"Leader! They've swung around through the side street. Fang's group is in danger!" The skinny whip of a man yelled over the din of the street fight. Brenden had already forgotten his name, but he thought he belong to the Herefords, a new addition to their growing coalition.
Growling, he threw his current opponent into a knot of enemies, knocking them flat. "I'll take care of it. Ward, you're in charge here. Hold them until I get back!" He yelled at the second in command of the remnant Night Kings, before breaking into a sprint. He nimbly dodged through the swirling combatants, occasionally taking a moment to deal a devastating blow to one of the enemies before moving on.
In short order, he'd arrived at the site of the flank attack. Fang was facing off against twenty opponents while guarding his fallen comrades. Noticing Brenden's arrival, the old bear beastman flashed a confident grin. "Good of you to make it, Boss. You're just in time to watch me mop the floor with these whelps."
"Heh. You should let me take over," He replied with his own grin, "I wouldn't want you to strain your back or something."
"HA! I may be old, but there is still more than enough fight left in me." Fang yelled back, a palpable aura of power surrounding him, and making the members of the opposing gang step back in unease.
"Well then, let's make a contest of it. Whoever takes the least of them down, buys the victory drinks." Brenden said while taking up a combat stance next to the old bear of a man.
"I'll be drinking my fill tonight then!" Fang cried, leaping forward at the enemy. Brenden was close behind.
The pair blazed through the loose collection of gang members, quickly reducing them to boneless heaps throughout the side street. In less than a minute, they were the only ones still standing.
Brenden paused to take a deep breath, laughing as he heard the sound of disgust from Fang.
"Bah, I would have had those last two if my knee hadn't given out." The old bear complained as he rubbed the offending appendage. Apparently, the injury had ended his career as an adventurer nearly three decades ago, and left the man with a permanent limp.
[I bet Mike could take care of that.] Brenden thought, before dismissing the idea. He'd been avoiding thinking about his friend these past few days, unsure of how to face him after their last fight.
"That sounds like an excuse, old man." The young beastman said with a chuckle before turning his gaze back in the direction of the main conflict. Judging from sounds of the celebration, it seemed that his subordinates had won without him.
[They're getting better.]
He walked over to the leader of the flanking force, who happened to be the second in command of the Wave Runners, and nudged the man with his foot. "Oy, looks like your side lost."
Glaring up at him from the ground, Roger sighed, before finally nodded. "Aye, lad. You won. I believe I speak for me boss and me whole crew when I say it was fairly fought. I'll let the boss say the official words, but the Wave Runners will fall under the Hunter's Paw from here on."
Brenden used a hand to pull the man to his feet. "We're glad to have you. Once the injuries have been treated, we'll be having a victory party at the Cat's Paw." He said with a grin. "Bring your guys along, since it's going to be Fang's treat."
"Oi!" the bear beastman exclaimed, starting to look a little pale. "I didn't agree to that!"
"We never specified who the drinks would be for." Brenden laughed while helping the other gang members up. There was a lot of groaning and complaining, but no permanent injuries.
After giving his team a round of congratulations, he took a moment to catch his breath. A chant of "King of Thieves" was starting up in the square, and it sounded like they were waiting on his arrival to commence the festivities. Sighing, he rubbed his forehead, trying to figure out how he'd gotten to this point.
[What in the hells am I doing? Why did I let myself get dragged into all this?]
Contemplating the situation, he could only come to one conclusion. [This has to be Mike's fault somehow. I bet his luck rubbed off on me or something.]
Strangely enough, accepting it as part of his friend's aura of misfortune made the whole thing seem more palatable.
[Now, if I could just find a good chance to sneak away…]
---------------------------------------------------
"So, what's the story behind this whole King of Thieves thing?" Mike asked while watching his friend get mobbed by a swarm of excited children, who seemed to have been watching the match like some kind of sporting event. There were even a few food stands set up in the crowd, giving the gathering a festive air. He'd been given a quick rundown on the idea of Arbitration, but it was still strange to see it in person.
Selene shrugged, "I'm surprised you haven't heard of him, it's a popular story in this country. Near the beginning of the Third Age, when competing warlords ruled much of the central continent, there was a tyrant by the name of Hargulf the Bald who controlled much of what is now southwestern Almir."
"Really? The Bald?"
"Well, he was. Besides, I think they started calling him that after his death, and he wasn't exactly popular. Anyway, there was this young bandit who made his living in the fringes of Hargulf's territory. One day, while wandering in the woods, he came across a white rabbit caught in a snare. Normally, any self-respecting young bandit would take the free meal and count himself lucky, but he had just eaten heartily from a patch of berries he'd stumbled upon, and therefore wasn't hungry. On impulse he decided to set the poor creature free. Much to his surprise, the rabbit thanked for his mercy, and pledged to repay him for sparing its life."
"This isn't sounding all that believable. Did he not have a name?" Mike commented dryly while debating internally about getting some of the freshly baked pastries a nearby vendor was selling. He still had some time before he had to meet with the current leaders of the haphazard force defending the city, and the smell was making his mouth water. Audra also seemed interested in the treat, since he had to keep pushing her back into the confines of his pocket every so often.
"It happened so long ago, that it's more of a myth than anything. As far as a name goes, I'll talk about it later. Now, back to the story. The rabbit was, unsurprisingly, magical in nature, and in fact was the herald of Fortune itself." Selene continued, slightly annoyed at her boss's constant interruptions.
"Fortune, as opposed to Fate and Destiny, huh?" Mike asked sarcastically.
"Fate? Don't know anything about that, but Destiny is the plan created by the gods, while Fortune or Luck, as it's called through the system, is the force that mucks about with the gods' plans. It's something separate is all I can really tell you." She replied with a shrug.
[I guess Fate, as the moderator of the multiverse isn't known here, or at the very least isn't commonly known. Which seems fair, since before I reincarnated, I just thought of it as a cop out trope used primarily in literature.]
"So, you were saying something about a magical rabbit?"
"Right," She continued with a sigh, "Supposedly, this rabbit blessed the young bandit with three instances of extraordinary luck, which when combined with the man's natural cunning, allowed him to accomplish all kinds of impossible things. I'll skip the details, since they don't particularly matter, but the climax of the story focuses on the confrontation between Hargulf and the young bandit. By this point, our protagonist had amassed a small fortune, and was in command of a large bandit force, who specialized in robbing the warlord's tax collectors."
[So, more or less a Robin Hood type.]
"Let me guess, he gave away most of it to the poor and impoverished, right?"
"No, why would he do that? Nah, he did spend a good chunk of his earnings buying food, clothing, and tools before distributing them out to the people of the land to buy their loyalty, but that was mostly a means to ensure they wouldn't be betrayed." Selene gave him a pitying look, as if questioning his sanity.
"Anyway, I assume this story has some kind of conclusion?"
"Yeah, supposedly Hargul got so fed up with all of his taxes being stolen, that he ordered his army to clear out the bandits and their supporters, once and for all. However, the young bandit heard about them coming, and using his last blessing of luck, led his band around the army and to Hargulf's fortress while they were ransacking his stronghold. Supposedly, they climbed the walls in the middle of the night, and captured the castle before the defenders knew what was happening. While they eventually executed Hargulf for his crimes, the bandit was able to seize control of the territory without shedding a single drop of blood, or so the story goes."
"I take it this is where he starts being called a king."
"Stop ruining the story, but yes, since he had effectively stolen a kingdom, the bandit came to be called the King of Thieves."
"While I can see why it might be a popular legend, I don't understand why they are so excited about it."
"Well, that's just the beginning of the legend." She answered excitedly. "See, according to legend, the King of Thieves established a stable government that was capable of ruling in his absence, and after a few years, he abandoned his duties and started adventuring around the Inland Sea, getting into all kinds of adventures, and acquiring all kinds of treasure through a combination of wit, good fortune, and a loose interpretation of the concept of ownership. Supposedly, when he got close to the end of his life, he embarked on one last great adventure. An attempt to cross what is now known as the Shimmering Desert in search of the lost city of Haliputra. Before he left, he passed on a message to his most loyal followers."
She paused, pitching her voice into a low and gravelly tone, "I go now to seek the limits of my fortune, so I will not ask you to wait for me. In time, my successor will rise, one who proves worthy of the title King of Thieves. He shall inherit my legacy." Coughing once, she continued. "And with that, he disappeared into the shifting sands, with only a white rabbit for company, never to be seen again. Some say he died in the desert, but others say he found the city, plumbed its unknown depths, and stole the very essence of divinity itself, becoming an Ascendant Mortal, or perhaps even a god."
"Ah, so I'm guessing it's pretty common for young gang members to day dream about becoming the next King of Thieves. Is that perhaps why you know this story so well?" Mike asked with a sly grin.
Selene blushed, while folding her arms defensively. "Hey! I was a young street urchin not too long ago. The idea of inheriting a whole bunch of wealth and power seemed pretty cool."
He chuckled, "What about his name? You never explained that."
Looking excited, Selene answered, "Supposedly, the King of Thieves was so good, he even managed to steal his own name from the history books, ensuring that his legacy would live on past the confines of his own mortality." A moment of silence followed as her boss stared at her.
Shaking his head, Mike decided to let that one go. "Anyway, how does one go about proving themselves worthy? It didn't sound like he left any guidance on that."
"It's believed that you have to find out for yourself how to acquire the title. However, most seem to think that, if you are an infamous enough thief, it will simply come to you one day. There have been several people who claimed to be the new King of Thieves, but so far none of them have been validated."
"How would they even know?" Mike asked between bites of pastry. He'd finally given into temptation, although he did make sure to get one for each of his familiars.
"Thanks," Selene answered while receiving the offered treat. "Have you heard of the Liar's Chair?"
He shook his head while chewing.
"In the forest to the southwest, there is an old ruin dating back to the beginning of the Third Age. In its depths is a seat carved into the trunk of a massive, petrified tree. It's said that this was once the throne of the King of Thieves, and somehow served as the gateway to his power and wealth. When a worthy successor sits upon the Liar's Chair, they finally inherit the legacy of the King." She finished before taking a bite as well. "Hm, not bad, but it could use a little more honey."
[Seems pretty straightforward, I guess. Still, I have a hard time imagining Brenden taking up the mantle of a legendary trickster. Seems a bit contrary to his nature.] Mike thought back to what he knew about his friend, the little bits and pieces of his past the beastman had let slip. [Then again, perhaps it would be a good fit.]
"So all of this fuss about Brenden being the next King of Thieves…"
"Pretty much just bluster on the part of the Hunter's Paw, as far as I can tell. One of the first gangs they absorbed started calling him that, and the name has stuck."
[It feels like there is more at play here, but I'll need to know more before I can determine what exactly.]
"In any event, it doesn't look like he's in any danger for the moment. Still, keep an eye on him for the time being, and let me know if that changes." With that, Mike turned and started moving back through the streets. He had a meeting to attend soon, and couldn't afford to be late.