A man walked down the streets of Jast with his head hung low, brown hair covering much of his face. Rather than sad or dejected, he seemed to be lost in thought. He wore somewhat rugged clothing that matched very well with the color of the buildings throughout the city, enough so that it might be impossible to see him at all in the dark.

It wasn’t that I couldn’t swing it. All of them were ready and eager when I told them about the score, but they changed their tune in hours, Stain considered. This guy probably had some ties with the Order here. Maybe he’s a key man between the wizards and the crews. Would explain why he had jewels… might explain why he was at White Edge. Might be a warehouse.

Stain lifted his head slightly, scanning the crowd ahead. At this point in his life, he’d become very adept at spotting wealth on people. Rings on fingers, jewelry, where they might keep their gold… it was a skill that needed to be honed, just as one had to learn how to take it from them.

No luck today. Waste of time, he concluded about the passersby. His mind wandered back to the mark he’d been considering. Maybe I should go to White Edge, scout things out. It’s clear that the man didn’t want the tax collector going into the village. There had to be a reason for that… might be worth much more than jewels when all is said and done.

After stopping and looking to be sure none were following him, Stain turned into an alleyway. He walked quickly, taking winding turns with complete confidence, before coming to a run-down portion of Jast. Some of the finely paved street had caved in here. This place had once been a cistern, before the Order had made a more easily accessible place for the people to fetch water.

Stain walked down into the caved in portion, scrambling over loosely packed rubble. He ducked into a portion that was large enough for him to fit, and then stared out at the underground cistern. The water level had lowered over the years without management, but it was still relatively full. Stain sat, removing his boots and socks. The dagger he’d hidden in his footwear dropped out, and he caught it.

After rolling up his pants Stain entered the water, disturbing the still underground lake. Holding his dagger and boots above the water, he headed for a faint light on a distant wall. Once he reached it, he climbed up onto a raised alcove just before a simple makeshift door. He looked around a bit.

Looks like one of the lamps broke again, Stain noted, setting his footwear and dagger aside. Cheap junk. He turned and sat on the alcove, waiting for his feet to dry before placing his socks on. He watched the ripples he’d made spread across the cistern’s water.

Without warning, something cold touched Stain’s throat, and he heard a single footstep beside him. His breathing stopped, and he turned his eyes to see a giant of a man holding a greatsword down to his neck. His features were muddled, and Stain saw an iron band on his forehead—a Circlet of Disguise.

“Stand up, enter the door. Test me, you lose fingers,” the man said, his voice low and gravelly.

Stain swallowed, looking between his dagger and the cistern, judging loosely if he still had time to jump in. Getting cut once… should be worth it. I can lose him in the water—he’s wearing plate mail.

“My feet are wet. I don’t want to walk barefooted, and I don’t want to put my socks on when they’re still wet,” Stain spoke nonsense to stall for time.

Stain did not have time to react as the man’s foot struck his chest, sending him sprawling back away from the water. He coughed, winded, and gazed up weakly. He heard the door open.

“Galamon…,” the voice said, somewhat annoyed. “I told you not to be too mean.”

“You also told me he was shifty beyond measure,” the man called Galamon retorted. “He was looking for a way to run. Seen it before.”

The other voice sighed. Stain tried to crane his head to look, but suddenly a foot pressed down on his chest. The one called Galamon stared down at Stain, features indistinguishable because of the circlet he wore.

“Stop it. Don’t make it worse,” the other said urgently. “Just bring him inside.”

#####

Galamon tossed Stain against the wall, and the man slowly slid down until he was sitting. Galamon kept the greatsword in hand, but he no longer pointed it at Stain’s neck. Stain looked young—he was sixteen, Argrave knew.

Argrave sat in a chair, watching this all happen somewhat apathetically. He looked around, spotting where Anneliese was idly reading through the various pieces of paper on a desk. She wore a Circlet of Disguise just as Galamon did. They had purchased them on their way here.

There was a busted lever in one corner, and a collapsed stairwell on the opposite edge of the room. There was also a badly worn and poorly constructed bed. Argrave recalled this place well. It was Stain’s little hideout in the game.

“This is where you live?” questioned Argrave. “I can understand the people that want to live humbly despite their wealth, but this is just… filthy. I hate it here.”

Stain caught his breath, slowly correcting his posture until he was upright. His gaze flitted between Argrave and Galamon.

“The whole point of being a thief or a swindler is to make money. What’s the point if you’re living in a place like this?” Argrave asked further. “Just don’t get it.”

Stain raised a finger slowly. “You’re the guy. The… the wizard from White Edge. Seven feet tall, black hair, elven companions—that’s you.”

“Yes, I think I am ‘the guy,’” Argrave confirmed. He had his own Circlet of Disguise just as his two companions, but he elected not to wear it at this moment.

“Listen,” Stain said insistently. “Everybody else started to back off from the plan. I’m smart enough to get that message. I stopped planning to search for those jewels.”

“That’s nice,” Argrave nodded.

“You want me to stop sticking my nose in—I get it,” Stain raised his hands as if surrendering. “You’ll never see me again. I’ll stay out of your way. No need for this.”

Argrave leaned forward, placing his elbows on his knees and clasping his hands together. “I’m here because of your other name. Veladrien of Jast. Now, with a last name like ‘Jast,’ one might think you have some ties to the lovely little city.”

Once Argrave said that Stain paused, taking a deep breath and exhaling. He chose his next words very carefully. “Look. I understand that you might have some business going on in White Edge. Maybe it’s got something to do with the Veidimen—I know they have some operations here, and I remember that tax collector mentioning you were travelling with two elves,” he said, gesturing to Anneliese.

“You might be thinking that, because I’m Count Delbraun’s brother, I might sell you out, get the Count’s eye on your business. That is not the case,” Stain said insistently. “That’s not my business, not my nature. I’ve got the mouth on a statue, pal.”

Argrave listened curiously. Evidently Stain was trying to save his life, though Argrave had no intention to kill him.

“Count Delbraun hates me,” Stain said. “The reason why I took the name ‘Stain,’ is because he called me ‘a stain on Jast’s honor.’” Stain chuckled nervously. “That’s a true fact—you ask anyone high up in the Riveters. It’s common knowledge.”

“Riveters. That’s the name of the smuggler group, I presume,” Argrave questioned.

“Aye. Rivien’s crew.” Stain nodded. “I live in this charming little lakeside house because I refuse to accept any of my brother’s money. He’d let me live in his… his gilded palace, I’m certain, but he and I are not close at all. He doesn’t care if I live or die. I am not worth your time, I assure you.”

Argrave leaned back in the chair, crossing his arms. “But you’re still a little entrenched in that side of things. How would you learn about the tax collector if you didn’t have some connection to the Count? The count received the taxes, after all. You had to learn about the jewels from him or his people.”

Stain started breathing a bit faster. “Aye, I saw the tax collector’s report in Delbraun’s estate, and I spoke to him, but… but everything else I said was true,” Stain pointed his finger to emphasize the point. “Just ask around. You’ll find the truth.”

“So you can get into his estate. Did you sneak in? And be honest,” Argrave cautioned.

“I-I…” Stain trailed off, brain scrambling. “No. I still have access. Delbraun lets me in, mostly on account of my other siblings there. I check his documents sometimes to find things that I might get some people on, skim a little off the top…”

“Well, that’s peachy. Precisely what I need.” Argrave clapped his hands together, the sound muffled by his gloves. “Here’s the thing. You like money,” Argrave pointed. He reached into his pocket and pulled out a pink coin. “I have a great deal of it. Would you like some?”

Stain sat there, mouth agape with his eyes locked on the rose gold magic coin. He was quick-witted enough to gather himself and respond, “I wouldn’t say no.”

“That’s good. But I’m not a philanthropist.” Argrave nodded and stowed the coin away. “Here’s the thing. I have the sneaking suspicion that the Duke of Elbraille, Count Delbraun’s liege, is preparing for war. I need to confirm that suspicion and get all the juicy details about who he intends to support in the civil war. You catch where this is heading?”

Stain’s eyes jumped about as he digested what Argrave had said. Seeing that the three of them were not, in fact, here to kill him, Stain adjusted his posture.

“You want me to get some correspondence between the Duke and my brother showing if he has any orders from up high,” Stain laid out, and Argrave nodded. “I can tell you what I know already. Delbraun planned to remain neutral, but lately, Jast has been quietly gathering troops. A lot of the wizards loyal to the Count have already been told not to go anywhere as their services might be needed very shortly.”

“So they are going to choose a side in the war,” Argrave noted.

“Aye, were I to guess,” Stain nodded slowly. “But nothing’s going to happen for a while. Winter’s coming. No one wants to war during winter, not even with magic.”

“I need more than that,” Argrave declared plainly. “If this is happening quietly, the Count doesn’t want people learning of which side he intends to support until it’s too late. I need to know if he’s going to fight for the rebels or the tyrants.”

“Alright,” Stain nodded. “And the pay?”

“Anneliese, give him the down payment.” Argrave said. She stepped forward and handed a sack of coins to Stain. He took them, unravelling the string and counting. He closed it, a dissatisfied expression on his face.

“Did you sell some of those jewels to get this?” he asked.

“I did,” Argrave confirmed.

“I could have got you a premium price. Big mistake,” he said remorsefully.

Argrave chuckled. “I know my business. Got nearly three thousand for a few sapphires.” He saw Stain try and hide the fact that he was impressed, and Argrave stood with a grin. “You do well, might be I’ll hand you a rose gold magic coin. Get me everything you can, Veladrien. And don’t think of running with that paltry purse. If I could find this place, anywhere else will be twice as easy.” Argrave tapped his temple and ducked through the door. “See you soon.”

“How will I get the info to you?” Stain called out.

“I’ll be back in a week or so. Might be here. Might be anywhere. Just keep watch.” Argrave waved behind him and finished, “If you have something urgent, talk to Rivien—he can probably find me.”

#####

Stain let out a long sigh as the door shut. He stood and fell back into his bed. A thousand curses were running through his head. He had not been expecting his day to be like this.

Damned scary bastard.

He was running everything through his head, trying to figure out how the man could find him here. No one knew of this place—none that he knew of, at least. This place had always been his sanctuary. He felt safe here. Yet that man had found his ‘sanctuary’ a mere day after Stain had asked a few questions about him.

Guess this is the difference between the big fish and the little fish. If they’re asking about the civil war, they’ve gotta be working for a major player—out of town, even. Stain held the bag full of gold coins in the air, moving it about with his fingers. I do this right and I earn a lot. I catch the eye of someone high up, might be this becomes a regular thing.

Stain sat up, looking around what he once called his sanctuary. This is just… filthy, the man’s words echoed in his head. Stain clenched the gold bag a little tighter and muttered, “Better get started, then.”