directed him to his quarters for the things he didn’t trust anyone else with. Blink had never stolen anything from Horrog or Fisk despite the gold and jewels that usually made up the haul kept in the captain’s quarters. Only once had something gone missing, a necklace with a giant ruby dangling from a golden chain. Blink had been blamed and there was nothing he could say to convince Demera that he hadn’t taken it. He was punished for that. He still woke with nightmares of the nights that followed as Demera raked his back with the spiked gauntlets for three days. She would take breaks only to pray to her God of Order to heal his wounds. Once healed she would continue her bloody work. Blink had wondered how any God could favour that woman and allow her to do the things she did... what order was there in making him suffer?

Inside Fisk’s room was a large desk in front of a wooden shuttered window. The desk was strewn with papers and books. The floor had an arrayment of rugs of various colours and patterned designs, none looked as though they had come from the same place. The same could be said for the items on the walls, paintings of landscapes, portraits, masks, and weapons hanging like trophies. Blink’s heart always raced at the sight of them, the itch to run away with Fisk gnawed at him as much as ever.

Blink went to a painting on the wall to the right of the desk. It was a of a woman with almost white creamy skin, her hair bundled up into a messy red knot of curls. She wore an embroidered dress of gold and pearls and had a wry smile adorning her round face. His lady of secrets, Blink thought to himself. He pulled the gold painted elaborate frame from the side and it swung open to reveal a secret cache in the wall. There were several large bags of coins and gemstones, rolled up scrolls, a bejewelled golden dagger with a large, wavy blade, a carved black stone statuette of a cloaked woman holding a raven, a large leather-bound book, and standing the full height of the cache a flat large cast-iron box with bone claws engulfing the corners. Blink lifted the box and turned it over. It didn’t appear to have an opening or a lock anywhere on it.

‘Whatcha got there?’ came a gruff voice behind him. He jumped and almost threw the box. He turned to see Ra’Handa perched on the window-sill grinning. ‘Shit ya self,’ she laughed.

‘Fisk’ll have you strung up from the mast again if he catches you in here.’

‘That ol’ sting ray will have to catch me first.’ She winked and climbed down from the window. She snatched the box from Blink’s hands. ‘Where’s the openin’?’ She turned it looking.

Blink reached for it to get it back, but Ra’Handa was too quick, and side stepped him. She shook it and it made a muffled thud as if whatever was in there was padded to prevent too much movement.

‘Sumthin’ good in there I rekon,’ she said grinning.

‘I mean it Ra. He warned me about you coming around here. He really will tie you up there again.’ Ra’Handa had gotten away with more than most on the docks as she was Blink’s friend, and they all knew her. She had tried to swipe a few odds and ends from the ships and the storage over the years and when caught it resulted in no more than a day or two of forced labour. She never minded much as the labour meant she had a safe place to sleep for the night and a meal. That had changed when she made it into the ranks of the younglings within the Thieves’ Guild. The last time Fisk had caught her on his ship he had her bound and suspended from mast of the ship for a whole day. He would never hurt her, that wasn’t his way, but he had his own sense of justice. Now that she was under the responsibility of the Thieves’ Guild it was expected that they would take responsibility for her.

‘I’ve learned a thing or two about stayin’ outta reach.’ She bounced on the balls of her feet playfully.

‘You’re lucky he hasn’t told Demera about you or turned you in.’ Blink knew Fisk would never do this, but he hoped the warning was enough. Blink half wondered if Fisk’s unusual punishment was more about keeping her from Horrog and Demera. A little cruel kindness.

‘Fine’ she rolled her eyes and tossed it into the air at him. Blink caught it with a fumble but dropped it again as a series of fiery red shapes and lines appears around it. They spun and shifted, each a link in a glowing hot chain.

‘A magus lock!’ Ra’Handa exclaimed. ‘You don’t put one’a them on sumthin’ if it ain’t worth stealing’. She knelt down next to it and examined it. ‘The Maggies were tellin’ me ‘bout these. If you’re not careful they can explode.’ The Magpie’s were what the Thieves’ Guild called themselves, or Maggies as they were known in friendlier company. The younglings weren’t allowed to use this title until they had proven themselves worthy of full membership. Ra’Handa had never been so proud as the day she was sponsored for the trial.

‘I know Ra…’ She looked up at him with a sadness in her eyes. She picked up the box and the runes faded into nothing as if they had never been there in the first place. She handed it to him.

‘I’m sorry Blink. Ya know I lose myself when it comes to something worth coin.’ He took the box and looked at her. It was only now that he really took his old friend in. Her pale greenish skin was rough and freckled from so many years in the streets as children. Her hair was thick, wiry, and black. It was tied back into a thick ponytail at the back. She had the tell-tale sign of a half-orc, small tusks protruding from her bottom lip. It was her gear that was different. Her leathers were black with white paint smeared across them at random, two daggers at her sides. She didn’t look like the Ra’Handa of old, she looked like an adventurer, like a member of the Magpies, like someone that had a future before her. Blink felt a mix of pride and envy as he looked at her.

‘Thanks Ra.’

‘You know… you don’t have to stay there,’ she said for what seemed the millionth time. Blink turned away and sighed.

‘And where would I go? How would I get away? You know they’d come lookin’ for me.’ Blink moved to a large sack that lay in a mess of odds and ends and placed the box inside. ‘You’ve seen what happens to anyone that crosses him or slaves that try escape.’

‘I know…’

‘The last one was beaten so badly by Demera they couldn’t even find a buyer to take them. They ended up on a ship to the south for scavenging in the deserts.’ At the mention of the desert Ra’Handa winced.

‘I know alright!’ It was said that all manner of monstrous creatures and undead called the desert home. Prisoners and unwanted slaves were often taken there when there was no place for them here. Horrog and several other influentials had been known to have anyone that crossed them thrown in with those prisoners. The stories were few and outlandish at best, but it was enough to instil fearful loyalty in most.

‘Besides Ra. It isn’t that bad. I have a place to sleep, and I get fed. So long as I stay out of Demera’s way its ok.’ Blink finished placing the last of the items from the cache in the bag. Ra’Handa punched him playfully in the shoulder blade.

‘Just promise me that if you ever want’ta leave you let me know,’ she said guilty and with more than a little hope. You’d love the adventure of that wouldn’t you Ra, thought Blink.

‘Oi! Lad what’s taking you so long!’ called Fisk from the deck outside.

‘Quick! Get outta here before…’ Before he could even finish Ra’Handa was on the window ledge and swinging herself upwards. Fisk opened the door just as she vanished from sight.

‘Hurry along lad, I haven’t got all day,’ he said and opened the door.

Blink and Fisk made their way down the boardwalk. Fisk stopped now and then to talk to a dock hand and more than once a query from the auditors. Their crimson jackets with rope trim were impossible to miss. The auditors, Harbour Master and the guards didn’t wear the insignia of the axe and seven stars. They worked for the city and more importantly the mayor of Bonny. It was a tentative relationship that prospered so long as the interests of both were managed. Fisk would negotiate with them about what goods were being transported and nothing they wrote down would match the reality of quantity, quality nor location. Although gruff he had a certain elegance about how he moved amongst them and drove the bargains.

Occasionally, there were new odds and ends contributed to the sack that Blink had slung over his shoulder. It was bulging and getting heavy by the time they were finished.

‘Now lad you bring that back to yer Master and don’t dilly dally. I’ll not risk you getting scored again by Demera.’ Blink left, the reminder of his times on the receiving end of her lessons in obedience moved his legs for him.

It was when he reached the southernmost section of the docks where merchants and travellers arrive that he paused. There, plain as day, was a great galleon ship. The flags of the Dawn Isle rippling through the wind. The flags were red with a white half-circle sunburst emblazoned in the centre, the rays of white light leaving a wedged pattern rising above. Blink watched in astonishment as knights wearing red and white tunics with golden sunbursts walked from the ship. The polished swords at their sides, gleaming chainmail visible beneath the tunic and the heavy clunk of metal against wood in the air. There was one that stood out from the rest, it was a man holding a silver helm in his hands. He towered over the rest. His reddish-blonde hair exposed in the wind. He wore a hard visage on his face, and he walked past the dock hands and guards ignoring them. Following him was a dark cloaked figure that Blink couldn’t quite make out. Blink was so engrossed in the scene before him that he barely noticed the slight tug at the sack and sound of tearing fabric.