Piers the Rat, more famously known as The Bane of Markee Province. A title that was well earned by him. He robbed 2 lords of their coffers and left incriminating evidence that they were part of a deadly feud resulting in their arrests and seizures of property. He then bribed the movers to give him 40 percent of the seized valuables. Anyone else that was robbed in Markee was automatically blamed on Piers. Of course, he doesn't deny it.
I knocked on the door to Piers' slum. "Who is it?", said a gruff-sounding voice. "Who do you think?" I was not in the mood for Piers practicing his bossy tone. The door creaked open and two bright eyes peaked out from the darkness. Piers soon opened the door and let me in. His place was in disarray; any and all luxurious goods spread about. "I take it business has gone poor with you," I said. He turned towards me after shelfing a lockbox. "Not necessarily. Remy may have chased out many competitors but there is still Edwin and Cillian. I haven't seen Cillian all day though."
I glanced off to the side, looking at the window that let in a sliver of light. I decided to set it straight. "Cillian's dead." I heard Piers stop midstride. "I heard something happened, but he's not dead. He wouldn't be that sloppy." I turned to him. "His body was found in the street not far from Grime Rod. I saw it myself." I pulled out the Spastani Silver and held it to him. Piers' eyes widened with realization. "He was supposed sell this. Remy's goons got to him first, but he managed to stash this and make a run for it." Piers stepped up and took the silver. Without turning back to me he asked, "Are you sure it was Remy?" I nodded. "One of his thugs spilled it while threatening Tinclair. They were trying to gut me tonight."
Piers looked back at me in disbelief. "What the hell happened?" "All you need to know is that Remy failed to pay me and now wants me dead. I want what I'm owed and more. I'll need your help." Piers looked at the silver in his hand. "I actually had something planned," he said with a grim look on his face. "But this is too soon to know if it'll work. There's a new sheriff of Cutty. He's very inquisitive and pays attention to details. If you had left anything behind in your heists, I'd be worried. He's mainly focusing on the local merchants, looking for fences and anyone affiliated with them." Odd, now the Bulls want to fully reinforce Cutty by law.
Piers continued, "He has hit Remy's supplies a few times, but he has nothing solid. However, if I can find a loose mouth or some incriminating evidence in Remy's part of town, then someone could tip off the good Sheriff and lock up Remy and his party. No guarantees, but Sheriff Gorman is not a Bull that gives up easily." I stepped toward the window, glancing outside. Nothing out of the ordinary. "What do you need me to do?" I said while looking out. "You need to make yourself scarce. I can do the snooping by myself. But there is something you can do for me." I turned to see Piers stepping towards one part of the room and rummaging through his piles of furniture and valuables. I didn't have to wait long for him to pop back up with a piece of parchment. "How do you feel about graverobbing?" I didn't know what was brighter, the shine of his teeth or the greedy glint in his eye.
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I'm not above graverobbing but I don't like doing it either. Too many stories of looters falling into open coffins, bad things happening to pawn shop owners, even vengeful spirits haunting people in their sleep although that last one has been mostly disproven. However, since my main source of income is gone, this is this next best thing. "Rob the Catacombs and get the Harp of the Verai." The Catacombs: the final resting place of royals, nobles, extraordinary heroes and thieves that never got out. I went in there once when I running with the Bronzemarks. The catacombs aren't silent; the halls echo with wind music, presumably by the harp, but no one has been able to find it.
The Bronzemarks lost 4 members due to the traps. The traps built in there are not obvious or easy to locate. The only part of the catacombs that is for certain not to have any traps is the main path, but it only leads on 24 steps before branching off into different parts of the catacombs. Anything after that could lead to pitfalls, poison darts, falling statues, and whatever I haven't seen kill those poor Bronzemarks. However, Piers boldly claimed he visited the catacombs and says that the harp could be in the old Spastani cathedral along with some other treasures; 'ripe for picking' so he says. When I inquired as to why he didn't get the harp himself, he said that the front doors were bolted shut and when he tried a highly elevated window, he was quickly spooked by some falling rocks.
The cathedral was built underground during the Imperial days. Then after the fall, the Spastani built the catacombs as an extension to bury their honored dead, but the only entrance to get to the cathedral is through the catacombs. Unlike the pagans the Spats aren't a superstitious group, so no hexes or curses on sacred items. However, they consider the dead with high regard and that their possessions belong to them even in death unless the items belong to their sacred armory. Plenty of their weapons and relics are laid and melded with shiny gems and silver metal, which will fetch a high price in the Shade Trade, including any silver spoons that I can add to my collection. High risk, high reward as all thieves say. Except for me. But my back is to the wall and I would be settled for a while, unless Piers has something else for me.
The entrance to the catacombs breaks the side of a sizeable hill overlooking the Arlien tombs, sort of a reminder to all that the God-King's children is superior even in death. Too bad they can't be immortal. I shouldn't waste too much time; Piers reminded me that other thieves were going to make a grab for the Harp tonight. However, I'm starting to have a dreaded feeling about tonight. A cloud of death was hanging in the air outside the catacomb entrance. I haven't felt this nervous since the night my father died.
I sprinted up towards the threshold. I was not going spend another second in the tomb fields or any longer than I had to in this undertaking. I slid and crouched next to the entrance. I looked down to see fresh prints in the mud. A sizeable group had entered through here, hopefully not Bronzemarks. I entered the catacombs and was immediately hit with cold air. A few steps inside and I was immediately surrounded by hundreds if not thousands of tombs, laid side by side or on top of one another. Lamps glittering white yet cold light broke away the darkness with small flickers. It hadn't changed much since the last time I was here.
A small glance to my left slightly challenged my thought. A thief's corpse laid on top of a tomb with several darts in his back. The body was still fresh. I jerked my head towards the main path. Somebody was shuffling up ahead. I ducked behind a tomb and listened intently. Footsteps echoed off the dimly lit walls and someone was fast approaching. I crept farther behind the tomb to get more shade from the lamplight as the footsteps got closer. A thief came into view, but he was panting heavily and stumbled to get out the catacombs. He was followed by two other thieves also breathing loudly compared to the silence of the rest of the catacombs. The silence…
It wasn't supposed to be silent. Something was wrong. Suddenly, the coldness in here was starting to get worse. I saw my breath turn into mist. I looked up and around. The trio were already long gone, but I distinctly heard something shuffling deeper in the catacombs. I slowly crept back out onto the main path and walked down while looking around for anything else that was amiss. The flickering lights were now getting to me. Shadows appeared and disappeared, figures revealed to be crumbling statues, and subtle shapes turned into grotesque limbs and heads. I reached the end of the path in which it branched off into numerous directions. Then I heard something that made my heart sink a bit.
The music was playing again. The unmistakable strings and calming tune hung in the air now. I wasn't relieved however. The music itself was familiar to appreciate, but now after its absence was a little more unnerving. Something obviously happened, resulting in those thieves leaving early. They weren't Bronzemarks thankfully, but that was little consolation. I looked down at the paths. Some of the paths were larger than others. The middle path was almost the smallest and I managed to spot a dart trap on the first tomb at the start.
CLANG! I jerked my head to the right as I heard something crash on the stoney floor. A dark shape was in view on the right path. As the light flickered, a thief was revealed gripping a bag with several shiny products spilling out. I slowly walked towards the body, looking carefully for traps. I crouched next to it and immediately smelled the poison coming off the darts that had pierced the legs. I grabbed his bag of loot, but stopped when I noticed his hands. They both were covered with a red powdery substance. I took a pinch and grounded it between my fingers. Red sand. It's rare for anyone to get their hands on it. People mostly use it mark objects because of the unnatural shine in the color. Marking.
I gazed down the path used by the deceased thief. Several stones were covered in red sand, flashing red in the white flickering light. The tombs flanking the path also had some red sand covering them, highlighting the holes that were armed with poison darts. How very considerate of him. I looked inside the bag. Not much except donation coins, gold, silver and gems. I slung it over my back and followed the path peppered with red sand.
Easily making my way towards the back of the catacombs, I was greeted by a daunting sight. Carven stone that had risen to great heights in the underground, with colored and shattered windows, and eerie effigies cased in and around the walls laid the Cathedral. I shuttered and glanced towards the main doors. My mouth slowly creaked open. Those thieves broke through the doors! From where I was standing a big gaping hole stood between the heavy stone doors. I slowly inched closer. Two bodies laid at the opening. Something that looked like smoke were coming out of them. I peered around. The last thing I need is some zealous Spat to start shooting at me with a musket. I looked toward the bodies again.
The smoke looked many shades black as if the bodies had been burnt. A usual musket round would leave shades of gray smoke or none at all. It's starting to get into earlier time of the morning, but I was in no rush. I stepped towards the corpses and slowly turned over the nearest one, whose head was face down. I flinched back when I saw him turned over. His eyes were completely gone, his face twisted in pain. Two black handprints stained his already dark clothes and his body seemed almost scorched dark red. I turned to his partner who also had similar wounds. I slowly looked inside the cathedral.
Inside laid many benches with pews surrounded by columns of carven stone. The entire room was lit up with orange torches, much stronger and brighter than the lamps in the rest of the catacombs. I glanced towards the back and spotted the Harp, resting on a pedestal. I breathed a sigh of relief, but only just slightly. The actual Harp of Verai looked to be only the size of a minstrel's strummer, not too big to haul out. The actual shape of the instrument was indeed a harp with everything but the strings covered in solid gold. I looked towards the ground and the benches.
There wasn't any red sand in sight. Considering these thieves were more concerned on leaving alive with the loot, there would've been good reason to check the entire cathedral for any traps before grabbing the harp. So, I went around to each bench, column and wall to see if there was any red sand or traps. It took a good while, but there were no traps in the building. I turned towards the harp that sat harmlessly on the pedestal. Then I glanced towards the bodies at the door. There was someone or something that was barring escape as soon as someone makes a grab for the harp. But one thing puzzled me. If the thieves at the door were killed while escaping with the harp, how did it get back on the pedestal? Then I saw a dark shape slumped behind the pedestal in the dark corner. I froze. How did I not notice that?
I walked toward it and realized it was another thief. This one was the most charred than the other two. His hands and arms indicate that he seemed to have been holding onto something, a sizeable item such as the harp. Whatever killed these thieves was fast, for it had to have killed this thief as soon as he grabbed the harp and the other two at the door, forcing the others to run for their lives. Now where would this thing spawn from? I looked toward the nearby corpse. It didn't have discernable black smoke coming off of it like the other two. His two hands however seemed to have been the connector to the rest of the body when he was cooked alive with small whisps of gray smoke emanating from them. This thief was first to die, so if I grabbed that harp, it'll be a mad dash to the catacomb entrance before whatever abomination shows up and chases me. Thankfully, I stretched plenty before making this venture.
I positioned myself in between the first row of benches and the pedestal. I breathed deeply, my loud exhales echoing in the cathedral. Then I slowly made to grab for the harp. With both hands outstretched, I was about to make my claim when I suddenly heard shuffling towards the cathedral entrance! I turned my head. There was someone standing at the door, but then I realized that now I was holding the harp. The music had stopped and the air was filled with silence. All the torches in the cathedral went out at once, save for the lamplight outside, now making the figure at the door more ominous. I was debating if that was the killer until I heard something creaking behind me. I ran. Faster and faster, I ran like if the dogs were onto me. The figure at the door staggered back a bit. He must be one of the thieves that ran outside before, but I didn't have time to think about that. I was halfway through the building when I heard a bellowing scream echo behind me. I didn't stop, but I turned to see what it was.
In the darkness, I saw a figure that stood taller than most men. Its skull was alight with a red crimson flame that seemed to lick off the back parts of its head and neck. The figure itself was still dark in nature despite the unnatural flame, but what got me the most was its face. A small mouth with sharp teeth with no nose leading me to its eyes. Two enormous eyes with the largest and darkest pupils I had ever seen were searing into mine. This thing looked to be possessed with an unnatural dread and it was fast bearing down on me.
I reached the doorway and rushed past the dazed thief. I had to pay attention to the path now. I heard the other thief run after me. The red sandy patches started popping up and I started leaping over each one. Another guttural screech echoed behind us. The lamplights were flickering more now, making it harder to spot the red sand. I heard the other thief scream and yell, but I didn't look back. I was nearing the main path. Then the lamplight flickered again for a longer duration and I barely saw one of the thief corpses that I looted earlier. My foot collided with one of his legs and set me off balance. I staggered on one foot to the next and crashed into a tomb. I held the harp tight, but between that and stone tomb, my right arm was sandwiched and started to go numb with the pain. I turned to look behind me.
The Flaming Head had finished killing off the thief and turned its bulbous eyes on me. I turned back towards the main path and hustled. I heard the flames slowly gaining on me. The entrance just laid up ahead. Then I felt the heat nearing the back of my neck, just like the Terror of Frakland. The entrance suddenly got really close as I sprinted faster. I leapt up the short staircase and into the night air. I bent over with the harp still clutched in my hands. "Oi, Jorgin. Did you manage to get it?"
I froze. Two sets of legs walked into view. The other two thieves that ran away. "I think he has it," chimed the other thief. "Yeah, right there! In his hands!" I turned my head to look toward the entrance. A red glow was slowly growing into view and soon the Flaming Head popped up. "Oh no," whispered my fellow thief. I sprinted away from there down to the Arlien Tombs. Ironically, I now found this cemetery to be way more calming those damn catacombs. I watched the last two thieves run off in the distance and the Flaming Head gave up several steps out and let out another guttural screech that sent bugs, birds and any other wildlife nearby scattering. I did not stop running until I reached the city.
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Panting heavily, I managed to reach Piers' place. I wrapped on the door. The sky was starting to lighten up in the distance. "Who is---" I wasn't having it. As soon as that door creaked open, I busted my way in. "Ow," he said. "Rudeness won't be tolerated in my house, Mr. Ruskin." "Save it, Piers", I spat back. "I got your damn Harp and loose change. Did you set up the evidence?" Piers straightened up and walked to his desk. "Yes, I did," he answered. "I tipped off Bulldog Gorman about Remy's misgivings and Tinclair obliged to give his testimony." Piers then noticed I was breathing heavily. "Had a run in with other thieves?" "Yes, but there was something else," I breathed. "You never told me there was a damn spirit haunting that cathedral." Piers' eyes widened. "A haunt? What did you see?" I told him everything in detail.
"Flaming Head? That's what you named it?" "Have you even heard of this thing?" Piers looked to his mismatched stack of books. "Nothing I ever heard of. But you never know with the Spats." I looked over to the window. "Do you have my pay?" Piers strode over to one of his treasure boxes and tossed over coin bags onto one of his couches. "I managed to find a buyer for the silver and the silver spoons. You get 70 percent of the sale." I started pocketing the money. "And the rest?" "The rest will take some time. The Bulls were making their rounds more than usual. And this was before I tipped them off about Remy." I counted the last coin purse. This should get Tinclair off my back for a while. "Get me an estimate on the goblets and get rid of this Harp as soon as you can." Piers nodded. "You don't have to tell me twice. I might have another job for you soon, but we'll wait until things calm down around here. You're changing up something around, Oren. I just want to be on your good side."
I scoffed. I left the Harp on top a stack of papers as well as the scraps from the catacombs. My hand grasped the doorknob as Piers said, "Who was that Zaharan you ran into?" I turned back, "What about him?" "He was looking for you. I heard he had killed a dozen of Remy's men. Is that true?" "Yes, I never seen anything like it. He cut them down. I don't know him though." Piers was satisfied. "Take care, Oren." I grunted as I shut the door.
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It didn't take me long to reach my residence; the sun was had barely risen in the distance. I walked up the steps and fished my keys from my pocket. "Ahem." A man cleared his throat from behind me and I spun around. A Bull was standing at the foot of the steps. He wore a standard constable chestplate, pauldrons, gauntlets, leggings, leather boots and sword at his hip. How the hell did I not hear this guy? Then again, I've been up all night and getting chased by everyone and everything trying to kill me. At that point my senses were probably at the end of their game. "Care to step down for a chat?", said the constable. "Sorry, officer," I managed to speak. "It's been a long night, I need sleep." He took a step up. "Ah, not to worry. I won't take too much of your time." His eyes looked me up and down.
"I take it this is your normal attire, mister Ruskin?" Damnation, the bastard knows my name. I looked into his eyes. "Yes, as well as anyone else that lives in Cutty. There's nothing wrong with wearing dark clothing. Especially to hide from the things that happen around here." He nodded in agreement. "Indeed, I just spoke to your landlord, Tinclair. A very friendly gentleman. He's got a couple grievances against you; however, he doesn't want to kick you out. You should feel very fortunate." My hands started to sweat with coming sunlight. "I am very appreciative of him," I said. The constable nodded again. "You should really help in looking after him. He's a bit shaken up after last night's debacle."
This Bull was trying to test me, so I looked up in confusion. "What do you mean?" He blinked, "Oh, so you weren't here last night?" I shook my head, "No, I was meeting a friend." He raised an eyebrow, but turned away to look down the street. Another Bull was walking toward us. The first one turned back to me. "Well, if you don't know, then you shouldn't worry too much. Just watch your friend, Tinclair. He could use your help," he said and smiled. I nodded and turned back to unlock the door.
"Just one more thing, mister Ruskin." Oh, now I hate this Bull. He continued, "We just arrested a man named Remy Braddagin. Does that name ring a bell to you?" I turned my head slightly. "I've heard it mentioned a few times." "Hmmm," he mumbled. "Well, he gave us everything on his goings and doings, not voluntarily of course, and he made mention of you specifically." That scumbag. "You see, we caught word that you might've been smuggling illegal and stolen products through Remy's network. Conducting lots of business in the Shade Trade." He took another step closer. "Of course, we have frozen all of Remy's runs of business. But he said that you would be in possession of some stolen goods that you neglected to sell to him."
I was coming up short on what to say this all-too-smart constable. He's clearly been doing his paperwork. I turned to face him. The second Bull stepped towards the base of the stairs and looked up at us. "What did you say your name was?" I asked but, I was fairly certain as to who I was addressing. "I am Sherriff Gorman, mister Oren Ruskin. Now, are you in possession of these stolen items?" I shook my head. "No, I am not. I stopped doing business with Remy a long time ago. He failed to pay me, so I went looking for another job. As to what he thinks I neglected to "sell to him", I have no idea what he's talking about." Not exactly true, but that's the best way I ever could've phrased my termination with that scumbag.
Just then, the front swung open and Tinclair's voice rang out behind me. "What are you Bulls doing back here? Sherriff Gorman, I told you I didn't need your protection!" Gorman bowed his head. "I apologize, mister Tinclair. I just needed to interview one of your tenants, mister Ruskin." Tinclair spat back, "I told you and the last constable that my tenants had nothing to do with the murder of Cillian Macawood!" "I understand, sir---." "I don't think you do! And he wasn't affiliated with that Remy scumbag for some time! He often had his own goons shake up Cutty from the docks to Markee!" Gorman looked to consider conceding to Tinclair. "Many apologies, mister Tinclair. I'll leave you to your duties." Tinclair was a bright shade red. "You make sure you do that, and stop harassing my tenants! Money is slim around here as it is!" Gorman couldn't help but nod. "Indeed, sir. Good day, sir." Gorman and his fellow walked briskly towards the province center.
I turned to face Tinclair with a coin purse in hand. He snatched it up before I said a word. "If it wasn't for you and that Zaharan, I would've been beaten up in the night and had the nightmare of losing my family," he hissed. "But don't damn near think that I owe you anything. I gave that southern man my charity. However, my thanks to you is that I don't kick you out! Now, get inside and I don't want to hear a damn sound from your apartment!" I was not going to argue with convincing display of authority. Plus, I wanted to take a bath and go to bed. The longest night ever in my life had finally ended. A heist, a double-cross, the Zaharan swordsman, robbing the Spat Catacombs and meeting the new sheriff of Cutty. I think I'm going to sleep all day.