On the tables, the candles flickered fiery and flirtatious, sparkles stolen from the mighty forges of the upper world. In the corner, her face coloured golden by the flames of the fireplace, a bard was singing skilfully to an ungrateful crowd. In The Heartfelt Curse to the Three Steps Down business was as usual. Blunt creatures of sly dark nights filled the rooms – thieves, smugglers, adventurers, brothel girls, all thirsty for cheap wine and rich gossip, just the way we liked it.

The herald cut through the crowd like a deftly thrown knife. He couldn’t have been more than twenty, yet he already carried himself with a stern self-confidence that would have made you guess him older.

‘Hello, Conor,’ he greeted me once he reached us, ‘one can always trust you to sit with the prettiest girls in town’ his sharp eyes flickering towards my companions with an appreciative nod.

‘As one can always trust you to ruin my recreations.’ I grinned. I knew him well. Ever since four years ago I found him half-dead in the private cellars of a Dewaran warlord. A smart kid even then, bargaining for his life with the right information, but the year he spent there prior to my arrival left him with a chill that would make anyone permanently frosty. ‘Sit down and have a beer with us, Gered!’ I ordered, signalling to the barkeep.

He squeezed in between the dolls obediently, seductive lips cooing over his dark curls that ended in bright blue tips, but his face remained grim even when his jug was tossed in front of him with a cheerful thump. I sighed.

‘Let me guess. He wants to see me.’ I offered. Gered was happily cursed with one of the world’s richest bastards as an employer now, thoroughly obsessed with magic artefacts at that. He had the money to buy them, too and had even more to buy my talents to get the ones he couldn’t. ‘What is it this time? He found out he couldn’t fit into Anthoro’s Enchanted Slimming Wear?’ I laughed, catching the eyes of the ladies as I mused.

‘He wants to see you about something else.’ He replied in a tone that finally snuffed out my good humour entirely.

‘Fine,’ I said. ‘Why don’t we take a little walk outside?’ I stood, lifting my jug as I went. There was no need to waste the ale.

Once we were out of earshot, he turned to me. ‘It’s the urn he wants.’ A few curt words that caught me mid-sip and saw to the beer spraying right out of my mouth.

‘What?’

‘He wants you to steal the urn.’ He repeated, the noise of the tavern still strongly audible in the background.

‘There is no one who could steal that for him. He must know that.’ I said, wiping the excess beer off my face with the back of my hand. ‘The mechanical and magical defences are challenging as they are, but there is not much you can do with death himself guarding the premises. Zerillys might be bound to the crypt by a powerful enchantment, but stealing the urn would set him loose. And it’s a little difficult to outflank a monster that never sleeps. Besides,’ I added, ‘the theft would bring destruction and bloodshed on the town. And I like it here.’

‘Damien knows you always find a way, no matter the odds.’ Gered stated, expertly playing for my ego and pride. ‘You are famous for it.’ The little shit knew me too well. I spent a long minute silently considering the matter, but eventually resisted the lure.

‘No.’ I said slowly turning back towards the tavern. ‘Tell Damien he doesn’t have enough gold to have me turn this place into a graveyard.’ I declared with an eagerness to return to my cosy table, out of the way of the bitter wind that was now picking up.

‘But you see, Conor’, Gered put a hand on my shoulder, turning me back to look at him once more, eyes piercing me with a sad certainty, ‘the thing is, that you are going to do it. Everyone has a price.’

                                                                                         ***

Peace is an illusion. People always fight, people always suffer. There is always pain, always hurt, always violence. Maybe not the same kind, for rather than taking your life all at once, it steals away years without you even noticing. Worries over loved ones, jealousy over despised ones, too much hard work earning your copper, too much idleness enjoying your gold. It makes you ignore how rapidly your days are running out. It makes you think there’s later. It makes you forget the reaper is whetting his blade just around the corner. And without you even realising, you’ve been tricked out of it all. So I always maintained the view, it’s best to keep ahead: no matter how much life is trying to snatch from you, as long as you already have more stolen.

The Urn of Ahalan was perhaps somewhat of a challenge, even for me. Keeping it safe in Aleanna’s Cathedral ensured the peace between the Wolgs and the Ragels, two lands with the most blood smeared pages in anyone’s history book. There were many who preferred things this way, but then again there are always a few who could see the bigger picture and had the means to paint it across the world.

The head of the Ragel Sapphire Merchants, Damien Ramnolf, was such a man. He was short in build, high in ideals. He had this clammy way of speaking that soaked you to the bone with all kinds of visions about how to make it stop. Made you wish you were an assassin looking down at him, rather than a thief just um… looking down at him. Not that me being a head taller seemed to unsettle him much. He knew well his strengths and was pretty much used to getting anything he wanted. Almost as much as me.

‘… and of course there is the magical barrier as you would know’ he was dribbling on, testing my patience to its last limits, taking me dangerously close to reaching out to my right where his red parrot was sitting on a perch and demonstrate my exceptional grasp on how to do my job. Instead, by way of interjecting, I pulled a silver watch out of my pocket and raised it purposefully, flipping its cover open with my thumb as I cut him off. ‘Time is a precious commodity, let’s not waste it longer.’

At that moment several things happened at once. Out of nowhere a door appeared in the wall to our left. Damien’s breeches disappeared from view, exposing two rather hairy legs poking out of silken pantaloons. And the parrot fell off the perch with some exaggerated theatricality. That almost took me by surprise, but then again I always praised myself on being able reaching the same conclusion one way or the other.

‘Clever, eh?’ I flashed my winning smile. ‘It unbinds all magic in a twenty meter radius for exactly five minutes.’ I could see his piggy eyes staring at it in disbelief as he was trying to reach for it, but I snatched my hand away. ‘It was specially made for me, however and only works in my hand.’ I grinned as I tried not to look him up and down. ‘But, no doubt, it will be of great assistance in seeing through our … um plans.”

Damien Ramnolf seemingly composed himself, walked behind his tremendous desk and sat down. He got out a parchment, ink and scribbled down something.

‘Here is half of the payment we agreed on. The name and the whereabouts of the person you’re looking to question. The coin you’ll receive once you return with the urn.’

I’m not going to lie, my mouth went dry at that. My heart started to beat in a drunken fashion, as if not quite sure whether to soar or collapse. The Supreme Key. The very thing I have been looking for half my life. A quest. A dream. An obsession. Just the pure thought of it flooded my veins with an unbearable desire to find it. My confident smile faltered, but I dragged it back on. I approached the desk expertly faking a dignified manner, which would have been undoubtedly reduced to the composure of a little girl at a cake stall if not for the trade master sitting right in front of me.

“Is that right? And just how can I know how reliable this information is?’ The tease was unneeded. Damien Ramnolf was renowned for his spy network and his ability to acquire the most guarded secrets across the Nineteen Kingdoms. In addition common sense told me not to push him any further. But it was just too much fun.

He raised an eyebrow and slightly tilted his head to the side as he looked up at me. ‘The trainee priestess you’ve been sleeping with these last three nights to acquire information about the Urn was wearing a silver breast band last night dotted with little moon symbols, for that short time at least you let her do so. She was not completely satisfied with your performance the third time around. Time is a precious commodity, Conor, let’s not waste it any longer, shall we?’ For once I couldn’t agree more.

I took the parchment from him. ‘Selpheros Bora Castaunos, Merdillion High Library, Andastos’ it read. Too damn far to just pop around before completing the work, even if I was considering making a run for it. But I wasn’t. I wanted the gold, craved the challenge and needed to keep Damien in my good books. So I turned, walked past the disappearing side door, glancing at the parrot flying back to its perch.

“You have three days, Conor, three days!’ I heard Damien’s voice behind me. I flicked the bird’s head from behind with one hand, held up the parchment at the same time in front of it with the other, giving it a wide berth all the while as I responded casually. ‘Don’t worry, Damien,‘ I said as the flames burst from its beak lighting the vellum in my hand. I watched it burn. ‘The Urn will be delivered well in time. I can’t wait to go to Andastos and see this Selphi for myself.” I stepped away from the displeased animal and exited the room with a considerable amount of determination, leaving a swirl of burnt parchment petals slowly descending in my wake.

To be continued... Votes and comments are welcome!