Sophie stood alone in a hallway where she could hear people arguing. She walked over to the door and pressed her bunny ear into the wood. “Your plan was terrible!” came a shrill male voice.

“All you needed to do was grab the thing!” came a gruff voice.

“If one person was with me, they could have kept watch. Why was Thorde entertaining the guards? They were off duty!”

“Hey! Don’t bring me into this,” came a female voice assumed to be Thorde’s. “It wasn’t my idea.”

“Guys, guys,” came another male voice. This one was gruffer but less stout. “You can argue all day about what went wrong, we need to find out what to do now.”

“There has already been one attempt at the Jewel,” came the female voice, “no doubt the King will have upped security.”

Theft, these people were plotting theft. They were doing so in an unmuffled inn room where anybody could walk by and overhear them. Anybody like Sophie, entertainer and con-artist. This revelation was her queue to introduce herself and offer her services.

She checked her pocket for her lock picks, but before she tried to use them, she turned the knob. Armatures, the lot of them. She walked in and locked the door behind her before anybody noticed. She started strumming a tune on her lyre causing magic to emanate from the instrument and impact the walls.

Everybody turned to face her. “Gwen, crush her face!” said a dwarf. A large half-orc started walking in her direction.

Sophie held her hand up in front of her. “Gwen,” she said, “hold that thought.”

Gwen squinted his face, pulled his arms to his sides, and squatted a little.

“Does he need to use the bathroom?” asked a scrappy bowman in the corner.

“I believe he is holding the thought,” said the woman who was probably Thorde.

Sophie looked at his clenched mouth. She shook her head. “You can smash me if you want, but I think you guys would be better served with my help. I mean, you were in here talking crime, and you didn’t even lock the door. Do any of you know how to muffle the room? Probably not, cause none of you thought to do it. I mean you can purchase a scroll at any spell vendor!”

The dwarf looked over at Thorde. She just shrugged at him. He turned back toward Sophie and shrugged himself. “I don’t really want to split the take three…six ways?”

“Consider it an audition,” Sophie said, “I’ve done too many solo jobs and I am looking for a team. You guys need someone who actually knows what they are doing. I think its winners all around. You will know me as... Sophie...”

“Cracken, that’s Geist, over there, you met Gwen, and the priest, that’s Thorde. Welcome aboard!” He held out his hand to shake it. Sophie looked at it confused for a moment before reaching out and grasping it.

“Let’s do this! First, I need details. What are we stealing and why?”

“The ‘why’ is easy. Someone is paying us to,” said Geist.

“We are stealing the Jewel of Bravery. It is one of the many treasures obtained from the King during his trials,” said Thorde, “the original owners want it back.”

“Trials?” Sophie summoned a magic scroll and was taking notes. She had written “Jewel of Bravery. Owners? Stolen by the king?”

“The descendants of the monarch go out into the world to find treasures. Upon news of their return, a celebration is planned. The old treasure is given to them to distribute among the people, usually, those who had an instrumental part of their journey, the new treasure is locked away for the next monarch,” Cracken informed.

“These kinds of rituals are always dumb. Leader by bloodline is a poor way to choose a leader, and these challenges rarely test leadership ability,” said Sophie. She wrote, “Locate the descendent.”

“Yeah, yeah. We can disagree with the government all we want, but we are helpless to change it.” He continued, “our little theft attempt has resulted in all the treasure being returned to the vault, and jeopardized the ceremony.”

Sophie added, “Possible coup by the old guard to prevent the new leader? Need to get the celebration back on.” to her notes. “Can you tell me what your plan was? How did it go wrong?”

“Geist was sneaking around the museum where the object was on display. Thorde job was to draw as many people out of the museum including most of the guards as she could. When Geist got to the jewel, he was unable to lift the glass case that protected it and hold down the mechanism to trigger the alarms.”

“It was worse than that,” Geist said, “I couldn’t lift the case, so I had no choice but to push it over, shattering the glass. Several guards were on me. I kept hearing voices say, ‘Run!’ so I did, I neglected to grab the object on the way out.”

“And where were you?” Sophie asked Cracken.

“I was at the pub, prepping for a fight.”

Sophie shook her head and wrote down what she didn’t want to say aloud. “Their plan put all the risk on a single person. A basic casing of the place would have told them they needed two on the inside. One person was drinking at the time of the crime. Amateurs? or something else?” She sighed. “Well, I think I see where you went wrong. What is your plan this time around?”

“I don’t think we have much choice but to fight our way into the vault.”

“Good plan,” she said, “but maybe we could try something that won’t result in the death of at least one of us? And maybe has a chance at success?” She shook her head. “You’ve got two real fighters here, and taking on a couple of guards probably wouldn’t be that much of a problem. But these are probably their best guards, and there are more than a couple. That doesn’t include getting into the throne room, which, as I understand it, is the only access to the vault. Then you get to the vault door then... open it?”

“It needs some details,” Cracken said scratching the back of his head. “I mean the item is in the vault. If you have a better plan, I am open.” Geist scoffed at this. Sophie emphasized with him. They put all the risk on his shoulders and blamed him when things went wrong. It wouldn’t surprise her to know that Geist probably pointed out they needed a second person inside.

“I can roll dice on the floor her and randomly generate a better plan.” She pulled a small cube from her pocket and tossed it on the floor. When it came to a rest, she looked at it. “Who doesn’t enjoy a good parade.”

***

Gwen leaned against the wall in a back alley. Cracken sat next to him on a rubbish bin. They were waiting for Thorde to flush some ‘ducks’ out of the tavern. Hopefully should could find some off-duty guards already looking to cause trouble. A little push in this alley and Cracken and Gwen would be ready to solve that trouble. The victim would hopefully be wealthy enough to have the ear of the king, to sing praises of the two mercenaries that saved them from his unruly royal guard. What Gwen was really looking for was a good fight.

“Unhand me, brute!” came a woman’s voice from around the corner. “I’m not interested!”

“You’ve been bad,” came a male voice, “you need to be taken to the dungeon for punishment!”

“Yeah,” came a second voice, a little squeakier. “You need to be punished.”

“You should be punished!” came the woman’s voice again, followed by a loud “Oof” from one of the men. She appeared from behind the corner and started darting for Gwen.

“Get behind me,” Gwen said.

“We will take care of the punishment around here,” Cracken said.

Three men and one woman came around the corner. They bore the insignia of the king, indicating they were members of the guard. They stumbled slightly, indicated they had been merry in drink.

“What? You don’t intervene. That woman is on the most wanted, she is!” said a short portly guard.

“King has a special interest in her, he does,” said a taller thinner guard. The two in the back chuckled at this.

“What is she guilty of?” asked Cracken.

“Don’t know, was handed a likeness of her, told to bring her to the castle. Didn’t say what condition.”

There was a rage brewing underneath Gwen’s skin. He tightened his grip on a large war hammer. “I think it would be best if you guys turned around! But I wouldn’t mind if you kept coming.” They kept coming.

“I’d consider stopping,” Cracken said, “once the dog’s off the leash there is no telling who would get hurt.” Gwen didn’t like being called a dog and only got angrier. Things were starting to turn red. He began focusing his rage on the four people. The man in the back halted and took a step back.

“Why are you backing off, Marty? This beast can’t best you!”

That was when the rage finally took over. There were flashes of bodies slamming into each other. There were screams for help. A cry for mercy. When the rage had passed, two of the guards were unconscious, the one that had last spoke and the woman. One of them appeared to take an arrow to the knee. Cracken was holding the third, beaten and bruised. They were sobbing apologies. Marty was still in the same exact spot. The expression on his face wanted to laugh and cry.

A door opened and a familiar stranger walked out. They wore a coat that obscured their body, and a hood that hid most of their face. A disguise was in use, but the eyes were recognizable. Gwen couldn’t quite place them. The stranger slipped a card into the resting guards’ pockets. They then moved over to Marty and whispered something in his ear. He nodded and ran off.

The stranger passed by Gwen gave him a brief wink then walked over to Cracken. Cracken let go of the guard they were holding and backed away. Whatever message the stranger gave this final troublemaker caused them to glance at the woman. He nodded. He had a bit of a limp as he walked away with his head hung low.

The damsel, who looked as if she had actually gotten a few good hits in herself, bowed to the stranger. He leaned in close. She nodded several times. Her expression changed from interested seriousness to laughter. She walked over to Gwen and gave him a surprise hug. “Thank you,” she said, “Your name will go down in the book of good deeds and be remembered forever... What is it?”

“Gwen,” he said.

Cracken’s face was trying to hide burning jealousy behind it. He twisted a smile and walked up to the woman, “Cracken!”

She smiled at him, “I will remember you too. I am...” She looked around the alleyway. The stranger was standing at the end looking back at them. “I must be going.” She hurried toward the stranger who started handing her bits of a disguise as they ran off together.

“What do you think Sophie is doing with that woman?” Cracken asked.

“That was Sophie?” Gwen shrugged. “I don’t know. Do we trust her?”

Cracken let out a big belly laugh. “Ha! We’ve known each other less than a minute longer than we known her. I trust you very little, and you should probably trust me less.”

***

Sophie took a deep breath as she prepared for her speech. She and Thorde had been starting generating discord in the populous lamenting the loss of the grand ceremony. Geist had been showing his face around town, only to make it disappear again creating chaos and fear. Cracken and Gwen had been doing random good deeds advertising themselves as mercenaries for hire. The King’s men had started building a reputation as drunken thugs abusing their power. The king should be exceptionally receptive to what she has to say today.

"Next!” boomed a loud voice from the court. A guard holding a spear gestured at Sophie to enter. She glided forward. Her blue dress flowed behind her. Light shined off the golden trim accenting her vest. Thorde, dressed in her white priest garb, did the same just behind her and to her right. Gwen and Cracken were at the back of the procession. Their freshly shined armor glimmered in the light.

There were people standing on each side of them as they approached the throne. Sitting on top of it was a crowned man with a black mustache and goatee. Two guards holding spears stood on each side of him.

They stopped a few feet short of the first step. Sophie knelt with her head held humble. Her congregation followed suit. She was still and silent waiting to be addressed. The King waited some time, but Sophie would not give him the satisfaction of showing restlessness. She could hear behind her that the boys were not holding up so well. They didn’t matter; the King was testing her.

“State your name, state your business,” he said at last.

“I am Sophie DeVoe, master of ceremonies to the monarchs of Jenks, Jacksonville, and Port Town. I have served the Counsel of Imagi and arranged the unveiling of Emperor Knued’s new clothes.” She stood up gracefully. “I have come today with a warning and a proposal.” The King’s face contorted with anger.

“Cleric!” said the King. “Can you vouch for this bold woman’s resume?”

Without raising, Thorde responded, “King Meer. I have eyes and ears near and far. I am a seeker of truth and speak to what I know. This woman is indeed who she says she is, and I humbly ask that you hear her out.”

Sophie’s posture remained uncompromised. Their eyes were locked. The court was silent as King Meer considered the bard. Just as he was shifting his gaze toward his guards, Sophie dropped her head to show respect.

The crowd started getting restless, but Sophie stayed true to her pose. There was a murmur growing until it started filling the chamber. With a look from the king, the guards brandished their weapons and the crowd returned to silence.

“Sophie DeVoe, speak!” Meer said at last.

“It has come to my attention that you are considering canceling the transfer of power. I have heard from around the town that this would be the third such cancelation. The first was when the descendent was deemed to be a fraud. The second descendent was found dead, murdered. The crime was not solved, and now a third, a threat of thieves has frightened you to locking the Jewel of Bravery deep inside your vault.”

“Are you accusing me of something?

“No,” she said, slowly raising her head, “but I can understand how you could interpret my statements as much. It is easy to misinterpret actions when you don’t understand the motivations.” She was now making eye contact again. “The town’s people they don’t know your motivations. They may be losing trust in their King.” She took a step forward. “They speak of abuses of power coming from your guards. They say they are cowardly men who are drunk on the authority of the King.” She took another step. “In the last week, the two mercenaries behind my protected your citizens from nearly two dozen of your men.” She took a third step. “I fear the situation may become dangerous.” She reversed all three steps and knelt her head again. “I seek only to protect you, Your Highness.”

“I shall deal with my guards, and when I am done, they will restore order!”

She made eye contact again. “There is a saying,” she said. “A leader who rules by fear will fear those that they lead.” She bowed her head again. “A leader who leads with respect will be respected in return.” She paused. “I think the question is...” returning her gaze to his, “what kind of leader are you?” Thorde, Gwen and Cracken knew this was their queue. They rose to attention and copied Sophie’s glare.

A dull roar of a thousand whispers came from the crowd. Meer directed his men to regain control. Silence was restored, but only for a second. “What kind of king are you?” came a voice!

“We demand the ceremony go on!” came another voice, or perhaps the same one from a different location.

“The descendent has returned, they have proven to be wise, they have proven to be kind,” boomed from a different location.

There were cheers from the crowd, and the guards could do nothing about it. They could start slaughtering everyone, Sophie pondered. This gambit could go south quickly, but a revolution would begin. She supposed her death would be remembered.

“SILENCE!” cried the King standing from his throne. He marched toward Sophie. “You said you had a proposal, what is your proposal!” The anger in his voice was controlled.

“I do, Your Honor,” she said, bowing again. “You hold the ceremony because you fear theft of your Jewel.” She leaned in real close. The guards all moved to intercept, but Meer waved them away. “Have you heard of a honeypot?” she whispered. “It’s where you set a trap easy in, difficult out.” The king nodded. “I say we set such a trap for our would-be thief.” Her volume returned to normal. “We hold a parade. At the end of the parade, we transfer the Jewel to the descendent. These mercs, who have the trust of the people, and have proven themselves more capable than your guard will provide the security.” She leaned in again, “you can have your power, or you can have your life, you cannot have both.”

The king's head dropped slightly as he considered this. He turned around and walked back toward his throne. He plopped back down. “Your speech was critically effective. I do not fear my people. I will give them what they want. You have resources of the kingdom to make this happen.”

Sophie let out a breath of air. Her choreography was complete. Her dance was executed with perfection.

***

Hiding on the rooftops, Geist looked down on the gathered crowd eagerly awaiting the parade. He was impressed with Sophie’s planning. Each of the local merchants submitted their own float. There would be bands and choirs from the local churches, schools, and taverns. The front of the parade would be led by the town’s children, when they got closed to the end, they would break apart and take a spot to watch the rest of the parade. The King would then take up the lead, and of course, the float carrying Gwen, Cracken, Sophie and the jewel would be at the end. The route would take them around town, and take them back to the castle where it started.

The town’s folk would follow the parade back, some joining randomly. When they had all packed in at the castle, the descendent would be revealed, and the transfer of power would be completed. A new King would rule the land, and hopefully, tomorrow would be a new day. Geist knew the celebration would be short-lived, even without their thievery. The hope that comes with a power change never lasted long, as the new King was seldom different from the old one.

Sophie had selected a few spots for Geist to set up shop but left the decision ultimately up to him. The weather played favorably to his choice, as there was a fog settled just below the rooftops. He had a good vantage point to see what was happening below, but it was much harder for people to see him. He was mostly obscured behind a chimney, but every little advantage counted.

Geist started to ponder the group dynamics. What would become of them after this job? It was obvious that Cracken was not fond of Sophie, but she was so much better at planning than he was. She aimed the group but allowed them autonomy in the planning process. Cracken simply said, “do this!” and got mad when anybody questioned. There would certainly be a shakeup when this was over.

The parade was going on below. Geist was taken in by the library float. Powerful wizards were riding a float shaped like a book on clouds. There were three of them. One of them standing tall in the center waived to the crowd. One was concentrating on moving the float, and the last was making the clouds. The tall one would shake his staff and candy would shoot out to the crowd followed by cheers.

“Geist, if you are mobile, now is a good time,” came Sophie’s disembodied voice. He was jarred alert and started running toward the parade’s tail. Anybody looking might have been able to see him jump from rooftop to rooftop, but part of being in stealth is knowing where people aren’t looking.

As he approached the target, he saw the goblin float. They seemed to be prepping to set off some ceremonial explosives. Such a spectacle would be accompanied by a large amount of smoke, and where would that smoke be going? Straight back, obscuring the float of honor. Geist doubted this placement was accidental. How Sophie managed to slip that past the guards was beyond him.

Getting the Jewel out of the vault was the main goal. The float was a moving vault in and of itself. The Jewel, a fist-sized diamond, sat atop a pedestal. There was a glass dome made of enchanted material that prevented breakage and could not been permeated by magic. The last thing they needed was a greedy parade goer with mage-hand to snag the prize. There were guards on either side, ready to run the item back to the vault, should a theft attempt be made. Riding on the float were Gwen and Cracken. Sophie was in the back playing her lyre and dancing with a bear. Geist looked curiously at the bear, wearing a blue gown. He was not aware Sophie had an animal companion.

When he felt the float was close enough, Geist fired an arrow with a rope attached. While it was unwinding at his feet, he secured the other end around the railing of a balcony. He used his bow to slide down and into the cart once everything was in place. He landed with a thud between Cracken and Gwen. From the goblin car in front of them, several rockets flew into the air and popped. The attention of the crowd was divided as smoked billowed everywhere, covering the spectacle.

Cracken swiftly moved to intercept him, while Sophie sought higher ground. She was singing an energizing song of heroes and bandits. It wasn’t clear from her song whose side she was on. Geist rolled past Cracken with grace, only to be barreled in the back by Gwen. He lost his footing and fell into the podium, knocking it over and freeing the gem.

He leaped back up to his feet and made another run at the Jewel. It got kicked around by the bear, who growled at him when he approached. He reeled back. One of the guards, Thorde in disguise, grabbed the gem from the float and began riding back toward the castle. Geist felt a thud in his head as Cracken hit him with his mace. The last thought he had before he fell was unconscious was, “That was pretty hard for something that was just done for show.”

***

“Geist woke up hidden in some back alley with Sophie and Gwen,” Chekhov said. Jaye looked at the table. For the last hour, Pierce had been playing the game essentially under the table, passing messages back and forth between Chekhov. Rosenberg and Kimiko too had been communicating back and forth, occasionally looping in the DM for approval. She and Alan seemed to be the only one playing the game upfront. Subterfuge seemed to be the mode of the day for the rest of them.

“It had been several hours, there are no signs of Thorde or Cracken,” Chekhov continued. “Sophie, you sense that your concerns were warranted.”

Pierce turns to Alan, “I think we’ve been betrayed.” Jaye looked over at Kimiko who seemed amused at this turn of events.

“Should we move out?” Jaye asked as Gwen.

“I think we need to go back to the inn,” Pierce said.

“If Cracken and Thorde did betray us, the inn is compromised,” Alan said.

“I am certain it will be fine,” Pierce said. “Have I given you two a reason not to trust me?”

Chekhov looked at the players. “Are the three of you going back to the inn?” Jaye nodded. Alan gave a thumbs up. Chekhov smiled and looked down at her notes. “Cracken and Thorde had been riding for some time. Thorde are you still wearing the guard outfit?”

“No,” Kimiko responded, “I changed back into my cleric garb.”

“Good, good. You arrive at the entrance of a small shack.”

“Thorde tosses a bag of money at Cracken and says, ‘Stay out here or leave. I don’t care if I ever see you again, just don’t come in here.’ I then enter the shack.”

“I begin counting my spoils,” Rosenberg said.

“The domicile is filled with strange markings and black candles,” Chekhov said. Pierce’s ears perked up at this. “You reached the back. A robed figure emerges from the shadow. You can’t make out any features except a scar over the right eye.”

“Is the figure me?” Kimiko said. “You didn’t model my antagonist after me, did you?”

“Maybe,” Chekhov said slyly. “I do like it when you are a little bit antagonistic.” She smiled at Kimiko. Kimiko blushed in response.

“I present the Jewel to the figure. ‘Please, please, take this token and release me!’”

“’You Fool!’ bellows the shadow, ‘this is a Fake! I shall keep you here, your friends will bring the item to me!’ You realize you are immobilized. A cage drops from the ceiling. You are trapped. A beast forms out of the shadows and runs outside. Crack-”

“Don’t I get to roll?”

“DM’s prerogative on this one.” Kimiko huffed in frustration. “Cracken a beast appears out of the shack, what do you do?”

“I yell, ‘Run, Get Help!’” Kimiko interrupts

“I take a swing at the beast,” Rosenberg says.

“Your weapon goes right through it. The beast nips at you ripping an article of clothing.”

“I think you should run,” Alan said, “Come back to us, we will rescue Thorde.”

“What if I don’t want to be rescued,” Kimiko says.

“Well, then I guess you die in some little shack,” Alan joked.

“I mount my stead and start riding back to town,” Rosenberg says begrudgingly.

Kimiko looks at all her notes and messages. “So, wait? I didn’t get the jewel?” Chekhov shakes her head. “Where is it?”

An accomplished smile appears on Pierce’s face. “No one ever touched the Jewel,” she says, “It was in the vault the whole time. You got some transfigured trash. You can’t see that with true sight.”

“How did you intend on getting the Jewel then?” Jaye asked.

Chekhov took a stack of paper and straightened them against the table. “The three of you arrive at the inn. The woman you rescued is there waiting for you. She is staring at the bear. ‘This is awfully distasteful.’ You recognize the dress she is wearing. It was the same blue gown wore by the bear on the float. She turns toward Gwen. ‘Your name was written in the book of good deeds to be remembered forever. Your friend said I should give this to you.’ She presents you with the Jewel.”

Jaye looked over at Pierce. She still had that smile on her face. Kimiko looked as though an internal battle was going on inside her head. Alan would soon get Stitches up and running and maybe be able to put an end to that dilemma. “I accept the Jewel, but what right do you have to it?”

“None at all,” Chekhov said, “My father stole it in the first place. He then hired you to steal it as an excuse not to give up the throne. He knew that this would be the last ceremony, and he didn’t want it to end. My two brothers and I, before we ventured out, committed to ceding the throne to the people.”

“Yay,” said Alan, “We overthrew a government.”

“We’re going to end here,” Chekhov said.

Pierce looked at Jaye with those studious eyes. Before they began playing, Pierce suggested achieving a goal together would bind them and begin the process of restoring order. Jaye rolled the dice. Twenty is what she expected. Twenty is what she had got. She looked at Kimiko and Rosenberg. They went against the party. If the luck hypothesis turned out to be true, wouldn’t her bad luck just transfer to them?