White Bark

Chapter 4

The raven haired elf worked her way through the crowded streets of the trading district, easily cutting coin pouches from rich humans' belts and placing them in her satchel. She had done this dozens if not hundreds of times. She had been seen and chased by guards and noblemen alike but never caught. She had run cons, scams, heists but pickpocketing was her favourite as it was the easiest, though there were far more enjoyable jobs to be done. She was good at sneaking and she was good at lying and acting, but most of all she was great at being invisible in plain sight. One might think that pocketing about a dozen coin pouches from wealthy traders and noblemen a day would cause one to live a lucrative life. They would be wrong. In Irimar, every thief, no matter talented, was forced to remain a thief. The shadowy figure, known only as "The Regent" ran Irimar's underworld. Persons whom stole, be it in any form, that did not pay almost all of their take to a representative of the Regent would have the misfortune of disappearing or showing up dead, though the Regent in turn provided them with safe houses. No one knew how the Regent kept track of all the thieves in the city, some say magic others say he has a network of beggars that can spot a thief in a crowd easily. The latter was more likely but a person as powerful as that very well might have access to sorcerers of sorceresses, or even be one themselves.

The nimble fingered, raven haired elf sat on a small crate in an alley, counting her take from the past week. It had been a few months since she was rescued by the elf she only knew as Tir'veyn of Erfail. She thought about him often, she thought about how easily he killed, how effectively, but she most often thinks about his piercing, golden eyes. Ever since she had conned him months ago she had not stopped thinking about him. His extreme naivety and generosity had charmed her, but on their second meeting she had seen that he might not be as naïve as she thought. Over the last few months she had tried putting him out of her mind, focusing on her work instead which she enjoyed thoroughly, though she was unsuccessful. Quiet moments like these she found her mind racing, she did not focus on counting her coin, or keeping an eye out for trouble but instead thought of Tir'veyn. Her thought process was broken when a well-dressed man entered the alley. It was no coincidence that he and Fayra were here at the same time. This alley was where she met a representative of the Regent once a week to give him his majority. The man wore the clothes of a noble, he had a long face and was likely in his forties. A thin, groomed beard lined his face and multiple pieces of jewellery adorned him. Fayra gathered the appropriate amount of coin and put it in her satchel, she passed it to the well-dressed man without saying anything and was only left with a half-full singular coin pouch for herself.

"A pleasure, as always." The well-dressed man says with a curt nod.

Fayra doesn't respond but scoffs and gives him a dirty look. She hated the Regent and his regime. She was perhaps one of the best thieves in the city but it did not matter. The "taxes" imposed by the Regent caused her to earn little more money than a beggar.

It had been a few days since she had visited the elven ghetto. She had only lived there for a short time in the past, long before Tir'veyn had come. After she left, she had no reason to return. Now though, she visited frequently, she didn't speak to anyone and no one saw her. She simply gathered a green flower from the clearing in the forest left it at Tir'veyn's house and left. Occasionally she would sit upon a high rooftop and look down at Tir'veyn playing his flute in the night but it had been a while since last she had done so.

The suns were going down by the time Fayra made it to her very small flat, provided by the Regent. She did not stay long, she simply grabbed her dagger and stored her money in a safe place.

She knelt down in the mass of flowers that littered the clearing. She carefully looked at each of the unique green flowers that she had plucked so many times before. Fayra heard the footsteps behind her but did not react. She recognized how light they were, how frequent they were, she knew exactly who they belonged to.