"Destiny of the Eye"
by Sion Phillpott
He still hasn't seen me. Here I am, out in the open, and he can't see me. He's looking. His slow heavy footsteps on the wooden balcony, as he searches, shouting absurdities at me. He is trying to intimidate me, trying to make me give myself in. But it has never worked before and it won't work tonight.
It's foggy. He is squinting. I can see because I am so close to him. Which arrow should I use? Or, shall I keep him going till he gives up and then take him out with my sword. No. The arrow. He is a mechanist guard, and so he only has a sword. So even if I wanted to give myself in, he couldn't hurt me.
I love the sense of adventure being a thief gives me. The adrenaline pumps through my veins, giving me a thrill. Not to mention the rewards. This new era city is so crammed with pompous noblemen that stealing feels so right. I know that sounds weird, but it's a cycle. Everything I steal goes towards paying for new weaponry and gadgets.
I pick out my broadhead. It strings back beautifully like a harp, and then lets go with a sharp twang, that sounds like the string on the harp being cut.
This one has hit him in the stomach. He lets out a massive gurgle, and then very slowly, as if in slow motion, crumples to the ground falling on his knees first. Is it safe to jump onto his balcony? It may not be safe, but then again crime takes chances.
With one swift motion, I land on the wall of the balcony. I take the arrows from its former occupant, and now have 23 broadhead arrows. I have 1 gas arrow, 6 moss arrows, 12 water arrows, 6 rope arrows and 7 fire arrows. I also have my sword and my blackjack, plus 8 flash bombs. You could say I am well equipped.
I cautiously saunter along the torch lit corridor, looking for any sign of an ambush. There are no doors in the corridor, but at the end a straight staircase. At the bottom is an archer. He hasn't the slightest idea that I'm there, and my arrow enters his body with a slight thud, matching his fall to the ground. Blood oozes from the wound, creating a small puddle. I check for anything else. Not a sound. I run down the stairs knowing I am safe, the cobbled wall and the cobbled floor protecting me from anything lurking through the windows.
There is a window, staring out into the city. There are different styles of roofing and tiling, all blending together along with the starry night sky. It paints a pretty picture, and for a moment, I take in another beautiful view as I do every night when I am lurking on the rooftops.
I peer below me, seeing what will happen if I jump out through the little gap. There is a ledge, which I softly land on, and I trudge along the dangerously small sill. As I turn the corner, I immediately see the bright glow of a fire through a window, but hear not a sound apart from the crackling. There's a noblemen sitting cozily on a rosy red armchair, unaware, like every other person I kill, that I'm even in their presence.
The Keepers call it the thief's gift. I call it my job. Every night (well most nights) I am stealing things, mostly money to put a roof on my head, but sometimes I am called upon by my former friends the Keepers for the odd mission, like stealing important notes, or instruments that will bring the town into disarray. But in the day, it's Garrett as a normal person. Living a normal life, going to taverns like a normal person would, shopping like a normal person would. But most of the time I am preparing my task for the night that would follow. You know, checking the security measures of a building I'm going to break into. That kind of thing.
Anyway, back to this nobleman. He is wearing some fine robes. It is a blue garment, with a lined black overcoat, which makes his suit look complete. He is staring at the fire, probably contemplating over his social way of life, wondering how he got there. But on my point of view, as much as I disrespect half of the nobility in this town, I never kill them. I always use my blackjack and knock them out, rather than kill them. Because they never tried to hurt me, so why end their life over a quite small amount of loot. But before you complain, guards are a different story totally.
I clamber in through his window. Boy does he look petrified.
"P-please d-don't hurt me," he stammers. He's shitting himself. I spare his underpants the pain and smash my blackjack across his skull. He lets out a small oomph, and crumbles to the floor knee first. There's a door.
It's times like this where I stop and catch my breath. I reflect. I have stolen 230 worth of loot. Equipment wise, it won't get me much, but otherwise, it'll do for tonight.
I take the 25 groats from his pouch, and stroll out onto that dangerous ledge again. I carefully watch my step, and manage to make it back through the first window, up the staircase and through the corridor, and then onto the balcony, down the ladder, and onto the absolutely deserted streets.
Tomorrow, I'll get myself a drink. It should be fun, I've got sufficient money to do so.
Boy, I love being a thief.
Damn Garrett. Broke into Lord Harrier's estate and nicked his money pouch, after knocking him out of course. I was only outside the room, waiting as alert as ever for a call. I sort of heard a thud, but I thought he was chucking stuff into his fire.
Garrett's the only thief who prowls around here and is clever enough to get in without Harrier shouting his head off. I actually sometimes admire him, the way that he breaks into places and then gets straight back out unnoticed. And I've come face to face with Garrett, and it is not pleasantů
I was guarding my previous employer, Lord Greenwich at his castle to the south of the City when I met Garrett. I was with Jack, my then friend and companion. We were on the battlements, talking about ales.
I hadn't the slightest idea that he was there, lurking in the shadows waiting for the right time to make his move. Hadn't the slightest idea what would happen next.
I went in through the door to make a routine check that the hoarding was free of any misjudgment, and when I came out, Jack was lying there dead, his corpse red with blood. He had two arrows sticking into his chest, both red tipped. Obviously shocked and distraught, I ran over to my friend to see what had happened. Then there was a gust of wind. It was sort of a slow motion, taking over my senses as I looked up and new who was there. For once I was scared. I'll admit it. I had never had to face an enemy before. But Garrett looked so smug about the murder he had committed.
I immediately went for my sword, but I couldn't get there in time. He took out a flash bomb, ready to go off at any minute. Now I know that these babies can hurt you badly, I used them in training, so I turned around, waiting in fear for the explosion. But I waited for what seemed like hours. After half a minute, I turned around and Garrett had gone, vanished like that into thin air.
"Hello," I called nervously, although I tried to cover up my fear. Then I heard the blackjack come out and as you can imagine, I couldn't remember anything else.
But just so that you know, Garrett is hot to handle.
It's peaceful tonight. The stars above are glistening in the night sky. The guards think it's just another night. Just another routine watch, just another job to keep a roof over their heads. It is just another night really. Only it's going to probably be their last.
They are unaware of my presence. Unaware, that in the next minute they will probably be dead. I draw back my broadhead arrow. Which one, the archer? Yes, he's more of a danger.
I draw it back and it goes off with a slight ping. Just as I draw back he moves out of the way. Shit, you bastard. Stay still. Now he knows I'm there. I'll have to go before he flounders an arrow at me. Shit, too late.
He draws back and a broadhead comes flying towards me. It hits me right in the bloody arm. Bugger! My arm goes immediately numb, a sort of throbbing going through my body. It splashes blood down my arm, and it bloody hurts. I regain my common sense though and dive down quickly ignoring my punctured arm. As soon as I hit the floor an arrow swiftly zooms over where my head just was and rebounds off the brick wall behind me. I grasp it tightly acknowledging and praising the fact that it didn't hit me. I look at the arrow. The logo of the Mechanists is inscribed on it near the tip. I put it in my pouch, next to my arrow from a Hammerite archer. The only arrow I need is from the Keepers, the group I am trying to find. Soon, I will find them, but only with practice. Like I said, I seek the Keepers, or Garrett, whichever one will help me. I want to be a thief, and put a roof on my head. I want to get money, and have my own estate. I want to settle down with a wife, but I need to get out of here before I get any of that.
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