The Thieves Guild by Jake Kerr. Season 3. Episode 41. Picking up the pieces. Some limped, some walked, some carried others, some were left dead in the streets. Despite their losses, the force that the Merchant Guild sent to defend the city arrived at Merchant Tower with their heads held high. Rogers couldn't help but marvel what he had witnessed on the Great Road. The outlander force was orders of magnitude greater than anyone in Ness would
have expected. Everyone knew, or had believed, that the outlanders were simply desperate poor raiders that stole food and raided the outer field stores. How could they have an army? The fact that the massive Harvest Guild populace from the expansive Lower Quarter were just across the Great Bridge and ready to pour over to attack the outlanders was a stroke of luck that had literally saved the city. He didn't want to think of how many Harvest Guild members had died doing so.
As seemed to always happen, Rogers took over. Dervish had died, foolishly, Rogers thought. It was something he would not have said out loud until Karch met him within the tower. Karch's arms were crossed and he looked thoughtful. But what struck Rogers the most was the horrible brown and blue bruises that appeared to cover every inch of his exposed body. "Who are you?" "I'm Rogers, sir. I joined the force and helped guide us back to the tower."
No one else spoke up or contradicted Roger's statement that he was leading them. "Where's Dervish?" "He perished attacking the retreating outlander force. He was quite brave." "He was an idiot. Bravery without forethought is no different than foolishness." Karch peered at Rogers. "And what did you do?" Before Rogers could speak, a bloodied guard stepped forward. "He saved us, Guild Master.
While Dervish was rushing forward at the retreating army, Rogers here ran up and down the line shouting for us all to retreat." Karch once again turned to Rogers. "And why did you do that, Rogers?" Rogers had a few options: be humble, be confident, or attack Dervish's leadership. He was facing Karch, and Rogers knew enough about him to know that saying the wrong thing could turn out really badly for him. Still, Karch tipped his hand earlier, so Rogers went with the
blunt and harsh truth. "Because attacking a much larger retreating force seemed foolish, and a needless risk of life and limb." Karch stared at Rogers for an uncomfortably long time. He then turned to an older guard. "What do you think?" "I have always admired Dervish, sir, but I must agree that he let his courage get in the way of common sense." "I agree." Karch turned back to Rogers. "We face challenging times. I don't need dumb courage, I need wise decisions." Karch tapped his chin with a
finger. "It seems I need a new captain of the tower. Rogers, I believe this would be an excellent use of your skills." Captain of the Merchant Tower. That would mean Rogers would be locked in the merchant complex most of his day. He not only wouldn't be as effective for the thieves there, it wasn't anything he wanted to do. "Sir, if you don't mind, I've lived my whole life in the Flats and Lower Quarter. I'm honored at your faith in me, but I'd prefer to return to my shop."
Rogers was expecting some kind of rebuke and possibly punishment, but Karch returned to his thoughtful look. "Well, thanks to Larson's idiocy and Kerris' childishness, we have lost two captains in the Lower Quarter recently. Rogers, as you know, we have historically had three captains in the Lower Quarter. One for the Warehouse and Merchant Districts, one for the Flats, and one for the Lower Triangle." Karch took a few steps and slapped Rogers on the back.
"That's two captains too many. You're now my captain of the Lower Quarter." Before Rogers could even consider a reply, Karch smiled and patted Rogers' shoulder. "Before you speak, know that this is not a request." Captain of the Lower Quarter. Rogers was having trouble comprehending what that meant for him. "You can thank me later." And as Karch turned to leave, Rogers realized that he was now the captain of the Lower Quarter for the Thieves Guild, the Harvest Guild, and the Merchant Guild.
Vilhelm's forces made their way slowly down Dragon Road. There were many injured, and the losses left behind were substantial, yet they were not followed, and that told Vilhelm something important: Ness was poorly prepared for any kind of attack. That pitchforks and broomsticks beat his army was a bitter blow, but the mountains of dead it took to defeat him was not sustainable, especially if he was better prepared. He stood up on his horseback and looked back toward the mighty wall of Ness
falling back in the distance behind him. "Yes," he thought. "We are beaten, but we are not broken." "What next, Crown?" It was his general, a brilliant man named Breton, who lived his life raiding the outer fields. He sat on his own mighty steed, glancing at Vilhelm staring behind him. Vilhelm returned his attention to their long march back to Gautland. "We prepare better, "I... We were surprised by a much larger force of civilians, sir. I did not expect them to rally so quickly."
"They didn't rally." Vilhelm was sure of it. It was luck that stopped them, nothing more, nothing less. "They were there for a reason unrelated to our attack. Perhaps it is related to the politics the Guildmaster thief warned me of." Vilhelm turned to Bretin. "You ask what is next? What is next is that we will attack again, but first, we will prepare with deception and infiltration." With a kick, Vilhelm urged his horse forward.
He didn't look back again for the remainder of the march back to Gautland. Before Raylan could get to a bath and clean the stench from the sewers off him, Reif ran up to him from the staircase and gave him a big hug. "Raylan, you are a sight for sore eyes. This guildmastering thing is not for me." Before Raylan could reply, Reif shoved him away. "Good God, man. You smell worse than after the Founder's Day parade." "It appears guildmastering requires regular immersion in filth for our guild."
Raylan laughed. "Let me get cleaned up. We have a lot to talk about." "We do, but before you go, guess who is here?" "Allard has returned?" Reif's face fell. "No, he is still on his mission." Reif's smile returned. "Mayla is here, and you will not believe her story. As you said, we have a lot to talk about." "If I know Mayla, whatever mission she was on, she left behind lots of grumbling and angry people." "Quite the opposite, but get cleaned up. I'll have your study made ready."
Raylan took a very long bath. He felt in no hurry, as the Outlanders were fleeing, and with Mayla back, that meant that Pola was warned of the danger to the Harvest Guild and of his own personal danger. Things appeared to have returned to some semblance of normalcy. It was after drying off, dressing in his Guildmaster garb and entering his study that he realized how wrong he was.
As Raylan entered the room, the greetings rang out, but the only thing he could focus on was that he didn't recognize half of the people. "Guildmaster." "Raylan, you look much better." "He smells better too." Raylan smiled at that, but couldn't take his eyes off the woman to the left of Mayla. She looked serious and thoughtful, but what really caught Raylan's eyes was her dark, flowing brown hair, deep brown eyes, almost black, and her stunningly beautiful face.
Her darker skin was a sharp contrast to pale Rebecca, who sat to the woman's left and somehow faded into the background next to her. The woman wore the black of the Thieves Guild, but Raylan didn't recognize her. "Guildmaster." The voice drew Raylan's attention. It was a man sitting to Mayla's right who looked to be about 10 years older than Raylan. "Well met, all of you, but I fear I see some new faces whom I don know,
while we are missing others. Are there no captains in attendance?" Raylan turned to Felos, who shook his head. "This is Darla." Raylan turned to the beautiful woman who Mayla was nodding at. "She is my... partner." Partner? What did that mean? Raylan bowed his head to her. "Darla, it is wonderful to have you here. Mayla is a valued and trusted member of the guild. Her word on your behalf is all I need to hear." "And this is Prosper."
Mayla motioned to the man who also wore the black of the guild. "Well met, Prosper. I fear I am at a disadvantage, as I know little about both of you." Raylan sat at his seat, a raised chair that faced those arrayed around the table and across from him. He glanced at Rebecca, who sat at the end of the table to Raylan's left. Her face was hard to read. She looked intrigued, almost tentative, but Raylan realized he couldn't differentiate between Rebecca being bemused and being serious, or
even her being angry. She was always so... calm. He was unsure if she had introduced herself to everyone, and Raylan was about to do so when Reif spoke up. "Raylan, you will not believe this. Remember when I told you about Dragon Road and the path through the mountain and the city on the other side, also named Ness?" "I do." "Prosper is from that Ness. It is the home of the Magic Guild." Before Raylan could respond, before he could even fathom what Reif had said, Prosper cleared his throat.
"It is not the home of the Magic Guild. There are no guilds in Ness. The magicians rule the city, but they are not a guild. They are tyrants." Raylan had no time to comprehend what he was hearing when his thoughts were interrupted once again. "Impossible! The mountain came down and blocked the road." Raylan turned to Rebecca, who was almost unrecognizable. She looked a combination of angry and frightened. "Be that as it may..."
Prosper pointed a finger at Rebecca, and the glass of water in front of her raised into the air, floating in front of her face. "It is so." Raylan was stunned. The glass just floated as still as if it had been resting on the table. And for the third time, before he could respond, his thoughts were interrupted. Rebecca slapped at the glass, sending it flying across the room, where it crashed to the floor, breaking into shards. "Rebecca!" She stood up without replying, shoved her chair
back, and marched across the room. Everyone stared as her dress billowed behind her as she exited through the wide door without so much as a comment.As everyone sat in silence, Raylan finally found his voice. "It appears we have much to discuss. Prosper, you are welcome to our guild. I will talk to Rebecca." Prosper shrugged. Raylan turned back to Mayla. "You succeeded in your mission." "I did, but there is more to the story. Polo imprisoned me in the mines."
Mayla proceeded to relay her and Darla's story, starting with Polo's anger and hatred of anyone that crossed him, which Reiff reinforced by sharing Polo's letter to the Thieves Guild. Mayla then continued her story, highlighting Darla's resourcefulness and bravery as they made their way through the mountain and back. As she outlined Katrina's death, Raylan glanced over at Prosper, who sat stone-faced and emotionless. "Darla, thank you for your courage and kindness to the guild and to Mayla."
"It is I who should be thanking Mayla, Guild Master. She has saved me." And in that moment, their relationship clarified right in front of Raylan, as Darla, who Raylan now noticed was muscular and lithe, and indeed impressive alongside her beauty, took Mayla's hand. Mayla, the sarcastic, tough and blunt blade, responded by lowering her head to Darla's shoulder. "While I am glad that you are both safe here, what are the latest developments? Any word on Keres? Have we heard from Simpson?
Perhaps he can speak better of us to Polo. And what is happening with Polo?" "Simpson is who delivered Polo's letter. He was to share its contents to the Harvest Guild members in the old quarter." "And you allowed that?" "Yes." Raylan nodded his head. It was challenging, but indeed the right thing to do. "Good. Our actions will speak louder than any of Polo's words. And what of Quinto?
Do we know of how his attempt to overthrow Sax has gone?" Before anyone could reply, Raylan added, "And where is Allard? I could use his counsel." As if in reply, there was a loud rap on the door. Raylan glanced over, and to his shock, watched as Vesper, the double-crossing blade of the Craft Guild, walked in. He was covered in dust and blood and dried mud. He took a tentative step forward, but paused when Felos stepped forward and put his hand on the hilt of his sword.
"Do you think I got this far as an enemy to the guild, you fool?" Despite his comment, Vesper remained in the doorway, and didn't challenge Felos. "Alas, Guild Master, I did my best. I freed Allard from the Harvest prison, but he died at the gate." Vesper lowered his head. "We were so close and he gave his life for me to escape." Vesper looked up, and his face looked drawn and haunted.
"Why would he do that?" Quinto had set up his base of operations in the cramped but secure Nightwatch, a smaller tower that overlooked the outer fields, and also presented access to the wall. He was awaiting word on how his forces were doing as they marched a very long corridor atop the wall to the Night Guild tower. His expectations were positive, but grim. There was no way to maneuver or outflank or strategically deal unexpected blows to the drunken and foolish Sax's defenses.
He had to use brute force, and unfortunately, brute force was Sax's strength. His hope was that Sax would do something stupid, but he was unsure how that would happen, if it did. The answer came in the form of his lieutenant, Jaxon, who rushed along the wall to the Nightwatch and Quinto's makeshift office with his hand clenched in a fist. The man entered Quinto's quarters gasping for breath as he bent over, one hand holding his knee for support.
As the man's breathing slowly returned to normal, Quinto stood up and approached him. "What word, Jaxon? Do we make progress?" In response, the man stood up straight, smiled widely and held out his fist, opening his fingers to reveal the seal of the Night Guild still attached to Sax's severed finger. (dramatic music) A Podcast Alchemy production.