The Dancer was known for its vehemently drunk customers. It was not considered a successful evening at the establishment, without at least two brawls, one bar fight, a lovers’ quarrel and numerous untimely forced exits. The floor was always covered in spilt ale and broken glass and the girls that worked there were too lazy and fed-up to attempt making it otherwise. The liquor was cheap and the music loud and it was for that reason, Shogan offered it up as a sacrifice.

“I see little to no profit from the dunghill and have been meaning to exterminate its disease ridden contents as soon as it was profitable to do so,” he had said and then closed the discussion by admitting that the time was now profitable.

Sitting in the tavern and watching the few lost souls that filled it, Kole saw just how true Shogan’s opinion of the place was. He had never questioned its stench and filth before, not caring about where he received his liquor, just how. But now sitting, waiting in a feigned inebriated state, he found his skin crawling at his surroundings. One look at Chase, told him however uncomfortable he felt in the tavern, his friend felt it tenfold. It was very rare he would willingly agree to walk into The Dancer sober, unfortunately, they could not afford any mishaps. They had to be entirely present for the plan to work.

“Where is he?” Chase hissed, bringing an almost empty tankard to his lips just to put it down again. “Dawn should be close.”

Kole crinkled his nose. “I don’t know, but I for one think we are not acting drunk enough.” Kole stood and pretended to sway as he walked to the bar. “Barkeep!” he shouted. Eyes turned to him accusingly. “Another round!”

“Don’t ye think ye had enough?” the man sneered, continuing to polish the mug in his hand. “Ye can barely walk straight.”

“I don’t need to walk straight,” Kole grinned. “Just be able to walk.”

The barkeep rolled his eyes and filled three more tankards. He handed them to Kole albeit reluctantly. Kole gathered them and stiffened his fingers to lift all three at once. He looked up and winked at the man who seemed less than impressed at the mundane performance of a drunkard.

Kole swayed his way back to the table, spilling half the contents before he sat down. “Cheer.” he ordered. Chase and Misty both applauded the new drinks, stamping their hands on the table and slurring gratitudes.

“Ye did a mighty job ridding us of half the piss already,” Misty grinned.

Up until now, they had emptied their tankards by either spilling it or absorbing it in strips of cloth that were hidden in the corner. Misty used the unique technique of pretending to need some air, sticking her head out the window and spitting out the contents.

Kole grinned at her. He had little idea of how the night would play out. Shogan’s men would arrive and cause enough of a scene to force the other occupants out. From there, they would start a fire and exit through the sewage tunnels underneath the building, while everything went up in flames. Each of them had a fire lighter stashed in one of their pockets, ready if the other was not.

“Kole, you certain the roach is going to hold up his end?” Chase asked.

“Fairly,” Kole shrugged.

“But you did see him gathering his men?”

Kole stared at his drink, tempted to sip at its contents. “I saw him give an order of a sort.”

He saw Chase shift in his seat. “You telling me you did not follow through?”

Kole jutted his jaw, running his tongue against the back of his teeth.

“Kole?” Chase insisted.

“I went to say goodbye.”

Chase slammed his fist on the table, quickly turning to make sure it did not attract unwanted attention. A few had turned to investigate, but without raised voices and more slams, their interest returned to other things.

“You went to say goodbye?” Chase asked incredulously. “As if tonight was not dangerous enough? As if it did not hold enough risk? What if you were followed? What if Shogan has gone back on his word? What if Peacekeepers saw you?”

“Easy there, lad,” Misty warned, her grey eyes forever watching the other drunks around the tavern.

Chase settled back in his chair. “I’d kick you if the time permitted it,” he growled.

The door to the tavern opened and a group of large, imposing men filed in. Kole suppressed his sigh, unwilling to admit he shared Chase’s concerns. “I’m going to get my fair share of kicks this night, without yours.” Kole stood, using the table and chair for unnecessary aid.

Shogan’s right hand man spotted the three of them and stormed over, his fists clenched and his face scrunched up in a scowl. “I ‘ave order to kill ye, Fief King.”

“Ah,” Kole sighed. “Ye sure you got the right man, mate?” the tavern was silent and all eyes were staring at the impending fight.

“Search him,” Tom ordered. Misty and Chase stood. “Search them all,” Tom sneered, his toothless mouth curling up at the edges.

Kole grinned; he allowed a set of hands to search his front pocket and pull out a small pouch. It was handed to Tom who made a show of pulling out a black coin.

“I am sure,” he sneered. “Kill em.”

The first part of the plan was almost done. Kole hit the hand holding the pouch of coins, sending the pouch and its contents towards the door. It landed with a clutter. That was the signal to begin. Tom lunged at him with such gusto, Kole imagined the assignment was far more pleasure that chore. Chase and Misty were caught in their own brawls. They were forced to separate; all part of the plan.

Kole led Tom and two other men towards the bar in a series of maneuvers. The barkeep, Shogan’s man, was barking for all customers. His voice cut through the shouts and cries of the fight, assuring Kole none would miss the warning. It took longer than it should have but soon, all The Dancer’s occupants were out. Tom took the opportunity to land a final blow at Kole’s abdomen. So far, not a single punch had found him and so the force of it brought him to his knees.

Kole coughed, struggling to catch his breath.

“Been wanting to do dat for a while,” Tom gleamed. “Keep breaking fings, lads. Keep frowing em punches.”

Chase, Misty and Tom’s men kept up the appearance of a fight. Tom, Kole and the barkeep opened up the hidden entrance to the sewers. The basement was the easy part, it was the welded door that proved the most difficult. Kole left the two large men at it, wanting to make sure the coins he had hit towards the entrance made it outside as well.

He weaved through the comical dance that was happening, smiling at Chase as he ducked, dived and dodged his attackers who were seeming to grow more and more frustrated. Even though it was not really a fight, humiliation would make any man try prove himself.

At the door, Kole stopped. The pouch was there, and so too were a few coins, but not as many as there should have been. He knelt down to look inside the pouch. It was empty. There were coins missing, which meant someone had taken them. One of The Dancer’s patrons. 

If that was the case, they were either hoping to bring the authorities for the reward. If not that, then what? He doubted anyone would keep the coins for a keepsake. It was highly possible that Dethal had a man following him and was going to report in or use the coins elsewhere for a murder. But that seemed unlikely too in light of recent events. The King had died at his supposed hands, so anymore deaths would see little light.

The faint sound of raised voices made him look up at the closed door of The Dancer. He stood, leaving the pouch where it was and made his way to the closest window. An army of red and gold men were running down the street. 

“Peacekeepers!” Kole shouted, causing everyone in the room to halt.

“Who called them?” Chase demanded, his body still crouched on the ground.

“Someone took the coins,” Kole said quickly, running to the entrance of the basement. “Tom? How far are we?”

“Almost vere, ye can light de fire.” came the answer.

“Kole,” Misty appeared at his side. “We gotta prevent em Peekays from getting in here. If they come, we would have to fight em and then we may not get out.”

Kole grimaced. They had no time to blockade the door and even then, questions would be asked as to why the door was blockaded in the first place. They had to leave a behind what was unquestionably a bar fight that got out of hand.

“Light the fire,” Kole ordered, pulling out his fire lighter. “It may deter them for a while. Kole struck the tinder, a spark catching immediately. He held the light against one of the tables, watching as the wood caught alight. The others did the same, keeping as far away from the ale as they could. “Now fight. And be sure to be convincing.”

Misty grinned, flipping backwards off of a table behind one of Shogan’s men and kicking out at his ankles. The man went down with a thud and a howl. Someone’s arm snaked around Kole’s neck, forcing him to focus. He twisted in the grasp, grabbing the wrist and yanking it to the side. Another fist hurtled towards him, finding his jaw. He stumbled back, disorientated from the pain.

He was pushed backwards onto a chair, it fell with him, breaking under his weight. The door flew open and the Peacekeepers strode in. With the arrival of a new target, the thieves in the room forgot one another for a few moments and faced their new enemy.

The Peacekeepers held short swords, placing the thieves at a slight disadvantage with only hidden daggers at their disposal. Kole rolled out of the way of an in coming blade. Kicking out at the Peacekeeper. The man stumbled, but did not fall, instead, he rounded on Kole forcing him back roll by roll until he met a wall. Kole’s hand grabbed at anything and found a broken piece of glass the size of a small fist. He threw it at his attacker. 

The Peacekeeper yelped as the glass embedded itself in his shin. Kole pushed himself to his feet. His first move was to disarm the man. He then brought his knee up and the man’s head down. They met with a satisfying crunch before the man collapsed.

Two more Peacekeepers replaced the last. Kole danced between them, picking up the fallen sword. Without it he would have been dead. He could not see the others for he had been driven to the far corner of the tavern. He hoped they found a means to protect themselves. 

Numbers were not to their favor, Kole often was fighting three or two to one, using the tavern’s furniture to avoid being cornered or surrounded. He jumped onto tables and chairs, throwing it if need be. He found himself on the stage at one point and used the candle holders on its edge as rocks. The fire was forever growing and the heat it brought was stifling. Smoke filled his lungs and the smell of burning wood diluted the metallic stench of dying men.

His sword arm was soaked in blood; he no longer knew if it was his own. He knew he had delivered a few death blows and regretted it, but he had little choice. Sera would understand.

He had just withdrawn his sword from a man’s gut when he looked up to see five Peacekeepers cornering him. He swore, looking at each one of them.

“Give it up, scum,” one of them said.

Kole was about to reply when an explosion forced him off his feet. He did not fly far, for the wall was near but the impact drove all air from his lungs. 

Time froze. He could hear nothing but a sharp ringing in his ears. Questions loitered at the edge of his mind. He was unable to understand them. White and gold stars blurred his vision. 

Slowly, as if being held back by an invisible rope, sounds returned to him and his vision cleared. Gold and red surrounded him; some of the red darker than the others and none of it moving.

Clenching his jaw, he forced himself to his feet. Something had exploded. Had the fire found the liquor? What kind of ale caused explosions?

A sharp pain erupted in his arm. He roared, clutching at the foreign dagger protruding from his flesh. Looking up he saw a bloodied Peacekeeper glaring at him through the flames, a second dagger in his hand. The dagger moved behind the Peacekeeper’s ear before he flung the weapon at Kole. Kole stepped aside, the dagger missing him narrowly.

The Peacekeeper was on top of him before Kole could recover. The man was weaponless, but that did not stop him from hitting Kole with both fists and feet. Kole fell to the ground, feeling the dagger push deeper before being forced out. He raised his uninjured arm to try protect himself, but to no avail.

Heat surrounded him. The fire was close, he could feel it and hear it. The Peacekeeper stopped his assault, causing Kole to freeze in shock, when next he looked, the man was reaching for the fallen dagger. Quicker than he thought possible, Kole reached the dagger first and stabbed into the man’s side. He yanked it out and brought it back into the man’s jugular. Blood poured from both wounds, soaking him.

The man collapsed on top of Kole, his weight almost welcome as protection from the blazing heat. Again Kole’s mind wondered about Chase and Misty. He could not hear anything over the roar of the fire. He wondered if they had escaped. He hoped they had. Someone had to survive this mess. 

Kole felt his vision growing blurry. How much blood was he losing? How much had he already lost? He had no strength to push the man off of him. Kole closed his eyes, feeling the smoke swirl against his skin and into his nostrils. He would suffocate before he burnt. That was one consolation.