It was a cold night in Ratsgrove. Dark gloomy clouds were looming overhead, blocking the moon’s white glow. A light drizzle had started, little raindrops hitting the cobblestone streets and houses that made of Ratsgrove. Busy pedestrians walked up and down the streets, hunched over as they made their way to their destinations. The wise would avoid the alleys while the stupid would risk their money and lives.
That is the life of Ratsgrove, the poorest of the ten districts of the Nile. Corrupt authorities and politicians that only cared for wealth, gangs that fought for territory, thieves and crooks stealing from the innocent while the Nile did little to nothing intervene. It’s not like it mattered; the district offered little to nothing of value to the Nile. It had no ports for ships, no natural resources. It was only a dumping ground for the population of the Nile. Ratsgrove was the biggest district and the most populated and it was hard to leave Ratsgrove unless of course, you knew the proper ways of sneaking in or had the coin to be let in.
In one of the alleys, a tavern could be found called the Dogpound. Ordinary citizens would avoid that tavern as it was a known fact that it housed many of the criminals of Ratsgrove. It was used to drunken brawls, theft and deaths were a common sight. Yet the Dog Pound was easily one of the most profitable places in Ratsgrove.
In the upstairs section of the tavern, at the complete end of the section had a table, where a person was lounging. Their boots were hitched up on the table, while the chair was leaning on its hind legs, a nearly empty beer mug resting on the table.
“Oi Raven, get the hell up!”
Raven raised her head and stared at the person that had woken her up. It was one of the barkeeps, Burt. Burt wasn’t the owner of the Dog Pound. Ownership fell in the hands of the other barkeep, Ed.
“I paid for my drink Burt. Honest to god,” Raven replied. “You can even ask Ed, he’ll vouch for me.”
“I don’t care if you bought or stole your drink; I want your filthy boots off my table!”
Burt walked up, grabbing Raven by the ankles to put her feet off the table. Raven jumped off her chair, using all of her weight to push Burt. He grunted in surprise, letting go of Raven as he stumbled back, the railing of the second floor keeping him from falling down.
“Here this is for the bad service,” Raven added.
She walked up to Burt and kicked him. The railing gave way and broke, as Burt fell off and slammed onto the concrete floor of the first floor.
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The tavern fell quiet as everyone turned to look at Raven, then Burt, before erupting in cheers. No one liked Burt.
“Raven, I know that Burt is a dick, but can you please not destroy my bar?” Ed yelled over the yells and cheers of that had filled the room.
Raven stuck her hands in her pockets, fishing around for coins. She took out two silver pieces and one bronze piece, throwing it at Ed. “For the railing, I’m also taking a room for the night.”
Ed effortlessly grabbed the three coin pieces coming his way, tossing Raven a room key. “Now someone please get Burt’s body out of here! He’s messing up business.”
Raven jumped downstairs and headed for her room as two men dragged Burt’s unconscious body out of the way, as people went back to their conversations. Raven shook her head with a smirk on her face as she tossed up a bag of coin, Burt’s bag of coin. The idiot was so easy to pickpocket. Burt would probably blame her for the theft, but he was knocked out, in a tavern full of criminals, he’ll figure it out.
Raven reached her room, quickly entering and locking the door behind her. Raven and Ed were on good terms. Raven wasn’t the most loyal customer as she had stolen from Ed in the past, but they got along well. So Ed would frequently rent her the suite for the price of a normal room. The suite wasn’t anything majestic mind you; it was just a bigger room. The bed mattress was still hard and rough to sleep on, the covers rough and itchy. The window was small and hard to open. But the suite did its job.
Raven lit the sole oil lamp that was in the room, a little, brittle flame pushing out the darkness to the edges of the room. Raven sat on the side of the bed, emptying Burt’s coin pouch onto the bed. She sorted the coins into categories of bronze and silver. She ended up with 8 bronze and 5 silver pieces. Burt never really got tipped often, but it was easy money. Raven pocketed the coins back into her own coin pouch.
Raven heard a knock and thud on the door on the door. “Come in!” She called out, expecting it to be Ed or god forbid Burt, but no one opened the door. Raven went to the door opening it. There was nobody in the corridor, but a knife had suddenly sprouted from the door, a note and pouch with it. “Why hello there, what do you have here?”
Raven removed the knife from the door, along with the coin pouch, and note, closing the door behind her. She tossed the knife onto the nearby table. The coin pouch didn’t weight much and when opened, only held 10 silver pieces. Raven unfolded the note, it read:
Only a fraction of what can be yours. Stop by the Mourning Bridge and throw a silver piece off the bridge on the west side if you are interested.
Raven crumbled the note and threw it in the bin. The note didn’t say what the offer was, but Raven was already onboard. Raven would do almost anything for money, and for the right amount. Having lived in the Ratsgrove all her life, the art of theft became her life and wealth her love. Raven developed a solid reputation for doing her job well and efficiently at the cost of being a wanted criminal not only in Ratsgrove but also in the neighboring districts.
She licked her lips in anticipation of the money that would be hers. Of course if the reward wasn’t worth what she thought it should be worth, she’ll refuse to do the job. Raven works herself, to increase her wealth and well-being. She dimmed the light of her oil lamp before heading to bed. Tomorrow there was money to be made.