Roland had grown used to the bath’s water now, which was damn near freezing when he had first slipped in.

He lay there, eyes half-closed, quietly contemplating. Despite being thrown in a cell with nothing to do but think, this felt like the first time in a week he’d been given the opportunity to do so. He’d done it. He’d escaped. Now, he needed to focus on what came next.

Through the windows, he could hear the city in full hustle. The familiar sounds of rickety carts wobbling along the roads, birds chirping, wind rushing, people shouting — the sounds of freedom. Sounds that he hadn’t heard in years.

Roland could also hear Holsley.

The bard was in the adjacent room practising his lute, fiddling with the strings. It didn’t sound too bad, either, unlike what Holsley had played at his execution. It reminded him of Holsley's strumming as a child, playing old favourites to market crowds while Roland, ever quick and graceful, dipped into their unattended pockets and robbed them blind.

What he’d give to go back to that time. Things hadn’t been simpler, but they were more manageable.

Why couldn’t he just trust Holsley? The bard had asked him for answers, and Roland hadn’t been forthright. Maybe he’d fought for so long keeping these secrets to himself that he didn’t know how to share them anymore. Perhaps it was more than that — the secret of the Golden Keep was his and his alone.

He sunk a little into the tub, allowing the water to take him up to his ears. It had been an exhausting few weeks, and he was glad to get off some of the mud. You didn’t get many opportunities to bathe when you were navigating a pithy rowboat across the ocean, except when it rained, of course, but then you were only concerned with keeping dry.

Over the past few months, a plan had come together in Roland’s mind. Tressa was simply a diversion, one that would need to be corrected, but one that he would correct. The rogue needed to get back the rapier and the ruby first. After that, he’d do what Berry Kellam couldn’t, seeing as she was no longer in the picture.

He shuddered.

Seeing her step from the shadows the other day had brought back every painful memory of her. They didn’t call her the Queen of Cruelty for nothing. The last thing he remembered was her face, twisted into a painful smile, as he—

There was a knock at the door.

Not his door, the door to the small apartment.

Bathwater flooded the floor as Roland swiftly hopped out of the tub. The beaten-up trousers were on a second later, and he was at the door with his ear pressed against it the second after. There wasn’t much choice for weapons in this tight bathroom, so he’d have to make do with his wits and stone hand.

A few minutes of muffled conversation followed while Roland’s uneasy heartbeat settled.

‘Roland!’ Holsley finally called from the next room over. ‘Merhim’s brought you some clothes.’

He breathed — it must have been that friend Holsley had told him about.

With a safe measure of trepidation and reluctance, Roland wrapped a towel about his neck and sauntered out of the bathroom. It wasn’t a big room he sauntered into, filled with just enough things to make it comfortable for a single person to live in. That meant a small bed, a wardrobe, and a side table with two chairs.

The gnome was sat at one of these chairs, his legs dangling over the side.

Roland narrowed his eyes. He hadn’t been expecting a gnome and failed to recall the last time he had met with one.

The pointed features, like the chin, the nose, and the ears, are what told Roland he was a gnome, but there was more to this person than their species. They wore gaudy jewellery, obviously fake, and their hair was as white as his hair was red. Their attire was nice, very clean, and proper, and they were probably only one step down from being expensive.

In short, this was the fanciest, cheapest gnome he had ever seen.

All of the dressing up told him nothing about the gnome’s character, though. It was the glare the gnome gave him that told him what he needed to know. This gnome did not trust him, and unfortunately for the gnome, the feeling was mutual.

‘This is Merhim,’ Holsley said, completely unaware the two of them were engaged in a clandestine conversation of body language. ‘I met him in Petty’s Nest. He’s the one that brought me to Tressa.’

‘That was nice of you,’ Roland said sharply. ‘I suppose thanks are in order.’

‘Holsley has already paid me enough for the thanks and then some,’ replied Merhim with a curt nod, which, somehow, seemed impolite. ‘I wasn’t sure he could get you out, but here you are.’

‘Here I am.’

The rogue was half-expecting the tubheads to come barging in at any moment. As the minutes passed, he was almost surprised they didn’t. Still, he kept close to the windows for an easy escape, just in case, and made sure to keep his back to them so he wasn’t in view of the people outside.

This story originates from Royal Road. Ensure the author gets the support they deserve by reading it there.

Holsley handed him an old set of garments — nothing complicated, just ratty-looking leather armour with matching boots and gloves, a thick bandana for the weather, and a black tunic. Clothes that had most likely been pulled out of a bargain bin.

‘I need a cloak,’ he said.

‘No, you don’t,’ replied Merhim. ‘Guards aren’t going to miss you if you’re wearing a cloak. You’ll be more hidden without one.’

‘I’m an experienced thief,’ Roland mumbled. ‘I know what I need.’

‘So, I’ve heard, eh.’

‘They’re nice, huh?’ Holsley said, nodding to the clothes. ‘I bought them with my goblin gold. Actually, kind of the last of it.’

‘What exactly is this goblin gold?’ Roland took the clothes and placed them on the windowsill. ‘You’ve mentioned it before but haven’t actually explained it?’

‘Ah, well, that happened on the way to Tressa,’ replied Holsley cheerily. ‘We were camping out in a small clearing, but when we woke up, to our horror, we discovered that our—’

‘So, what’s your plan now?’ Merhim interrupted, staring daggers at Roland. ‘Holsley tells me you’re not intent on leaving the city yet?’

‘There’s a couple of things I’m keen to get first,’ replied Roland. He was hesitant to give anything away. ‘Once I get them, I’ll leave.’

‘Is that before or after the guards catch you again, eh?’

‘They won’t catch me again.’

‘That’s incredibly arrogant, young man.’

Holsley thrust two mismatched daggers in front of the rogue before he had time to respond. ‘He got you some daggers as well. I thought you might need them.’

They were bland in appearance and a little blunt, but they would do.

‘You’ve already said,’ he replied, taking them with his good hand. ‘Thanks.’

‘Are we going after the rapier or the ruby first?’ Holsley asked.

Roland took a deep breath, reluctant to reveal his plans in front of the gnome. He quietly told himself that if Holsley trusted this gnome, he’d trust him, at least for now. If the gnome was going to do anything, he’d be doing it now anyway. ‘The rapier. I know for a fact that Love has it somewhere in the keep. I’ll break in and find it.’

‘Oh, I didn’t know that part,’ Holsley whispered, taking a step back. ‘Maybe we could—’

Merhim half-laughed. ‘Break in? To the most defended place in all of Tressa?’

‘Yeah, that’s exactly what I’m going to do.’

Merhim grumbled something, but Roland didn’t hear what he said.

‘Oh!’ Holsley sparked as if suddenly remembering something and pulled out, curiously enough, a paintbrush. ‘This was Merhim’s idea. It’s a magical paintbrush. If we touch your hair with it, it’ll change colours. You know, you can get rid of the red because it’s, uh, a bit noticeable.’

‘Thanks.’ Roland stood there as Holsley tapped the brush against his hair, instantly changing it to black. ‘I think we need to go over our assets. Formulate a plan. Later on, I’ll go out and stalk the keep in disguise, see if I can find any weak spots.’

‘Oh, I’ll come,’ said Holsley enthusiastically.

‘It’s okay, I can do this bit on my own,’ replied Roland. ‘What I need to know is what spells you can cast, Holly?’

‘Holly?’ Merhim muttered.

‘Well…’ Holsley shrugged, holding up his fingers. ‘I have an illumination spell that produces a ball of light, a minor healing song that can fix scrapes and cuts, a spell that allows me to speak with animals, a charming song, uh, what else? I can project some very minor illusions that don’t look anything like I want them to, and if we’re really in a tight spot, I have a sleeping song that I’ve never actually successfully cast before.’

‘A charming song?’ Roland rubbed his chin. ‘That’s the one you used on that guard the other night, right? Is it powerful? Could you use it on Love?’

Holsley winced. ‘Not really. The spell only works on the weak-minded. I don’t think a leader of the city will be easy to charm.’

‘Fair enough,’ said Roland. ‘Still sounds useful, though.’

‘I can cast it twice a day,’ replied Holsley. ‘Granted that I haven’t cast any other spells, except for my minor spells.’

‘Noted.’ Roland nodded. ‘How’s your climbing.’

‘Uh, serviceable.’ Holsley omitted that he’d fallen out of a tree recently because of his subpar climbing skills. ‘Oh, and before I forget, I know where your ruby might be. I think Fox has it.’

Roland raised an eyebrow. ‘I figured as much, but how do you know that?’

‘Forgot to mention it, but the reason Kythos had come to the Crooked Hat Inn the other night was to try and capture Fox,’ Holsley explained. ‘He seemed to be under the impression that Fox had stolen it.’

‘I was wondering why Kythos was there,’ Roland replied. ‘Fox having the ruby is going to make things difficult.’

‘Why’s that, eh?’ Merhim, who had been drumming his fingers along the table, chimed in.

Roland narrowed his eyes at him. ‘Fox is a member of the Whispers of Tressa. That’s a prominent thieves’ guild in the city, and, as such, it’s going to be hard to steal from him.’

Holsley gulped. ‘Is that the same one that—’

‘Yeah.’ Roland unconsciously rubbed the old scar on his back. ‘It is.’

‘Okay, so we’ll put that as, you know, part two of this big plan,’ said Holsley, holding up two fingers. ‘If we’re going after the rapier first, I think I have an idea for how we can—’

‘What about you?’ Roland nodded towards the gnome. ‘Are you going to have any part in all this?’

‘Not beyond convincing you it’s stupid.’ Merhim hopped off the chair. ‘You’ve been given a rare opportunity, one not given lightly. You could escape the city now and be done with it. Why not just quit while you’re already ahead, eh?’

‘I don’t quit,’ replied Roland. ‘Ever.’

‘That’s what’s going to get you killed.’ Merhim pointed an accusatory finger towards him. ‘That’s what’s going to get your friend killed too.’

‘If you’re not going to help us, just leave.’ Roland waved him away. ‘I’d never ask Holsley to do anything he didn’t want to do.’

Merhim grumbled again, perhaps realising the truth in that statement. This time, he didn’t offer a retort. Instead, he glared at Roland before giving Holsley a more considered one. Then, he moved to the door and slammed it so hard the walls shook, and the paintings wobbled. A small side table nearly fell over on the uneven hardwood floor.

A moment passed.

‘You shouldn’t be rude,’ said Holsley. ‘He’s helping us.’

‘Are you absolutely sure we can trust him?’ Roland asked then, turning to the bard. ‘If there’s even a slither of doubt, we need to get out of here while we can.’

‘We can trust him,’ Holsley assured him. ‘Trust me, you’d still be locked up in the dungeons without him. Oh, no, wait. You’d be hanged.’

Trust me, Roland repeated in his head.

‘I’m going to get changed and stake out the keep for a few hours.’ Roland grabbed the pile of clothes and moved back towards the bathroom. Inside, he found the cold bath still waiting for him, and he was almost tempted to sink back into it. He paused at the door. ‘When I come back, hopefully things will be much clearer. You should get cleaned up, too.’

‘Actually, I did have an idea for how we could break into the keep,’ said Holsley. ‘Though, we would need Merhim’s help to warn you.’

‘Oh yeah?’

Holsley smiled brightly. It was a cunning smile that Roland had learned to recognise on the bard’s face. It meant that Holsley had been granted one of his big ideas, the kind that usually backfired at a moment’s notice and never went as well as they hoped it would.

‘Merhim is going to smuggle us in.’

‘I was afraid you might say something like that.’