Despite reassurances from Alard and Raef, Ralan was nervous about his first Guild Council meeting. He had spent time with each Captain, but each meeting was short and many were awkward, at least in Ralan’s mind.

Coode, the Captain of the Old Quarter, was almost rude in how he peppered Ralan with questions about governance that Ralan was ill-equipped to answer. As he stammered, Alard stepped in and said, “If the guildmaster knew the answers to all those questions, what need would he have for you?” It shut Coode up, but Ralan felt still felt foolish.

Mio seemed angry that Ralan traveled through the Plains without difficulty and even angrier over the fact that Ralan had successfully dealt with the Outlanders. It was like his success in the same way that Pietro was successful was somehow an insult. Raef had warned Ralan that Rogers appeared to be trouble, but Rogers for some reason had not yet arrived.

“You look like a guildmaster,” Alard said as he entered Ralan’s study. His hood was down, but his usual intimidating outfit of robe and armor was on display. He always appeared ready for combat.

“I feel too young to be a guildmaster,” Ralan replied.

“You look like a young guildmaster,” Alard replied, his broad smile making Ralan feel more at ease.

“I’m just afraid that they won’t take me seriously, Alard. They’ll listen to you, but how can I elicit their respect if they are actually going to be listening to you?”

“You don’t elicit respect, Guildmaster,” Alard said, walking over and putting his large hand on Ralan’s shoulder. “You earn it.”

“But how do I earn it?”

“Well, let’s see, shall we?” And without saying anything more, Alard led Ralan into the Council chambers.

Ralan slid into his chair at the head of the table. Eight of his captains were staring at him, with two empty chairs, those for Maela and Rogers. He cleared his throat and started on his prepared first words, which he had chosen to lift their morale.

“Um, so it appears you all have done a good job, and things are going well.” Ralan paused, expecting nodding heads or even some smiles, but everyone was quiet. Before he could attempt to get things on track, Zarl, the Captain of the wealthy Upper Triangle, broke in.

“Going well? Our Blade is missing, possibly imprisoned by the Harvest Guild. We don’t know if our threat to the Guildmaster Merchant will be effective at him not trying to assassinate Guildmaster Polo, and, may I add, Karch just came through the Great Gate from the Outlands. Who knows what he has arranged with the Outlanders.”

Murmurs from both sides of the table filled the room until a clear and strong voice cut through the noise: “I do.”

All eyes turned to Ralan. He had only discussed his mission with Mio, so he was not surprised at the concern. “I know what happened with Karch, as I was there. At the bridge to Gaotteland, his guards were slain by a rain of arrows. Karch was spared by the Crown of the Outlands and fled on my horse. I passed him during my return on a mighty steed that was gifted to me by the Crown.”

Murmurs of a different sort filled the room as Ralan paused. Telling the story filled him with a confidence that didn’t exist when he entered the room. He had faced the Crown of the Outlands and not only lived, he procured a promise of a temporary peace.

“The Outlanders are not a concern, at least not now. They desire the trade route from Ness to re-open, and I promised to do that.” More murmurs. “In the meantime, he has promised a temporary peace, which will reinforce my respect with the Ranger Guild.” Ralan peered at Zarl. “But I appreciate your other concerns. I will address one, and you shall report to me on the other.”

Ralan was quiet as he looked at Zarl, who lowered his head and replied, “Understood, Guildmaster.”

“You have asked about the assassination risk toward Guildmaster Polo. If this risk originated with my brother, I assure you it is no longer a concern. I know him better than anyone. His is a coward, and the threat that was left in his room has shaken him.” Ralan looked around the table. “Who is Captain of the district that includes Merchant Tower?”

“That would be me, sir.” A portly man with blonde hair, slicked back and tied in the style of Karch, raised his hand. “Captain Tarse. There is no true Merchant District, as you know, but I oversee the area—Founders Park, Merchant Avenue, and the banks of the North Fork.”

“Very good.” Ralan stood up. He was nervous and excited, and he was finally able to do what he had wanted to do—get and share information. He started to pace back and forth. “Captain Tarse, explain to me what has changed in regards to Larsen and Merchant Tower.”

“Larsen has not been seen in days. He generally will visit the leading Merchant account handlers along Merchant Avenue or visit Guildmaster Orion or Saxe. He is not active, but he is not inactive, either. But of late he has not left Merchant Tower.”

Ralan nodded. “And the defenses around the tower?”

“Escalated, sir. The doors are usually closed whereas before they were usually open. Lots of guards are monitoring the area.”

Ralan stopped pacing and turned toward his captains. “It is as I predicted. Larsen is frightened. He doesn’t know where the threat came from, so he is reacting without focus, increasing defenses everywhere.” Tapping his hand on his chair, Ralan added, “With the Outlanders not engaged, and Larsen frightened, I consider the assassination risk of Polo no longer our concern. He is safe in Harvest House.”

Not a single voice in the room objected.

Ralan was pleased. He was doing well. However, before he could continue, Captain Tarse cleared his voice. “Excuse me, sir.”

“Yes?”

“I should probably add that the suspicious activity not just at the Tower but in the whole district has increased.”

“What do you mean by suspicious activity?”

“For us Thieves, suspicious activity is a higher concentration of guards and armed citizens. The activity in the guild docks on the North Fork and up and down Merchant Avenue is disturbing. There are Merchant Guards everywhere.”

Nodding his head, Ralan replied. “Thank you, but I consider that just an extension of my brother’s paranoia. It would not surprise me for him to have armed guards patrolling all the way up to Craft Tower with what we threatened him with.” Tarse nodded his head. “Deputy Alard, do you have any thoughts on the matter?”

Alard stood behind Ralan, and as Ralan turned to him he shook his head. “No sir, I trust your interpretation of Captain Tarse’s report.”

“Captain Zarle, you did mention one thing that concerns me greatly, and that is the fate of Maela. Alard filled me in on her mission and her new role as my Blade. Captain Calias, you gave me an update earlier, would you mind sharing it with all of us?”

An old man with white hair and a tanned and wrinkled face spoke up. “Sadly, the word from Harvest House is that there was an attempt on Polo’s life, and the assassin was a Guildmaster Blade. The assassin was taken to their guild prison.” As voices raised, Calias held up his hand. “Yes, this is a lie. I believe that Maela was captured in her attempt to warn Polo. The Guildmaster is using her capture to illustrate his strength—not even a guild Blade can reach him.”

Ralan had heard the report earlier, but his heart still fell. He missed Maela’s sharp tongue and her talent in the field, something he had experienced firsthand. And, he had to admit, he was also attracted to her. She was a challenge, and that made her exciting to him.

“Where is the guild prison,” Ralan asked, although, again, he already knew the answer.

“It is in the mines. It is the most secure prison in Ness, with cells carved out of rock. There are no sewers or walls with passages leading to them.” Calias shook his head. “It is the one prison in Ness where we have no real access.” He looked around the room, but no other Captain contradicted him.

“Who is the Captain of the Mines?” Ralan asked. No one said anything. “We don’t have a Captain in the Mines? Do we have a Deputy? Anyone?”

“Guildmaster Pietro did not consider the mines a priority,” Alard said from behind Ralan.

“Okay, the mines are a priority now. Calias, the mines are under the stewardship of the Harvest Guild. Work with Alard and find a Captain who will oversee them for the guild.”

“Yes, Guildmaster.”

“And do what you can to find out about Maela. If she’s okay. Where she’s held. What the defenses are like.”

“Yes, Guildmaster.”

The room was quiet, and Ralan felt like he had done a good job. He had addressed the key issues, even if it had started out in a way he had not anticipated. He would talk to each of the captains individually again before they left, and things did seem to be stable. With that in mind, Ralan decided to cut the meeting short and end on a positive note.

Ralan started to pace, only his walk was casual and introspective, not tense or on edge. “Okay, we have the unfortunate situation with Maela, but we are addressing that. Larsen’s plot seems to have been thwarted, and to reiterate what I said before, things seem to be going well. It appears our biggest challenge is simply to remain hidden. We need to continue Pietro’s mission, and we appear to have the luxury of secrecy while achieving it.” Ralan stopped and looked around. “Does anyone disagree.”

Everyone was quiet, and the only motion were the shakes of a few heads.

“Very well. I know I still have a lot to do to earn your respect and trust, but I promise you I take this position seriously. I will honor all of you, and I will honor my predecessor. He was greater than any of us realize. I truly believe that.” Leaning forward with his hands on the back of his chair, Ralan added, “Thank you. You are all dismissed. There is food in the reception room. Let us relax there as friends.”

Voices rose and chairs scraped across the stone floor. Ralan heard the words, “Good show,” and smiled. He realized he had forgotten something, however, and raised his voice. “One more thing!” The silence was immediate, and Ralan was awed by his ability to command the room of experienced Thieves. “Why is Rogers not here? Has anyone heard anything?”

“I had heard there was a fire in the Flats, and he was helping,” Kalos, the stout Captain of the Warehouse District said.

“Ah,” Ralan replied. “That is good. He is prioritizing helping others over a meeting. I would not have it any other way.”

“Of course, we are talking of Rogers,” Mio exclaimed with a smile on his face. “When he says he is fighting fires, it probably means he is fighting a hangover!”

The room rolled with laughter, and as the group headed down to the meats, cheeses, and ale of the reception, they cracked jokes about Rogers, who let the minor inconvenience of a fire keep him from the first Council under their new Guildmaster.