Ralan sat at the large wooden table in the center of his library, with Raef’s head in a book to his right, and Alard sitting with his hands folded on the table to his left. The library had become Ralan’s favorite spot in the entire Tower, even more than the more elaborate rooms or his balcony with its extraordinary view of the city.
The library was simple and unadorned, just books and furniture designed to service either research or reading. It had a quiet calmness about, while the smell of the ancient books gave it an air of solemnity. The fireplace, the walls of books—all of it made Ralan feel like he was in a home that was uniquely his.
The privacy of the library also allowed Ralan to relax and give voice to his own insecurities and uncertainty. He was thrust into a role he still felt he was unprepared for, and in the library he didn’t need to act the part of the strong, confident guildmaster. He wasn’t a pretender, he was just the boy, Ralan.
Alard always treated Ralan as guildmaster, but in the privacy of the library, Ralan could ask him difficult and sometimes embarrassing questions, knowing that Alard would respond with an openness that he wouldn’t while with guild members.
Their current discussion was a good example. Ralan was discussing the fact that Rogers had not arrived to report. Rogers had missed the meeting of the guild captains, which Ralan excused due to Rogers needing to help with some kind of emergency in the Flats. But to not report back by the next day was surprising, and Ralan was starting to think that Rogers had an agenda.
“Do you think he is sending a message about my being the guildmaster?” The idea made sense to Ralan—He was forced upon the guild, and his reputation as an irresponsible and immature delinquent had made its way to the captains.
Still, the council had gone well. Alard’s steadying hand was helpful, but what generated the most attention and positive commentary was the explanation of his mission to the Outlands. That the Outlanders gave Ralan the same respect they gave Pietro appeared to matter a lot.
Yet Rogers had not attended the council. Why?
“He is a proud man and stubborn, but he is not irresponsible or the type to challenge his guildmaster,” Alard noted.
“But does he consider me his guildmaster?” Ralan replied, somewhat glumly.
Alard reached over and squeezed Ralan’s arm. At moments like these he was the invaluable mentor that Ralan needed. “He does. We all do. Our guild has always done things that seem to make no sense but then in hindsight appear as wise.”
“But I was not the guild’s choice.”
“Enough, Ralan.” Alard called Ralan by his name, which he did extremely rarely and only when he wanted to make an important point in private. “We have discussed this. Do you really think I would have allowed things to proceed if I thought you would damage the guild?”
It was not the first time that Alard had insinuated that he knew how seemingly random and unconnected events would fit together. Rather than push his valued friend and deputy for details that he hadn’t volunteered, Ralan took it in stride and moved on.
“Could he have been hurt? Should we send someone to investigate?”
“I appreciate and respect your concern, Guildmaster, but I would recommend giving him more time. We don’t know the nature of the challenge he was facing.”
There was a knock and one of the tower guards entered. “Captain Coode to see you, Guildmaster.”
“Of course,” Ralan said, standing up. “Send him in.”
A few minutes later, Ralan met Coode, the Captain of the Old Quarter, at the entrance to the library. Coode looked haggard and marched in after a quick shake of Ralan’s hand. His previous uncertainty and borderline disrespect for Ralan was gone.
“We are getting overrun, Guildmaster,” Coode said, breathlessly. He walked over and grabbed a glass from the table before filling it from a pitcher of water.
“Overrun?” Alard asked, pushing his chair back and standing, as if he would personally resolve the problem. “Are we being attacked?”
“No.” Coode raised his hand as he took a drink. Sitting down, he added, “There is an enormous number of people entering the Quarter from over the Bridge. Not an attack or an invasion so much as—” Coode threw up his arms. “I don’t know what. It started overnight and is continuing as we speak.”
“Are they fleeing the fire?” Raef asked.
“I wondered the same thing,” Coode replied. “I have personally asked several of them what was happening, but they appeared to be in shock. They outlined that they were fleeing a fire, but with the numbers I was seeing, the whole Lower Quarter would have to be in flames.”
“Is that possible?” Ralan asked, remembering the comment of Rogers dealing with a fire.
“Unlikely, but it is possible,” Alard replied. “The homes are mostly wood in the Flats, and they are close together, but the Fire Protectors have a lot of experience with fires and are well-trained for this type of thing.”
“There was a great fire in the Old Quarter before the Great Migration,” Raef replied, looking up and closing the book he was reading. “It destroyed the northeast part of the city.”
“We must help,” Ralan said.
“You are missing the point!” Coode exclaimed, shaking his head. “We are overrun with refugees. The secrets of the Old Quarter are no more.”
“What do you mean?” Ralan asked, but as soon as he asked the question, he knew the answer.
“There are hundreds of people streaming into the Quarter. We are taking care of them, and in doing so can’t help but reveal ourselves. They are moving through the Square and into the residential areas. We can’t stop them, and they see that it is far from a Wretched Quarter.” As Coode spoke, the room remained in a stunned silence. “Furthermore, we had not had time to prepare. They have seen the Black Guard. They see their fellow guild members wearing black.”
Ralan glanced at Alard, but he was staring at Coode, his face inscrutable.
“So you are saying we are revealed?” Ralan finally asked, although the answer was obvious.
“Yes. Even now we are trying to avoid rioting as citizens realize they are surrounded by thieves.”
Alard’s deep voice filled the library. “We knew this day would come. Pietro and his predecessors have done their best to avoid it until the time was right, but even Pietro knew that our secrecy was a house built on sand.”
Ralan had no idea what to say, let alone do. As silence filled the room in the wake of Alard’s comment, Ralan glanced at Alard, wondering if would follow his comment up with some advice. Alard was staring directly at Ralan and nodded slightly.
It was a small thing, but it meant the world to Ralan. Alard was awaiting his guildmaster’s command. Confidence filled Ralan. He was young. He was ill-prepared to lead a small group let alone a guild. But Alard had faith in him, as he had from the start. It was enough.
“We don’t have enough information,” Ralan said, his voice louder than necessary, which caused everyone to jolt and look at him. “But that’s not an immediate problem.” Ralan looked at Coode. “Captain Coode—”
“Yes, Guildmaster.” Coode was respectful and intent as Ralan spoke, which filled him with even more confidence.
“We no longer have the luxury of secrecy. Our first priority is to create goodwill and trust with our new friends. Do we have lodgings to handle them all? Food? Water?”
“Yes, Guildmaster. The Old Quarter is vast and mostly unpopulated as you move away from the river, yet there are homes and buildings there. They have not been occupied for centuries, but they are well-built and will serve the purpose.”
“Excellent. We cannot be blamed for providing dusty lodgings. It is at least shelter. And food?”
“We can feed them, but our stores will not last long. We’ll need to raid the Silo District soon to replenish them.”
Ralan shook his head. “No. Remember—our secrets are revealed. We must come up with new methods. However, we will worry about that later. For now, that is your mission: Make our new citizens welcome. Provide for them with no expectation of payment, and let them know that the Thieves are their friends.”
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“So I am to explain who we are?”
“Yes. If we are out in the open, we need to change Ness’ opinion of us as quickly as possible, and that will be easiest with these homeless citizens that will need our help. So don’t wait for the whispers to define the message. Be proud and open about our role in Ness.”
“Guildmaster Ralan speaks wisdom,” Alard added. “Do you need help to fulfill this mission?”
“No. It will be a challenge and a bit chaotic, but we can handle it.” Coode stood up. “May I be dismissed, sir? I fear that any delay will just make things worse.”
“Yes, but one last thing.” Coode nodded his head toward Ralan. “Is there any additional information about the situation of these fire refugees? Even something that seems incidental may be important.”
Tapping his chin with a finger, Coode replied, “Not that I can recall. There was talk of a fire and naught else. I left as soon as I realized the number of people was more than we could handle.”
“Thank you, Captain. Return to your post and send us progress reports by messenger.”
Coode bowed and walked toward the exit, pausing when he got to the door. Turning around, he added, “There is one thing. Nearly all the refugees appear to be Harvest Guild members, which is unsurprising knowing the size of the guild, but it still might be wise to contact Guildmaster Polo.”
As Coode’s steps echoed from the staircase, Raef spoke up. “I thought Polo hated us?”
“He doesn’t hate us,” Alard replied. “He fears assassination, and rightfully so. Still, the effect is the same—he won’t accept an audience with anyone but a trusted Harvest Guild member.”
“Rogers!” Raef exclaimed. Ralan and Alard peered at him. “He must be dealing with this. It is why he didn’t come and hasn’t sent a messenger.”
“I had thought of that, Raef,” Alard replied. “It is the latter comment that concerns me. Whatever is happening must be overwhelming, as we would have been informed by now.”
“If they are that big, shouldn’t we be able to see the fires from the balcony?” Raef replied.
“Of course!” Ralan exclaimed, pushing his seat back. He hadn’t been on his balcony since the night before, when he and Raef had seen exactly that—a fire in the Flats.
As the other two stood, more footsteps could be heard from the stairwell. “I fear that these interruptions will be a regular occurrence with what we now know,” Alard muttered as a thief wearing the blue of the Merchant Guild stumbled into the room. His face was covered in soot, and his clothing was dirty and torn. Ralan was surprised to see a Thief not wearing black in the guild tower, and the disguise was disarming. Their visitor looked like a sickly boy who worked for the Merchant Guild, a couple years younger than Ralan.
“Guildmaster!” he said, practically collapsing onto the floor in front of Ralan. He dropped his hands to his knees and took in large gulps of air as he was bent over.
“By the gods, you look exhausted. Here, have some water.” Ralan poured water into a glass and handed it to the boy, who took it and gulped it down.
“Feros… Sent… Me,” the boy said between drinks of water. His hands shook.
“Feros? I don’t know who that is.” Ralan replied. He looked at Alard, who shook his head.
“He was on a mission for Captain Rogers.”
“Rogers? What is your message? We’ve been awaiting word!”
“I’ve come as fast as I could, Guildmaster.” The boy looked petrified standing in front of the mighty Alard. “The river is blockaded by the Knights, and the Great Bridge is awash in refugees. It was faster to run than try to navigate by horse.”
“You ran all the way from the Great Bridge to here?” Ralan couldn’t comprehend such a sprint. It was nearly a ten-mile run.
“No, sir. I ran all the way here from the Green Belt.”
“Wow,” Raef blurted out. It was a trip of at least fifteen miles, and the boy did it all on foot.
“Sit down and tell us your message,” Ralan replied, taking the boy’s arm and moving him to Ralan’s own chair, which had a padded seat and armrest. As the boy sat down, Ralan asked his name, which was Terras.
“Here is what I was told, Guildmaster: The Merchant Guild has attacked the Harvest Guild. They have burned the Green Belt, Ironsides, and several other homes and businesses to the ground. The guild guards are rounding up every Harvest Guild member in the Lower Quarter and are driving them across the Great Bridge. That is all I know.”
“The Merchant Guild attacked the Harvest guild?” Raef cut in, his voice not so much full of outrage as curiosity.
“Is attacking.”
“This cannot be true,” Alard interjected. “The Knight Protectors would stop such madness of Larsen’s.” Ralan could tell that Alard was troubled, as he rarely failed to use the guildmaster honorific when discussing Larsen, even when Larsen was plotting great evil.
“They are nowhere to be seen, Deputy. The Fire Protectors did not arrive to help fight the flames in the Lower Quarter, and the knight ships guarding the river were doing nothing but stopping any boats from departing the docks.”
“Saxe is in league with Larsen, Alard. You know this,” Ralan replied.
“Yes, and I am guessing that Orion is letting Larsen pursue this knowing it will be his downfall,” Alard replied. Ralan remembered the conversation with Vesper. The pieces all came together. Saxe working with Larsen out of a naive belief that Larsen was destined to lead Ness, while Orion played them both from the background. Ralan couldn’t believe he hadn’t understood Orion’s role earlier. It was all so clear now after hearing it from the mouth of Orion’s former Blade.
“Philos, take Terras to the guest lodgings. Provide him with a comfortable bed, new clothes, and food.
Philos, Ralan’s personal bodyguard and the second most intimidating warrior Ralan had ever seen after Alard, walked in from his ever-present post outside the room that Ralan occupied. “Yes, Guildmaster.”
“Thank you, Terras. You have done well.” The boy nodded and bowed in an awkward show of abeyance as Philos motioned him toward the door.
As the two exited, Raef spoke up. “This is eerily similar to what happened when the Thieves Guild was founded.” Raef pulled a book over from across the table and opened it. Alard and Ralan returned to their chairs.
“How so?”
“Well, the details of the founding of the guild are missing. I know they must be somewhere, but those books aren’t here.” Raef shook his head as he spoke. “Anyway, the history of our guild’s finding is tied into a civil war between the Merchant and Harvest Guilds, with the Knight Guild helping the Merchant Guild.”
“I remember you mentioning that,” Alard stated in a low voice the rumbled.
“Yes. It was before the Great Migration.”
“How did it end?” Ralan asked.
“The Knight Tower was torn to the ground. The gate to the plains was destroyed and closed. The bridge linking the Golden Fields to the new Inner Fields was destroyed. Harvest House was somehow killed, and the population fled to the north side of the river, abandoning the Old Quarter.”
“That’s all? I thought it was supposed to be bad.” Ralan shook his head.
“We need to stop this,” Alard said, his voice deep and grim.
“Well, we must take the Harvest Guild’s side,” Ralan said.
“This isn’t about taking sides,” Alard replied. “There will be too many needless deaths. We need to discover Larsen’s plan and disrupt that. It is not to create a civil war that we win.”
Ralan was tempted to just blurt out that he had no idea what to do, when he had an outrageous idea. “This seems to all revolve around Orion in some way. I mean my brother is obviously leading this with Saxe’s help, but he wouldn’t do this if Orion wasn’t standing by.”
Alard nodded. “Vesper said he was dangerous. Playing us all for fools. Sitting on the sidelines while Larsen and Saxe set fire to the Lower Quarter certainly indicates that he knows how to be involved just enough not to get dirty.”
“Vesper,” Ralan muttered, not at all liking the idea that their fortunes were tied to the traitorous Blade. “Do we have anyone close to the Craft guild and Orion? Who is the captain?” Ralan cursed himself. He had tried hard to remember all the captains names and assignments, but there were too many and he was still too new.
“Kalos is the captain of the Warehouse District. He coordinates our efforts with the Craft Guild, but he is overwhelmed with the logistics of taking craft supplies without it being noticed. We haven’t made a significant effort at infiltrating Orion’s circle. It is an unfortunate oversight.”
“So our immediate source of information is Vesper, and we don’t know if he’s trustworthy or when he’ll report back. Any other concerns I’m missing?”
“Well, Guildmaster, we have to prepare for the possibility of being invaded. Now that we are in the open, it is possible that Larsen will change tack and put his effort on uniting Ness against the Thieves.”
“It’s the Outlanders plan all over again, only we are the bad guys,” Raef added.
“We’ve always been the bad guys,” Alard replied.
“Okay, what do you think of this? Coode is handling the refugees. Dirk will handle guild defenses.” Dirk was the Captain of the Guard. “And Alard, you will travel to the Lower Quarter to gather information and contact Vesper.”
“Sir, may I remind you that I am wanted and will be arrested at first sight?”
“You are known for your appearance, your hood especially. You will wear a White suit of chainmail, with a coif that covers your skull. As a Knight, you won’t stand out with your size.”
“I will not wear the white.” Alard’s voice was a growl and spoken with an intimidating forcefulness. Ralan looked at Alard in surprise. He had never had Alard outright refuse a command. He would gently lead Ralan to a better idea or he would explain why Ralan’s command was mistaken, but he never had answered as he just did.
“It is necessary. You cannot go as a Harvest Guild member, as they are being removed. It would be too dangerous for you to pose as a Merchant or Craft guild member while in the Lower Quarter. The danger of being recognized would be too high.”
“Come on, Alard. We all have to do difficult things some time in our life.” Raef added.
“How dare you make that comment to me, Raef.” Alard frowned as he turned to Raef. He looked frightening. “How dare you. You know nothing of the difficult things and decisions I’ve had to make. Nothing!” Alard’s words were all restrained fury. Turning to Ralan, his voice returned to a steely calm, which was frightening in its own way. “I will not and will never wear the white again.” Alard lowered his head.
“Your history with the Knight Guild is widely commented upon but no one appears to know the details.”
“It is a story I will share with you when the time is right.”
Ralan was going to reply that Alard always answered that way, but he saw little benefit saying so at the moment. Alard was in many ways the true leader of the guild. Ralan depended on him for major decisions and even keeping control of the many people who would reject Ralan outright. Beyond that, Ralan considered the old man as a friend.
“I respect your decision,” Ralan replied. “Would you wear the Brown?”
“Of the guildless? No one would believe that,” Alard replied.
Ralan smiled. It wasn’t often that he had a subtler knowledge of guild politics than Alard. “No. Of the Ranger Guild. We will outfit you as a Ranger, and you can answer questions that you are on a mission for Quinto.”
“That is… brilliant,” Alard replied, his tone moving from anger to appreciation. “Rangers are rarely seen, so no one would be surprised at not knowing me. With the chaos, it makes sense that Quinto would send someone to meet with the guildmasters to see what is going on, and the chainmail coif would hide my features.” Alard smiled, and his face glowed. “Thank you, Guildmaster. I will wear the brown and appreciate your understanding.”
“So what will you do?” Raef asked.
“I’ll find Vesper, and see if the judgment of our Guildmaster to show him mercy has paid dividends.”
Ralan thought of all the things currently outside the control of the guild—the influx of Harvest Guild refugees, the decisions of the other guildmasters, the potential of an attack on the guild. That the one thing under their control was a traitorous Blade that merely days earlier was intent on killing Ralan did not bode well.