These were the moments that brought joy to Ralan. Surrounded by both friends and strangers from various guilds, he loved to weave tales about his derring-do at fighting the officious Knight Guild or the greedy Merchant Guild or the dull Harvest Guild.

In the city-state of Ness, guilds ran everything, their distinct colors a mark of pride worn by every guild member. Not being in a guild required one to wear brown, and while it was commonly a sign of immaturity and a source of disparaging comments, for Ralan it was a sign of his independence and freed him to mock all guilds without the underlying tension of guild rivalry.

He leaned forward, spilling his ale a bit as he prepared to describe the helpless look on the knight's face as he turned after the tomato hit him square in the back. Of course Ralan wasn't stupid, he had to use the right story for the right crowd. He glanced one more time around the large table at the back of the Four Triangles, a working man's inn where he would find a sympathetic audience.

Most of the boys were apprentices to his brother's guild, all wearing the Merchant's deep blue robes. There were a few Harvest apprentices wearing their Greens, but there was nary a white tunic or piece of armor in the room. Ralan smiled and continued.

"It was beautiful. The tomato was just a bit too ripe, and it landed with a huge splat, right in the middle of the guard's back." He slammed the flat of his hand on the table. There were laughs and clapping. He had played the crowd perfectly—all apprentices chafed at the oversight of the knights and their white robes and armor.

He glanced at Raef, who looked glum. He had offered his friend the starring role, but as Ralan expected, Raef was horrified at the thought of his participation becoming public. Ralan gave him what he hoped was a conspiratorial wink and turned back to his audience.

"The best part is that he was staring right at me and couldn't see me in the shadows of the Wall. So I just winked at him and walked away." There was more laughter and more complimentary nods at his cleverness. One boy that Ralan didn't know slapped him on the back.

Ralan was in the midst of a large gulp of ale when the front door opened and everyone went silent. He turned to look at who arrived, and his stomach fell. It was his brother's deputy, Karch. He stood in his deep blue robe, his golden hair slicked back and tied behind his head. He always pulled it too tight, and it made his face look taut, narrowing his eyes to slits and his mouth to a thin, cruel, line.

Stolen from its rightful author, this tale is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings.

The Merchant apprentices disappeared as Karch walked toward Ralan, a look of disgust on his face and his arms behind his back. Everyone else sank into their seats or slowly moved to other tables. Raef was nowhere to be seen. A few brave apprentices smiled expectantly at Ralan. He had nothing to lose, so he decided to show off. The worst case scenario was that he'd get a dressing down from his brother and Karch would give him a whipping.

"I didn't know you frequented these kinds of places, Karch." He smiled as Karch stopped next to him.

The deputy looked around and frowned. "You are correct, Ralan. But when one is collecting garbage, you need to walk among the filth." He turned back to Ralan and smiled. "Which reminds me, you are to come with me."

"I don't need to do any such thing, Karch." Ralan grabbed his brown shirt. "As you can see, I'm guildless, and you have no authority over me."

Karch smiled again, and Ralan started to get nervous. He was fully expecting a slap for his insolence, but that was usually preceded by an angry tongue lashing. A smile didn't mean anything good.

"Ah yes, the fifteen-year-old wearing the brown of the guildless." Karch looked around the room. "I don't see anyone else in here without a guild. How long do you intend on such irresponsibility, Ralan? Do you know how many favors your brother has requested on your behalf, only to have you spit in his face at each guild?"

Ralan shrugged. "I never asked him for anything."

Karch leaned forward. "Well, the days of asking for nothing and receiving much are at an end. I'm afraid you have gone too far this time."

Ralan leaned back while he tried to think of what he had done. He couldn't think of anything that would offend his brother. Karch must have been bluffing. "I have no idea what you are talking about. Now leave me alone, and tell my brother that he should worry about guild matters and not me."

Standing up straight, Karch brought his hand forward from behind his back and tossed a white pile of cloth on the table. It was a knight's robe with a reddish brown stain on it. "I'm afraid a guild matter is why I am here." Karch turned to the door and raised his voice. "Guards, it is time."

Three guards in white entered the inn. The one in front was missing his robe. Karch looked back at Ralan and smiled. "I believe you know Sir Henry." Karch tapped the robe. "You met yesterday."

The guard had a scowl on his face. Ralan recognized the eyes, but he couldn't quite believe that the guard could recognize him.

"I don't know what you are talking about, Karch. I never met that man in my life."

"Your stories have become tiresome, Ralan." Karch moved out-of-the-way. "Take him to the carriage, and if he is bruised from the journey, I certainly won't find fault."

Ralan pushed his chair back and scrambled toward the back of the room. He hadn't gone two feet, however, before a thick hand grabbed him by the collar. He tried to wriggle free, but the hand shoved his head into a pillar. Ralan staggered backward from the blow, only to have the hand turn him toward the table behind him. He felt his head impact the table and everything went dark.

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