Forum Thread

“No.” Ezan’s voice was cold and smooth, as slippery as the electric eels swimming in the huge tanks that flanked his throne room. His gaze was not on the cowering mayor, a fat and pathetic man that Ezan would have removed from office soon enough, but on the giant eels, whose skin crackled with electricity. “The people are resourceful enough. Close down the bread lines. We’ll divert our resources…elsewhere.” “But-” “Do I make myself clear?” Ezan didn’t look at the mayor, or even move, but his voice radiated threats to the mayor and his family. “Yes, of course, Lord Ezan,” the mayor mumbled, and scurried off like a rat. Ezan waited until the man had left before standing up and walking toward one of the tanks. He stopped in front of it, still staring at the eels, who took no notice of him. “I always get what I want,” he whispered and snapped his fingers. “Bring me some meat for the eels, won’t you?” he said calmly to a servant, who within minutes returned with the pinkish, pale crab meat that the eels ate. Ezan took it, holding it high above his head, before plunging it into the water. Instantly, the eels swarmed him, teeth snapping and tearing, electricity jumping and crackling, but the darkness that crawled up the ruler’s hand protected him from their fury, a strange and inky substance that radiated with shadows. Ezan watched as the eels fought each other and devoured every piece of meat, sometimes taking bites out of each other. “I’ll need a thief,” he said to himself. “A wily fox who gets into even the smallest spaces.” He looked up. “And I know just the right one.”


Wolfshire is a kingdom of secrets and hidden corners. On the outside, one might see the brightly colored stalls, the rainbow of colors on the tourists and citizens alike, the magical creatures dancing through the streets, and the performers dancing, singing, and acting. But beyond that are the silent, and darker aspects, the town guard yelling at an old woman just attempting to cross the street, the beggars at every corner, and the curly-haired thief dressed in drab clothes that would have set her apart in a dangerous way if it weren't for the shadows surrounding her as she scouted the crowds for someone in particular.

---

It was a poor evening for business.

Not that anything changed because of that. No, to change the schedule would have set the whole month into disarray and resulted in needless meetings with advisors and bankers. There was no sense in creating any more headaches than strictly necessary. Therefore, in a darker corner of town, Paradox Arcturus, acting head of the Arcturus line, strode emotionlessly through the allies. It had not been a pleasant visit, and he had been forced to use perhaps less-than-palatable means to negotiate a continuance of contract with his ever-so-amiable host who had not in any way attempted to have a bondsman bash him over the head with a chair.

The 23 year old adjusted his grey glove mindlessly, not taking his eyes off the shadows ahead. Though colors and joy seemed to run rampant through the main streets, the fact remained that the world around them was an hourglass slowly draining down to the last grains of sand. The reason for the celebration at such a seemingly inopportune period was the ruler of Wolfshire; Lord Ezan knew it was best to maintain the pleasure of the masses, and Paradox saw logic in that. It did cause frequent debt-collecting trips to be added to the young man's already hectic schedule, though.

---

The thief, perched like a curious sort of monkey, was perched above Paradox, hanging from the sill of a window, a scarf wrapped around her mouth and gloved hands gripping the metal railings. She was scanning the crowd, eyes narrowed. She would find him. The dirty scum of the earth owed her money, and she would get it back. Izzy almost laughed at the thought. Brendor wasn't the dirtiest scum of the earth, but Izzy wasn't much closer than him. She would do anything to get that money back, and she'd done worse. Eh, that came in the job description. But-There! Izzy waited only a few more minutes before she jumped, a silent move that would never be heard, and it was only a few more seconds before Brendor was pinned on the ground in the back of the alley. But this wasn't Brendor. It was some member of one of the fancy-smachny Houses. Izzy's eyes widened, and she froze.

---

A flash of pain registered in Paradox's body as something too light to be a human, though heavy enough to knock him to the ground, collided with him from above and behind. The man let out a startled grunt, having barely enough time to get his arms out in front of himself to stop his face from hitting the cobbled road. Of course that swine would send his lackeys after me, he silently growled. What had even hit him? Perhaps it was a sack of flour, though he could see no powder of any sort adrift in the gradually blackening dusk. "I suppose our deal wasn't to your master's satisfaction?" he said in a low, cadenced tone devoid of any real emotion.

---

Izzy scrambled off of him, her hand straying to the dart gun that was hidden in her clothing. What in the world was a member of one of the Houses, the second level of royalty in the world that ruled over the poorer citizens of Wolfshire, doing here? Of course, she knew why he was in the alley, but there was still the question of why he wasn't off with the rest of his well-dressed friends and family. This wasn't normal. And...it just occurred to her that he thought she was attacking him for some...master? Izzy pulled her mask down and said slowly, "I...what in the world are you talking about? I thought you owed me money."

---

In a fluid motion, the young noble got gracefully yet quickly to his feet, turning to face his attacker with a cold gaze. He saw no one, though, until he glanced down. So the impact had been the result of a human; a child, at that, or so it seemed. She must have acted on her own, as her words indicated; it was unlikely his client had sent such a mercenary after him. It was a shame he had been forced to wear his dress cape. Some wear would have been gained from her pounce. “In all likelihood, your parents owe me money,” he said brusquely, straightening his collar. Something about the girl seemed odd, though, and he immediately wondered if his assumption of her age had been extremely far off. She didn’t carry herself like a child, nor did the subtle fire in her eyes seem like the primal, uncultivated sort belonging to one who was relatively new to the ways of this world. Her age is irrelevant. The nerve…

On a normal day, he may have had her arrested, or at least expressed his displeasure in some way. Something caused him to overlook his usual protocol, though, be it the woman herself or the events of the day; his lack of hesitation regarding the use of force in the duration of his work didn’t imply that it brought him pleasure. Nevertheless, he turned noiselessly aside, uninterested in a further encounter.

---

Lizzie felt her face go hot, and she gritted her teeth. “What did-you just-” She was so angry, she couldn’t even speak. Finally, Lizzie split out, eyes blazing, “For your information, pretty boy, I am twenty-two years old, a perfectly capable adult, thank you very much, and lucky-I-got-this-far!” Lizzie took an angry step forward with every word, and when she was close enough, punched him. In one fluid motion, however, really an old and practiced habit for a thief like Lizzie, she’d reached in his pocket for gold, but only found something that felt like a hairclip. Still, she took it and slipped it into her pocket In the same motion, Lizzie had jumped back and slid the hairclip into her pocket. “Honestly, all you House people are the same,” she ranted, arms crossed over her chest. “Stuck up, no-good idiots who never went a day in their lives without being in the lap of luxury like spoiled puppies. Though, you’re more of a mangy mutt someone felt sorry for and brought into their house,” Lizzie spat, fired up now.

---

The man stopped, then frigidly turned back to the woman, a cold blaze in his eyes. He knew immediately what had occurred; a weight had vanished from his pocket, a weight that had been present every day for years on end. The only gift he had ever been given by his mother now lay in the hands of a vengeful street rat. "Perhaps," he said menacingly, a low ice in his tone. "If we are speaking of dogs, you may consider yourself some poor deformed stray, too angry and embittered with the world to make anything of itself. Why should those in power have pleasing amenities? No one who has anything great could have possibly worked for it. No, you alone have experienced hardship; isn't that right? Twenty-two? Perfect. The jury will give hardly a twopence when it comes to incarcerating you. I would recommend you return that; you may find your sentence more forgiving. Maybe you'll receive bread three times a week instead of twice."

---

Lizzie was taken aback by his words in a way that no one had ever managed to do to her before. While Lizzie might use every word, every insult as a weapon of blunt force to beat someone down, this man used words like knives, carving his opponent down until they felt tiny and insignificant. For a moment, Lizzie felt as small and vulnerable as the day that her parents died, and she froze, her mind going back to the flames, the smoke, her mother's lifeless eyes, and her father's hand still wrapped around hers. But that moment was quickly over, and now Lizzie was beyond her normal blustering anger. She was downright furious. So furious she chose to ignore the pangs of her consciousness begging her to return the stolen item. She smirked slightly. "That's cute. You think I'd actually get a trial? People like me get execution if they're caught, and I don't know about you, but I like having my strikingly beautiful head attached to my equally wonderful shoulders. So," In a few quick jumps and flips, she was back at the hidden place she'd been before when she'd been waiting for Brendor, "If you want this, you'll have to come and get it."

---

For all of Paradox’s cold apathy, he didn’t exactly have the ability to keep his head when slighted. He knew not why he cared for the hairpin, but he certainly cared for a constant state of things, and the idea that such a small thing might be changed while still under the realm of his control irked him. Gritting his teeth, he gripped a metal drainpipe, testing it first to make sure it would hold his weight. Her “beautiful head?” Right, if she was beautiful, he was a gerbil. It was as if the epitome of everything he wanted to avoid in a woman had crossed his path, informing him clearly of his own inner preferences. Not that he had much interest in courtship, that was; the state of the world’s affairs could afford no time for such triviality. Icy annoyance rippled through him as he began to clamber up after the minuscule thief.

---

Lizzie scoffed as he attempted to climb up after him, even pausing a few moments to watch him with a look of amusement before she adjusted her mask and continued to climb. Eventually, she dropped down at a tiny, run-down building in the far reaches of The Dregs, the poor neighborhoods that seemed to grow larger every day. Certain she'd lost that insufferable man somewhere along the line, she opened the door and slipped in. Lizzie found herself at the end of a knife. "Don't. Move," A large, muscular dark-skinned man hissed. Lizzie pulled her mask down slowly. "Calm down. It's me." The man relaxed visibly and stepped back. "I'm glad you got back okay." "I'll always be just fine," she assured him with a smile, removing her mask and jumping on the counter of the pawn shop as the man went behind it to continue stacking boxes. Lizzie removed the hairpin from her pocket and stared at it. It was wrong to take it, she knew, but it had happened, and she'd gotten in this far.

---

By the time Paradox reached the roof of the building, the thief was long gone. He slammed his fist on the grey stone tiles in exasperation, sending a shingle crashing down to the street below. The dratted creature had slipped away as if she were mist fading in the sun. He was about to turn back, intending to set out a warrant for her arrest the moment he returned to the Arcturus estate, when the last glint of the setting sun refracted for just a moment off of a window, the glint hitting his eye for barely a heartbeat before vanishing. Narrowing his gaze, he leaned forward, staring at the source. It was dark inside the building; darkness was always a cause for suspicion. Sliding down the roof and making his way to the ground, he walked briskly to the storefront and rapped firmly on the door.

---

Lizzie looked up. "You expecting anyone, Dian?" "No..." He said slowly. Lizzie's eyes narrowed in suspicion. There was no way that it was actually him. She couldn't expect someone who had their nose in the air to actually tail her. She'd lost some of the finest men in King Ezan's military, how could an idiot like him actually find her? She slid off the counter, one hand going to her dart gun, the other to the vase by the door. Dian backed up towards the window, and Lizzie slid open the partition in the door. "We're closed," she mumbled, careful to keep her face in the dark.

---

Fury spread a frost through his stomach at the sound of the voice; she could hide her face, but changing her rather unique tone wasn’t so easy. It sounded unique to him, at least. “Is that so? Well, it would be imprudent to remain so. You may find yourself risking the loss of more than a customer,” he said cooly. Though a lesser House in the shire, the Arcturus still had a grasp on power that was not to be laughed at. Paradox was not a person to be trifled with, and, though his House had been disgraced after the discovery of his father’s senility, he had built a reputation for himself as a figure possessing an unusual lack of ruth. His patience always wore thin, and this woman was veritably taking a saw blade to it.

---

Lizzie had to stifle a smirk at that statement. The Houses had no real power over her, even if they had the power to bully and oppress the fine citizens of the Dregs and Wolfshire itself. It was honestly kind of cute. She immieadientally banished that thought from her head. This was a House member they were talking about, after all. "This place is really a temporary place of employment, to be honest. Could be burnt down to the ground because I couldn't pay my taxes at any moment." She realized too late the emotion that came into that sentence, so she changed the subject quickly. "I know what you're really here for. I'm...I'm sorry. I shouldn't have taken it." She stuck her hand out, the hairpin balanced on the tips of her fingers. "Just take it and leave. Please."

---

Silence. Paradox hadn’t expected compliance so… quickly. Without a word, he reached out his gloved hand, the fabric brushing against hers for a moment as he took the sapphire-and-diamond stubbed pin. He stared at it for a moment, then turned, still mute, and made his way through the Dregs, his usual collected gait regained. He was behind schedule; Caprice would have eaten supper without him. He had a feeling that neither of them particularly minded, though. His sister never made a fuss regarding how little time he spent with her; he assumed she understood the nature of his work.

He entered the Arcturus estate without much emotion, pausing only to take a handful of letters presented to him by one of the bondsmen. More work to oversee; he would be up late tonight. All thoughts of the strange thief fell to the back of his mind. Such occurrences were never of much consequence in Wolfshire as it were; crime rates were at all all time high, despite Lord Ezan’s efforts. Though the shire itself was safe, the impacts of the national failure of agriculture could not be avoided wholly.

---

Izzy wanted to banish the thought of that man from her head. She couldn't stop thinking about his insuferable glare, or the way he'd pursued her so stubbornly for that hair clip. She supposed with all that hair he probably needed it, but it wouldn't have seemed worth it if Izzy was in his shoes. He probably had the money to buy a hundred more. Unlike Izzy, who would never get that kind of privilege. She'd lucked out at birth, and would be stuck here until she took her final breath. She broke from her thoughts and turned to Dian. "Show's over. False alarm." He sighed. "Good. I liked this one. Nice spot." Izzy forced herself to chuckle. "I'll see if we can't keep it a little longer."


A few days later, Izzy had almost completely driven the thought of him from her mind. It was time for her daily rounds. Of course, for her, that meant looking for potential victims to her...permanent borrowing skills. So, after helping Dian set up the shop, she slipped out, hood over her head and hands gloved. Like always, they'd never see her coming.

---

Festivities continued even on the dreariest of days, should the weather allow. Paradox found it irritating. The perpetual hubbub made debt collection quite the tiring business; his ever-so-compliant clients enjoyed losing themselves in the crowd, and the light drizzle made it truly tedious to traipse after them. The young noble was wearing a more subtle cloak to help with the process, a hooded navy blue one devoid of the usual silver decals that marked his more respectable attire. He was glad he was merely obligated to carry out the initial stage of interactions with a client; it was customary for them to be given an in-person attempt to settle their accounts before the soldiers arrived. Lord Ezan had intimated to Paradox that the presence of a member of one of the Houses retained as positive a relationship as possible with the more important debtors, and for his friend and leader's sake, the young man had no objections to the task. Still, the duty proved bothersome at times.

---

It was as easy as a dance. Every step was as light as a feather, each movement of her fingers a simple twitch that drew valuables from her marks. Lizzie was almost invisible in the crowd, covering her grey shirt and black pants with a bright navy-colored cloak to blend in, hardly standing out among the silks and wools; all in hues of the rainbow. No one noticed her at all. Until she saw the same man from before. For a split second, she froze, before rolling her eyes and continuing. It was odd that he kept showing up in places she was, but she wouldn't think much of it. Then she realized the opportunity here. A chance to scam the same man who'd insulted her so badly. Lizzie's eyes darted around until she spotted what she needed. A wicker basket balanced on the edge of a market stall. She snatched it, dropping a few of the stolen items into it. Lizzie had done it before, so it was easy enough to fake a limp as she came toward that insufferable idiot, dropping her voice to a hoarse whisper. "Excuse me, sir, would you perhaps like to buy some of my jewelry? Family heirlooms, you know."

---

Paradox hardly registered the people around him, his focus allotted solely to the task at hand. A quick scan was enough to determine whether his client stood concealed among the crowd in his vision, and once that was confirmed to be in the negative, he spent no excess time. "No," he said brusquely, almost not giving his accoster so much as a glance. Almost. His pale grey gaze, however, flickered towards the source of the voice, then down, registering a small glimpse of red curls within the hood of her cloak. His eyes widened a nearly imperceptible amount, then narrowed as he turned. "You."

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