Ralan and Alard arrived at Merchant Tower forty-five minutes after they left the parade float. They were both in their dress robes walking briskly to the door to the banquet hall when Ralan stopped suddenly. He looked up at Alard. "How do I look?"

"Like a Guildmaster."

Ralan smiled. "And how do I smell?"

There was a pause and then Alard replied, "Better than you did earlier."

"Good enough."

Alard entered first. A knight moved to block their access to the banquet hall. Alard stopped and swiped his robe behind his scabbard, revealing his mammoth broadsword. "You can either move aside for the Guildmaster Thief or we will step over your body. In either case, we will enter the banquet hall and the Guildmaster will join the meeting."

The knight slowly moved to the side, and Alard ignored him as he strode forward and threw open the double doors. Alard straightened his robe, and Ralan followed him into the room.

As Ralan followed behind Alard he was met by a long, narrow room with servants resetting the tables and carrying out bins full of broken glass, food, and towels stained with wine and other drink. The guildmasters milled about as their place settings were restored.

Ralan was going to ask where they should sit, but Alard strode straight to a dais at the end of the hall with a table upon it. The Guildmasters Knight, Harvest, Craft, and Merchant were milling about talking, their deputies close by.

Alard stopped at the base of the steps leading up to the dais. "The Guildmaster Thief requires a place setting." Saxe glared at him, but didn't move. The other Guildmasters seemed amused. Larsen walked over, his face turning red.

"What are you doing here?" he whispered through clenched teeth as he looked down at them from the top of the stairs.

"I am here for the banquet. I am a Guildmaster, am I not?" Ralan decided to keep a serious tone. He knew he belonged, and mocking his brother wouldn't achieve anything. He wanted to make a statement, and his presence, not his words, would be that statement.

"The Thieves Guild isn't even a guild, Ralan. You know that. Have you forgotten the parade?" Larsen was trying to keep his voice down, but Ralan could tell he was losing his temper.

"You disrespect Guildmaster Pietro." Larsen's jaw dropped at the deep voice of Alard interrupting their conversation. "Just because he chose not to attend the banquet does not mean that he wouldn't have been welcome or that his peers would not have recognized him." Alard glanced back at the Guildmasters milling about. Ralan marveled at how Alard was able to evoke the beloved Pietro to establish respect for the guild and Ralan himself.

Saxe, the portly Guildmaster Knight, walked over. "You're a fine one to discuss disrespect, you coward." He pointed at Alard with a finger extended from a wine goblet, which spilled as he waved his hand while he talked. "But you live with that shame all year long as you scurry around in your black." He turned to Larsen. "Let the pathetic boy and his lackey enjoy the banquet, Larsen." He took a drink from his goblet. "It's one day in the year. We'll go back to abusing them tomorrow!" He laughed and turned back to the other guildmasters.

Larsen walked down the stairs and stood next to Ralan. He stopped so close that their toes nearly touched. He leaned forward and whispered through gritted teeth. "I know it was your friend Raef in here earlier. Look around. You can see the damage he did. Are you happy? You've had your fun. Now leave me be for another year."

Ralan shook his head. "I'm not leaving."

"What more damage could you possibly do? Just leave." Larsen spat out the words, venom dripping from his voice.

"This is the Guildmaster Feast as part of Founders Day." Ralan said the words loudly, as he smoothed the folds of his black robe. "I am a guildmaster."

People looked their way, and the other members of the Council stared at them. Ralan said nothing else as Larsen's face turned redder and redder. He opened and closed his mouth as if about to say something, but nothing came out.

Finally, he shook his head and announced, "Of course we are not used to having the Guildmaster Thief attend this event, but that does not mean we cannot find room for him." He looked around, pointed at the other end of the room, and then added, "I believe there is room at the end of the table near the Guildmaster Pigsherd." With that, Larsen spun on his heels and returned to the Council table.

Ralan made his way past guildmasters draped in yellow, blue, and green. They all looked up at him, their faces revealing a mixture of curiosity, bemusement, and condemnation. At the end of the table, a place was being set for him between a stout man with a misshapen nose and thick brown hair and a thin woman with wiry brown hair. They both wore the green robe of the Harvest guild. The man's was edged with a brown, black and yellow pattern that Ralan assumed indicated the Pigsherders. The woman's robe was lined in an elaborate pattern of yellow and blue. She refused to look at Ralan and kept her back to him.

Ralan sat down, and Alard stood guard behind him, his hand resting on the pommel of his sword. While Ralan took a long drink of water, the man leaned toward him. "I'm Percy, sir Guildmaster." He had a big smile on his face, which revealed several missing teeth.

"Nice to meet you, Percy, but you can call me Ralan." He shook the man's hand with a firm grip. "No need for this 'sir' business between guildmasters, don't you think?"

"Ah, I'm not guildmaster, sir. The herdsmen haven't had a guild since we joined the farmers all those years ago." He grabbed his robe at its edge. "This is all just for show. The real guildmaster is up on the stage there." He nodded toward Polo, the Guildmaster Harvest.

After Saxe and Larsen, Ralan was surprised by such humility. "Don't be so humble, Percy. You still lead your fellow herdsman, providing food and skins for the city."

"Aye, sir, but my voice is about as important as my pigs when it comes to making decisions." He laughed and took a long drink from a glass of ale.

Ralan looked around. The feast appeared to have settled down. All the thrown food and broken tableware had been removed, and servers were bringing around greens and soup. On the dais, Saxe and Larsen were laughing, while Orion looked quiet and pensive. Polo, the Guildmaster Harvest, looked depressed.

"You should be on the dais." It was Percy, who spat bits of greens out of his mouth as he spoke and ate at the same time. "That's where the true guildmasters belong."

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"I'm just the Guildmaster Thief, Percy. We're not exactly a guild." Ralan stabbed some greens the moment the bowl was placed in front of him. He was famished.

"Not true, sir. Not true at all. Look around." Percy used his fork to point to the various guildmasters in the room. "How many of these folks have deputies standing behind them?"

It was true. The four guildmasters on the dais each had a deputy standing at attention behind them. The only other person with a deputy was Ralan, with Alard standing behind him.

Percy continued, "Besides, you've seen the thieving statue in Founders Park. Only the founding guilds have statues in Founder's Park."

Ralan lowered his fork. Was this true? Were the thieves one of the founding guilds? He had never studied history and found the idea absurd. He turned to Alard. "Is this true?"

"Yes. The Thieves Guild is actually the third oldest guild in Ness, although why that is so is lost to history. Still, I don't recommend you marching up and demanding to sit between your brother and Guildmaster Saxe if that's what you were thinking."

With a laugh, Ralan picked up his fork again. "No, I think not. Besides, this is better company!" Ralan raised his cup of ale to Percy, who returned the toast.

There was a loud thud from the other end of the room and Ralan looked up to see Karch standing before the table on the dais. He stomped his boot onto the dais again, and the room quieted down. He moved off to the side when there was silence, and Larsen stood up.

"Fellow guildmasters, as the host of this year's Founders Day banquet, I welcome you." He looked around the room. "I see some new faces, which is bittersweet, as it means that while we have new friends we have also lost some old friends. So let us raise a toast to those that we have lost." Larsen glanced at his palm, and then continued, "Guildmaster Marchand, Guildmaster Sagan, and, of course, Guildmaster Pietro. You will be missed."

"You will be missed," the room rang out as glasses were raised and then drained.

Larsen put his glass down on the table behind him, and then continued, "But life must go on, as it has during our city's long and wonderful history. So welcome new Guildmasters. Today you will bear witness to our debate and decisions on important guild business, a tradition that goes back to the Founders."

Larsen looked around the room and then continued. "The Council will vote on four items this evening, but the most important will be the first." Larsen turned back to the table. "Guildmaster Saxe will present the first item for vote. Guildmaster—"

Saxe stood up and bowed toward Larsen, who moved back behind the table and sat down. Saxe cleared his throat.

"In the past, as Ness has grown and become more unified, we have seen fit to consolidate guilds. This has been a tremendous boon to all of us. The city runs better, and our leadership is more efficient." Saxe looked somewhat nervous, and Ralan wondered where he was leading with his preamble.

"Guild consolidation has a long history at Ness, and has always been well-received. Your council hopes this will again be the case, as our first vote is to unite the Harvest and Merchant Guilds."

Ralan's jaw dropped. Such a decision would pretty much destroy the guild system. Now his brother would be the undeniable leader of Ness. The Craft Guild's voice would be powerless, and the Knight's Guild—what about them? Why was Saxe going along with this?

There was a loud murmur across the room, punctuated by some raised voices. No one shouted, however. Ralan couldn't believe it. Are they all going to go along with this? He turned to Percy. "What do you think, Percy?"

"Bah, we've been through this before. Does it matter if he's leading us—" Percy pointed his fork toward Polo. "Or him—" He then pointed it at Larsen.

Saxe stomped his foot. "It is time to vote."

Ralan turned back to Alard. "This can't be good, can it, Alard?"

His deputy shook his head. "No, and I cannot believe that Saxe would betray his own guild like this."

"Council," Saxe raised his voice. "The matter of uniting guilds is a serious one, and our Founders made it clear that we cannot do so if more than one of us objects. So in the matter of uniting the Harvest and Trade guilds, how do you vote? Yea or nay? Merchant?"

"Yea," Larsen stated.

"Craft?"

"Yea," answered Orion, although there wasn't much enthusiasm in his voice.

"Harvest?"

"Nay." Polo sounded utterly defeated.

"And I vote for the Knight Guild with a 'yea.'" Larsen had a big smile on his face, as did Karch behind him. "It is settled then. With only one objection, the Harvest Guild and Merchant Guilds are hereby—"

"It is not settled." The booming voice of Alard echoed through the hall. Everyone turned to face him, including Ralan. "The Guildmaster Thief has not voted."

Ralan stared at Alard.

Saxe had a sneer on his face as he replied, "That is amusing, Deputy, and with how this evening has begun it certainly is not surprising, but I'm afraid the Thieves Guild does not have a vote in these proceedings."

"That is not true." A firm voice from dais broke through the buzz in the room. Saxe turned to face Polo, who suddenly seemed more animated than he had the entire evening.

"What do you mean by this, Polo? You have lost. Don't make this difficult."

The old guildmaster replied with a laugh. "It would do well for you to learn your guild history, Saxe. The Thieves Guild has always been a guild on the Council. Just because Pietro had no interest in guild matters doesn't change that fact." Polo took a bite of a piece of bread as Saxe just stared at him.

"It is true, you know," Guildmaster Orion added.

"Shut up, Orion," Larsen stated, as he fell back into his chair. He looked across the room at Ralan. Ralan pushed back his chair and stood up. He walked along the side of the hall toward the dais, every eye on him.

As Ralan walked onto the stage with Alard close behind, Saxe looked like he was about to explode, while his brother had never looked angrier, his suppressed rage given no outlet. Larsen stared hard at Ralan, as if he could will him to vote "Yea."

Ralan turned and faced the room. "The Thieves vote 'Nay!'" Larsen lowered his head, while Saxe growled and grabbed at Ralan. Alard pulled Ralan away with one hand and shoved Saxe back toward the table with the other.

"Dinner is over, sir," Alard said as he dragged Ralan toward the front of the room. There were shouts from the podium, and as Ralan looked back he could see Polo's deputy struggling with Saxe's deputy. The entire hall was in an uproar.

A tankard of ale glanced against Ralan's shoulder when they were almost to the end of the hall. The clattering of the tankard on the floor appeared to ignite the rest of the room, and Ralan again found himself the target of food and projectiles. Shouts of anger followed him.

A few men in the yellow of the Craft Guild blocked the door. "Don't be foolish," Alard growled, unsheathing his sword. The men fell back, but Ralan couldn't ignore the hatred on their faces.

They were well beyond the hall when Ralan glanced back. No one was following them. "Why was everyone so mad at me, Alard?" Ralan couldn't understand how the lesser Guildmasters couldn't see that their own Guildmasters were selling them out to his brother.

"Their guildmaster voted 'yea' and you voted 'nay.' That's enough for most of them."

Ralan nodded. Even when he was doing the right thing he was making enemies. "So, what do you think Larsen will do next?"

Alard stopped, turned, and leaned toward Ralan. "He will either give up or assassinate you." His voice was low and intense. "Which do you think?" Alard didn't move.

"I think I should relocate to the Thieves Tower."

Alard nodded. "A wise choice." He turned to lead Ralan on but stopped and turned again. He reached his hands up and lowered his hood. His newly uncovered eyes flickered in the torchlight, as he stood straight. "May I ask you a question, sir?" Ralan looked up and nodded. "Why did you attend the dinner tonight?"

Ralan tried to gauge Alard's motivations for asking the question, but he could tell nothing from his face and Alard's voice was, as always, even and businesslike. He decided to just be honest.

"Because even if Larsen felt that he could treat me with disrespect, he should not treat the guild that way. I thought a lot of Grandmaster Pietro as I sat in that cage today. As the stones struck me and the piss splashed on my head, I realized that I've never seen a nobler man in my life. He took the abuse and smiled. He took the ridicule in the streets and cracked jokes. He didn't deserve that, and the guild deserves more respect than it receives." Ralan laughed. "I guess they learned that today."

Alard didn't say anything for some time, but just stared at Ralan. Finally, he replaced his hood and bowed his head. "You are an honorable young man, Guildmaster Ralan."

Ralan smiled. "Well, as much honor as there is among thieves."

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