The Thief

Chapter One: Trial

        It was dark. And wet. It was always dark and wet in a royal palace jail cell, but now it was pitch black, and she was soaked. An evil soul could do that to a person, make everything dark, or so they said. That’s what they told everyone. She supposed they were right, but didn’t everyone deserve a chance? A chance for redemption? A chance to build that fire up again? That little spark? After all, she told herself, Algeshia would probably be a much warmer place, if there were more fires, and less dark, damp cells. Even if it was just a little spark. But what did she know? She was just a toldvaj, a thief. Her opinion didn’t matter to anyone. It never had anyways, so why did it bother her so much now? She supposed that didn’t matter either, nothing much did anymore. Her time was limited just like everyone else’s. She brushed her hand acrossed the wall she was slouched against. It was cool and damp, the bumpy surface blemished by patches of moss, dirt, and nine, rough lines. Nine days, nine nights. One more. One more day until the Trial, then six more until the Verdict, then six hours till Administration. Time was running out, Father Time was unmerciful, unyielding, but then, He had never been on her side. Never once for sixteen years. Lady Luck granted her fortune, as did the Silent Mother, and once in a blue moon, Widow Weather would let her see Her face of pleasure, but that was it. Her mother had never been very religious, so she had only ever been blessed in a few temples, but that was enough for her.

    Her. Her. My name, she thought, my name is my key to sanity. Names. Names are such fickle things, they can change at a whim, but never mine. Mine will always be special. Leanna. Leanna Rayson. That is the one thing that will never change. Leanna stood, walked over to the gate, and peered out. The lowest level is always the dreariest. She knew that from experience. Petty things like food, or a chicken or two, only bought you a few nights in a ground level jail cell. The top jail cells, the warm ones with cots. Money, valuables, and weapons bought you some hard labor in a work camp under the name of the King. Perhaps she had gone to far when she tried stealing the Crown. The Crown of the Kings. What a fool she had been, she knew no none was to be trusted, and the deal with the stranger had seemed too good to be true, but the potential end rewards had just been too tempting. Steal the Crown and she would never have to steal again. But of course, things that seemed too good to be true, usually were. She should have expected that her ‘informant’ would set her up. She should have known the security of the Crown was too lax that night. She should have seen the signs before she walked into the trap room full of royal guards. As usual though, her hindsight was twenty/twenty. Her foresight, not so much. Now she was on the wrong side of the cell door, in the wrong jail, and facing the wrong trial. Fatal mistakes led to fatal consequences. That was part of the job description.

    Suddenly a bright light appeared on the stair well. Leanna flinched and covered her eyes. The light was blinding compared to how dark her environment had been just a few moments before. As the amber light approached her, and her eyes adjusted, she saw the light was a torch and the torch was carried by the royal jailor, and he in turn was tailed by two, fully armed, royal guards. The light reflected off the polished white armor, casting shadows of amber on the gray stone walls. Their faces were covered by their pointed helms, and there were long, thick broadsword scabbards at their sides. The crest on the center of their cuirass’ was the crest of the King. A green shield with a golden edge and an indent of the Crown above it. To the left was a golden lion, to show wealth and courage. To the right was a fiery orange dragon breathing white flame, to symbol strength and prowess. in the center was a unicorn, a symbol of peace and prosperity. Along the bottom of the shield, in curling letters, was the phrase, ‘Cum dux, qui regat aeternam’, in latin meaning ‘Eternal ruler with those divine’. Leanna had to admit it was a pretty inspiring crest, even if it was the symbol of a power hungry mad man. The jailor was dressed in far less flashy, simple iron armor, and a small crest just bearing the Royal motto, he was the average model of a much simpler and lower rank. Of course, even an average soldier wasn't anything to lightly trifle with.