Sins of the Raven: Chapter 1
Behold, what's been keeping me busy for the past two or three weeks. I'm completely overhauling my old Guild of Thieves story into something not completely new, but new enough to differentiate itself from its likewise counterpart.
Sins of the Raven
Chapter 1
A blue-eyed thief surveyed a slumbering village from afar, perched atop a high cliff. He coolly dealt with the blistering winds that threatened to vault him up and over the edge, his wonderfully flamboyant coat billowing out behind him in a colorful explosion of velveteen rose red and pitch black. The youthful boy, apparently in his prime years, squinted as he eyed a surly looking individual who dutifully stood guard near the town gates. The guard, burdened with a bulky piece of plate mail and legs, shivered in the cold wind. The trembling man's knuckles went dead-white as he tightly gripped a standard issue military spear, well suited for a night time watch. The thief smiled, thinly. He knew how to work his way around elementary school dropouts like this. Dealing with them was simply a matter of reverse psychology coupled with a healthy dose of charming wit. The thief thoughtfully considered the possibilities. A heavy rock, perhaps? Who knew? His aim was true enough. Obviously, he was unable to work his stone-throwing magic from so high up. First, he'd have to walk down a steep, narrow incline littered with a tumult of lovely stones that could make an individual who lacked faith and balance most of all slip, trip, and fall quite a long ways down a gorge that meant certain death. Then, he'd have to...
“Lent, would you look at the size of this coin? It's... oh, God, it's chocolate. Christ, it's chocolate. Chocolate!” A soft groan of subtle disappointment, followed by the soft crinkle of unwrapped tinfoil... followed by the solid snap of a well-placed bite. “Mm... but it's delicious. You've got to - “
“A moment, Ragsei.” Lent, the aqua-eyed thief, clamped a hand over his talkative partner-in-crime's mouth. “I'm in my zone right now. There's an ingenious plan in the works. I can feel it.” Ragsei could not see well in the dark, but he could feel a dark smile stretching across Lent's face as Lent then said, “And if you don't shut up - thus, barring me from what could become one of our greatest escapades into greatness yet - I'll throw you off this cliff myself.” The smile faded. “Got that, buddy?”
“I hear you.” Ragsei shuffled away into silence, leaving Lent alone with his ideas.
The guard, in spite of this freezing weather and the wind with it, stubbornly stood there in ignorant defiance of Mother Nature. Given all that opposed him, he was imposing and he served his purpose well. Lent rubbed his chin before his contemplative thoughts were interrupted once more. “Hey, I've got an idea!” A pair of dull, emerald-green eyes materialized over his shoulder as Ragsei excitedly poked him. “See that grove of trees there, just a few yards down the road? It circles around the town and...”
“And...?”
Lent smirked. Ragsei pouted. “Your ignorance is amazing Ragsei.” Contrary to what Ragsei believed, Lent could be just as foolish, but of course, Ragsei was far too much of a complete and affable oaf to notice. Therefore, Lent took pleasure in knowing what his partner did not. They were both young... for thieves of their time anyway, where their age was one of prosperity and good health. Lent was borderline 16 while Ragsei just turned 15.
“This is hopeless!” Ragsei cried, his arms viciously lacerating the air, although Lent was doing most - if not, all -of the thinking. “I give up!” His voice cracked. Muttering underneath his breath, he cushioned the meteor of his head with the back of his hand and after an awkward moment or two, he was dead asleep.
Lent stared at the dutiful guard for one, arbitrary second longer before he sighed and did likewise. “Probably... but we'll see about that.”
No more than a few minutes later and the two of them were out cold, alongside a dieing bonfire, a sack of stolen goods with questionable saleability, and the defiant opposer to nature just down below.
- - -
Dawn broke over the mountain ridge far across the valley, a shining crest peaking at the very tip for a split second before the faint, yet unquestionably brilliant outline of the golden glowing sun could be seen just over the horizon. This momentary burst of blinding illumination sparked a river of glistening rays, washing over the valley until the enclosed landscape bathed in a warm shower of sunshine.
Lent smiled, mischievously, at the coming day. “Oh, the possibilities.” He reached into their bag of stolen goods, his hand rummaging through the remains of apple cores, wrappers, strange tools, weird things, and other odd-job items until his hand wrapped around the tube of a binocular. He wrenched it up and out of the sack along with a handful of other items and brought the pair up to his eyes.
The guard had fallen asleep. Lent could not resist a subtle chuckle. The Gods have wisely placed their faith in my skills. Lent thought. If that's the case... well, then, I wouldn't want to disappoint. He removed the cloak wrapped around his neck and began a routinely, er, morning stretch.
The thief wore a gray, thin, un-buttoned coat with a buttoned-up formal shirt underneath. He also wore, in addition, a pair of unflatteringly tight fitting burlap pants dyed black for the sake of not looking like a complete moron. That hideous trait was balanced by his loose-fitting leather boots, folded down at the top.
With a curious eye, he wandered over to where Ragsei lay and bent over, staring intently at his companion's satisfied complexion. Currently, in the realm of perfect dreams, Ragsei leaped and bounded in a field of dandelions and daises and daffodils and buttercups and sunflowers and unicorns and rainbows and other gay, happy things while surrounded by a flock of completely naked women - all wide smiles and unbelievably large chests. In the real world, Ragsei merely pawed at the air, resembling some crude dis figuration of a handsome puppy. Lent smirked, knowingly. That's Ragsei for you. Sleep well, my friend. With that, he went scrambling down the rocky path, leaving his buddy to his naughty, yet surely enviable dreams.
- - -
“Y'know wa' Yordan? I've go' this feelin'... I think...”
“No, Bagus. You don't think. You never think.”
“Jus' this naggin' lil' twit in the pits o' me stomach...”
“No.”
A heavyset man, somewhere in his early 30s, fiddled with the military standard issue sword sitting in his lap. Scooting up a bit, he itched at his lower hindquarters with considerable difficulty, the helmet on his head effectively disguising his taught up features. “Stupid...”
“I'm not one for mockery, but that is what you are.” Yordan muttered, quietly. Another man, somewhere in his mid-20s, leisurely took rest in a triangular hut off to the side. Well-muscled, lean, handsome face... and unequally stuck-up. Without compare. In his hands was a wrinkled scroll. In large, bold letters at the very top was the title 'Battle Tactics'. Beneath in spider-like handwriting was the author's barely conceivable last name, 'Barsetti'. “Bagus?”
“Ye'?”
“What is it authors today and their overly fanciful cursive handwriting?”
“'Dunno.” Bagus shrugged. “Maybe... it gives 'em a false sense o' perturbed wisdom?”
Yordan sighed and tossed the scroll aside. “Tell me about this 'feeling' of yours.”
“I think... maybe 'Ogereiden's sleepin' on the job again?”
Yordan gave a heavy, weary sigh. “It's Hogerheiden. Your un-Godly accent prevents you from saying anything like a decent human being.” He touched a hand to his forehead in girlish fashion. “Please, Bagus, just leave me to my studying. Why aren't you?”
“Are ya' dim-witted?” Bagus cried. He jumped off of his seat threateningly, then immediately snapped his mouth shut and sat back down, the wooden stool groaning under the man's incomprehensibly immense weight. He cautiously twisted his head left and right, his mouth a firm line. “Oops... neva' know when tha' witch Captain Isabel's watchin'...” In a hushed voice, he continued, “'Dis area's remote! Shut off! Sealed! Th' mountain range makes sure that no one sane'd ever attempt crossing that livin' Hell.” He gruffly folded his beefy arms and leaned back in his chair, tasting resolute victory in their mostly pointless trade-off. The stool beneath him squeaked in sheer horror at its inevitable doom as one of its legs cracked and finally snapped. The whole thing gave way as Bagus, a peach in a tin can, collapsed amidst the debacle of shattered furniture. Regaining his composure before the usual, casually tossed remark, he stood his ground - acting as if nothing had ever happened.
Clapping. Yordan was clapping and laughing to himself at the whole time.
“Bravo! Oh, the teasing shall never end henceforth, my friend.”
- - -
The town was ablaze with activity. The streets and roads were jam-packed with citizens, while merchants lined the streets, peddling off their wares to the local populous. Adults and children alike wandered seemingly aimlessly amongst the dozens of shops and homes tightly packed where they would fit. Lent squeezed in between the tight embrace of a couple in the moment, making his way towards a paper boy. The child grimaced in disgust as a free-roaming mutt leisurely urinated on his well-shined shoes. Lent chose that moment as the perfect opportunity to strike, swiping a paper off the towering stack as the child kicked the decaying dog off of his soles.
Lent glanced at the paper, then tossed it aside, deeming it a waste of his time. Opportunities were plentiful and he would not meddle about reading the headlines of yesterday's major happenings. On second thought... Lent reconsidered and picked the paper back up, cramming it into his pockets. It would make for a good read when boredom presided over anything else. As he strolled about, eying the opening businesses with a greedy eye, he nearly collided with a passing knight carrying a stack of papers.
“Excuse me s...” Sir. It was on the tip of his tongue. Right before he noticed the man was a Gueridian Knight, quite possibly the most corrupt military organization ever to come into cursed existence. Instead, Lent merely smiled and stepped back to allow the man passage. But the knight did not budge. The man merely stared at him, curiously, as Lent fought off the urge to laugh at the knight's ridiculously overbearing custom insignia painted onto hiss helmet - in essence, a flaming skull. Lent cocked his head, a question mark on his face. The knight sighed and adjusted the stack of papers in his arms.
Another peasant boy. The knight thought, before tilting his visor up and giving Lent a once-over. “Boy... have you knowledge of my business here today?” Lent shook his head and the knight sighed again, setting the papers down and raising a hand to his mouth as he yawned, tiredly. “A recruitment drive. We are on a recruitment drive, boy. Not for the Gueridian Knights, no. As the common citizen would understand, only the best of the best are allowed entrance into such a prestigious organization.” He bent down and retrieved a slip of paper while Lent stuck his tongue out at the self-righteously pompous knight.
“Take this.” The knight handed him a slip of paper.
Knights of the Gueridian
Sir Emerillan
Do you think you have what it takes to become a knight of the Gueridian Army? Have you the strength? The courage? Do you laugh in the face of death and danger?
Then choose the path of the Gueridian Knight. Take the route to glory. To liberty. To freedom.
Visit the Gueridian Knight Recruitment Tent at the main Gueridian Army Base in Kraid for more information.
A large, obtrusively explosive watermark devoured the rest of the page. My... Lent thought, delightedly. The knight before him nodded and patted his shoulder. “Someday, boy, when you're older... you, too, may join our ranks.” The knight, unnecessarily nodding for a second time in less than a minute, turned away - completely forgetting about his duties. The moronic oaf wandered off into the crowd as Lent - childishly calculative as he may have been - decided to ensnare the beef brain's attention with a mixed cop-out consisting of an insult combined with a direct stab at the man's pride. Lent cleared his throat as was proper and shouted.
“You forgot your blasphemous papers from Hell you pretentious, puffed-up, ego-driven lout!” Lent awaited the knight with bated breath and puckered lips, struggling to contain the torrent of giggles leaking out of the seams of his mouth. Silence commanded the reigns of the surrounding crowd as the tell-tale clink of the knight's steel armor ceased. What followed next consisted of many innocent civilians crying, “Hey!”, “Watch it!”, “What's the rush?”, “Well, excuse me!”, “How rude!”, and other complaints intermixed with the heavy footfall of the approaching knight. Lent kicked over the stack of papers while he waited, a smile tugging at the corners of his lips.
And before he knew it, the knight was there. Frothing at the mouth, furrowed brows, and throbbing temple. Well, not exactly. A thick vein pulsed across his neck, but his brows were definitely furrowed. He simply stood there, seemingly at a loss for words. The knight growled, low and deep, and placed a hand on the hilt of his sword - hanging at his side. “Boy!” He roared, the vein in his neck bloating to an impossibly inhuman size. “Was that a challenge I heard?” Lent, far too amused to answer, shrugged and laughed. “Answer me! Have you challenged a Gueridian Knightto a duel? Have at you boy, you will not live to see another day.” He unsheathed his sword and held it up to the morning sun, catching its rays onto the tip of his weapon. Another needlessly enraged roar issued forth from his person, drawing flinches from the audience. He rattled the sword for added dramatic effect.
Lent frowned and crossed his arms. “Are all of you Gueridian Knights so rabid?”
“No!” The man yelled again, albeit this time, somewhat more controlled. “What did you call me, boy? Puffer fish? Trout? I am no fish you despicable child, but let me tell you that you are a slippery eel.”
Lent chuckled and wiped the proverbial tear from his eye. “I called you no fish.” The thief smiled, obviously amused by the knight's misinterpretation. “Puffed-up. Ego-driven lout. Pompous knight. That's what you are.” He tapped a finger to his chin. “Is violence how you're supposed to solve this sort of problem? Are you aware of the golden rule? Do unto others...”
“...as you would have them do unto you, I know the rule. Boy, what you said to me was a direct challenge in my books. Now face me or flee like the coward I know you really are.” The tip of the sword pointed at him, now. At Lent.
Lent reconsidered.
“Sage advice sir, the first reasonable thing to come out of the filthy gaping crater you call your mouth today!”
Lent turned and ran.