“Milord, I’ve got the most recent of the plans you requested. Where would you like me to put them?”

I looked up at Cyrus, who was holding several rolled up sheets of vellum in his arms. Some were older than others, making the white of the newer ones stand out even more against his black jerkin and black slacks.

The only color my Captain ever seemed to wear was contained in the blue and white Tucat crest on the high left shoulder of his three-quarter cloak, and even that would disappear in a swirl of black if he tossed the front most piece behind his shoulder, a move I'd seen him make whenever he was about to draw his sword.

I gestured with my quill towards a table that I had earlier pulled up beside the couch. It was bare except for the two vimroot candles I had burning there, and the papers and other items that I was concentrating on.

“Be a good man and move those candles first, will you? I'd not want to get any wax on those drawings, after all.”

“Quite, Milord,” he said, putting the floor-plans I'd requested down on the chair beside the couch, freeing his hands so that he could move the candles closer to where I sat.

My attention fell back down upon the piece of parchment before me, and the hastily sketched lines that I had drawn there. I stared at some of the lines and attempted to picture the location they represented.

There was an apologetic clearing of the throat. I looked up.

“Ah, Cyrus, thank you. That will be all,” I said, smiling at him before turning back to the floor plans I labored over.

“Milord,” he nodded, not making any move to leave.

After a few moments I realized that he wanted something. I stopped what I was doing, sighing softly, and rested my quill upon the table. Then, cursing myself for an idiot, I picked it up and put it back properly in the ink well, looking for some sort of handkerchief to clean up the ink I'd just gotten on my table.

I'm prone to get a wee bit careless about things like that when I’m deeply engrossed. In fact, sometimes my staff has to remind me to do things like eat, or sleep.

“Yes? Was there something else?” I asked, carefully wiping ink from the dark wood of the table.

“Yes, Milord. I did have a question that I was hoping to ask you.”

“Well, I suppose that I might be due for a small break,” I said, stretching and rolling my shoulders. “Speaking of ... what time is it?”

“I believe it's just after five bells.”

“Really?” I kept the surprise off my face. “Errr, did I have lunch?”

Cyrus gestured with his head at the empty plate that I had moved onto the stone floor, several crumbs covering its surface.

I believe I already mentioned what happens when I get too focused.

“Ah yes, very good. Well then, ask away.”

“Yes, Milord. Please don't take this amiss, but ... are we preparing to move against Lord Greybridge?”

I stared until I could sense him becoming uncomfortable.

“And how, pray, did you arrive at this notion, Cyrus?”

“Begging Milord’s pardon, but you did send me out earlier to retrieve the most current floor plans for eight Lords about the town. I noticed Lord Greybridge's name on the list, and when I delivered the remaining plans just now I noticed you poring over a drawing of what would appear to be Lord Greybridge's estate.”

“And what is your reason for asking, exactly?”

“I...” he paused and looked thoughtful, as if wondering how to say something without causing offense. “I wanted to know if perhaps I should get my affairs in order, Milord.”

“Well,” I said blandly, “and if we were?”

“Two things I would take this opportunity to point out to you, Milord. The first is that from a tactical standpoint, considering the resources I suspect he has and comparing them with the resources that I know you do, I would have to say that our life expectancy does not compare favorably with, shall we say, a lamb that has wandered into a kebab shop.”

I chuckled. “And the second?”

“Well, Milord, as head of your security, the second thing would be to point out that I'm not nearly being paid enough for this opportunity to be violently slaughtered on your behalf.”

“Cyrus, you are absolutely right. If ever I ask you to die for me, I shall endeavor to provide you with a large salary increase just prior to doing so. Can't have you going to the afterlife all disgruntled about your personal worth, neh?”

“Indeed, Milord,” he said.

“Well, fear not Captain,” I said, tenting my fingers and looking at him knowingly, “we are not, in fact, making a move against Lord Greybridge.”

“Thank you, Milord. I hadn't meant to intrude upon your time, but-”

“At least, not really...”

He paused and looked at me, waiting expectantly for me to explain what I meant. I pursed my lips and thought for a moment.

I’ve always kept something of a divide between my staff and myself. Occasionally, it becomes awkward to maintain. Take Cyrus, for instance. He’s very smart, and has surprised me with several of his observations over the years, possessing a mind with a strong grasp of things tactical and political. He also gets results, managing to achieve the impossible, or at least the extremely unlikely.

One time, when I’d been planning to pay a certain Lord a rather unexpected visit, Cyrus saw me looking over one of the more crudely rendered maps in my collection, and he begged leave to run an errand before I worked any further on the plan. Less than an hour later, he presented me with a technical drawing of the keep in question that was so thorough and complete that it even showed which way the doors swung.

I never asked him about his sources for such things, and he gave me a similar respect when it came to my odd requests or unusual orders.

Sometimes it felt as though I should share more of my plans with Cyrus, given how integral he was when it came to keeping my territory running smoothly.

“Well Cyrus,” I said, “this particular endeavor I'm planning is unusual, and as such I haven't gotten all of the details worked out yet. What I can tell you is that I hope what I'm planning does not antagonize Lord Greybridge, or otherwise bring chaos and doom and metaphors involving lamb kebabs upon this household. If things go according to plan, we should actually be much safer when all is said and done. Once it has completely played out and I've achieved what I hope to, I'll share the details concerning exactly what happened with you if you wish. Fair enough?”

“I ... yes, Milord.” He frowned slightly as he clicked his heels together and gave a slight bow with his head before turning to exit the room. I heard the door click closed behind him, and the familiar sound of his boots hopping over the pressure plates and trip-wires leading to my exercise hall.

It’s not like I didn’t trust him, after all - aside from me, he was the only one who even knew how to get into this room. Didn't that indicate some level of trust?

There was a familiar scraping sound followed by a click that echoed from the other end of the room. A moment later Theo appeared at the secret entrance.

Well, okay ... Cyrus was the only other person to know the proper way to get into this room.

“Theo! Just in time to help me move some of the climbing apparatus to resemble a ledge that I wish to practice on. You overheard most of that, I take it?”

“Well, I did hear something about lamb kebabs. Care to share a couple?”

“Terribly sorry to disappoint you my friend, I have no idea what might be for dinner this evening. Say,” I said, my voice tinged with suspicion, “how is it that you always seem to arrive at the dinner hour, or just before? I'm starting to suspect it's more than mere coincidence.”

“Bah. You're crazy,” he gestured dismissively. “Speaking of crazy, would you care to tell me why you're combing through the building plans for Greybridge Keep? Clearly there's some sane explanation that eludes me.”

“Care to take a stab at it?” I asked.

“What?”

“Come now, let's see if you can figure it out. I want to see if I'm being as subtle as I think I am. I have Lord Greybridge's keep drawn out in front of me, and it would appear as though I mean to pay him a visit. What do you suppose my plan is? Take a guess.”

Theodore considered me, and then turned his attention to the piece of paper that was stretched out on the table in front of me, and the rolls of vellum on the side table.

I got up and went to the bar, pulled a dark glass bottle from the icy water of the cooler, and poured two half-glasses of the Ak'rheus eighty-seven I had opened earlier that afternoon. I brought the glasses back to the table and offered Theo one, which he gladly accepted before turning his eyes back to the drawing I had made.

You may be under the impression as you read this that I was attempting to teach my friend a thing or two about subtlety and intrigue, encouraging him to think deviously and come up with diabolical, crafty notions of his own.

Well, that’s half right. The other reason was Theodore’s talent for seeing the extremely obvious.

That doesn't exactly sound like an impressive skill now that I've written it down. However, it is tremendously useful, especially if your thinking gets so convoluted and full of twists and turns that you're not even certain what you're trying to accomplish anymore.

I recall one time where I had laid my entire grandiose plan before him, a masterful arrangement of events that I was particularly proud of, designed to cunningly- well, let's not get into the specifics here. I spent an entire hour going over the plan in detail with him, and when I had finished he crinkled his forehead at me and said, “Yes, but why don't you just do this instead,” and provided me with a one-sentence summary of a simple action I could take that accomplished everything the complex plan had been designed to do, with none of the drawbacks.

It took me less than half an hour to do what he’d suggested, and it worked perfectly. None of my spectacularly complex, cunning plan ended up being used at all. I'd been absolutely deflated.

“Any ideas?” I asked, sitting down in my chair and watching him study the marks before him.

“Gimme a minute,” he said, taking a sip of wine. Then, he looked at the wine glass suddenly as if it surprised him. “Vince, why do you do that?”

“Hmm?” I asked, mid-drink.

“Pour wine in half-cup increments. Are you afraid I'm going to spill or something?”

“Why, I thought you knew!” I said innocently. “I've always thought of myself as an optimist.”

There was silence. Then, more silence. Theo closed his eyes and groaned disgustedly.

“Glass half full - you've been waiting months for me to ask that, haven't you?”

“Years, actually,” I said cheerfully.

“Some days I wonder why I even hang out with you. Okay, here's what I'm guessing you're planning to do. Are you ready?”

“Ready. Tell me what you suspect.”

“Okay. You, being one of the most devious and truly strange fellows I know-” he raised his glass to me in mock salute, “are going to do the unthinkable, something no Lord has ever done that I can recall, and break in to the home of Lord Greybridge...” he paused melodramatically, “in order to return the goblet to its rightful place.”

I burst out laughing, and immediately tried to rein it in so I could explain that it wasn't to mock him.

“No, no ... that was excellent. Seriously, I hadn't even thought of that possibility, really. Oh, gods, wouldn’t that be a hoot? People would think me crazy! However, I can already see a couple of snags...”

“Oh? Such as?” Theodore asked good-naturedly.

“Well, how would I explain its sudden reappearance to Greybridge? Given that it's one of his most prized possessions, I doubt I’d be able to convince him that his memory was playing tricks on him. Messing with him like that would probably just get me on his bad side.”

“I suppose that's true, yes,” he agreed.

“Additionally, there would be a much easier way to accomplish the same thing, something that you yourself would probably point out. Why not simply return the goblet to him before it gets stolen?”

“I was going to point that out to you, as a matter of fact. Sneaking into someone's keep to return something you've borrowed legitimately may be as funny as hell, but it's not really practical for anything other than showing off your skills. Not exactly something you want to do against that fellow, in my mind.”

“Indeed, and it also still leaves us with a rather troubling concern.”

“And that is?”

“Well, have you forgotten that I've suddenly acquired an unknown enemy? One who is going out of their way to bring me grief? If I return the goblet before they have a chance to steal it, I've bought myself time, nothing more. I would have no idea who my enemy is, or where the next attack on my honor is likely to come from, and I couldn't count on being lucky enough for you to be engaged a second time by the same plotters.”

“Ah, very true. So,” he shrugged, “I give up. If you're not doing that, what exactly are you doing?”

“Why, I'll be doing the very opposite. I'm breaking into Greybridge keep so that I can steal the other goblet, obviously.”

There was a very long stretch of silence.

“Obviously,” Theodore said, dubiously.

“Quite.”

“And you're doing this because, uh,” he scratched his jaw and gave me a sideways look, “you've gone loopy?”

“Not at all.”

“Well, could you perhaps explain it to me a little, then? Right now you're making about as much sense as a guy who's been drinking ash-water.”

“Alright. Here's what I'm proposing.” I put the wine glass on the table next to the sketch of Greybridge keep that I had been working on, focusing my attention on Theodore, who did likewise. “We've identified the most likely target for my humiliation, the Copperfen goblet. Everything you've told me of your meeting yesterday evening would seem to support this conclusion. Would you agree?”

“With you so far.”

“Right,” I continued. “So while we do not yet know who is planning this little caper, we do have the advantage of knowing what they're after, and we also know approximately when they plan on doing it. So, let’s say that they were successful in their plan.”

“Uhm, okay.” Theo held out his hand to me. “It's been nice knowing you.”

“Okay, okay, the long-term impacts of such a thing aside, what happens immediately after the theft?”

“You mean, what do the thieves do? Well,” he narrowed his eyes and looked upwards to think, “I'm assuming that the banquet this Son's Day is where they’d share the news, with several other Lords as witnesses, myself and Lord Greybridge included, and that they’d attempt to spring the news on you without warning.”

“Right, and also without antagonizing Lord Greybridge. Perhaps they’ll say that an attempt to steal finery from me netted them the goblet by chance, and they only learned of its true ownership once the marks were studied after the theft had taken place. Publicly returning the goblet to its rightful owner serves to chastise me for allowing it to be taken in the first place, at which point not only have I been made to look careless and foolish, but I will have also vexed Lord Greybridge. That last bit is something I probably want to avoid.”

“That last bit - can I just say that I've always admired your gift for understatement?”

“Heh. Okay, so is that how you see the thing being played out, were I to allow everything to happen?”

“I would have to say that sounds about right, yes.”

“So, since I know when and I know what, it’s near certain that I could prevent this theft from happening...”

“A most sensible idea, I would have to agree,” Theo said.

“...or, I could break into Lord Greybridge's estate, steal his other goblet, bring it back to Tucat keep and leave it in a suitable place, allowing that one to get stolen instead.”

I could almost hear the various puzzle pieces falling into place inside Theodore's head as I spoke.

“You see, this way I can find out who is behind it all. I allow the second goblet to be stolen, and simply wait for the banquet. The thieves will launch into their speech regarding the artifact, at which point I affect surprise...”

“And pull out the goblet you've been keeping safe the entire time!” Theo said excitedly.

“Precisely. Why pass up an opportunity to enhance my own reputation at the expense of the very person who sought to discredit me? I could profess that I was so nervous about being responsible for such an artifact that I could hardly let it out of my sight for any length of time, explaining why I was carrying it around with me. Nobody will believe that, of course.”

“No, of course not. But they’ll know you still have the goblet that was originally given to you, which puts your antagonist in rather an unfortunate spot.”

“Of course. Everyone attending will recognize that this attempt to dishonor me has gone terribly wrong, humiliating the host and leaving me looking,” I allowed myself a smug smile, “quite spiffy.”

“You're right, this plan just seems to have your name tattooed all over it. I can't ... hold on a second. What about Lord Greybridge?”

“What about him?” I asked.

“Vincent, you can't possibly expect him to believe that someone accidentally broke into the wrong keep, can you?”

“Oh, of course not. No, everyone in the room will know that I broke into Lord Greybridge's home and risked my own neck in order to set the perfect counter-trap. Of course, I'll be denying having ever set foot inside Greybridge Keep. The proof that I have been stolen from will all but disappear, and the only certainty will be that my adversary is now in possession of a priceless relic believed to be in Lord Greybridge's possession, most notably by Greybridge himself.”

“But won't he be somewhat annoyed with you?”

“Somewhat, but he's savvy enough to recognize that this was an attempt to use him as well, and I think that will annoy him more. If things play out the way I expect, there should be no damage to his reputation, and any desire to exact revenge should be directed at our host for involving him in the first place. After all, none of this was my idea. If necessary, I'll find a way to make amends somehow, but I suspect that I will not be the one carrying the brunt of his anger.”

“Quite right. It is, in fact, quite brilliant. Good thing I got to hear the details now ... it would be quite out of character for me to be grinning madly as you spring your trap upon this mystery Lord, what with people believing us enemies and all. As it is, I think I shall have to practice my scowl, just to be on the safe side,” said Theo, picking up his wine glass and raising it in an unspoken toast.

I returned the gesture with a nod of thanks. “So, all that I must do now is figure out how to break into Lord Greybridge's keep and steal his second prized goblet without falling victim to his security people or otherwise being found out.”

“Ah, yes. As to that.” He held out his hand to me a second time, grinning. “It's been nice knowing you.”

“Pfah ... are you saying I can't do it?”

“Two days, Vincent! You have less than two days to pull this off if you are to get the cup in time. I don't know anybody who can move on a completely unknown mark that quickly! Why not have a copy of the cup crafted instead? Why not go directly to Lord Greybridge, tell him of your suspicions and ask him for the thing instead of suicidally risking your own neck trying to steal it?”

“Theodore,” I shook my head in mock sadness, “where would be the fun in that?”