The Blade of the Craft Guild had been in a cell without light for what felt like days. How long it actually had been he had no idea. When the horsemen in black fell on him, they beat him unconscious, and when he awoke, there was nothing but darkness and the occasional sound of a cup of water and his food plate scraping across the stone as they were slid into his cell.

He had spent the time trying to understand the implications. The men in black were well-organized. Black was the color of the Thieves Guild. There were guards on the wall in black. The Ash Fields were being reclaimed by workers wearing black.

How could the thieves have maintained a hidden city and guild for so long? The Blade thought of Pietro, and his respect for the man increased dramatically. The old man did all this. He misled everyone by making his position seem an obvious character he was playing, but he wasn't playing a character at all. He was the Guildmaster Thief.

When a flash of light appeared at the end of the hall, the Blade had to cover his eyes, even though it was dim. When his sight finally got used to the flickering and the brightness of the approaching torch, the Blade wondered whether he was hallucinating: Standing on the other side of the bars was Alard, who wore his awful black robe with the hood pulled over his face.

"Who are you?" the tall knight said, his deep voice filling the cell.

The Blade remained silent.

"You wear no guild colors, and yet you bore this." Alard held up the Blade's dagger. "This is not the blade of a beggar or guildless vagrant from the Flats."

The Blade cursed himself. It was not his best dagger, but Alard was right—it was too sharp and well-made to be the knife of a random citizen. Still, he remained quiet.

"Your silence does not bode well for your future." Alard tossed the dagger down the dark hall, where it let out a harsh clanging sound. "I will ask one more time." Alard tossed back his hood. He was frowning, and the combination of his frown with the wicked scar across his forehead in the light of the flames was frightening, even for the Blade. "Tell me your name and your guild."

"Vesper. I am with the Craft Guild." The Blade told the truth, knowing that it was always a mistake to lie when the truth could not harm you.

"Very good. I was going to let you starve, but now I will make your death more merciful." Alard reached over his shoulder and withdrew his broadsword from a sheath on his back. It was the mightiest sword Vesper had ever seen, bigger than the sword of the Deputy Guildmaster Knight. "Now tell me why you are on this side of the river." Alard leaned on the sword.

"I was curious about the Wretched Quarter. Curiosity is not a crime." The Blade was practiced at lying, and he used a strained voice full of fear and confusion.

"That is a lie. As with your silence, I will only repeat myself one more time. If you lie again, I will blind you." Vesper knew of Alard's reputation. He was old, but had been one of the most vicious and skilled members of the Knight Guild. The Blade didn't know why they had kicked Alard out of the guild, but he assumed it was due to something horrible. Against Alard, he had to be careful with his lies.

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"I am on a mission for the guild."

"Orion sent you?" Alard seemed shocked.

Vesper knew the moment was right to risk a lie, even though the cost would have been horrific. "No. The captain of the guards felt personally insulted by the Guildmaster Thief's behavior at the Guildmaster Feast. He assigned me to do my best to hunt him down and kill him."

Alard peered at the Blade for an uncomfortable amount of time. If he believed Vesper, he may have avoided death, because he knew without a doubt that if Alard knew he was the Craft Blade that he would kill Vesper immediately.

Finally, Alard said, "That was a fool's mission based on arrogance."

Vesper did his best not to show how relieved he was at the comment. "My duty is to serve, not question my orders." It was a standard reply that any Knight would have understood. Alard nodded.

"Speaking the truth has saved your life." Alard returned his sword to its sheath. "Your punishment is to lose your hands." Alard turned to leave. "It will be done within the hour. You will be bandaged and then returned across the bridge."

Vesper's heart sank. He had critical information for Orion—Alard had somehow formed an army in the Wretched Quarter, an army in black. Their base was a mighty tower that was camouflaged from the city by the mountain behind it. The army controlled the entire other side of the river. The entire Wretched Quarter was a hidden city of thieves. All of that information could be delivered to Orion whether he had hands or not.

But losing his hands meant that Vesper had no future. The guilds were brutal to cripples. He would most likely end up as a beggar in the Flats, eventually hounded by the Knight Protectors into the Wretched Quarter, where he'd starve or die from random violence.

Vesper had no real loyalty to anyone. His life had been one struggle after another, and he learned early that the way ahead was to commit to those with the most power. So he had always helped Orion because it also helped him. His dedication to the guild ended with the guild's dedication to him.

That thought filled his head as Alard lifted his hood over his head and turned to leave. Orion's commitment to the Blade would end with the loss of his hands. And if the guild wouldn't commit to him, the Blade had to find a new path forward.

Alard had taken two steps when Vesper called out. "Wait! I have more to say."

Alard turned. The shadow of the hood made his face unreadable. "Speak." The voice was deep and flat.

"I will only speak if you swear not to harm me."

The hood shook slightly from right to left. "I will make no such promise." Alard turned to leave again.

"I am the Blade of the Craft Guild." Alard paused, and then turned back, remaining silent. "I will say no more unless you swear that you will not harm me."

Alard threw back his hood and walked right up to the cell. "Are those your terms?"

Vesper considered his options. Just by speaking he would destroy any future he had in any guild, but to not speak meant that he would lose his hands and that would also destroy his future with other guilds. His only opportunity was to change sides, but he did not want to do that without knowing more about what that meant.

"No. Those are the terms for me to speak one additional sentence. For me to tell you everything I know, you must also share with me what you know. Who are you? What is your goal? What is your future?"

"And why do you need to know these things?"

"Because the answer will help me decide whether to join you or not."

"Blunt words, but words that come easily from one facing grave punishment." Alard laughed. "Still, you are a true Blade, with motivations that are easy to understand. I once faced a similar decision as you have in front of you, Blade Vesper, so you are lucky that you are talking with me." Alard leaned forward, and his voice took on a conspiratorial whisper. "I understand you."

Stepping backward, Alard lifted his hood back over his head. "Alas, that is not a decision for me to make. I will return to discuss this with you further after I receive guidance."

"Whose decision is it?" Vesper couldn't imagine who would be leading the bandit forces other than Alard.

"Why the Guildmaster Thief, of course."

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