Payten stared at the cloaked figure holding his master’s letter. His hand went to his knife, the cloak wearer was of a height with him, he did not want to but he would fight with everything he had if it meant getting that letter. He would not fail such an important task his master gave him. Steeling himself he channeled the most intimidating figure he knew, Hark.

“You have something that does not belong to you, return it now and walk away or you shall be hunted till your end.” He stepped forward hand wrapped around the knife concealed in his cloak, trying to mimic his master’s slow methodical style of speech, and hoping to all the gods old and new that the effect was not ruined by his diminutive appearance. They stepped back and crouched lower, Payten continued to step forward hand ready to snatch what was his.

The figure turned and ran, Shit, his hand darted forward and grabbed the back of the cloak. He yanked back with all of his might, a strangling sound ripped from his target's mouth as they were pulled ass-backwards onto the cobblestone alley.

Rage bubbled in his chest, this thing had tried to steal from him. Just like his old bullies they had seen him as weak, nothing but an easy target. Whether after the letter or anything in his pocket it mattered not, they had tried to pray upon him. He could feel Vitus and Sanguis mingle in his chest, his blood pumped like the beating of war drums. He pulled the cloak tighter, the figure's hand grasped towards their cloak, trying to find the clasp. His face grew flush and warm, he felt a giddy savageness run through his bones making his hairs stand on end. He raised his fist and slammed it into the back of their head, he snatched back the letter and let them drop to the ground. They turned onto their back and tried to scramble away, he grabbed their leg and dragged them towards him. His blood sang with the thrill of victory his head felt full of wool, he dropped his knee onto their chest pinning them to the ground. His hand darted back to his knife and he ripped it free holding it high in the air.

“Please no, I’m sorry. I was just looking for some coin. Don't hurt me please.” the thief cried out covering his head with his hands. Payten ripped the hood free, under a boy with a face around his age looked up at him, eyes wide with terror. His stomach sank and his blood went quiet leaving him empty and alone. He stared at the boy thief unsure what he should do.

“If I see you again you're dead, Understand?” He held his blade in front of the boy’s face.

“Yes, yes. I’ll stay out of your way. Please just don't hurt me anymore.”

Payten's stomach rolled at the cowering figure, he took his knee from the chest and pulled the boy thief up by his cloak. “Get out of here before I change my mind, Ratfucker.” he shoved him down the alley and he took off running. The boy thief stopped at the mouth of the alley and turned back to him.

“I am going to tell my brothers what you did. You’re dead filth.”

“Go ahead send your brothers but do not expect them to come back” Payten forced himself to smile, while he stared at the boy in the eyes. He froze and then took off running, he watched him leave before sinking down against the alley wall.

He felt bile rise in his throat, something had come over him, something wicked and violent. Had not the boy spoken up when he did, Payten would have stabbed him to death where he lay, leaving him covered in blood over a dead body in a town in which he was the most wanted criminal.

His head spun, he was under no delusions. He was not a hero, he was selfish, greedy, prideful, a heretic, and if the time came he would kill. But he would never be the type of man who took pleasure in inflicting pain onto others, the kind of man his blood wanted him to be. He rested his head against the cool bricks.

He stood up; he had wasted enough time already and the day was not getting longer.

***

After wandering the alley for what felt like forever he was finally able to find a street. On the street, he managed to find a beggar who gave him directions to the Silver stag in exchange for a few coppers. Ducking back into the alleys he followed the beggar's directions, praying that he had not been scammed. Soon he came to the street that had been described to him, he stepped out and smiled as he saw The Silver stag down the road. Sticking the side of the street as much as possible he worked his way down the street heading to his destination. He looked around checking for eyes on him, when he saw none he ducked into the side street. There he found the marked barrel he was told to look for, he pulled the letter out of his pocket and stared at it. He had almost killed a man for it and had no idea what was inside. Curiosity tugged at his brain, more than anything he wanted to know what was inside and now that he had thought about it Hark had never told him not to look. His eyes darted around and he was still alone in the alley.

Why did I have to get the itch here and not back at the shop? He knew at the moment he had to open the letter or it would bother him forever. He pulled out his knife and gently without damaging the plain wax seal cracked the letter open. He removed the paper only to find it blank. He scowled, had his master sent him on a fool’s errand. No, that was nothing like Hark there was a trick to this he was sure. He tried everything from holding it up the light, holding it in darkness but the page stayed blank.

It was just like his master to take every precaution he could, if he wanted to read the letter he would have to think like Hark.

A flash of inspiration came to him as he closed his eyes. What did Hark love more than anything? Magic. His fingers tingled as he sent a pulse of mana towards the paper. He smiled as he felt the mana take root, anchored to something written on the page. He opened his eyes and looked at the script that slowly revealed it itself. He waited bouncing on his heels as he watched the alley’s entrances. Soon the letter was filled with letters, which began to fade the moment he cut off the flow of mana. Eager to learn a secret he tried to read the letter.

Wiley old bastard…. The whole letter was written in a script he did not recognize. He should have known Hark’s secrets would not be so easily recovered. He pulled out his notebook and copied the cipher as quickly as he could. Before ripping out a page and reaching into his pocket and removing his tinder ring. He slipped it onto his finger, he had played with it all night and now had a feel for it. Closing his eyes he pushed his mana into the ring, holding the paper in front of his hand. He felt heat wash over his fingers and when he opened his eyes the page was alight. Acting quickly he held the fire next to the wax seal, reclosing the envelope.

He nodded looking at the envelope pleased with his work. He slipped the letter into the barrel as he had been instructed and stood up stretching out his back as he did.

He was tired and while he had managed to complete all of Hark’s tasks, he had wasted almost all of his personal time wandering alleys and getting mugged. It was a shame but if he wanted to make it back to the shop before his Master he would have to head back now.

He turned and remembering the directions Saybein had given him started to walk back.

He stopped, he had almost forgotten. He still had one more stop to make.

***

The door chime rang as Payten entered the apothecary, backpack filled with supplies two fruit pies held in each hand. A pointy ear rose above a counter before two emerald eyes popped up to look at the disturbance.

“Hello welcome to …. Oh, it's you.” Zolta’s eyes narrowed at Payten, before widening at the pies on his hands.

“Hello Zolta, A pleasure to see you as well,” he said, shaking the pies up and down.

“I see you had time to waste at the bakery. Did Hark not give you enough work to fill your

time?” she said looking at him incredulously.

His face flushed, why had he bought the pies? Sure he had felt bad when Zolta was crying, but she had been nothing but mean to him since he came. Why did he care what she wanted?

“I was hungry so I made a little stop. Have Hark ad Saybein returned? ” he responded, setting all he had purchased onto the table.

“No, they are still out.” Much to his surprise Zolta came over and started to help him unpack his considerable haul.

“Thank you,” he said smiling at the young women, maybe they had just gotten off on the wrong foot and she was not as bad as she seemed.

“I’m not doing it to help you. What would a customer think if they walked in and saw your trash scattered around.”

By all the gods how difficult can one person be?

“Well, I’m still thankful for your help,” Payten said, adopting a facade of complete serenity. While she did annoy him, it was nothing compared to the torment he had received back home. He was confident he could outlast anything she could throw at him.

Soon the two fell into a silent rhythm as they bundled the supplies for the upcoming journey. Every now and again a customer would come in, Zolta would leave to serve them. Soon after they were done their tasks, Payten sat at the table while Zolta fluttered around the shop looking for things to be put back in place, or dust to sweep.

“You know,” he leaned back in his chair as he spoke, “I don't think I can eat two pies, all by myself.” Zolta’s long ear twitched and covered his smile with a hand trying to play it off as a yawn.

“Would you like one?” He asked, looking at her reaction out the side of his eye.

“Yes, please.”

He had to stop himself from frowning, for a girl that was crying over pies early she hardly reacted, but he was not a man to go back on his word.

He waved her over and pushed the pie towards her. Soon the silence grew too oppressive even for Payten.

“Are you an elf.’ he blurted out, Zolta’s face darkened and she looked at her hands. Payten felt guilt like he had just rubbed salt in a wound.

“No but my mother was,” she said quietly still looking at her hands.

Payten pretended to be greatly interested in his pie crumbs as he tried to think of what to say. Zolta jerked her head up and stared right at him.

“Why do you have a problem with that?” she asked, tone full of venom

Payten paused and scanned his mind. He heard allsorts of terrible tales of Elves, but he was a necromancer’s apprentice. What terrible acts had his master committed? What would he do for power? So, Maybe they did eat humans, could he say for certain he would never do the same? He had heard tales of starving sailors lost at sea succumbing to the temptation the fruit of the grave offered, he doubted he had much more willpower than they.

Zolta's eyes burrowed into him as he mulled it over in his mind.

The beggar-elf seemed nice enough. Payten nodded, pleased with his conclusion.

“No, I don't have a problem with you being a half-elf.” He omitted the parts about the cannibalism or the kidnappings, it seemed too grim for normal conversion.

Zolta looked at him, her emotions were unreadable. She opened her mouth to speak when the door burst open. His hand found his knife as he looked to see who had entered.

“Zolta, dear your beloved father has returned.” Saybein’s tan skin and wide smile filled the doorway, and Hark shuffled in after. Zolta rolled her eyes and Payten relaxed his hand and stood up.

“Hello Lad, did you find everything?”

“Yes, master.”

“Were they any complications?”

He nodded and told them about the mugging attempt, his master listened intently occasionally asking inquiring for further detail. He was also quite pleased to notice Saybien and Zolta listening from the table, it was not often he found himself the center of attention. Soon he concluded his story, omitting a few details, like the amount of time he had spent lost and his sudden bloodlust that was his concern and his concern only.

“You did well to beat a lesson into his skull, Pate. Better you than a guard with hobnail boots.” Saybein added, he flashed a smile that showed all his teeth. Payten suppressed a gasp. When he had first met the man he had only seen a single gold tooth, but now he could see the whole picture. The left side of Saybien’s mouth was completely filled with false teeth of a range of materials. He saw copper, silver, wood, and he could swear at least one was a ruby.

Seeing Payten’s reaction, he threw his head back and laughed at the boy’s shock.

“Lad, more than likely the boy was bluffing about his brothers seeking vengeance, but if you see any young men snooping around stop what you are doing and tell me or Saybein.” Hark continued, his heavy hand clapped down on Payten’s shoulder.

“Yes, master. What about you and Saybien? Is there anything I can help with?” Payten asked he would not miss a chance to learn from the two men or to prove himself in his master’s eyes.

“No complications, lad. But you will have plenty to do soon enough. Let us eat then discuss our next move.”

***

Payten leaned back in his chair enjoying the sensation of a full belly. Around the table, Zolta was drawing while Hark and Saybien puffed on long wooden pipes. The warmth from the fireplace filled the room. His eyelids grew heavy, a content smile framed his face.

“Payten, Zolta.” His master’s deep voice drew the children’s attention. “A week from now we will rob the Alchemist Zeto’s home while he is away on a social call.”

Payten sat up, “Master, I didn’t take you for a thief.”

Hark opened his mouth but Saybien chuckled, cutting him off. “There is a lot more to the old bastard than meets the eye. Back in the day your master and I could steal the nose of a king’s face. There was no vault or sanctum in the whole world we couldn't clear out.”

“It’s true da’ and Uncle Hark used to steal anything not nailed to the floor.” Zolta chipped in.

Payten nodded slowly, even now there was so little he knew about his master. Would he ever truly know the man?

“It is true, lad. In my youth, I needed power fast and I saw no other path. Knowledge is power in this world and mages hoard secrets like a dragon does gold.” Hark said.

“Not to mention artifacts, magic items, tomes of ancient knowledge and treasures beyond value,” Saybein added.

And just like that Payten was in.

“So what do I have to do?”

“You are my apprentice, you must learn. I promised to teach you all that I know and that includes theft. Just promises me Payten you will only steal from only those who can afford the loss or deserve to be taken from.”

He nodded, “Sounds reasonable enough, master.”

“Very well. Starting tonight Saybein and I will sculpt you into a passable burglar. Now, this does not mean you can slack off from the rest of your practice. I expect you to continue the training regiment we have established when we are not teaching you.”

“As you command, master.” Payten had to work to contain his excitement. He did not want to seem overeager or like an asskisser in front of Zolta.

Wait, why do I care.

“Well let’s make like an egg and get cracking. You come to Zolta” Saybein slapped the table and stood.

***

Payten crouched low amongst the shadows cloak pulled tight against his body, he scanned the area for sounds. *tap tap tap* He froze, as the sound of soft footsteps found his ears. He scanned looking for an escape. I could hide in one of the empty vendor stalls down the way …

*taptaptaptap*

shit …. The footsteps grew more rapid and closer to his hiding spot, keeping low to the ground he crept away from his hiding place. He just had to make it a little bit further and he could hide under the same stall he had bought the pies from early, now abandoned at this late hour. Soon he reached the stall and crawled underneath, he let loose a small breath. He should be safe here.

“Found you!” A sudden cry came from beside him, he jerked up slamming his head into the underside of the stall.

The emerald green eyes of Zolta stared at him, a smug grin on her face. He grumbled to himself and crawled back from under the cart. He brushed the dirt off his clothes doing his best to ignore Zolta’s beaming smile.

They walked side by side as he went over the events in his mind. Four times now had the cycle repeated, Saybein would instruct the two on stealth and then send Zolta to hide while Payten waited. Not once had been able to find the girl, soon Saybien would yell into the night and call them back to him, give another lesson and send Payten to hide. All four times the half elf-girl had found him. What was he missing? He grew increasingly frustrated as he walked, Zolta’s smug aura only fanned the flames in his chest.

Saybein sat atop a crate shuffling a deck of cards as they approached.

“So she found you again,” he stated, not taking his eyes off the cards.

“Yes, she did,” Payten responded, doing everything in his power to keep his tone neutral.

“Don’t beat yourself up, Pate. My daughter is a better tracker than any bloodhound.” The man reached out to tussle the young women’s hair, but stopped short on the account of two glaring emerald eyes. He raised his hand to his mouth, smoothly transitioning into a throat clear as he returned to teaching.

“Remember what I told you, Pate. Try to walk on the balls of your feet and stay low. If half of what Hark told me is true you have a quick mind, so uses it. Watch for opportunities to cover your movements and pick your actions carefully.”

“How do you even know what we are doing?” He asked, trying to obscure his pride at being called clever with his curiosity. Still, the question nagged at him, Saybein was always in the same spot yet knew when to call them back and what had happened.

“Trade secret,” he answered with a wink. “Zolta, it's your turn to hide.”

Payten turned and waited, doing his best to resist the urge to cheat.

He smiled to himself this time, he would beat her.