I woke up with a blinding headache. I never was one for drinking much, but the simple thirst drove me. As I raised my head from the counter I saw the bartender looking right as me.

“Pay up.”

How I hate that phrase. That phrase that parts me from my hard earned gold.

Then I remember that I don’t have my wallet on me.

Then I remember that even if I had my wallet on me it probably would not have helped me. In my hanged over state I briefly consider just shooting the person demanding payment. However that would be a lot more trouble than it’s worth I imagine.

Load.

I am sitting back at the counter with a sipped on mug of something. I am going to call it beer because it tastes just as pissy.

Well that took care of the immediate problem. But I will still need to pay eventually. I take another look around the bar while sipping on my glass. Well it’s not that bad of a situation. At least my hangover is gone. All I need to do is acquire some money.

As I listen to the off duty guards gossip about that marvelous golden throne I decide that having them pay for my drink would do. I pick my mug walk over to their table.

“Good afternoon gentleman, I was curious about that Throne you were talking about?”

The guards stop talking and all look over to me as one. By the silence I think I did or said something wrong. After a few seconds of pure silence I chicken out.

Load.

Okay that did not work as I expected. I believe I was at least understandable in my speech. I guess I need more practice. Plan B it is then.

After sitting and sipping on my mug for around twenty minutes, I was trying to think of something, I hear the door open and footsteps hit the floor. As I turn around I see two men walk in to the bar. They look pretty average from my point of view, looks to be some kind of leather armor, short cut hair, a few thin scars on their faces. They eye me wearily. Right I should do something about my clothing, I do stand out, just a bit.

They approach the counter, at least a hand length away from me. Tch, here I was hoping the fish would just jump into my net.

“Barkeep, two mugs of your best drink!”

One of the two yells at the barkeep. The drinking guards seem to ignore them, probably a typical scene around here. I observe them some more. I see a pouch hanging on the side of the one closest to me. Luckily they sat on my left and the pouch is on the right side of the rightmost man. As the barkeep hands them their drinks I settle down to wait. It would be easier when they’re slightly out of it.

“Greg why do think the boss came to this Provided Town in the first place?”

“I dunno man, were are just hired hands an’ all. Maybe the Arch-Mage of this Towns Magician Society wanted some gold or jewels for his girl?”

“Pfft, like an Arch-Mage would need gold or jewels to get a women. Listen mate we’re only Adepts and we can lord over a small town in the middle of nowhere like gods. An Arch-Mage would just need to snap their fingers and half the women in this Provided Town would be at their knees. The other half would be dragged by their husbands, willing or unwilling.”

“Gulp, hah. Then I don’t know why Raum would bring a caravan into the middle of nowhere. It takes at least a month worth of time to get here from the closest free city.”

“Them processor magicians really are a strange lot. Must have fried their brains with their maths.”

Hmm so the closest free city is a month walk from here. I wonder what’s the difference between it and this town. I guess ill gather some information here for now, I don’t really look forward to sleeping in the woods again.

After about an hour of blabbering about inconsequential things I decided that the two brutes should have had enough to drink.

Save.

In case I fail. I never was too good at pick pocketing, always preferred to show a knife and take the wallet. Somehow I doubt the other group of patrons would let that slide here, nothing worse then a cop, other then a drunk cop.

I get up and walk in an arc toward the door, making sure I pass by the side of the blabbering man. I think this one was called David or some such. As I reach for his loosely hanging pouch I see a hand grasp my wrist. When I look up a see an angry expression on David’s face. I’m worse then I remember. I don’t need to stay and feel the aftermath.

Load.

I attempt to grab the pouch again, this time keeping an eye on where David is looking. However when I do grab it he turns to face me yet again.

Load.

Hmm I think I know what the problem is. When I grab the pouch it tugs his belt. I bet he is sensitive to that, not his first time losing money. The pouch is attached to the belt with a tightly tied cord that loops around the belt and holds the pouch closed. Using a knife would be the quick and easy approach but I doubt pulling a weapon in a bar is a good idea. I guess ill just try to brute force it.

Grab.

Load.

Grab.

Load.

Eventually I manage to snag it after about thirty tries. I learned that I should look forward. Lift the pouch up slightly when the man leans to the other side. Timing it so the man does not notice the decrease in weight. Then I used two of my fingers to pull the rope loose and hide the pouch in one of my front pockets on my vest.

I walk a bit more, when I notice that the man does not notice his missing pouch I think,

Save.

Now on to the hard part, I do hate parting with money.

“How much?”

The bartender turns to me, lifting an eyebrow. I guess the price is pretty consistent for this short of establishment.

“Two coppers mercenary.”

I rummage around in my pocket, well in the pouch that is in my pocket. Finding the smallest coins I can I get two of them and throw them in the direction of the bartender. The man takes them and returns to his business.

Load.

I don’t want to appear too conspicuous. This time I just take the coins without stupid questions.

“Hey barkeep.”

As he turns to me he catches the coins I threw. He nods and returns to his business.

I walk past the still drinking guards and go out into the street. As the door closes behind me I think about what I should do.

Well any good heist starts with information.