The Thieves Guild, by Jake Kerr (dramatic music plays) . Episode 80. A message in the streets. With Rafe and Allard gone, and Mailer imprisoned by Polo, Raylan had not felt so lonely in a long time. He stood on his balcony looking out on his guild lands, an entire half of the walled city. In the distance, he could see smoke, but no fires. There was the suggestion of movement near the great bridge, but the distance was too great for him to see more than that. It was odd.
He was one of the most powerful men in Ness at the moment, yet he felt like there was little for him to do. He missed running through the Knight Tower to rescue Allard, galloping toward Gautland to reach Karch, and even the Founder's Day parade that left him gagging and covered in filth. At least it was something. But what could he do in that moment? It was as his brother had said when he first informed Raylan that he was the guild master thief, he was but a figurehead.
Of course for Larsen, the guild master thief was a figurehead of scorn. Now he was a figurehead of a real guild, with real responsibilities, but he was still a figurehead. Raylan wanted more. He wanted to do something. Marching back into the tower, Raylan entered his quarters and put on his
leather breeches and a black shirt with black boots. Flowing behind him was a black cape made of liquid cloth, the rarest of materials in Ness. There would be no mistaking he was the guild master. Striding out, he approached Philos. I am going to Founder's Square to meet and talk to the Harvest Guild refugees. Philos was too experienced to even think of contradicting the guild master. That was Allard's job. He simply nodded and replied... Will you require a carriage? I'll be riding my horse.
As you wish. I shall attend to it, sir. Very good. I'll meet you in the stables. Raylan knew Philos would be escorting him, and while he wanted his outreach to the Harvest Guild refugees to be his personal mission, he knew it was wise to have his guard with him. Thinking of his guard also reminded Raylan that he should arm himself. Returning to his quarters, Raylan secured the long dagger that Allard had given him to his waist and thigh.
He doubted it would do any good against a formidable opponent, but its presence made him feel better. The stables had come a long way since their former unused and collapsed state. Raylan's horse, the majestic beast gifted to him by Lord Wilhelm, stood proudly in front, Philos holding his reins. He is a mighty steed, Guild Master. He was a gift of the Outlanders. He was raised on the plains. Raylan rubbed his hand along the horse's neck. I've named him Calisto.
It was the name of a city that Rafe said was far to the west beyond the Outlanders. It sounded exotic and wild to Raylan, and it seemed to fit the horse. Like the glittering prize, Philos replied. Glittering prize? Yes, the children's verse. Do your work and focus your eyes, and you too can make it to Calisto, the glittering prize. Philos shrugged. I figured it was some ancient treasure of some sort. Your horse is definitely a treasure. The city and treasure. "I wonder if they are the
same thing. More hints of our past hidden in plain sight," Raylan thought. It is indeed the source of his name, a glittering prize indeed. Philos handed the reins to Raylan and vaulted onto his horse. Philos was surprisingly nimble for a large and muscular man wearing chain mail. He had been installed by Allard, and Raylan was certain that Philos was one of the deadliest fighters in all of Ness.
Raylan climbed onto Calisto, and they spurred their horses out of the stables and on to the old quarter and Founder's Square. Green tunics, robes, shirts and cloaks were everywhere as the flow of Harvest Guild members across the bridge didn't seem to be abating even a full day or more after it had started. They are clearing the entire quarter. That they are, Guild Master. Raylan hadn't truly believed that Larsen could do any such thing, so it
helped him focus on the scale of what he was seeing. The crowds were enormous. It took a moment, but Raylan discovered that there was order to the crowds he was seeing flowing through the streets. Thieves Guild members in black were guiding groups to various houses and down various alleys. Each group was organized and escorted by a member of the Thieves Guild. Despite the chaos of humanity, everything seemed to be moving with an orderly flow.
Raylan pushed his horse forward and through the people so that he could be in the center of Founder's Square, a large open area at the center of two intersecting major thoroughfares in the old quarter.At the center was the base of a statue with nothing upon it. Relan assumed that back in the migration from the old quarter, the statue had been stolen or destroyed. Stopping, Relan yelled out... "Welcome to your new home and shelter. The Thieves Guild welcomes you.
We are here to help, to heal, to feed, and to shelter you. We are your friends. If you have questions, I will answer them. You have nothing to fear." Relan crossed his arms, not expecting anyone to say anything, although he hoped his words were calming. A large number of Harvest Guild members had looked at him while he spoke, and one of them yelled out... "You are thieves. You have stolen from us. Why should we trust you?"
Relan looked at the woman. She appeared older, and from her clothes, looked like the kind of guild member who would not need the assistance of the thieves. She would see them solely as just that, thieves. "We take so that we can give. The food and clothing we have stolen will now feed and clothe you. It is as it has always been." Relan looked around. "Anyone else, we are here to help. But if you would like to know our history or more about our guild, you can simply ask any of us.
We no longer have any secrets. Your well-being demands our openness." While the refugees had listened to him intently, none of them seemed to have any further questions. As groups made their way through the square, Relan would greet them and introduce their benefactors as the Thieves Guild. He was not naive, and Relan knew that his words would not change anyone's opinion of thieves, but he hoped that his words would provide the proper context for the kindness that the guild was showing everyone.
They may not believe the words, but they couldn't help but believe the actions. As the hours drifted by, Relan enjoyed himself. He spoke to fellow thieves, asking of their health and applauding their efforts. He answered questions from Harvest Guild members, wishing them well and offering to listen if they had any concerns or problems with their treatment. He listened as many would angrily condemn Larsen or Orion or Sax or all three in one expletive-filled sentence.
As he considered whether it was time for him to return to his tower, a middle-aged Harvest Guild member approached. Relan looked down at him and smiled. "You are a difficult man to approach, Guild Master," the man stated. "I'm right here." Relan spread his arms and smiled. "You are here now, but previously, you have not left the tower in days." What is this? Relan thought. Philos moved his horse forward and unsheathed his sword, laying it across his saddle. The man held up his hands.
"I mean no harm." The man lowered his voice and took a step toward Relan. "One more step and you die." The blunt statement was delivered with the precision of an executioner's swing. "I have a message for the Guild Master from the Crown of Gautland." Lord Wilhelm, the leader of the Outlanders. Relan looked closer at the man. He had pale blond hair and striking light blue, almost white eyes. This is an Outlander spy in Ness. "Speak your message." "You have lost control of the
city. You were to open the trade routes. If you do not restore order soon, Lord Wilhelm will do it for you." Relan stared at the man, who appeared bemused more than anything. "A threat, then?" The man shrugged. His face was inscrutable. "Alas, your message is a lie. You forget that I have traveled to Gautland. This horse was a gift from Lord Wilhelm himself. It is a multi-day journey. There is no way that Lord Wilhelm would know of the violence in Ness and respond to it via messenger.
There is no time." Relan turned to Philos. "Philos, I believe the dungeon has room for another resident, a liar." Looking completely unperturbed, the Outlander laughed. "You are a sharp one, I will give you that. You are correct, of course. I am Lord Wilhelm's hand in Ness. I have the authority to speak in his name." A hand, probably akin to what guild masters called captains in Ness. Relan wondered if he could embed a captain in Gautland without discovery.
He filed the thought away. "So, he doesn't know what is happening here?" "Not yet, but he will soon." The man spoke in a jovial tone. "You have time to..." The man waved an arm across the square, encompassing all the refugees. "... fix this problem." "What if this isn't a problem to be fixed? What if this is the first step in the path to opening the trade routes?" Relan peered at the man, challenging him with nothing more than his force of will. The man ran his fingers through his hair.
"You're clever, Relan. I admit that the paths forward may not be as clear as I have outlined. I will amend my message and provide you with time. Let us hope that it is enough to get the job done. I will await your progress." The man went to turn, but stopped and looked back at Relan. "Do not look for me. I will contact you." Relan was going to object, but the man had already blended into the crowd. (dramatic music)