Eight Intertwined

27 - Thief

After Therion left the region of the Ravus estate, he found himself back in the bustling heart of Bolderfall. He took a path that led him to a bridge that overlooked a small patch of grass, a rarity among the Cliftlands and its expanses of red and brown stone. His eyes shifted through the area in search of anything that would be able to aid him in his endeavors before his gaze fell upon a familiar outline. It was none other than the merchant that had shown him what he had to do in order to enter the manor in the first place. "Well, if it isn't our merchant friend," he muttered to himself, taking a step closer to the railing of the bridge so that he would more easily be able to see what the man was doing. 

The merchant wasn't alone, Therion noticed. There was another man with him, this one a merchant in green clothing. The familiar merchant, the one in red, shook his head with an angry huff. "Those bloody Ravuses! Don't they know some of us actually have to work for a living?!" he exclaimed in rage. 

The other merchant smiled in sad but knowing way. "Turned away at the gate? Join the club," he commented casually. 

"You too?" the merchant in red asked in shock. "But why?" His rage had calmed down and was left only with surprise in its place. 

The second merchant nodded. "They're doing it to everyone. Rumor has it they're guarding some great treasure inside," he explained. Therion had been hoping to learn something new and helpful from this conversation, but instead, he was only hearing the same old song and dance that he had learned from the barkeep.

"But I'm not after their treasure!" the familiar merchant cried in exasperation, throwing his arms into the air to prove his point. "I just wanted to show the lady of the house my wares. Then they told me I needed proof! As if this sack of silk dresses isn't proof enough!"

"Indeed. You'll need a letter of introduction to get inside," the second merchant told him. 

"A letter of what?" the first merchant questioned, his voice tinted with bitter surprise. 

The second merchant nodded. "House Ravus only does business with the most esteemed merchants and traders."

"So how can I get one of these letters?" the first merchant asked, eager impatience infecting his words. 

The second merchant shook his head. "It's not easy, that's for sure. First, you'll have to make a name for yourself here in town. Once you've proven yourself a reliable trading partner, then--and only then--will the Ravuses write you a letter," he elaborated. "That said, you could count the number of people who've earned a letter on one hand."

"Well, that sounds like an awful lot of work," the first merchant bristled. "Are you sure there's no other way?"

Therion smirked to himself from behind his scarf. He could think of another way to get inside, and it would perfectly suit his profession as the rumored master thief. All he had to do was find someone who had accomplished this difficult task, and from there, his sticky fingers would do what they did best. If merchants had to make a name for themselves in town to be accepted, then that meant that there had to be at least one of them still hanging around. They wouldn't abandon a source of trade that was so helpful unless they had to, and their attachment to the town would ultimately play right into Therion's hands. 

He left the bridge behind and set out for the lower half of Bolderfall. He could start at the tavern and try to see if he could glean any information by listening to the people there. One could learn quite a bit just by remaining silent in the right locations, after all. If there was any place that would tell him what he needed to know, it would be the tavern. 

Therion was halfway to the stairway to the lower half of town when he heard something behind him. They were footsteps, he realized, and they were remaining consistently close to him despite the crowd. He was being tailed. When he stopped, the footsteps did as well, only adding credence to his theory. Therion was able to make his way out of the thick of the activity, and once he did, he let out a small breath of impatience. "Just out of curiosity, how long do you plan on following me?" he asked, keeping his voice conversational but still somewhat dangerous.