Father - a thief's tale

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woodbreeze
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Father - a thief's tale

Post by woodbreeze » Thu Jun 16, 2022 6:59 am

Upon your persistent nagging, you had finally managed to coax your master to break away from his work and entertain a walk through one of Selgaunt’s many winding sewers. An expansive system that few could truly claim an intimate knowledge over - even in your year of work here, you continue to discover a secret within these passages with every passing day.

Though few would find solace in the sticky, dark dampness of an underground sewer, it was oddly comforting for yourself. There was a hallowed facet to experience within, from the never-ending arch of bleak, odious corridors, to the busy scurrying of the vermin you shared it with - it was a way of life that few could come to appreciate, perhaps save yourself, your master, and his small band of followers you had come to know like an extended family. If not by blood, in the God’s eyes, you were all one in the same shadow.

To that, you were blessed.

"I shall be away come a few days. I trust you know how to keep yourself busy?"

That surely caught you off guard - and someplace away from your absent daydreaming. The effort you had made in order to keep pace with the older man had come to an abrupt stop. Though it was dark, you could make out the telltale outline of his patchwork leathers, making the lithe man seem thicker than he actually was. He had come to stop too, as if expectantly.

"Again, master? But-.."

"But what? There is nothing else for you to say on the matter."

He tersely interrupted you before you could complete the thought. The rhythm of dripping water intensified the sudden silence shared between you, with your body growing tense and your mind hastily driving your thoughts in youthful impulse-

"I say you are but a ragged old man! You know nothing of excitement anymore!"


Regret rose like bile only seconds after you had spoken. By the shift in his expression, the apparent honesty was sharp enough to pierce through even your master's defenses. His chin turned away in cat-like offense, eyes slimming in focus on whatever could offer him the closest, even if muddied, reflection. Though he would not find reprieve with the answer - even in the low-light and gloom of the channels, nothing could quite mask age, nor weariness.

"Perhaps," he admitted then with a surprising mildness. Resigning to this new truth, the older man turned his back towards you in the way he always seemed to do right before imparting upon you some grand and divine lesson. You feel a knot tighten in your throat, mind preparing itself to counter whatever excuse might come.

"..But surely, such a worn old man like myself could not beat someone so young and spry to the entrance of Klaroun, could he now, churchmouse?"

His head jerks back and you can see a glint of light in his eyes - the question begged a childish eagerness that seemed to catch the both of you by surprise, interrupting any concentration you might've had before. Though his jowls sagged low for even a man his age, you catch the beginning of a smile in his expression, giving his words a rare, apologetic honesty.

A contagious sight - one you were helpless to believe. Your shoulders relax, and in your sudden new excitement, all the while forgetting the previous disagreement, you quickly pose to him what could be the most important question of all:

"And the stakes?"

"We'll decide upon it. After I win. How about it, then? To the count of three?"

An open-ended trade was a dangerous gamble. Though your master typically won these sorts of challenges, today of days, you decided, was going to be different. Posturing yourself to stand a little taller, you meet the older man's gaze and challenge full-heartedly. Something about this must've struck him as funny, as the older man briefly cracked a toothy grin in awaiting your decision.

"One." Still, you remained steadfast.

"Two.." And so it was decided. There was no going back now. Your master looked to you anticipatingly.

A heartbeat of silence more.

You take off! Shouting along behind you, certain your clever ploy had afforded you a good head start:

"THREE!"



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A curse slipped under your breath as the rolling boil of strew climbed up and licked your unobservant hand.

How was it that you were stuck with cooking duties another tenday in a row?

You suppose there might've been a lesson in this, after all.

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