Bolderfall was the largest town in its general area, a bustling home of activity from all types of people. The tavern of the multi-layered Cliftlands city reflected this, and people were constantly talking and engaging in whatever business it was that had brought them to such a location in the first place. It was easy to slip through the town undetected, and luckily for Therion, that was just what he was hoping for.
Therion's clothing was purple and caught somewhere between elaborate and understated, ripped apart in some places and all too neat in others. His white hair fell over one eye, casting half of his face in ominous shadow. His visible eye was a green color, both too bright and oddly dull at the same time. All eyes at the tavern glossed over him because people were unaware of who he was, and that was part of his reason in coming to the town in the first place.
He had been to Bolderfall more than a few times, enough to the point that when he approached the barkeep waiting behind the counter at the back wall of the tavern, he barely had to speak to get his point across. "The usual," Therion said simply as he slid into the one available seat at the bar. He was surrounded by people on either side, and while that was far from ideal, it wasn't as if he had a choice in the matter. Off to his left, there was a pair of people that were chattering with one another to the point of forgetting that the rest of the world was there. Therion resisted the urge to roll his eyes until they fell free of his skull.
The barkeep simply nodded in response and got to work. He popped the cork off of a bottle and poured the mead out into a cup before setting it down. He put the cap back on the bottle and slid it back into its position on the countertop. From there, all he had to do was pass it across the counter to where Therion was waiting. "As ye like it," the barkeep said simply, his voice laced with a notable Cliftlands common accent.
Therion lifted the glass to his lips, closing his eyes as he did so. One good thing about a busy tavern was that it made it easy to find out more about the rest of the world. All one had to do was just listen, and from there, it would be just a matter of time before something interesting surfaced among the cacophony. Information shared by accident fueled Therion's work, and listening was the most important thing that someone like him could do.
Unfortunately, the words that reached his ears did not tell of anything interesting. The obnoxious pair of men off to his left hadn't learned what tavern courtesy was, and they didn't seem to care in the slightest that they were being almost obnoxiously loud in fueling their own conversation. "I 'eard that thief's at it again," one of them, the one closer to Therion, told his companion. He took a mighty swig of his own drink before setting the mug back down on the bar.
Therion could tell immediately that this man was a thief himself, and he pretended that he wasn't smirking as he took another drink from his glass. The companion of the thief responded as he did so. "Really? What's he done this time?" he asked, his strong accent only barely contested in power by the heavy drawl of his companion.
"Lifted everythin' off a merchant leavin' the goldsmithy," the first man responded. "Guess he didn't get his fill at that fancy manor the other day. Still can't believe he made it past all those guards. I'm sure the more the better for 'im."
Therion just presented yet another thin smile into his glass. The guards at that manor could hardly be called such, instead seeming more like harmless decorations or mannequins of some kind. Then again, he supposed that when a thief had as much skill as he did, it was easy to breeze through whatever challenges presented themselves. Therion's many years of stealing had paid off, and he could do as he so pleased anywhere in Orsterra. There were few places that were able to escape his sticky fingers, and he wouldn't have had it any other way.
After all, Therion had to look after himself above all else. That was what it meant to be a thief when push came to shove. He hadn't exactly chosen this lifestyle, but he had mastered it regardless. Everything was all too easy for him in terms of theft, though he certainly wasn't complaining. It allowed him to assert his dominance across the continent as the mysterious shadow of a thief that nobody could catch more than an empty glimpse of when he showed a rare display of carelessness. Oftentimes, it was more of him allowing people to see the traces he left behind to fuel the legends that had spread far and wide about him though. Perhaps it fueled some twisted sense of satisfaction for him, though he wasn't about to protest it.
The second thief let out a scoff and shook his head. "Ain't no point swoonin' over someone else's work!" he declared. "Someday we'll make it as big as that thief, and then we'll be the talk of the town." He punctuated his intentions with a grand laugh.
His companion nodded his agreement. "Yeah, you said it, partner!" he announced, curling his fingers into a fist before hitting his friend in the shoulder. The two men devolved into laughter from there, not at all caring about their loud declarations of being thieves. Then again, the tavern's occupants were too busy to bother caring in the first place, and it wasn't as if the barkeep did anything to stop them. If anything, all he did was fuel the habits of the thieves that came and went through Bolderfall's expansive borders.
Therion took another drink of his alcohol before closing his eyes and allowing himself to retreat down into the large indigo scarf that was wrapped around his neck. 'Partners'. That certainly was a word that existed for better or worse. For Therion though, it was the gateway to memory lane, and for a brief moment, he was no longer in the Bolderfall tavern, but instead, elsewhere within Orsterra.
Therion had been a thief all his life. He knew no other way of being simply because it was his sole method of survival. He had been born into the streets, and he would die there too, he was sure. Unfortunately, being a thief required experience, and for a young boy not yet of thirteen, experience was an almost impossible thing to acquire.
He had been careless, and the guards of Saintsbridge had caught him when he slipped up and took a wrong turn while attempting to make his escape following a quick theft. One of the guards was firmly grasping Therion by his upper arm, dragging him through the underground of the city. Therion was halfway convinced that he should run, but he wouldn't be able to get away even if he wanted to. The guard was too strong for him, so he had to play along for a while longer.
The man pulled a keyring from a hook at his hip before shoving one of the keys into a lock belonging to one of the cells. Unlike many of the other cells that they had passed up to that point, this one was occupied, and a single figure sat in the shadows at the far side of the room. As soon as the door was open, the guard pointed inside. "Oi, get in!" he exclaimed, his tone offering no room for objection or protest.
"Not even a 'please'?" Therion asked. His appearances of strength and his sharpened tongue were two weapons that contributed to his survival, and he would use them regardless of how wise it was.
"You won't last long in here with that foul mouth, whelp," the guard scoffed, still pointing to the inside of the cell. His eyes were impatient, and to a young thief, that was a weakness to be exploited.
"No? You seem to be doing just fine," Therion snarked in response. His prize for the comment was a slap to the face, and Therion nearly crumbled to the ground from the force of the guard's palm against his skin. One hand drifted away from his body and toward the guard's hip, and he only rose to his feet after he had found his prize and shoved it into his pocket, using the guard's anger to his advantage. He feigned seeing that he had lost, and he walked into the cell, unwilling to show even a trace of the pride that came with snatching the key to the cell.
The guard closed the cell door behind Therion, his gaze still filled with fire. "Impudent brat! You'll learn your manners the hard way, just like the rest," he said, any friendliness in his voice having melted away the second that he raised his hand against the young thief. He walked away with stormy footsteps to cope with the wound to his pride that Therion had dealt in exchange for the brutal slap to the cheek.
Therion was still standing in front of the door, hands pressed against the bars, when the figure in the shadows started to stir. "I see you got the same warm welcome I did," the other boy told Therion, his voice a drawl that was all too cavalier to belong to a prisoner.
Therion turned to face him. He was wearing green, and his clothing was so bright that it might as well have been made of grass. It was the boldest color in the dark and dingy gaol, something that could barely be a sign of life but was still a mark of something regardless. His hair was orange, and a scar bridged the top of his nose before extending sideways onto his cheeks.
"And who are you?" Therion questioned, examining the other boy with all the caution in the world. He knew better than to trust someone just because they could spew a few pretty words, and this time was no exception.
"A no-good tea leaf who got caught in the act, just like yourself," the boy replied, dancing around the matter of his name like it meant nothing to him.
Therion took a step closer, letting out a haughty breath along the way. "Just like me, huh? Well, you look a lot worse," he remarked. Beneath his scarf, he was smirking to himself. In places like this, one had to make their own satisfaction, and this was as good a starting point as any.
The boy let out a scoff of a laugh of his own. "Well, get used to seein' this ugly boat, 'cause I ain't gettin' prettier anytime soon. These guards think they can beat the attitude out of us," he responded simply. "And they don't go easy on no one here, least of all teapots like us."
Therion scoffed to himself. He had been imprisoned a few times in the past, and this hardly sounded like anything different from what he had seen before. "Sounds about right," he muttered to himself, voice indifferent but expectant.
"So, ready to be a good little boy and play nice with the guards?" the boy questioned, his face contorting itself into a smile that held all the memories of learned brutality hidden in the cracks.
"Are you?" Therion inquired in response, raising an eyebrow. He pushed some of his white hair away from his tanned face, crossing his arms after the fact.
The boy shook his head and crossed to the door, prompting Therion to take a step back. He crouched near the door, reaching his hands through the bars to the lock."Nope. And I don't plan on stayin' here till they change me mind. See, I got me a pin here to unlock the door-"
Therion's eyes went wide as he took a step forward. "Hey, what do you think you're-" he interrupted.
"A little busy right now," the boy said dismissively. He continued using his metal pin, which appeared to have been fashioned from a stray piece of steel found in the cell, to try and unlock the door.
Therion frowned and shoved his hand into his pocket. "Try using this instead," he told the boy. When he unfurled his fingers, the key to the cell was glittering in his palm, sitting perfectly neat and waiting to be used.
The boy gasped before rising to his feet. "The key?! Where'd you get this?!" he exclaimed in shock, keeping his voice quiet enough that they wouldn't be detected while still notably expressing his shock.
Therion shrugged. "Snatched it from the guard once he was all riled up," he responded simply. It had been an easy affair, really. Some people simply didn't know when they were being played like an instrument, and luckily for Therion, he was very easily able to use this to his advantage. He had been able to tell early that the guard was a man who would grow upset easily, and all he had to do was twist that so it played into his hands.
The redheaded boy laughed boldly. "Look at the cobblers on this one!" he shouted. He claimed the key from Therion and shoved it into the lock, easily able to open the door despite the awkward angle he was at. From there, it was simply a matter of walking out of the cell, and he discarded the keys on the floor, a small mark for the guard to find with shame when he noticed that his prisoners had escaped thanks to his own hubris.
"Now, let's get out of here," the boy said. He smiled in Therion's direction, an uncanny crescent that spread across the lower half of his face. "The name's Darius, mate." He extended his hand in Therion's direction to shake.
The thief in purple was all too happy to follow up on his invitation. "Therion," he introduced simply.
"Well, Therion. Looks like you and I are officially partners in crime," Darius continued to grin. He started to walk in the direction of the exit, and Therion trailed behind him with something blossoming in his chest that felt a lot better than his pride at stealing from the guard and subsequently reclaiming his freedom ever could.
But a lot could change in ten years, and Therion had flown as a solo crow for quite some time. He took another swig of his drink, trying to drown the memories with something physical. Sweet memories, he thought, something bitter at the edge of his internal monologue. He wasn't sober enough to think of the past this way, and so, he slid his mug back across the counter toward the barkeep. "Fill it up."
The barkeep obliged with a simple curt nod. He didn't ask questions about why Therion had grown so distant for a time. He didn't ask questions about much of anything, as a matter of fact; he knew better than to try and infiltrate on the thoughts of thieves. "'Ere you go," he said to Therion as he slid the refilled mug back in the direction of his patron.
Therion was quiet for a long moment after that, allowing himself to focus on the sensation of the alcohol draining down the back of his throat. It was easier to focus on the familiar feeling than the bitter memory of what he had seen in the back of his mind. His partnership with Darius had been a beast of a different breed, and Therion chose to not acknowledge it when he had the ability to ignore it. That was the past. Partnership with someone else was the past, but Therion himself, isolated and alone, was the present.
"Beg pardon, but would ye 'appen to be after them Ravus' treasure?" the barkeep suddenly questioned after the long silence drew to a close. He had been staring at Therion in the quiet, a light frown staining his features. "If ye are, I suggest ye think again. Heard another would-be fortune hunter was tossed in the dungeons yesterday."
Therion snorted. The whispers of treasure in the infamous Ravus manor had brought him back to Bolderfall. He had been all over Orsterra in search of a target that would challenge him, and the rumors in Bolderfall had ultimately been what caught his attention most. Of course, he would never admit it openly. Part of the life of a thief involved knowing the value of information, and Therion wasn't going to give his story to anyone that it didn't pertain to. He had made that mistake once in the past, and he had paid for it. He knew better than to make that choice again. His aloof behavior was a shield, the silent guard that kept him from being read by people who thought they would be able to break through his mask.
"So what's the count now?" Therion questioned of the barkeep, not bothering to answer the inquiry as to if he was after the treasure or not. He took another swig of his drink to hide the lower half of his face from view.
"A score, maybe more," the barkeep replied, his voice sounding much too casual when speaking of mass incarceration of thieves. Then again, knowing these things was part of his business; thieves frequented Bolderfall, and there was no better place to gather intel than the tavern's master himself. "But House Ravus ain't known to be kind to those who covet their wealth. Still, poor thieves can't help but flock to that manner like moths to a flame. Suppose it's all those rumors of their riches that keep 'em comin'. Some say it's enough to buy up the whole town and then some."
"Just one town?" Therion asked, raising an eyebrow curiously. "What about the neighbors?" He took yet another drink. While he would never admit it, he was glad to have the distraction to chase away bitter memories that made him want to stab his dagger into wood until there was nothing left to remember in the first place.
"Can't say for sure. No one's ever seen the treasure," the barkeep shrugged nonchalantly. "Even that master thief they keep talkin' about would have more than his hands full."
"A perfect tale for the tavern," Therion mused to himself. He barely even cared that the master thief in question was him, yet another sign of his infamy spreading to the farthest corners of the continent.
"Look, when ye been in the business long enough, ye can tell things at a glance," the barkeep said, his voice suddenly grounded in something peculiar. "Yer a smart and skilled long man. Probably 'ave a long career ahead of ye. That's why I'll say it once more: stay away from that manor."
"Thanks for the advice," Therion said shortly in a somewhat clipped tone. As the master thief that all of the stories spoke of, he was going to be the one to decide what was or was not worth his time. It certainly seemed as if House Ravus was going to provide just the challenge that he had been searching for. It had been a while since anything even came close to touching his skill level, and this was going to be the time that he was able to change his life permanently thanks to his sticky fingers and their related skills. No rumor would ever be able to forget about him after this, and while that hardly mattered in the grand scheme of his life, it was a small note of pride in the design of his demeanor. "Next time, I'll have a tale of my own to tell."
When Therion left the tavern, he immediately made for the staircase that would lead him to the other part of the town. Bolderfall was in part built into the side of a mountain. That was par for the course with towns of the Cliftlands region, but Bolderfall seemed to take it to a new level. The city was more vertical than horizontal, and one glance over the edge of the cliff's fence would send anyone into a nauseous spiral.
The path to Ravus Manor was easy enough to follow. The center of Bolderfall was bustling with activity, and many people collided with one another as they went about their daily routines. In other words, it was all too easy for Therion to send his hand slipping out in the direction of others' pockets. His coin purse was at least a few leaves heavier by the time that the stairwell leading to Ravus Manor.
The center of Bolderfall was somewhere known for its activity and buzzing atmosphere, but the one exception was the ornate stairway that led up to Ravus Manor. The other staircases of Bolderfall were worn down and made of the natural stone of the Cliftlands. However, this stairwell was something special, something that had been built specifically to show just how much money the Ravus family had to burn. Nobody went there unless they had to, knowing that House Ravus' occupants weren't going to care much for their words no matter what they had to say. The guards of the mansion were the only ones who ever bothered to come and go aside from the occasional visitor that was so rich and spoilt that it made Therion's thieving urges grow even stronger.
Luckily for Therion, the general activity of the town meant that others were too distracted with their own lives to notice that he was scaling the path to the manor. He was easily able to approach the entrance, spotting a large and undoubtedly expensive gate that surrounded the estate. A few plants were stationed nearby, perfectly groomed just like every other thing owned by the Ravus family. It was all too easy for Therion to slink past any unsuspecting eyes and crouch down behind one of the bushes, blending in with the shadows the way that thieves ought to.
Five guards appeared from around the back of the gate, and Therion resisted the urge to roll his eyes. Given that there were already guards stationed outside the building, it seemed like overcompensation to an excessive degree. Just as he thought that, Therion saw yet another cluster of guards appear from around the other side of the gate, and he winced silently. There had to be at least ten times as many guards as there were people living in that manor. The Ravus family was a mystery in terms of size and structure, but he knew that there was something they were hiding. There would be no reason for the excessive security if there wasn't something waiting behind that ornate gate.
"Change posts!" the guard at the front of the second group of arrivals declared. He looked back over his men with a critical gaze and notable tension in his spine.
"You there!" shouted another man in the group. He wasn't dressed the same way as the other guards, his armor instead seeming much more expensive and potent. If Therion had to guess, he was the captain of the guards, and the first man to speak had been overstepping his boundaries as an underling.
The first man grew nervous upon hearing the voice of his superior, and he somehow grew even more tense as he turned around. "Yes, sir!" he exclaimed, seeming to want to take the route of pretending that nothing was wrong to begin with.
"Stop dragging your feet! Walk with purpose!" the captain instructed. It seemed as if the first guard had not been up to his standards during his brief bout of imitation, and he was making sure that the entire captive audience was fully aware. The guard responded with a salute, and the captain continued to speak with something matter-of-fact in his gaze. "We're getting paid a fortune for this job! Do it with pride!"
The men all replied with firm nods before they started the process of changing positions. Their actions were so stiff and rehearsed that it was almost painful to watch. The group that had arrived second started to walk away from the estate with the first group replacing them. To Therion, they seemed more like soldiers in the world's most exclusive force of fighters than guards for a single manor in the Cliftlands. "It's just like an army. Just what kind of place is this?" he muttered under his breath.
The sound of a growl earned Therion's attention next, and he perked up with a frown to investigate the source of the noise. Three dogs were standing beside one of the guards, and their movements were just as strict and rehearsed as the humans' had been. "Those guard dogs look vicious," Therion murmured. They were trained and seemed as if they wouldn't be easy to get around if they had to engage in a fight. In other words, Therion was best off avoiding them completely rather than trying to battle them. He was more than fine with that; as good as he was with a sword and dagger, stealth had always been his specialty.
Therion's attention shifted to the top of the bush so that he was able to see the outline of the building. The manor itself was completely hidden from view, but the gates that surrounded the building were easy to spot. He winced at the sight of them. This wasn't going to be easy; the barkeeper had been right about that much. "And that's not all... The walls are lined with wire," he went on. "One false move and it'll sound an alarm, no doubt. Yep, trying to scale the walls would be more trouble than it's worth."
Therion's quiet musings were ultimately interrupted by the sound of footsteps moving toward the manor. This time, there was only a single person approaching the building rather than a cluster of guards, and the figure in question was wearing a typical merchant's garb. He raised one eyebrow in notable curiosity. "Hm? What's this now?" he asked even though he was not expecting an answer.
The merchant approached the gate, and one of the guards standing outside the entrance glared at him. "What part of 'no visitors allowed' do you not understand?" he questioned intensely.
"The Ravuses have more important matters to attend to than entertaining riffraff like yourself," another guard interjected from nearby. He earned a firm nod from his companion. It seemed as if this merchant had tried to come to the manor previously only for his attempts to end in disaster, and this was yet another effort to sneak through the gate.
"It won't take long, I swear!" the merchant began, his voice pleading and edging on desperation. "I'm merely a merchant looking to-"
"A merchant, you say?" the first guard asked. The merchant responded by nodding back with blatant hope in his eyes. "Prove it."
"Prove what?!" the merchant questioned in response, his words now filled with agitation. "I came to show the lady of the house some of the finest fabrics in this realm!"
The second guard scoffed. "And we're supposed to just take you at your word?" he inquired with a shake of his head.
The first guard walked behind the merchant, nudging the man gently with the dull handle of his spear. "If you can't show us proof, you can show yourself out," he instructed. His words offered no room for objection, and his glare was confident enough to make even the boldest of souls reconsider their attempts to enter the manor. Luckily for Therion, he was hardly like most others who would try to get onto the estate.
"But I..." the merchant attempted to object, but his words were feeble and soft. He already knew that it was a fruitless effort, and any further attempts to fight back were conducted purely on a matter of necessity and ceremony. When the guards glared at him and poised their weapons in preparation to escort the merchant away by force, the man simply sighed. "Fine, I'll leave. I swear, the nerve of these hoity-toity types..." He gave one last yearning look in the direction of the gate before pivoting on his heel and walking back the way that he had come.
Therion smirked to himself. It seemed as if the stars had aligned for him perfectly. He wouldn't be able to scale the walls around the manor the way that he was used to with past endeavors of theft, but there was almost an even better solution that had simply laid itself right into his lap. "Never thought the front door would be the easiest way in," he muttered to himself. "Time to get my hands on some 'proof.'"
Therion detached himself from the bush that he had been using as his hiding place with a smirk pressed against the fabric of his indigo scarf. All he had to do was find a way to convince the guards that he was a merchant so that he could get inside, and given how crafty he was, that would be easy enough. As long as he had the proof that the guards required, then he would be able to slip through the cracks without any of them being at all the wiser. By the time that they noticed what was happening, it would be too late. The master thief that everyone had come to know and fear would complete his next heist and leave his victims in the dust in the blink of an eye. The mansion wasn't going to be as impregnable as everyone had initially assumed. The treasure was within arm's reach for him, and it was just a matter of finding a way to grasp it.
Man, I really do love writing for Therion. His sarcasm is tons of fun to work with, and it really bleeds through in his breed of narration. Writing the third-person narration from each character's perspective is different, and I think that it's nice to be able to highlight the differences between the characters in such a subtle way. Therion is so much more dry and hardened than the other characters, and it's amazing in my opinion. The only one who comes anywhere close is Primrose, but she's still incredibly different from him. All in all, I'm just kind of in love with this story.
This chapter is such a tone shift from what we saw in Alfyn's chapter in terms of events as well. Therion is a great character to work with, and his differences with Alfyn really do shine through when you look at them back to back this way. Let's just say that the group is going to have a field day when they cross paths with him over the course of the next few chapters.
I don't really have all that much to say on the matter of this chapter, so I'm going to leave things here and then go off to work on other content of mine. Next time, we'll continue with Therion's story as he tries to infiltrate Ravus Manor. Until then, I hope you all enjoyed. Feedback is always appreciated. Have a nice day, everybody!
-Digital