(mysterious music plays) The Thieves Guild, by Jake Kerr. Episode 115: The Outer Fields. Rodgers and Velo had walked in silence for quite some time, time that Rodgers spent considering not just what was happening to Ness, but what role he had to play in it, or more specifically, what his immediate plans were. Rodgers considered fleeing when they finally arrived at the Outer Fields. He was exposed, and the risk of Velo revealing that Rodgers was a thief
was not a small one. It was perhaps the wisest path. He would slip off the horse and disappear in a crowd. The thieves had safe houses in the farms of the Outer Fields. It wouldn't be hard to escape, but something kept drawing him back to that unanswered question, why did Quinto want Rodgers to accompany the message? With nothing really to lose, Rodgers decided to ask Velo directly. Breaking the silence only exacerbated the bluntness of the question.
"Quinto knows I'm a thief, yet I'm accompanying you on this mission. Why?" Without even looking over at Rodgers, Velo replied... "You risked your life to assist the Harvest Guild. Perhaps Quinto felt that you deserved the honor of delivering this message to Polo." It didn't feel entirely honest, but it had at least a shred of sincerity to it. Still, Rodgers had questions, and he was about to ask them when Velo spoke up. "Tell me about your guild. You seem honorable.
You guard the wall, something that very few people know, including in my own guild. You say that you take so you can give. What does that mean?" As they continued to progress across the scrub and plains, Rodgers found himself filled with pride as he opened up about his own secretive guild. They were exposed now, of course, so there was nothing to lose and a lot to gain by sharing what they did. There was good in it, there was honor in it, and there was, perhaps more than anything, a need for it.
As Rodgers spoke, Velo kept mostly quiet, only responding by shaking his head in presumed disbelief, or sometimes expressing himself with a grunt or a sigh. "And those that live in the old quarter, they're ignored by their guilds?" "They are." "Do they not realize the pain and suffering they do to their own guild mates?" Velo sounded genuinely shocked at how the merchants treated their collectors, or how the Craft Guild treated the sewer cleaners.
Rodgers thought how best to respond, but finally just shrugged. "You'll have to ask them." With the gentle clip-clop of the horses accompanying him, Rodgers continued to outline how the thieves took care of others. He made sure not to reveal any important secrets, but he was open about the
nature of the guild. The shadowy and hidden paths used to transport goods, the infiltration of the guild into important positions that allowed stolen goods to flow, the defensive mechanisms used to keep everything quiet, including the many legends of ghosts, spectral wizards, and frightening monsters that lived in the Wretched Quarter and manned the walls south of the Great Gate. Velo nodded. "Most of the rangers see the Black Guards on the wall and consider them undead.
The captains like it that way, as it avoids political problems with our friends in the Knight Guild." "As in, why don't they patrol those walls?" "Yes. We could push the knights to patrol the south wall, but the walls are guarded, and we have other issues with our brothers and sisters in white." They were climbing a ridge, and Rodgers used the height to once again look around. There was the mighty Wall of Ness, and there was the magnificent mountains, but everything else was scrub brush
and seeming desert. He was about to ask whether the Outer Fields actually existed when they crested the hill. In the distance, for miles and miles, seemingly all the way to the base of the mountains, were fields of wheat, corn, and other grains. Trees full of fruit stood in orchards in the distance. The color was stunning, and the panorama was vast, and full of life-giving trees, plants, and grasses. Reining in his horse, Rodgers just stared. "Welcome to the Outer Fields, my friend.
Defended by river and mountain, and nurtured by water from both. You are looking at what gives Ness life, and what the outlanders desire the most." "This is amazing." "Indeed, it is. You cannot see it, but far beyond the Nightwatch, and nearer the mountain is the South Fork. The food is loaded from warehouses there, and delivered via the fork to the Silo District, where it is loaded on boats and delivered throughout the city." "How do you know all this? You don't even operate within the city."
"We are close to the Harvest Guild, protecting them and sometimes assisting them. They also send us supplies, and those also come down the Great River." Velo pointed off to the Nightwatch, the large tower manned by the Knight Guild at the end of the wall, overlooking the Inner and Outer Fields. "Harvest House stands behind the Nightwatch. We should improve our pace if we are to meet with Polo before sunset." The conversation ended, but the wonder continued as Rodgers
took in every part of the dramatic landscape before him.What struck him the most were the natural and pastel colors. With its color-based guilds, Ness was, by its nature, a colorful city, but the colors before him were more varied, more subtle, and more beautiful. They reached a small road near the Nightwatch, and guild members in green became more plentiful. The uniformity was striking. They reached a small road near the Nightwatch, and guild members in green
became more plentiful. The uniformity was striking. The Lower Quarter had large throngs of citizens in all the major guilds, and every street was practically a rainbow. Here in the Outer Fields, however, practically everyone wore green. A sharp turn to the right put them on a major thoroughfare, Harvest Road, which led from the Nightwatch and down to the South Fork, and then along the rivers. It marked the southern border of the Upper Triangle.
The large houses and mansions of the Upper Triangle towered into the distance. To their right was the Nightwatch. Rogers looked at it closely. It was a massive stone tower built right into the end of the Great Wall. It overlooked both the Upper Triangle, Harvest House, and the Inner and Outer Fields. Rogers shook his head. Taking that with an army of Rangers and Harvest Guards would be very bloody.
A much better plan would be to take the wall from the other side of the Great River, and then march north and east along it until they could take the Nightwatch from its lightly defended wall side. There was only one problem with that plan for the Rangers and Harvest Guild members. The other end of the wall was controlled by the thieves. Vilo reined in his horse, and Rogers followed suit. "Yonder is Harvest House. It appears modest, but it is dangerous.
There are rumors that the walls and floors are alive and will defend the guild master." Rogers nodded, thinking of Mayla's mission to warn Polo. He assumed she was long dead, perhaps crushed by a living wall or tossed from a writhing gutter. "We will meet with Esma, Polo's deputy. It is unlikely he will take me to see Polo, let alone you with me, so our mission will end there." "And after that?" "We shall see," ... was Vilo's cryptic reply.
Two heavily armed guards immediately intercepted them as their horses came within shouting distance of Harvest House. Rogers looked around, and there were many people closer, some on horses. "Hail Ranger," ... one of the guards said. "Ah," thought Rogers. "That explains it." The same guard nodded to Rogers. "Guildmate." Turning back to Vilo, the guard continued. "What is your business?" "I come from Guildmaster Quinto. Uh, I was entrusted with a message for Guildmaster Polo.
I am to deliver it only to him or Deputy Guildmaster Esma." "Both of you dismount and show me this message." Vilo and Rogers dismounted under the watchful eye of the guards. To Rogers' surprise, Vilo walked right up to the guard and handed him the letter. Rogers would have worried that the guard would rip the letter open or burn it. Instead, the guard closely inspected the seal, and then returned it to Vilo. "There is respect here," Rogers noted.
"What are your names?" ... the guard asked, handing the letter back to Vilo. "I am Vilo, Captain of the Outlands. This is Rogers, a guildmate of yours, with news from the Lower Quarter." At the mention of the Outlands, the guard stood up straighter. "Captain, you honor us with your long trek to our home." He bowed his head. "We appreciate the sacrifices you make. I am Tim." "It is an honor to be entrusted with the responsibility, my friend Tim."
And like that, the guards were relaxed around Rogers and Vilo. Rogers wasn't sure what the Captain of the Outlands did, or even where the Outlands was, but the Harvest Guild members clearly considered it an important position. "I will let the deputy guildmaster know you are waiting. Follow me to the entrance to our house. There is a garden with benches. You can wait there." He turned to the other guard. "Take their horses to the stalls."
As they were led to the benches, Rogers was enthralled with Harvest House and the surrounding lawn. It was intricately manicured and filled with hedges pruned into the shapes of animals. As they sat down to wait, Rogers turned to Vilo. "What is the Outland?" Rogers assumed it was from where the Outlanders were from, but how could Vilo be the captain of that? "Have you ever traveled outside of Ness along the Great Road?" Rogers shook his head.
"Well, if you travel beyond the site of the wall, you are in the Plains. Travel for another day, and you're in the Outlands." "You are captain of where the Outlanders live?" Rogers was shocked that the Ranger Guild had a presence so far from the city. "Um, goodness, no. Goatland is much farther away than that, but yes, I am the captain who is the first to know when the Outlanders raid or attack. It was your luck that I was traveling so close to the city.
There are actually two captains. Henry is the Captain of the North. I am the Captain of the West. I was traveling back from meeting with Henry." Before Vilo could explain more, Tim returned with Esma, who was famous for his long, pure white hair and beard. He was an old man, and Rogers marveled at his energy as he approached. He practically ran up to Vilo. "If it isn't Young Vilo." Vilo stood in greeting, and Rogers quickly followed. "Not so young anymore." Vilo replied with a smile.
Younger than me. Esmer replied. They hugged each other, and as they stepped apart, Esmer said... I'm afraid Polo can't see you, but I'm told you have a message. Vilo pulled out the letter and handed it to Esmer. We live in difficult times. Was all Vilo said, but Esmer seemed to understand as he nodded. Esmer slid the letter into a breast pocket and turned to Rogers. And you have news from the lower quarter. Rogers wasn't quite sure how to reply when Vilo spoke up.
There was an attack and Rogers here risked his life to defend his harvest guild mates from a certain massacre. He saved many of them by escaping to outside the wall. That's where I found him. Esmer peered at Rogers. Tell me more. The old families in the pit were to be cleared by the merchant guards. Our guild mates refused to leave their homes. I helped them with a defense, but the merchant guards were assisted by mounted knights.
You arrayed a defense against merchant guards and mounted knights? Esmer sounded shocked. The families would not leave and there was no choice. After many deaths, I convinced the survivors to escape. How did you flee from such a heavy attack? Esmer was thoroughly mesmerized by Rogers' story. We repulsed the first attack amidst many losses, but we left more than two dozen merchant guild members dead on the street. We escaped as a force of knights approached to finish the job.
How many of our guild mates died? Esmer asked, his voice almost a whisper. Uh, perhaps 50. Esmer didn't reply, but instead turned to Vilo. I'm sorry, but you must wait here, my young friend. He turned to Rogers. Rogers, come with me. Where are we going, sir? Rogers asked, too shocked to realize his question to the deputy guild master was disrespectful. However, Esmer didn't seem to mind. To Guild Master Polo. You're going to tell him your story. (dramatic music)