Mister Abram Cove was not an easy man to unnerve. He had been a [Fence] for a long time and the line of work lent itself to dealings with a wide range of worrisome characters on a regular basis. The kind of people that broke bones and severed fingers to send “messages” – due as much to a sense of loyalty to the classics as sheer lack of creativity – and those who dealt in death like an [Accountant] deals in taxes.

He himself was not reassuring to look at, his slight frame belying sinewed limbs criss-crossed by scars, mementos from jobs gone south. A mean, grizzled mug lurking under a dark cowl.

All of which was itself quite misleading, as Abram had always considered himself – first and foremost – a gentleman. He made sure his p’s and q’s were always minded, held doors open for ladies (and, of course, [Ladies]), always offered his customers a fair price, and had never stolen anything from anyone who couldn’t afford it.

A man had to have standards.

As such, Mr. Cove was doing his best to focus his various skills and Skills on the young woman in front of him and her most recent acquisitions. But something kept drawing his focus away from the gold and silver that sparkled in the dim light. He glanced at the girl, using his [Ocular Patdown] skill to see if she was hiding something on her person that kept fighting for his attention. A brief second while the skill gathered what information it could, and he suddenly knew exactly what was concealed on her person.

Nothing interesting, unfortunately. She had never been in his place of business before, inasmuch as he could tell. Leather armor under dark cloth, a crossbow, a halfway decent bag of holding. All standard kit for his usual clientele. Danger-sensing Skills failed to turn up anything of note.

He offered a price for a decorative gilt vase, some jewelry. Used a Skill to check the authenticity of a painting in a guady frame. All the while considering the mystery that had walked into his shop. Something about this girl made him uneasy, that was certain. It was figuring out what that was driving him mad.

Unlike the common folk, those who found themselves in life-and-death situations as an occupational hazard often learned not to rely solely upon their Skills. A [Baker] could get by without ever learning of yeast, relying on Skills to leaven their goods. But a [Warrior] that doesn’t know how to properly hold a sword can never fully take advantage of a [Hammer Blow] Skill. Without the proper skills, your Skills can end up less than useless.

Fortunately for Abram, decades spent thieving had helped hone his skill and instinct. There was a sense that you picked up, alone out on jobs. That prickling on the back of the neck as a [Guard] returns from his post earlier than scheduled, the sinking feeling in your gut just before you open a door, a tickle at the back of your mind as the subconcsious rears up and whispers that if you aren’t already on edge, you should be now.

And that sense was doing the equivalent of dancing the Jitterbug on his frontal lobe every time he so much as glanced in her general direction. It was distinctly disconcerting and he was inclined to get her out of here sooner rather than later.

Sparing one more glance toward the young woman, his thief-senses screaming to keep a sharp eye on her if he wanted to make it out of this exchange with his bones and coinpurse intact, he reached the conclusion that it was definitely better to get her out of here before one of his regulars came in and attacked her out of sheer instinct.

Leaning back from the counter and getting a general view of the assorted finery in front of him, he used a Skill handy for quick business transactions. [Square Deal] told him it was all worth about 200 gold to him, the Skill even factored in overhead costs in its estimate. A little more than he’d expected, but it certainly seemed fair.

“I can offer a sum of 400 gold for your items, miss. I am, regrettetably, unable to perform a more in depth examination of each item at the moment as I am already backed up on appraisal requests for the guild.” Abram felt bad hurrying the girl out, but he was confident he was offering far more than a fair price. He’d have just told her to bugger off, but she checked out as a bona-fide associate of the Guild, and he had to honor his contract or they’d send someone along to remind him of the fine-print. He knew the business. “If you’d prefer to wait, I should have an appointment available for a proper consultation late next week. I could also provide contact information for the other Guild Certified Merchants located here in the city.”

Decades of experience held his polite smile in place as he made eye contact with his disquieting customer. A poker face solid enough to outlast granite nearly crumbled, but finally the girl spoke.

“That sounds wonderful! Thank you so much!” A broad grin spread across her face, the pleasant expression jarring on such a disconcerting figure. The bubbly voice and cheery reply, moreso.

Mr. Cove steeled himself. The transaction would be over soon, and this girl would be nothing more than an uncomfortable memory. He’d figure out what was so off-putting about her later.

“Will you be requiring a reciept?”

-

Dell rarely felt conflicted about the daily act of evil she committed anymore, once she realized it was vital for her class to function. Sometimes it was true evil, like stealing a vital piece of paperwork just as someone reached the front of an hours-long line at the Guild headquarters, sometimes it was a tried and true classic, like stealing from a baby.

Mr. Cove, however, she felt bad for. He had been her fence of choice for her entire career and was always more than fair. Unfortunately for him, unloading the pounds of goods she had stowed away was her first stop and she wanted to get her evil deed done for the day. So a few Skills and a few [Blessings] from her patron and she was walking away with twice what her stuff had been worth.

It’s not that Dell was evil, per se. She honestly thought of herself as a good person, mostly. And she wasn’t wrong. She didn’t enjoy doing evil things. It just happened to be compulsory.

-

Dell was enjoying the ill-gotten fruits of her labor in one of the nicer inns in the city. A private corner, chairs with cushions that threatened to swallow you whole. Precognizant [Servers] and [Waiters] that would appear just as a new item on the menu caught your eye or you needed a drink topped off.

It was the perfect place for some people-watching. A comfortable spot to post up and wait for other flush patrons to settle in for the evening. A few [Merchants] with their orbiting [Scribes], [Assistants], and [Secretaries], colonized a table and ordered a round of drinks. They started small talking loudly, seemingly competing with one another to see who could name more of the other’s family and ask how they are. Standard niceties before proper business could be conducted.

Her hearing was sensitive enough to hear them clearly from her seat across the inn, but her focus wasn’t on their discussion. Sure, she had been paid for espionage and eavesdropping in the past, but her plan was just a little pickpocketing practice to stay sharp and keep the bills paid.

She sized the men and their attendants up, side-eyeing them as she sipped her drink. Her [Thief’s Eye] skill gave a faint glow to any spots on her targets where they had valuables or magic items concealed. Both men were wearing fine clothes – silk, her Skill told her. Each had a bag of holding, jewlery of miscellaneous composition, and a few magic items. The hangers-on wore their own jewelry, though less opulent than that of their bosses, and three carried magical weapons.

None of her danger-sensing Skills were going off, and her instincts quiet. She made another quick scan of the room before getting up and heading to the bar. Her leather armor was disguised as one of the uncormfortable lace monstrosities that the wealthy women in the city were so fond of, courtesy of an enchanted ring. She flagged down the barmaid and ordered herself a drink, she’d need one for her plan. Some young men and women at the bar, sons and daughters of the local elite, drank and joked at the bar nearby, loud and carefree.

Dell started to feel a hint of the old excitement at the job start to creep up on her. That tantalizing tickle of adrenaline nudging at her nerves as she steeled herself to rob the men blind. She was a great thief – and not just for her level. Her reputation was known across half the continent, if not her face. Great care, and no small measure of risk, had gone into ensuring she would be unrecognizable to almost anyone, even those with whom she’d conducted business before. Of course, Skills made it far easier to disguise herself now.

The bartender returned with her mug and she flipped him a gold coin – a generous tip, it always payed to have the staff on your side – and started back toward her table, this time winding her way through the other patrons to pass right by the table of [Merchants]. She bumped into one of the [Secretaries], her free hand deftly plucking his enchanted dagger from its sheath and into the bag of holding at her side. Her beer-holding hand swung a wide arc and for a moment the ale hung in the air, looking like more than a single mug should hold, before dropping in a foamy tidal wave over the table’s stunned occupants.

“Oh my gods, I’m so sorry!” The [Secretary] she’d robbed had Dell by one arm, stopping her just shy of landing in the lap of one of the dripping men. He pulled her back up. “This place is just so busy, I didn’t even see you there. Are you guys okay?”

“It’s just beer,” said one man, cheerfully wiping foam from his face with a handkerchief, “Trust me, I’ve been soaked in worse.”

The other man glared daggers at her as he stood brusqely, his chair almost tipping before one of his employees caught it. The other two produced towels and began vigourously drying their employer.

“How about I get a round of drinks as an apology?” Dell suggested, smiling earnestly at the nicer of the two men. “I can even see if I can convince a barmaid to bring the drinks over, just to be safe.”

“That sounds perfect, miss. Thank you,” the man who was becoming stickier with each passing moment replied.

“I suppose that shall be adequate,” said the second [Merchant], his assistants having thoroughly toweled both him and his seat.

“Okay. I just- I am so sorry. I will have them bring those drinks right over. I- Seriously, I am really sorry,” Dell apologized profusely, a grateful look on her face. “Thank you for being so understanding.”

She backed away from the table after a few more apologies, then wove through the crowd back to the bar. She ordered a round of drinks for the table she had come from, asking for a tab to be opened for the table. She had the bartender add her food and drink from the day, then made her way out of the inn and back into the rapidly fading afternoon light.

Huh. Maybe this whole “evil” thing really was becoming second nature to her. She had meant to pay for her food herself. Then again, she thought, they could probably afford it.

She did feel kinda bad about the guy who had been so good-natured about it, though. Maybe she should have let him keep some of his stuff?

-

Meanwhile, back at the inn – The humpin’ Hare, the “T” had fallen off the sign during a storm a few years back and, naturally, was now stolen each time it was replaced – the [Merchants] were discovering that most of their possessions and certainly all of their valuables were missing. Initially, the barmaid who brought their drinks was suspect, but when she was reduced to tears by an overly enthusiastic questioning, one of the [Secretaries] recalled that he might have felt the girl from earlier steal his enchanted weapon. By the time they thought to search for her in the bar, she was halfway across the city and wearing a new face.

The [Merchants] gathered their wits and ran off to the Guild to complain about being robbed despite being paid up on their protection dues only to find out that, unfortunately sirs, the associate with whom they had the displeasure of dealing with was in fact a member of the United Continental Association of Thieves and Scoundrels. While this did, surely, mean that the Guild would offer her no protection should she be caught, it was a matter for the City Watch to locate her.

A young woman in deep brown, worn leather armor dodged past these men as they hurried off toward eventual disappointment and made her way into the inn, turning to speak over her shoulder as she did.

“ - so what we really need is a good [Thief]. Sure, I can sneak past guards and pick normal locks, but the little info I could find makes me think they’re all jammed into the Adamant-rank dungeon.”

The young man following her had an air not unlike a puppy as he followed her through the door, but he was paying close attention as she spoke. “Adamant-rank?”

The [Rogue] cocked her head. “I didn’t realize being nobility meant ‘raised under a rock’. It’s for the bad shit, like Iron, Steel, and Adamant-rank adventurers? Iron weak, Adamant strong?”

“Look, I learned stuff, alright, I was just-”

“Does nobility school not bother with basic life function stuff? Just ‘steal from the poor, oppress the poor, sieze power at all costs-’”

“I know what the ranks are, Ella. I was just surpr-”

“You know how to feed yourself, right? When I offered to help you, I assumed you wouldn’t need instructions on things like forks.”

“Of course I know how a fork works! I was just surprised they were in such high security.” The [Rogue], Ella, paused on her walk toward the only open table in the bustling inn.

“I think you might be dumber than I thought. You do realize how powerful your family is, right?” She started smoothly weaving her way through the crowd again, the young man bumping every shoulder that crossed his path as he did his best to follow. “Your family is one of the oldest noble lines there is. You guys get that fancy [Old Lord] class or whatever, too.”

“It’s [Old-Growth Lord]. Not everyone gets it. Is it that good?” The doubt he put in his voice didn’t quite cover the longing hidden there.

“Very. Don’t worry too much if you don’t have it. If you level your [Lord] class enough, it should change.”

“How do you know so much about noble classes?” The [Lord] asked, taking a seat.

“I don’t. Like I said, I spent some time asking around about your family,” she replied, kicking her feet up on the table, “And while there wasn’t much to find out about their whereabouts, it was super easy to find stuff out about your family. Seems like everyone thinks they’re gone for good. Most people seem hopeful this new [Warlord] guy will keep things running smooth.

“I’m not too optimistic about it, though. About half of what I heard makes me think this guy is actually some kind of super-rich [Merchant] or something that just hired an army of adventurers and mercenaries. There were a few people going on about conspiracy theories, too. Saying there was some sort of power hidden under the city that he’s seeking out.

“Oh, and apparently he has stealth squads taking out anyone in the city that’s been talking shit about him. So there’s that. We’ve gotta make sure and keep a low profile. If you can manage that.”

“I think I can. I got that ring from the magic shop guy. It should help.” The young man fiddled with a thin band carved from dark stone encircling his index finger. “What else do we need to get started?”

“Honestly? You find me a thief that can lift the keys off the head of the guard and your family could be out tomorrow. But that kind of skill doesn’t come cheap. I can get in touch with a few friends at the Thieves’ Guild about it, see if anyone’s willing to do some pro-bono theft.”

“How much would it be for full price?” The [Lord] asked. Ella let her feet drop from the table and sat up close, tracing out numbers on the table with her finger.

“’Bout 150 gold, absolute minimum.”

“...”

“Yeah.”

“... Is there a discount Thieve’s Guild?”