Another heist, another failure to report. As was the custom for any job that he took on. The Disheartened rouge sighed as he pondered his latest job, which had ended terribly for both him, and his now-exhausted legs. With a heart-pounding chase that ended his little heist, his knees were aching for him to take a rest, and so he dutifully headed for the Rat’s nest, the one and only pub in the undergrounds.

Cabal leaned back on his chair, which begged with a groaning creak as it felt his weight upon it. The old, worn-out wood wasn’t just exclusive to his chair, as every piece of furniture in the disrepaired bar shared the same faulty texture. He looked to the residents of the establishment, trying to spot any familiar faces that might bring him the slightest amount of comfort, but alas, he found none.

Those he knew had already left for greener pastures, better scores, and the like. The only ones left at the nest were the new bloods or those who had failed to get ahead in this life, like him. His face hardened. Maybe if the only bounties and requests left paid something other than piss he might have gotten somewhere. He knew he wasn’t the best at this whole criminal business thing, but he hoped his determination to not be beaten down by life would be enough.

Cabal’s features softened, and he sighed. No point in fighting himself on this. He failed his assignment again, barely escaping the law, and was now in hiding while the heat died down. He hated this life and yet had no choice but to continue living it, for…

“You gonna order something or just sit there looking like shit?”

Cabal’s thoughts were broken by the barkeeper’s words, and his attention was drawn upwards, to the lady’s face, and her stern look. “Matilda.” his eyes drifted over to her hands, where a tray full of beer mugs sat wobbling in her grasp. “Don’t you have other people to bother?”.

Matilda’s face turned into a scowl. Her red dress, which flowed down to her heels, reflected the anger in her words. “Well, fucker, sorry for giving a damn!” She spat down right next to Cabal’s foot “Tell you what? If I'm always such a displeasing sight for you, how about you get the fuck out of my bar, huh?”

Matilda’s little outburst brought the attention of everyone in the bar, while the dim light coming from the sewer’s roof poured down on the two. Cabal attempted fruitlessly to fall back on his words.

“Matilda look, I-I'm sorry. It's been a rough day and I just…”

“I don't care!” Her shout, as well as the tray of mugs falling to the ground, drove worry into the hearts of the onlookers, as they feared it would alert those walking above. “It’s always the same with you! You bring your woes and troubles into my establishment, you get into fights with those that hurt your ego, and you keep pushing away the ones who care about you!” Her rage nearly spent, she continued “Enough is enough, I want you out of here, now!”

Cabal attempted to retort something back. About how she was wrong, about the many times he’d tried to help her, anything to not be kicked out of his only remaining home.

But he couldn’t. Deep down he knew that her words were true.

Cabal stood up, facing the spent Matilda. Even at his height, she was still taller than him. A frightening sight to those daring enough to cause trouble in her establishment, and to him, who had slighted her one too many times. He turned to the exit, a rustic door with a dragon pattern carved into it. He remembered helping her set it up, bolts flying everywhere as the two of them tried in vain to set it up. A beautiful piece of work that Matilda had bought with the earnings from the bar and the last thing he would see before the end of their friendship.

As Cabal approached the door he looked around, to the spectators. A part of him wanted to strike back at them. To tell them to mind their own business. But he’d caused Matilda enough trouble by now. He turned and grabbed the knob, twisting it with spent energy.

The door creaked as it opened, and greeted Cabal with the darkness of the sewers. He turned to look at her friend. The one who had saved him all those years ago, who had been by his side after every failure. She was always quick to anger, but never towards him. Cabal saw for a split second the face of regret, pity, and care, but it was quickly replaced by irk. With a frown, she turned and gave her back to him.

Cabal’s gaze returned to the darkness that lay ahead. However worried he might be, he knew he had no choice but to go towards it. Either that or the beatdown that Matilda might inflict on him if he doesn’t leave. That last thought brought a smile to his face.

With no courage, no pride, and now, not even a home to go back to, Cabal entered the darkness, closing the door behind him.

……………………………………………………………………………………………………………

“Hear ye, hear ye!”

The sun beamed down upon the town square, where a myriad of citizens and merchants gathered to trade and barter. The stalls, all filled with different colors and smells, stood atop the bedrock paths that passed through the wooden houses of the populace. The fountain, the centerpiece of the town, sat square in the middle of the bustling marketplace.

Both adults and children could be seen buying and selling goods. The cries of upbeat merchants advertising their inventories to interested buyers. Smoke could also be seen rising from both the chimneys of houses and along the stalls of food vendors.

Among the hustle and bustle of town, Cabal’s scrawny form could be seen in one of the many shadows beneath the towering houses.

Three days had passed since Matilda kicked him from her bar. With no jobs and no place to call home anymore, the thief had settled for roaming the dark streets, in hopes of subjecting unsuspecting victims to a petty shakedown. While a sound plan for a better, stronger thief, Cabal gave up after only the first day.

Cabal’s hand found itself in his pocket, where he pulled out his worn-out pouch. The leathery brown texture was practically gone, except for a few small patches at random sections. Inside, he spotted two silver coins and a singular gold coin, the last remaining money he didn’t have to his name.

With little hope remaining, Cabal set out to try his luck in the bustling marketplace.

While he was simply planning on grabbing a cheap bite of anything, he was also looking around at the townsfolk, hoping for a quick way of earning coin. While he was always gifted in spotting valuables, the act of pickpocketing them was another thing entirely. While he bargained for a pottage with a white-clothed merchant, he surveyed the market. A set of family jewels to the north, being sold at an exorbitant price; a leather bag full of silver coins, laying next to a plump-looking merchant; A ruby necklace hanging around the neck of what seemed to be a noble’s maid; amongst many more riches to be found in a place as busy as this.

All of them out of reach.

He didn't have dexterous hands, or a hidden presence, or any other natural talents that might help him. Only his sight, which only lowered his already low self-esteem. Why did he have a gift if he could never put it to use?

“Sire?”

Cabal’s attention returned to the food merchant, who looked at him with mild disinterest.

“As I just told you, I'm not lowering the price of the food. Looking away isn’t going to change that.” The merchant looked behind Cabal, and, seeing that a line was slowly beginning to form, began pressuring the man. “Now, are you going to buy the food or are you just going to stand there holding back these fine gentlemen?”

In the past, Cabal would have retorted back, asking about why his prices had suddenly spiked when he saw him. But after the incident with Matilda, his energy was gone. He pulled out half of his silver and the one gold coin. With a frown, he roughly placed them on the merchant’s table. “Here, hope you stuff yourself to death with these.”

He turned and left with pottage in hand, ignoring any lingering comments made by the merchant.

Cabal headed for the eastern side of the town square, where numerous wooden tables had been set up. He sat down with a thud and began devouring his first meal in days. He finished after a couple of minutes, and while not filling, it was enough to reinvigorate the saddened thief.

With what little energy he had regained, he surveyed the marketplace once more. What caught his eye this time wasn’t a trinket to steal, however, as Cabal noticed a crowd gathered around a notice board. It wasn’t an uncommon sight at all in town, as adventurers and the like gathered to see what bounties, requests, or commissions were being posted.

When he first arrived here, Cabal had tried giving adventuring a chance. Sadly though, the pay for the requests he undertook was underwhelming, and those of higher pay usually required work he was incapable of doing. This led to his retirement and eventual transition into a life of crime.

Still, a crowd gathered somewhere that wasn’t the market in a day such as these was cause for intrigue. Cabal rose from his seat and wandered closer to the mumbling gathering. From what he could gather, the adventurous folk were all wondering about a specific request, which was way too simple for the apparent pay. Cabal pushed forward until he could see the order.

“By order of his majesty, the great Duke of the Highlands, Patrician Marcellio, those of you who undertake this request are asked to recover a highly valuable object. The object in question is a piece of a collection quite dear to the noble family, and so we are willing to reward those who return the object with a hefty recompense. If you wish to take on this daunting request, you’ll receive the finer details once you process with the nearest guild.”

Additionally, those wh…

The remaining writing was of no interest to Cabal once he glanced over to the reward posted at the bottom.

500 gold coins.

Such a generous amount wasn't even handed out for exterminations of dangerous wildlife or bandit groups. There had to be a catch. And the details of the object and its location were only handed out after accepting the request? That's bullshit right there!

Or so he would’ve thought, but a man so deep in debt; someone who couldn’t even gather a measly copper coin through both legal and illegal means, was a desperate man. His body acted without thought, snatching the small paper flier before anyone with a screw looser than him could try anything.

The gathered crowd turned to look at him with gasps and grunts, but Cabal ignored them all. This was it, the last chance the gods or whoever controls the skies had given him.

Cabal may come to regret this choice later, but for now, he was ecstatic. He could see it in the distance of his mind. The path to happiness, redemption, and a new life.

For her, who he’d not seen in many moons.

He sighed with relief. This was it.

One last score.

……………………………………………………………………………………………………………

The sun beamed down upon Cabal as he glanced back into the city. A heavy satchel and a steel longsword hung behind him. The briefing had been rather short, considering the magnitude of what was being asked of him…

He’d gone into the local guild hall, paper in hand, where two royal representatives sat waiting by the high table at the back of the room. The place reeked of liquor, beer, and stenches he was too preoccupied to place. And yet, Cabal couldn’t help but notice how empty it was for a place that saw so many drunks and ‘heroes’. It seems the guests here had cleared the place out ahead of time.

The two men wore prestigious clothing, which contrasted with the old and worn-out wood of the hall. An elongated black coat adorned the representatives, the tailoring quality of which made apparent as at its sides the black and blue markings of the duke’s sigil lay for all to see. Long black pants led to sharp-pointed boots, which looked poised to kill whoever dared cross their way. The men were not carrying any armaments, though Cabal assumed that was simply because anyone smart enough knows not to cross the duke or his circle.

Cabal noted, however, that a satchel, alongside a leather scabbard, lay across the table. As he closed the hall’s doors behind him, one of the representatives shot a glance back, finishing whatever riveting conversation was happening between the two.

“I thought I asked the owner of this drab place to prevent access to the hall.” The taller representative, whose salient red eyes pierced Cabal’s soul with a noticeable disregard, spoke up. “Are you lost? Clear out before I send for the guards. We are conducting official business here.”

Cabal was ready to swallow his pride if he was going to undertake an official request. And yet he couldn’t help but grimace at the words being sent his way. It took his all to lower his face, and with a sigh, he performed a simple bow.

“I heard you were looking for someone to go on an errand for his majesty”

The red-eye officer scowled and rose from his chair. “And that’s supposed to be you? The… one we are looking for?” The man broke into a laugh that echoed through the vacant establishment. He continued once his admonishment ceased. “Ha! Please, you look like you just crawled out of the sewers. Hell, maybe you did. We are not so desperate that we would employ the services of this here city’s equivalent to a malnourished pup.”

Cabal held his face from producing any more emotions. “Sir, the request didn’t say anything about status or app..”

“It's implied!” The man raised his voice. “An official request will not be carried out by the likes of you. Now leave!” He made a show of pointing his finger towards the door as if he were speaking to a nunce.

“Come on. Out. Out!”

Cabal was left speechless. He wasn’t even capable of being angry at a man whose pompousness was so elevated it might even reach the heavens.

“Are you not going to leave?” His rant continued. “Must I really call the guards to remove this riff-raff? Or better yet, let's just throw him in jail ours…”

“Amadeus.”

The red-eyed officer was silenced by the mere mention of his name. The other man, who’d been notably quiet during the entire exchange, spoke up. “Quiet, please.”

“Apologies Sir Christian.”

The other representative, seemingly named Sir Christian, rose from his seat, all while Amadeus returned to his seat. He turned towards Cabal with a honeyed voice.

“It seems you are here about the request, yes?”

“Yeah.”

“Good. You’d think with the kind of money we’re offering we’d be drowning in volunteers but alas…” He made a show of spreading his arms and motioning around the hall. “You are the first and only. Guess it shows how popular we are.”

Cabal appreciated the attitude of this second officer, but he refrained from making commentary. No matter how friendly he would never lower his guard before authority.

Sir Christian's voice rose as he began detailing the request.

“The item in question is an old sword which belonged to the duke’s great grandfather and founder of this here city. It was reportedly last seen in an old bandit camp, which was nestled inside one of the numerous caves of Mount Nista. Your objective is simply to recover the sword and bring it back, and I believe someone of your…mien will have no trouble acquiring it.”

Cabal’s thoughts ran rampant, and yet the onslaught of information didn’t cease.

“In his great generosity, Duke Patrician Marcellio offers those who undertake this journey enough supplies to survive a trip to the mountain and back, alongside a set of protective gear in case the journey takes a more violent turn.”

Sir Christian motioned towards the stall, where the satchel and scabbard he’d seen earlier lay scattered. Amadeus scoffed.

The gentle-spoken officer looked back to Cabal, he spoke as he rummaged through his pockets. “That is all. Accept or reject this request as you see fit. And here…”, he pulled out a single silver coin, placing it on a table that sat right next to Cabal.

“For the troubles.”

……………………………………………………………………………………………………………

The journey to Mount Nista took nearly a day, and while the supplies administered to him by the duke’s officials were nowhere close to being depleted, Cabal was beginning to worry that he might have overestimated the initial amount.

Cabal’s attire hadn’t changed much since he first went to the meeting. With his remaining coins he’d manage to haggle a pair of used snow boots and a raggedy-looking cloak. The latter, a velvet black piece of cloth, hid the state of the rest of his clothes. Both his shirt and his pants had holes in them, something he believed fueled the prejudice thrown at him by the officials.

He again noticed the added weight to his waist, as the scabbard that had been lent to him as part of the duke's “generosity” laid neatly on his side. Cabal was still becoming accustomed to its weight since he’d never held a longsword in his life. He thought it would be similar to a dagger, just with a bit more length to it. How wrong he’d been when he first got hold of it.

Rustling from a nearby bush broke Cabal’s inner thoughts, and he quickly turned to look at it, only to find a squirrel looking about, sniffing, and running away. He was way too nervous about this business. He had hoped that his rather average skills would suffice. He was good at hiding and being unnoticed; though he wasn’t particularly proud of that last one.

A shiver went through his bones as a particularly strong gust of wind hit him. The realization that he was now at the base of the mountain hit Cabal as the blistering cold was beginning to be noticeable. His thoughts shifted back to the cloak. Boy was he happy he’d bought it, seeing as its fabric was thick enough to serve as insulation from the cold.

The greenery around him slowly turned gray and rocky as he neared the path up the mountain. He'd thought about finding another way up, but from what he’d heard from the briefing, it was either this path or the steep surface that would most likely lead him to his death.

Unlawfully taken from Royal Road, this story should be reported if seen on Amazon.

With a deep breath, Cabal steeled himself and took the first of many steps up the mountain.

……………………………………………………………………………………………………………

From the first few minutes of the climb, he knew something was off.

All Cabal knew was that this was supposed to be a bandit camp, and yet from his many hiding spots he never spotted anyone that fit the description. Hell, he didn't see anyone at all.

The snow was pouring down around him, and, to his many thanks, cloaking the blackness of his shape from any would-be attackers. A sudden blizzard had struck the mountain path, forcing Cabal to trod along it faster than he would’ve liked.

Maybe they were all sheltered inside the cave. Cabal’s thoughts wandered as he moved from bolder to bolder. He could now see the shape of the cavern forming in front of him, the Gaping entrance looming over his body like a giant statue; both an invitation and a warning. The stone was naturally sharpened around its edges, giving off the illusion of a stone maw.

From the inside, nothing could be seen. He found it strange that a place filled with bandits and other dreadful criminals would sport such a quiet and dead aura. Accompanying the lack of light was also the ever-present quietness, which did not do wonders for the thief’s confidence.

Cabal debated his next move. The place seemed empty, vacant. And yet the possibility of them simply being further inside was quite high. On the other hand, there were no patrols. No outposts or lookouts. No one at all.

On any other request, legal or not, he would’ve given hope by now. The fear of death was ever-present in Cabal; not fear of his own, but of what it would entail. He steeled his eyes, face changing in shape. He couldn’t back out now! He had failed to secure a stable job because of his fear and doubts. He never completed any assignments left to him by his fellow thieves because of his uncertainness. Now, more than ever, Cabal could not…Would not. Back. Down.

His boot crunched as he took a step on the deep, white snow. Head facing forward, Cabal stepped inside the stone maw, his figure slowly fading in the shadows.

As the outside light died off, Cabal reached for one of the supplies given to him by the duke. From his lower pocket, he pulled out a matchbox, filled in its entirety with around two dozen matches. He pulled a single one out and struck it against the sharp stone walls, lighting it instantaneously. It barely provided any light, but that would ensure that; in case anyone still called this place home, he would remain undetected. He took a crouching stance and ventured deeper in.

Still, even without the matches, Cabal’s eyesight was refined enough that he began making apart different objects in the dark. As he approached the one closest to him, the match’s light revealed its shape: an empty wooden box.

Cabal sighed, relieved that he hadn’t found a corpse or any of the sort. Still, it meant that this place did indeed host people at some point. He took his gaze from the wooden object and looked around. Multiple other boxes lined the floor in proximity to his position. Some were closed, others empty, and there were even a couple whose contents had been spilled. Contraband most likely. But Cabal didn’t further the topic. These kinds of things were way above his league.

The first match died off, and so he pulled out a replacement, struck against the floor, and continued deeper. As he neared a sharp turn in the cavern, he spotted something gleaming against the wall right before the cut-off point of the turn. He carefully approached it, yet stumbled backwards as the light revealed an atrophied corpse chained to the wall.

It was held by two metal cuffs stapled into the wall by shoddy-looking nails and bolts. To Cabal’s inexperienced eyes, it looked like it had been there for at least a while, yet that didn't remove any of the disgust of death. Still, he had a job to do, and it was clear that these bandits were just that. Cruel and blood-thirsty.

He rose and dusted off, looking at the skeleton. Cabal clasped both hands together and closed his eyes for but a moment.

May your soul follow the river.

With a send-off prayer, he turned the corner and continued deeper.

……………………………………………………………………………………………………………

His advance stopped closely after turning the corner, as a light from deeper inside became visible.

Cabal retook his crouching stance and slowed his breath. His ears fully at work, trying to discern any sound they could all while his eyes scanned the surroundings for activity.

Nothing.

He remained alert for a moment before his face scrunched up again. There it was again. That uneasy silence that was alien to these kinds of places. After another minute of waiting, Cabal began slowly making his way towards the light.

The cavern, which by this point had mostly followed the layout of a tunnel, opened up to a massive, dome-like chamber. The sharp edges of the stone took a more natural form as they rose towards the roof, and seemed to float due to the lack of any sort of column support.

The source of the light, a multitude of torches, lined in symmetry along the walls of the chamber, sizzled as they burned their fuel endlessly. The light provided by them was enough to illuminate most of the chamber, putting Cabal’s matches to shame.

Wooden furniture lined the floors of the cave, and different objects, ranging from swords and bows to open chests were scattered on the floor. Cabal noted however that most furniture was scattered and thrown around. He understood that bandits had little need for order, but it was something that bugged the thief.

However, he didn't have time to ponder it. He wanted to leave this place as soon as he could and so he had to find the duke’s blade.

He spotted what looked like to be a section of the chamber dedicated to both treasure and weapons. He cautiously approached it but picked up the pace once he saw the contents of some of the chests and boxes. Chest after chest filled with gold and silver coins filled Cabal’s vision. The entire treasury of the bandit group lay right before his eyes; an amount so high even the town’s merchants would fight each other for a tenth of it.

A tenth…

If he could get his hands on both the request’s reward and just a piece of a bandit's unearned money, he’d probably have enough to never work again. He could leave this ugly business of thieving and go back to her…

He shook his head. Not yet. First the request, then any other bonuses. He looked through chests, boxes, and stands. He’d been given a rough description of the sword by Sir Christian, and according to him, it would be quite easy to spot. He pushed aside steel and silver swords. Threw bows out of their boxes, and while his gaze averted over to the coins from time to time, he remained focused on the request.

Just as he was about to lose hope of ever finding it in this treasury, he spotted a dark blue scabbard hidden underneath one of the many wooden boxes. Cabal rushed over and placed both hands underneath it, pulling it up with all his strength and pushing aside the scabbard with his foot. He dropped the box, producing a sound louder than he’d liked, but didn't mind, seeing as he was quite alone in this place.

With the sword free, Cabal crouched down to inspect it. He pulled the sword out of the scabbard, producing a shing as it left its home. The sword was mainly ceremonial, as its grip and cross guard were covered in carvings. Its ricasso was shaped in the form of a bear, the duke’s symbol.

And of course, its edge was dulled beyond belief.

Cabal let out a sigh and placed the blade back in its scabbard. He grabbed a conveniently placed belt lying inside one of the crates and strapped it to it, swinging the scabbard and its weapon onto his back. With his prize secured, he moved back towards the boxes of coins, pondering what to do with them. His thoughts were cut short, however, as a loud sound was heard just outside the chamber…

Thud.

Cabal froze, his thoughts racing for a way out, or at least a way to hide from the impending unknown that approached him.

Thud.

The sound came again, only louder and more defined. Rather than the quick footsteps or rattling of armor that he expected, the sound reminded Cabal of a quarry worker splitting a stone. A loud stomp against the bedrock ground.

With the sound coming from his only way out, the only option was to hide and pray to whatever gods that still bother to listen for safety. He quickly scrambled over to one of the sides, where multiple stacks of leftover crates were placed. Cabal crouched as soon as he got behind them, his head peeking only just.

Thud.

The sound was becoming clearer. Closer.

Thud.

Its frequency and potency were increasing. This was no wandering bandit or stray elk. Cabal shuddered at the thought. A bear maybe? No, the sound was way too loud for it to just be a bigger-than-normal bear. But what could be bigger than a bear in this region?

…

Thud.

…shit. A shiver ran down Cabal’s spine. The gears started shifting in his mind. The abandoned cave, the signs of destruction, and the clear lack of bandit activity. Those fuckers at the capital, They knew! They had to! Why else was the reward so high?! Dammit Cabal, you stupid, stupid man! Of course, there was no one here! Either they were smart and fled or they were killed. And you’re about to be next. Another helpless and foolhardy human to die at the hands of a dr…

Thud.

The flickering light of the torches almost seemed to be sucked towards the entrance as the approaching behemoth came to light. Like sunrise after nightfall, the light slowly bathed the creature as it made its way inside the stone chamber. Its shape, an undeniable truth to anyone who listens to the tales and ballads of any bard.

A dragon.

The creature was covered in deep, silver scales, which reflected the dim light coming off the torches. four limbs sustained its gigantic body, with a fifth one, its tail, resting slightly above the ground. Its powerfully built muscles rippled as it continued to enter the cavern. Cabal couldn't believe it. It had to be at least two rute in length and, from what he could tell, at least one and a half in height. Its head wasn’t fully stretched, so it was hard for Cabal to tell. Its snout, sharp and angular, flared up as it took in the scents of the room. Simultaneously, two reptilian eyes, lightish blue in coloration, scanned the room, as if it knew of its intruder by instinct.

And yet, Cabal had enough time to notice a certain tranquility in them; something that contrasted with the feral and animalistic nature of its appearance.

Above its eyes, resting on the back of its head, were a pair of monumentally-sized horns. Made of what appeared to be cedar wood, they resembled the antlers one might find on deer than that of the foreign, gray beasts of the eastern savannahs. The horns extended backward toward the rest of its body, and Cabal was left to wonder as to how it even got those monstrous things into the cave.

Yet Cabal was so preoccupied with observing the mythical beast that he failed to notice it had already caught his scent.

The wooden boxes that covered Cabal’s frail body exploded in a storm of wooden splinters. He was sent flying from his hiding spot, covering from the sudden attack. He hit the floor with middling damage to his body, seeing as he hadn’t been flung that far or high, however both the steel longsword and the satchel were scattered around the room. Cabal lay on the ground, groaning from pain. His inner body was fine, but a sharp pain pointed his attention to his left arm. A group of splinters had managed to pierce his skin, and he could feel warm blood pouring and dripping down his arm.

He clenched an eye and with struggle looked at the origin of the explosion.

The beast was looking intently at him. It seemed his proud skills as a thief amounted to nothing when faced with a creature of such cunning. The dragon, using its tail as a striking weapon, had swung at him while he was distracted. That thing, the appendage, could barely be called a tail, however, as it was just as much of a weapon as its claws or fangs. Near the end of the tail, the muscle split harshly into the shape of a cross, serving as a naturally built, muscle-powered Warhammer.

Cabal broke his stupor, not wanting to be caught unguarded again. Clenching his wounded arm, he met the beast’s gaze with his own. Seconds passed as neither moved, but the dragon was first to act as Cabal’s eyes drifted while looking for a way past it. It raised one of its forelimbs, and with a quickness unnatural to an animal its size, the dragon swiped at the thief, missing by mere inches, as he managed to dodge out of the way just in time.

Cabal stumbled slightly after dodging, not used to this kind of combat; actually, he was not used to any kind of combat at all. Yet his small reprieve was cut by another strike from the beast. He tried to dodge once again, yet his leg was struck by the back side of its claws. A blunt strike, yet it sent Cabal barreling to the back of the chamber.

Once his body finally stopped, he tried standing up, but quickly fell to his knees, heaving. The blow knocked the air out of his body and did a number on his internal organs. His eyes felt groggy, and a sense of dread overcame him. This was bad. Real, real bad.

The dragon began moving once again, slowly and steadily approaching Cabal. The body language of a taunt; of a predator. yet that tranquil gaze remained in its eyes. The contrast unsettled the thief, who frantically looked around for anything that might help him. A direct fight was out of the question. He was both physically and skillfully unable to fight most people, let alone a monster numerous times his size, so the only way out was to escape. But the beast blocked the only exit out of the cavern.

Suddenly, as if a wandering fairy had granted him wisdom, an idea came to his mind. One that only a half-dead, desperate thief like himself could pull off.

He gathered what little strength he had left to rise to his feet, his only healthy arm clutching his stomach as he bared the pain. He steeled his body and face, for what he was about to pull off required both bravery and stupidity.

With a bravado so false that any bard would be proud and ready to take him in, Cabal screamed from the top of his battered lungs.

“Come on you mish-mashed animal! Can’t catch little ol’ me?! I know that my lords above ran out of ideas when creating your kind, but I was sure he gave you enough to deal with a tasty, easy-looking prey such as me!”

Cabal heaved as he ended his speech, praying that it was enough to taunt the creature. He looked ahead, only to find the dragon had stopped in its tracks. He feared it had done the exact opposite. Did it know what he was planning?

Just as Cabal was about to lose all hope, the dragon roared up towards the domed roof, the sound echoing immensely through the dead halls of the cave. Cabal covered his ears as quickly as he could, barely withstanding the auditory barrage. And yet he was given no time to regain himself, as the dragon broke into a sprint towards him.

The dragon closed the distance as quickly as a loose arrow and lunged its jaws at the human. It seemed, after all, that his plan worked better than expected.

Cabal screamed as he threw himself to the side, swiftly dodging the bite as the creature slammed its body against a nearby wall. Cabal wouldn’t waste the opportunity. With adrenaline pumping through his body, he rose to his feet and broke into a sprint, aiming straight for the entrance. He felt his body breaking down. Both the damage to his left arm as well as the blunt force taken by his organs was strong enough that it nearly overpowered the adrenaline. And yet he swallowed the pain. Cabal wasn’t a physically strong man, but he felt as though to give up here wasn’t just a mere insult to pride. It was to give up on himself, and his future. No! Her future.

His legs burned as he ran, the last vestiges of stamina being drained as he crossed the chamber with great speed. In a way, he thanked his body for helping him through the many struggles of life, as his natural sturdiness had allowed him to withstand failure after failure, hell, maybe after…

He was too late to notice.

Cabal’s eyes saw a flash coming from his left, which then crashed with ungodly force on his body, sending his body flying once more. The dragon, having quickly spun around after the crash, had struck him straight on with the head of its hammer tail. A decisive victory. Cabal’s body crashed against a pile of wooden boxes with an echoing boom, causing further harm to the yet-unbeknownst state of his body. The beast’s gaze didn’t change, yet it kept its sight on the rubble, awaiting any response from the thief.

……………………………………………………………………………………………………………

Cabal didn’t yet feel the cold touch of death, but neither did he feel the pain that awaited him was he to regain consciousness. Was this what they call limbo? He didn’t know, but if it was he was leaving it immediately. He had no intention of getting holed up somewhere where he couldn’t do anything.

Hell's no.

And let them have the last word? The last laugh? He understood their gazes better than they thought. A gaze not of pity or empathy, but of slothness and loathing. He knew not what their plan was; maybe they thought they could save a few gold coins by hiring an ‘adult street urchin’, or maybe this was the duke’s way of culling out the undesirables, as it were.

He knew this and still chose to take the job. A job that led to him dying in a hole, being killed and eaten by a creature few believe even exists, and trying to retrieve a sword for a pompous asshole who only cares about raising taxes and holding tea parties. And yet, he didn’t regret his actions. For all these years ever since he became a thief, he never regretted the failures, the days spent in jail, the beatings. He regretted none of it.

Because it was never for him.

He opened his eyes and was immediately hit by wave after wave of pain. How he wasn’t dead yet was a mystery to him. And also to his aggressor, as from the corner of his eye, Cabal saw the stalwart expression of the dragon change for but a moment.

Cabal groaned as he regained more and more awareness as to the state of his body. He could feel the pain of broken bones, bruised limbs, and blood rushing down his nose and mouth. And yet again, he attempted to rise. It failed.

His arm gave up under the pressure being applied to it. Be it because of the injuries sustained or simple exhaustion, his body could not continue. With only pain on his mind, he could no longer distinguish between thoughts and words, his only objective being the sword, and what lies after.

“W-w-where is,” He struggled to find the words. “where d-d-did I…?”

Unable to stand, he rolled his body, while a piercing pain reminded him of his previous injuries. He spotted the indigo scabbard a few steps from where he currently laid, though getting to it was currently out of the question for the battered thief.

Thud

A familiar yet haunting sound returned as the dragon halted its silent vigil over him, and approached the man. Cabal could only look up at the beast, its body covering nearly all of the light coming off the torches, casting a shadow that dwarfed anything in its path. The dragon’s steps stopped just before the sword, craning its neck to look at the weapon, then back at Cabal; its tranquil yet haunting sight having been restored.

The thief watched as the dragon opened its jaws once again, and Cabal feared the worst. Perhaps it would be merciful and grant him a swift death, or perhaps it wasn’t even a bite, and instead, the beast would burn him alive as the stories loved to tell. Or perhaps it would choose a far more horrible end for his transgressions against it, once that even he didn’t dare imagine, as the mental picture would…

“Your name?”

Cabal’s gaze was drawn towards the source of the voice, yet he was quick to notice that it was the beast in front of him who uttered the question. He was allowed no rest.

“Your name, human.”

The regal yet gentle, soft yet aggressive voice asked. It sounded stupid to Cabal, but it was an unmistakably inhuman voice. With a female, yet far lower tone, the voice stopped as it awaited a response. He feared what may happen if he made it,… her? Wait any longer.

“Ca…” His throat burned and he coughed up blood, staining the stone in red. Seconds passed, and he managed to stabilize himself, raising his head and meeting the dragon’s gaze head-on.

“C-Cabal, my name is Cabal.” He managed to keep himself as composed as he possibly could, though to no avail. Who wouldn’t falter in the face of death? “P-please, listen I-I…”

“Silence.”

The uttered words held no rage, no animosity, yet the authority they commanded was enough to freeze the thief’s body. This was no mere beast, but rather something akin to the divines themselves.

“Why have you come to this place? It bears no relation to you.”

“I-I’m a hunter! I heard of bandit activity around these parts, a-and so I came to investigate!”

The dragon stared at Cabal as it processed the information, though again her eyes showed no sign of it. In a flash, she raised a foreleg, and at staggering speed drove one of her claws through Cabal’s left leg. The thief let out a blood-curdling cry, contracting in pain from the impalement by the onyx nail. Her omnipotent voice was heard once more.

“Again.”

“Ah! Ah. Ah, o-ok, ok, I get it, I get it, I'm sorry. I…I came here to retrieve a sword. T-that one. I-It was a job. I'm sorry P-Please. Please let me go…”

Trying in vain to clutch his leg, Cabal fruitlessly squirmed in the claws of the beast. It didn’t relent. The dragon looked at the implement Cabal was referring to, the dark blue scabbard lying lifelessly on the ground. Its gaze remained focused on the sword.

“For wealth?”

“W-what?”

“For wealth?”

“No! No, I… it wasn’t for me! It was…”

The blue tranquility returned as the dragon’s gaze returned to him, yet she made no move.

“Why are you still alive?”

Cabal could barely comprehend what was happening. Was she toying with him? Playing into his emotions, into his hopes of escape? It was maddening. She was acting as though only she could grant or deny life. Did it think itself a god? A judge of the guilty? Yet, Cabal could sense there was something else to this beast. A certain…nobility? A pull granted by those tranquil eyes. Something that exposed his soul, making it clear to her who he was, who he is, and who he will be.

“I-I don't know! What do you expect me to tell you!? That I'm alive because of you not wanting to kill me? That I’m alive because…”

“Again.” Cabal’s ill-timed anger faded as he heard the word.

“S-sorry. I-I don’t know. I…I suppose I’ve always had a sturdy body, m-maybe the gods willed? I…”

The dragon slightly twisted the claw embedded in his leg, not to the point of causing pain, but sending a clear message. Wrong. Again.

That was it, he was fed up with this false omnipotence.

“Then what do you want?! I'm sorry that my pleas are wrong, that they mean nothing to you! But what do you expect from me!? I didn’t wish to come here in the first place! I didn’t want to, I had to. If you want to hear a selfish plea, a sign of repentance from me, then fuck you!”

“Now that I know that apologies won’t get me out of here, I'll have you know how sorry I am!”

He grabbed onto the claw holding him down and stared rusted daggers at the dragon. Now not even Cabal knew where the strength to argue was even coming from, but he felt as though he had to…

For her.

For Maribell.

“You think I do this for myself?! I know you dragons love your hoards and your selfishness and your pride, but please don't impose on us like that! Do you think I suffered all these years just for my own wealth?! For my happiness?! Hell's no! It is a parent's duty to make their child’s life a better one than their own! So I'll be damned if I'm gonna be berated by you for trying to do so!”

This was it. He had vented his anger, both to the beast and to the world. He had led on more than he would’ve liked, but he doubted that his killer here would go on to tell stories to her dragon buddies about the poor thief who got himself killed for his daughter. Hell, maybe he would even ask…

“Good.”

“W-what?”

He noticed a change in those tranquil eyes. They…softened slightly, yet their edge remained.

“Yet a crime remains a crime.”

“What do you mean by…agh!”

The dragon pulled her claw out of Cabal’s leg, causing incredible pain to the already weakened man. Yet a part of him failed to notice the lack of dribbling blood. In his pain, he noticed the beast preparing for something, but what it was he couldn’t tell.

As the pain gradually passed, he noticed that the dragon was waiting for something. The idea did not go above Cabal’s head, though he did ponder it for a moment.

“I’m sorry but whatever you’re waiting for, I cannot help. I can’t really stand up right now.”

For the first time, Cabal saw what he thought was actual emotion from the dragon: Exasperation. With heavy steps it approached the man, towering as usual over his small frame. The shadow, a reminder of his status.

“Goodbye.”

The dragon broke open its jaws and descended on the thief.

Death came for him, but he never expected it to be so stoic. He realized at that moment that he would never again see his daughter; another broken promise. His little Mirabell…

Please forgive me…

I never did much, for you did I? I tried, I really did! But I'm a failure even at being a parent. My only hope is that you don’t grow up to make the same mistakes that I did.

I…

I love you.

……………………………………………………………………………………………………………

The land was alive with quiet splendor, and the rivers ran without a care. The mark of the divine was clear for the creatures and critters that inhabited the forests. Birds chirped happily as they dived and glided over the pines and grass-filled fields, bringing a joyful tune to the wilds.

Yet, there was a place where this wild aliveness didn’t thrive. Not for lack of life, but rather the absence of sound. Nature respected the divine, and so it sought not to interfere.

A raggedly-looking man lay sprawled on the pasture floor, drawing a brown stain on the green painting. Above him, in the treeline, lay an opening in the forest, allowing the midday sun to beam down on the unconscious man. His skin was kept safe from the light, though barely, by old, ripped clothes, and an unassuming velvet cloak, which wrapped around his chest. One of his arms aimed away from his body, while the other was found near his chest, clutching an object in his palm.

Moments went by before the first sign of life came from the man. No animal was seen during that time, nor was the weather willing to change. He opened one eye, then the next. The sun was no longer directly above him, so he could freely gaze upon the blue painting that was the sky.

The sky?

With a sudden flash of conviction, the man lifted his head and upper body in a flash, scanning his surroundings. His body was sore and bruised, but otherwise devoid of any injuries or scars. He gazed around the unfamiliar location, a million thoughts running through his head, though they all stopped as soon as he saw the recognizable, indigo-lined scabbard.

Cabal was speechless, both in voice and mind. Where was he? Is this heaven? maybe hell? He’d heard tales of a forest in hell where the guilty were turned into trees. He sure wishes this wasn't that, though his presence here wouldn't be all that surprising.

He tried standing up, and at that moment finally noticed his hand strongly clasped around a scroll; One he never had with him nor had any idea where it came from. He feared his grasp had damaged the thing, but unsurprisingly, he had not the strength to even manage that.

He opened it up and was hit with the smell of…lavender, and the sharp and crisp aroma of ink.

Due to his lacking nature, Cabal often looked for alternative methods of gaining money, many of which failed. However, on this journey, he did manage to learn how to read, an ability that ended up sustaining him in the darkest of moments.

This was a letter. Though from whom he couldn’t tell.

Dear Mr. Cabal

I hope you find yourself in good health, and pray that your injuries have healed. I wish to tell you that it was a pleasure having the opportunity to speak to you, a man of such conviction and determination. It moved me to tears! As such, I considered your request, and I'm pleased to tell you that you are free to take the following items from my collection: one dark blue scabbard and its respective weapon, alongside a generous donation from my coffers.

The latter has been deposited safely nearby, I hope you understand. It is not every day one meets somebody with aspirations and dreams such as yours, so I wish to commend you. Though I implore you to stop pushing your body beyond its natural limits, it is not healthy. On that note, I wish to end this by reminding you of your words of defiance.

They are not lies, but your wish can easily turn misguided, or even worse. I’d hate for us to meet in those same circumstances again. Improve your life, seek your loved ones, and live an honest future. Remember that you’re strong where it matters.

I hope to see you again.

Kefaret.

Cabal sat on the grassy plains of the forest, staring intently at the letter. As if he didn’t have enough to worry about already. “Ha!” Though pained and uncertain, the former thief managed a smile.

“What the hell…”

Fin.