Ralan made his way over to the Bridge. The flow of refugees showed no signs of abating. Are they clearing the entire Lower Quarter? Ralan thought. It seemed impossible. There were so many people that mobilizing everyone seemed unlikely. But the real thing that seemed impossible to Ralan was that the Harvest Guild members would just blindly follow a command to leave their homes. Were the fires that frightening?

“Hey, I know you!” Ralan looked down as a boy about Ralan’s age stared up at him on his horse. Philos edged forward on his horse, keeping a wary eye on the boy, who was a bedraggled Harvest Guild member, clearly following the masses of his guild mates to the Old Quarter.

“Do you?” The boy didn’t look at all familiar to Ralan.

“You are the guildless one who always told the stories at the Four Triangles about causing mischief with the Merchant Guild.” The boy nodded his head. “Yes. You are Larsen’s brother!”

The reminder of his past made Ralan toss his head back and laugh. It wasn’t even that long ago that he lived that life, running around with kids of various guilds and getting into trouble. “Yes! My life is different now, but I did cause my share of trouble.” Ralan leaned down. “What is your name?”

“Gil,” the boy replied as his face scrunched up in thought. “I heard you took over for old Pietro. Are you a thief?”

“We should go, sir,” Philos whispered from the back of his horse. Ralan looked around, and a group of the Harvest Guild refugees were gathering around them. They were surrounded in a pool of Green and Ralan could tell why Philos was nervous. Although they were on large horses, there was no easy escape or any other guild members to help.

Ralan replied by holding up his hand to Philos and answering Gil. “Yes. My rotten brother made me the Guildmaster Thief.” Ralan smiled and spread his arms. “But as you can see it turns out that old Pietro was not just a kind and gentle man, he was the leader of a kind and gentle guild, as you will all see soon.”

The boy looked unimpressed, which only made Ralan like him more. “Well, I don’t much like thieves, but you tell good stories and if you can get back at your brother for burning the Flats I won’t be too upset over all the stealing you thieves do.”

It was the second time that Ralan was confronted by Harvest Guild members with the belief that Thieves were evil, stealing from others. He was tempted to explain to Gil and the crowd milling about them that Thieves were not evil and didn’t steal for personal gain, but it would be like trying to damn the great river with a pebble. The actions behind Ralan would stop the river of anger more than anything he could say.

Changing tack, Ralan smiled and asked, “How is the old Four Triangles?”

The boy frowned. “Burnt to the ground.”

“No!” Ralan considered that he finally could get some insight on what was happening in the Lower Quarter. “How bad are the fires?”

At the question the boy’s visage turned from curiosity to anger. “They are bad.”

An older man shouted, “The Merchants set them! They have burned down Ironsides, and the entire street of Inns near the river.”

Another voice, even angrier. “Yes. They have purposely destroyed our history and our homes!”

Angry murmurs turned into shouts of “Revenge!” and “Betrayal” and “War!” and several other words that gave voice to the simmering anger of the citizens whose lives had been ruined.

Philos edged his horse forward, and people fell back, Shouts started to increase in volume when Ralan stood up in his saddle and raised his voice. “Your pleas are being heard. Keep moving and find shelter and food. We will prepare to make things right!”

“Larsen must die” a voice from the distance yelled out.

Ralan nodded grimly. “We will restore your homes and justice will be served.” He didn’t specifically address Larsen, but the crowd appeared to like what he was saying, as they mumbled in agreement.

Returning his attention to Gil, Ralan asked, “And what of the Lower Triangle?”

The boy shrugged, but a woman nearby yelled out, “I am from the Lower Triangle. It is awful. They have burned the Green Belt, and there are rumors of fires approaching Traders Bridge.”

Ralan had heard of the Green Belt fires, but fires making it all the way to Traders Bridge was new to him. He wasn’t sure how much was rumor and what was fact, but the reality was that scores of people were fleeing the Lower Quarter, so something was happening.

“Guildmaster, the crowds are blocking the Bridge.” Philos pointed at the Great Bridge.

The crowd around Ralan had grown large enough in size that the refugees approaching from the bridge had to slow or even stop. Nodding, Ralan yelled out, “Keep going. You will find friends here. The Thieves were never about stealing from you. They were about stealing from them!” Ralan pointed across the bridge to the burning city beyond.

Not waiting to see how his message was received, he sat down in his saddle and slowly turned Kalisto back to the center of the Old Quarter. As he and Philos made their way, Ralan considered the future. He could see no way forward without declaring outright war on Larsen and the Merchant Guild.

A civil war would lead to countless deaths. The Thieves and Harvest Guilds had strengths in numbers, and they had two bases of operations that were strong and defensible—the Old Quarter and the Fields and Harvest District. Furthermore, the wealthy members of the Merchant Guild lived in the Upper Triangle, which was within easy striking distance of the Harvest Guild.

Yet, Larsen had Saxe and the Knight Guild on his side, and they manned the Wall and were more heavily armed and capable of unleashing death from a distance with the archers of the White Guard. It would be a horrific war.

As they cleared the large groups of refugees, Ralan turned to head back to the Thief Tower. Rather than canter, he continued to follow a light trot while Philos kept pace. “What do you know of Saxe?” Ralan assumed that Philos, like Alard, was a former Knight.

Peering at Ralan for an oddly long time, Philos finally replied, “Enough.”

“Why do you think he is supporting Larsen? What drives him? Do you think we could convince him to join our side?”

Philos’ reaction surprised Ralan. He laughed. “You assume Saxe has joined any side. He is a cruel man who cares about nothing more than battle. With whom the battle rages don’t matter—the Outlanders, Thieves, renegade guilds. He doesn’t care. He just wants to prove his might over everyone.”

Ralan thought over Philos’ comments. “So are you saying he would actually be happy if we had a civil war?”

“Only if he got to see his men leave a trail of dead behind them. He obviously wants to operate from a position of power, but beyond that I think all he wants is victory defined by the field of battle.”

“This makes no sense,” Ralan replied. “So all he wants is violence with no end?”

“Otherwise he serves no purpose,” Philos replied.

“But he defends the Walls and protects the streets!”

“Meaningless to him. The Rangers are the true defenders of Ness.” Philos shook his head. “What do you know of Executioner’s Hollow?”

Ralan had heard Alard speak of it and perhaps others. It was where the Knights executed Thieves, but beyond that he had no idea of what it meant. “Not much more than that is where the Knights execute the Thieves.”

“No. It is where Saxe lives out his fantasies.” Philos said no more, and Ralan could tell from the tone of his voice that Philos considered it the final comment needed for the conversation.

Yet Ralan had thought of something, and it began with Philos’ comment about Saxe needing to prove his might. “If given the choice between fighting the Outlanders and killing Harvest Guild members as they are swept into the Old Quarter, which do you think he would embrace?”

Philos replied with a wide smile. “Guildmaster, are you asking me that if the Outlanders had somehow decided now was a good time to invade, would Saxe no longer concern himself with Larsen as an ally?”

“The thought is indeed crossing my mind.”

“Well, the only thing Saxe enjoys more than killing Thieves is killing Outlanders.” Ralan was going to thank his personal guard for his insight, but before he could Philos added, “But you can ask Alard about that.”

Alard. Outlanders. Saxe. Just when Ralan felt like he had a sliver of an opportunity it got complicated again. He kicked Kalisto to a canter, and continued to his tower, wondering if the key to saving Ness was inviting Wilhelm to invade it.