Keziah opened the door and entered the apartment he lived in for the past year. Located on the third floor of a shoddy, although well-kept house, it could be painful to get into. Its low doorframe liked to attack his forehead whenever he was coming through it, engrossed in thoughts. This time he managed to avoid the one-sided confrontation and, taking off his coat, he made his way to occupy the free chair.
welcomed in his head the occupant of the other chair, which happened to be a sabre with a greatly curved upper third of its length.
“I didn’t lose. And try five mad, desperate thugs, instead.”
He was too tired to be annoyed at his sword. Sitting down, he took off his boots, putting his left foot on the heel of the right and vice versa. They flew to the corner and Kez finally relaxed in his chair.
Sighing, he repeated the actions of his day to Augustus. Used to his interrupting after almost 20 years together, Kez finished, “—and then I grabbed the statue and came home.”
“The contract stated clearly that it was a singular thief. The room seemed small, so I didn’t bother checking it,” explained Kez.
“It's not broken, and the job is done. No bodies either. They are all alive.”
“Ahh, dammit. I thought I could sneak up on the guy and do it silently.”
“Fine, I made a mistake, my bad, it won’t happen again.”
Kez slumped in his chair. He didn’t need to be reminded of this. He knew very well that getting too many enemies in one place means that it’s time to move on. Hating living on the road wasn’t a typical mercenary trait. Most of them would travel from town to town, village to village, looking for work and coin. People even called them “adventurers”, though, in reality, most contracts were uneventful and ungratifying. Most considered them a pest when they weren’t working a case, or a personal servant when they were.
Keziah himself would rather stay in one place for a longer period of time. This was only possible in big cities, where a larger concentrated population meant more corruption and misdemeanors, which in turn meant more work for the likes of him. Living on the road always came with unpredictable problems. Running out of rations, rain during shut-eye in the woods, all kinds of bugs, pecking him on the face... Kez could go on and on about how he hated it. He was still forced to do it from time to time, mostly due to local delinquency finally getting to know the face, name, and address of the mercenary who was causing their businesses to stagnate.
“Well, I’m going to get some rest. Maybe they will be too scared to go after me.” He stood up, yawning, and let himself fall on the bed.
Augustus said to an already drowsing Kez.
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He was running through the distorted halls, angry shouts almost clutching at his shoulder. He held the golden man under his arm, the consolation prize out of this situation. His companions were in front of him, advancing towards the exit and away from the terrifying voices.
The job went badly. The guards turned out to be more alert than they originally thought. After climbing through the second-story window, left purposely open for them, they went to find the room. They knew the exact location, so it didn’t take long to reach their target. What they didn’t expect was the single guard who changed his usual path to grab something he misplaced. As whistles rang in their ears, so with a bit of quick thinking, he grabbed the golden figure and they made a run for the open window.
Turning, the exit was now in front of him. With no time to prepare for it, he jumped through the window, the last of his group to do so. Thankfully, it wasn’t their first fall, so they managed to get away from the plunge without any broken legs. Dashing through the night, they made it to the fence and made quick work of it. Behind them, bells were starting to sound through the palace, waking every guard to chase them down.
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Keziah woke up abruptly. Covered in sweat - as always during one of those nightmares - he cursed himself for not taking off his clothes before he went to sleep. He packed a new set of clothes and headed out to the public bath before handing in the statue at the guild.
“What?”
“I’m just going to clean myself up. I can pick you up on my way back to the guild if you want?” offered Keziah.
“Whatever you wish, my lord.”
“Alright, alright. I will still have to leave in the dressing room, you know that?”
Keziah grabbed his unusual blade and left his apartment to spend the next hour soaking in the warm, rejuvenating water. With no signs of the thief gang around, he made his way to the guild, stopping along the way to drop off the old set of clothes.
The guild itself was fundamentally a tavern where people would register their requests to one of the workers, who would then post them on a board inside the building for anyone to complete them. In smaller towns or villages, where such a facility wasn’t available, locals had to post it themselves on their notice board. It often meant a harder time getting your reward from the local populace. Without the guild supervising the dealings, mercenaries would often find themselves dealing with swindlers who wouldn’t reward them with their promised coin. Calling a mercenary a cheater or accusing them out loud of anything would frequently lead to any other overhearing neighbor joining in on the accusing.
Accidents like this only propagated the idea of lazy, conning adventurers, who did nothing and lived off of other people’s goodwill. There was some truth to that, and Kez couldn’t deny it. Rumors have to have started somewhere, after all. During his time on the road, he witnessed both ends of this dissension. Cheating adventures and manipulating villagers, but also heroic warriors and generous locals. It went to show that are always two sides to every conflict.
Keziah stood now in front of the brick-walled structure. Timber pillars held the outer structure of the building, with two big windows on both sides of the door allowing the light to set in the big tavern hall. You could feel the surrounding atmosphere change ever so slightly, like entering a world where life was what ordinary people could never imagine.
He pushed open the oaken door. A few of his colleagues were already there, sitting at the small round tables, drinking ale since early morning.
“Now, huc, what do we ‘ave ‘ere?” greeted one of them with an unkempt beard and worn-out brown shirt. His eyes peered at him under the greasy, ginger-ish hair. “Little Spark ‘imself graced us ‘ith ‘is presence, hic.” The other adventures at his table chuckled slightly.
“Anwas,” greeted Kez, unbothered by the man's jokes aimed at him. “Drinking already, I see. Or were you all here all night?”
“We ‘ad to ce-hic-celebrate a job well done,” he answered smugly. “I bet ya don’t know ‘ow that ‘eels, hic.”
“Deepest congratulations, guys. Now, if you would excuse me,” said Kez, getting slightly amused by the conversation.
He walked over to the long bar, manned by a mustached and unassuming barkeep. His name was Mattias, was currently the closest Keziah had to a friend. Not counting Augustus. He could make out a few words from the gazette that was currently in the tall man’s hands. “—rising in northern Thabinat” and “New expedition to—” were the only things he could notice. Nothing that concerned him, anyway. He leaned on the counter, waiting patiently for Mattias to notice him.
After a few moments, he cleared his throat to get his attention.
“Ekhem.”
“Oh! Sorry mate, didn’t see you there!” boomed Mattias, shaking all the drowsiness that Kez still had with his thunderous voice. Keziah never knew if the man didn’t notice it or didn’t care.
“Oh really? I thought that you just wanted to show off that you can afford to buy gazettes every week.”
“A’ight, maybe that too. Just a tiny bit, though!” chuckled Mattias. “What brings you here so early?”
“Lost statuette job. You can close the contract, I got it.”
“Good job, good job.” Mattias lowered his voice to a hush. “You could have said that to those drunkards over there, ye know?”
“Why?” asked Kez, nonchalantly.
“So they wouldn’t pick on ye like that!” Realizing that he raised his voice again, he whispered, “You don't have that good of a reputation among the adventurers here…”
“And I like it that way, Mattias. Too much fame isn’t good for your health, I hear. Besides, what guys like these think of me is irrelevant.”
“It ain’t a problem to have a few friends in this job, ye know.”
Mattias’s advice caused a little smile to appear on Keziah’s face. It disappeared as quickly as it emerged when the sheriff, with a group of watchmen, rushed through the guild's door. Every head present inside turned to look at the commotion.
“Can I help ye, sheriff?” asked Mattias
“The man with the statue. What’s his name?” ordered the sheriff.
“That would be me. I was just about to hand it in. No need to trouble yourself with it, officer.”
Two watchmen charged at him, grabbing his arms. Both of them seemed strong enough to hold him if he tried anything suspicious.
Confused, Kez demanded, “What’s going on?!”
“You are going in for organizing an attempted assassination on the life of His Royal Majesty.”
Every head in the tavern turned to him in surprise and confusion. Kez, probably the most befuddled out of everyone present, could only stumble, “W-what?"