Chapter 1: On a Whim
Notes: Hello! I'm new to Fanfiction, so I know that this story won't be the greatest. However, in order to help me along here, I'd like some reviews (no sugarcoating, mind you :P) that offer any criticism, especially formatting and the like. I want to know what is expected/taboo here on fanfiction so that I can remedy any discrepencies, and make my stories appear more "normal". What I didn't realize earlier in the making of this chapter was the lack of any means to edit the story post-publication (without bumping of course, that'd just be mean). That would also explain the lack of any "author's notes" type of deal at the beginning of my story. I've also changed my spacing to 1.5 to help with paragraph navigation. After uploading and looking at it myself, it seemed pretty illegible. That's all I want to say, happy reading!
Disclaimer: I do not own the title of this document, Fire Emblem or any associated characters, except for Slyf :)
It was an unusually quiet night in Angvest Manor. The cool summer breeze so typical of the season made no noise against the normally whispering trees surrounding the estate. The owner, a Begnion noble named Alnar, personally ordered the construction of the manor in the most tactically sound place in his property: the top of a rather tall hill, surrounded on three sides by thick, marshy ground. Any serious attack would therefore be assumed to approach from the west, and that side was the most heavily fortified. The entrance was also located on the west side, discouraging any entrance by means other than passing security. Though the entrance was still barred and locked, with sentries patrolling, the confidence in their westernly defence allowed a small figure to scale the wall with nothing but a small hook attatched to a string.
Slyf the Thief… Slyf liked the sound of that. Though it only rhymed in the slightest, he thought it was catchy; light and quick, just like him. Vaulting over the south side of the surrounding wall, Slyf quickly scanned the walls for any sentries. There were none. "Good," he thought. Earlier reconnaissance had proved invaluable in aiding his trespass. He had memorized the guard routes, and they rarely moved beyond one wall. Stealthily making himself towards a window, Slyf rewound his hook-string, preparing it for a future use. He looked into the window, just to make sure he was at the right location. The room past the glass looked like a storeroom of sorts, housing crates and barrels. "That'll do," thought Slyf, who had already began to work. He held a torch close to the glass for a few seconds, and popped it out of the frame, wiping black marks and any liquefied adhesive off the glass. If all went well, then he would replace the glass upon his exit, covering his escape to the last minute detail.
Once he was inside, the thief consulted his hand-drawn plans he had created from bits of information he received from multiple sources. The treasury was located next to the wine cellar in the basement. "Alnar's a smart man" thought Slyf. The manor was evidently designed with security over convenience. Each room in the manor was only connected to two more, creating a long chain of chambers with the treasury at the end. Worse, there were guards in almost every single one. Fortunately, Slyf made sure he was completely nocturnal every time he made a raid, and the guards were likely sleeping. Angvest manor had not been victim of thievery or siege for over a hundred years, and the guards were bound to be lax. With the ease of an experienced locksmith, Slyf easily picked the first lock and applied grease to the hinges. One could never be too careful. Opening the door slightly, he looked through the crack. A guard seemed to be reading at first, but upon inspection had fallen asleep for quite some time, as the entire page was covered in drool, smearing the ink to the point of illegibility. Looking at a handy mirror on the wall, he saw four more sleeping figures: three guards on cots, and a sleeping slave chained to a small post. Slyf did not dare undo the chains, as it would likely incur the rage of the guards should they discover the slave's freedom. Proceeding to the next room in his careful manner, Slyf looked around for any threats. The room was empty. Looking at his plans again, he reasoned that only two more rooms were left before he reached his target location.
Opening the door to the first, he found himself in Alnar's own private chamber. Luckily, the noble was sleeping as well, no doubt curled up with some of his favourite concubines. Slyf ignored them and proceeded to the wine cellar. Instantly, a dank, musty odour permeated his nostrils. Evidently the cellar had not been in use for a long time. Alnar detested alcohol, so why was there a wine cellar in the first place if Alnar was responsible for the manor's creation? Such thoughts swirled around Slyf's mind as he explored the dusty room. Suddenly, he stopped, quick wits saving him just in time. With his foot centimeters away from a tripwire, he stepped backwards into safety. Any other thief who had not done his research would have been a dead man. Alnar's cellar clearly served the purpose of creating a false sense of security. It actually contained a multitude of traps, through which Slyf now carefully navigated. As he came upon the final door, Slyf tensed with caution. A wire was definitely connected to the handle of the other side. Pausing, Slyf wondered how Alnar stored and retrieved his treasures from such a room. Examining the door closely, Slyf discovered that the thin door could both be pushed and pulled. Doors, he knew, were to be pushed when entering a room, and pulled when exiting. Closets, however, had pull doors due to the small space inside. Alnar's treasury was reportedly huge, meaning that a push was possible, and to be expected. With that, Slyf pulled the knob. Though no noise could be heard, Slyf did not take that as a sign that he was safe. He spent twenty minutes examining the door and the interior of the room before concluding that the trap had been avoided.
The treasure was now in view. A mannequin stood in the middle of the room, adorned with a simple silver pendant. Ignoring all other treasures, Slyf carefully approached the wooden figure in apparent awe. The treasure exerted a hold on him, dissolving all thought and rationality from Slyf's mind. He had been dreaming of this moment for years, through which the majority was spent pinning the location. With trembling fingers, Slyf prepared to lift the pendant from its place. Up close, the ornament seemed to wink, daring him to take it. Lifting slightly, Slyf gently prized the chain from the head and supported the dangling helix-cone with his other hand. With his mind caught up in the excitement, Slyf failed to notice that the mannequin seemed to rise a bit. The possibility of a final trap never even crossed his mind after all, despite all his years of thievery.