“Lord Vincent Tucat, here by invitation of the Lord Teuring,” I said, handing the formal invitation bearing the symbol of two circles interlocked and side by side to the butler, or doorman, or whoever the guy at the front of the doors to the Teuring estate was attempting to be.

He had tried to dress the part, and looked a fright with the wisps of white hair hanging about his face from his sideburns and his temples, the hair atop his head having abandoned him long ago. He gave the impression of a man who was held together by sheer act of will. Excruciatingly old, and solemn. Possibly even dead ... I didn't want to look too closely.

“Thank you, Milord,” he said in a wavering voice, taking the invitation and holding out his arm for my cloak, which I waved away. I was holding a rectangular box under my three-quarter cloak at the moment, and didn't feel like drawing attention to the fact.

My stomach was still a little twitchy with worry, as it always is during these sorts of situations. I smiled at the aged gentleman and nodded my head for him to proceed. He gave a quick nod in return, as was proper given his advanced age. I feared that if he were to try a formal bow, he'd all but fall apart right there in front of me.

We walked down a modest hall containing sparse decorations, past the coatroom and to the main dining hall, where my ancient escort introduced me to all in attendance.

I very nearly jumped out of my skin.

“The Honorable Lord Tucat!” his voice boomed out to the crowd of people before us, to my complete and utter surprise. I swear, I also saw several other nearby Lords twitch at the sheer volume being projected by this seemingly fragile old man. There may have been echoes.

Nodding at me, he turned back towards the door and left me and what remained of my shattered nerves standing at the entranceway to the keep's Great Hall.

Well, maybe 'great' is a bit generous.

My first opinion of the Hall and its contents was that it fulfilled my expectations entirely. The whole thing, from the furnishings to the place settings to the awkward looking artwork that hung from the stone walls, everything gave a clear impression of someone who is putting out their best finery and hoping that it will be enough.

A large tapestry at the back did its level best to try to cover some rather major cracks and damage to the wall behind and next to it. Most of the Lords were to my right, socializing around the stunted, irregular looking tables that had been hastily set up for cheeses and wines, all draped with cloths that did not even attempt to match the place settings set up at the main table.

I'd done my research that morning prior to showing up, once the invitation had arrived under the name of Teuring, a Lord whose territory didn't border mine. I'd never heard of him, probably due to the fact that he’d done nothing remarkable enough for me to hear about, his territory consisting of a mere two city blocks or so.

I needn't have bothered with research – it was obvious. This was not a house owned by a family that was in command of its own finances, wishing to expand. This was clearly a desperate household, barely able to sustain itself, hoping that it would be able to take advantage of some sudden opportunity to improve its situation. This was not a reasoned, calculated move. It was boldness, ambition...

Youth.

The Lord Teuring was a mere boy, possibly the same age I'd been when I'd first taken possession of my father's property and the Tucat estate. He stood near the head of the table near the far end of the room, and was engaged in conversation with an attentive young lad.

Teuring was dressed in grey and burgundy, displaying the embroidered symbol of his family – two interlocking circles - upon the breast of his tunic, which looked relatively new and yet which for some reason did not quite seem to fit him properly.

His face was offset by dark black curls, which were trimmed short above the ears and at the nape of the neck. He couldn't be much older than twenty-three, and had likely inherited his estate just recently.

There were certain laws in place that safeguarded family estates with heirs too young to manage them adequately. The Prince granted what was known as Surety in cases like this, which meant that he in effect owned the property and kept it running smoothly, immune from poaching by other Lords. It was usually held in this state of limbo until the heir's twenty-third birthday, when they could lay claim to it and begin to manage the business side of things.

That didn't exactly save you from yourself, if you weren't smart enough to avoid unfortunate choices once you began making decisions for your territory. This kid had thought to make me enemies with the infamous Lord Greybridge, going so far as to send an invitation to the grumpy and irritable gentleman, who I could see standing alone by the cheeses, a bored look on his face.

Either this boy didn't know what he'd been doing, or he'd not known exactly who he was trifling with, either with respect to myself or Greybridge, take your pick. Doubtless this attempt to flex his muscle at my expense would be a learning experience for him.

Exactly what he learned might well depend on Lord Greybridge's disposition this evening.

I smiled and nodded at Teuring as he caught my eye. He waved an appreciative gesture of thanks, eyes half-lidded, trying to act as though my presence was nothing special. I waved back with a smile, attempting to hide the fact that I knew what he knew, in addition to knowing he was completely unaware of what I knew, which was that he himself didn't know that-

Well, let's not try to put it into words.

“Asshole,” I muttered under my breath, looking around the room for someone with which to mingle, or perhaps fluster a tad. After all, that's what you did at such things. They'd be an unbearably bothersome affair otherwise.

As luck would have it I happened to spy lord Jayden Marcsun, a Lord whose territory bordered my own, attempting to entertain a couple of Lords I didn't recognize with a story of some sort. I say “attempting” because I've heard his stories before. Judging from the expression on the faces of the Lords he was speaking to, he was doing about his usual best.

I walked over.

“-dazed from the fall from my second story window, when I looked down upon him and I scowled, saying-”

“Hello Lord Marcsun!” I said in what might be considered an overly cheerful manner. “Why, isn't it about that time where you start reciting that dreadful story about the poor fellow who was attempting to steal his wedding necklace back from you? The one whom you bankrupted and forced into your employ as a gardener as punishment for falling on your roses?”

He'd stopped speaking, his mouth open mid-word for several frozen seconds, and after an exasperated sigh looked up at the ceiling in frustration while gritting his teeth, momentarily nonplussed. The part of the tale I'd mentioned was, of course, what he considered to be the dramatic ending for the story he was telling, one that he had told over and over.

It's true, I can be an inconsiderate bastard when it comes right down to it ... but then again it wasn't much of a story.

I kept the fiercely innocent grin on my face as I waited for him to begin his inevitable tirade about courtly manners, which I would also interrupt rudely.

And then, contrary to every expectation I had, something rather unusual happened.

He smiled.

“Lord Tucat,” he nodded. Then, turning to face the two men he'd trapped in conversation, he said, “Lords,” and walked towards the wine table.

Interesting. Unprecedented, even. I would have to ponder what it meant, exactly.

I gave the two Lords whom I had saved a quick nod of acknowledgment (one of them actually thanked me, I noted with amusement) before turning and looking about the room, pocketing the cloak broach I’d just stolen from Lord Marcsun as I did so.

A few dozen others stood in the room with me, most of them chatting idly and sipping at their wine glasses. I soon spied Lord Cleaver, another of my neighbors to the North, who returned my look with a slight bow of the head. We made our way over to one another, and I took the opportunity to grab my own glass of wine, a slightly cheeky green with just a hint of pale wood finish.

“Vincent,” he said.

“Matthew. How are things?”

“Oh, they're well. You know, the usual stuff.” He indicated Lord Marcsun with a gesture of his glass. “Still doing what you can to annoy bubble-britches, I see.”

I chuckled. “Well, it's not like it requires a lot of effort. Not that being polite would make any difference really - I don't think he's ever going to forgive me for stealing his own bed from his keep.”

“Right,” he laughed, face splitting into a grin, “Maybe that's because he was trying to sleep in it at the time, and had a rather nasty start as a result of waking up in the street. Some people can be so sensitive about those sorts of things.”

“True, but only fair considering what he had tried to pull before. I hate that heavy-handed nonsense,” I said, taking a small sip of wine. “He seemed to take my interrupting his story with some small grace however. Who knows, maybe he's mellowed out.”

“Ah,” he said. “As to that ... I think I can explain his reaction.”

“Oh?”

“You,” he said, casting his jovial countenance aside in favor of a more serious, somber one, “have made someone upset, it would seem.”

Deja-vu.

“Really? Upset someone? Me?”

“Truly, a remarkable thing, I know,” he said, rolling his eyes. “However, in all fairness I figure I should warn you that this evening's entertainment may in fact be directed at you. Of course, one never truly knows who the target of such gatherings is until the trap's sprung, but if I had to guess I would say that you're the unfortunate fellow who will be hung out to dry tonight.”

“Ah. And you presume that Marcsun's reaction to me is indication that he's become aware of this fact?”

“Or involved, yes. Just last evening I received word from a source that you were going to be targeted for some sort of small token theft of some sort, with the perpetrators requesting permission to stage it from Marcsun's territory where it borders yours.”

Just like Theodore had been approached, it seemed. That was rather odd. Perhaps the ambitious Lord Teuring had foreseen some trouble getting cooperation from my neighbors and scouted out several possible staging areas.

“Last evening? Surely you could have warned me in time?”

“Fah, it was too late to try to arrange a meeting, and time was of the essence. What I did do was escort a few of my knights in suitable attire out into your territory where it bordered Marcsun's, hoping to catch the thieves as they were making off with whatever had been stolen from you, so that I could return it to you with a minimum of fuss or embarrassment. I'm not above having the infamous Lord Tucat owe me a few favors.”

“Or, you could have mugged the thieves and decided you wanted to keep whatever they'd stolen to use for yourself, of course,” I smiled.

“Heh. There was that possibility as well,” he chuckled, shrugging lightly. “Alas, we saw nothing. In fact, it was so quiet last night that I had my doubts as to whether the burglary had taken place at all. However, judging from where we find ourselves this evening...” He let his voice trail off.

“Yes, something was in fact stolen last night,” I said, answering the unspoken question.

He nodded to himself, and then looked at me with his eyes narrowed in suspicion. “You don't seem particularly bothered by this news.”

“Really? That's odd. I guess I must be doing a good job of hiding the soul-crushing anxiety I'm feeling,” I mused, taking another unconcerned sip of my wine.

“Ha!” he said, an eager smile lighting up his face. “You're up to something! I've always said that someone'd have to be snorting candle-ash to think they could get the better of you. What have you got planned?”

“Oh, let's not spoil the big surprise, shall we? I'm sure that our honored host will not want to keep us all waiting for his announcement, now that the dinner hour is almost upon us.”

“Indeed. I'm sure it lives up to your usual standards,” he laughed, nodding a quick goodbye before wandering off to mingle with some of the other guests, chuckling as he did.

From there I simply did as was natural at these sorts of events; I wandered around and greeted the various Lords and Ladies who had been invited. After a while, my box began to press uncomfortably against my ribs from holding it under my cloak.

It lasted perhaps half an hour, all told, until we progressed to the second portion of the evening.

“My honored Lords and Ladies!” boomed the incredibly old gentleman who had shown me in, looking as though his very voice was threatening to shake him apart. “Dinner is served!”

And away we went.

We were seated at the long table slowly, greeted by a very striking female hostess who was standing at the head of the procession. I was momentarily taken aback when I realized that this beautiful woman must be Lady Teuring.

She wore the same burgundy and gray that was being worn by Lord Teuring, only she wore it far, far better than he. She stood at the head of the line of advancing dinner guests, thanking them for coming with a smile or making small curtseys at some compliment or another.

There were several things about her that could be complimented. Whatever poor judgment this boy Lord Teuring might have, it certainly didn't extend to his taste in women, or simple aesthetic beauty.

The line progressed forward, and soon it was my turn to greet the hostess. She smiled brightly when she saw me.

“Lord Tucat,” she said demurely once my section of the line had made its way to the table. The smile she gave me seemed quite genuine. “If you could please follow me?”

That is ordinarily the moment that a Lord or Lady would find out that perhaps the evening is not going to turn out particularly well for them. Some Lords prefer to storm off and let the evening proceed without them at this point. That sort of reaction seems childish to me, so I tend to avoid it. Plus, with all my planning it wasn't exactly like I was about to storm off in a huff.

Besides, this beautiful woman had her arm extended to me in invitation, wishing to escort me personally to my seat. How could any man whose heart still beat in his chest refuse something like that?

Smiling, I took her arm and allowed myself to be led to the end of the table opposite of where Lord Teuring would be sitting.

“My Lord, may I say that it is an honor you do this house with your presence,” she said after a moment, smiling up at me as we walked. “I have not attended many of these, but I understand that many Lords in your situation are far less pleasant to escort to their seat.”

“My dear Lady, had I known that I would be seen arm-in-arm with someone as breathtakingly lovely as yourself, I would have arranged for your husband to attempt to steal something from me ages ago.”

She acknowledged the statement with a grateful smile. Then, after a moment's pause she turned to me with her brows knitted together.

“Attempt?”

Oh, damn it.

“You misheard me, surely,” I said with an easy smile. “Why, I will admit to being rather surprised that I am guest of honor here tonight, but it is not impossible for me to be robbed from. I do not believe that anything of great import belonging to me has gone missing recently, and if I am mistaken then the honor is his. I am not, as you may have heard, an easy man to steal from.”

“Indeed, Lord Tucat. For weeks my husband prepared, and it ... oh, I should not speak of such things. I am near hopeless when it comes to the fine nuances of dealings between Lords, though Angelo claims that it is a skill that no-one should have cause to brag about, and I sometimes find myself talking without considering the consequences my words may have. I wouldn't want to let something important slip.”

“True!” I laughed lightly. “You wouldn't want that.”

Very true. Weeks, was it? A theft that took weeks to plan, requiring little more than an errant word and two days for me to ferret out, neutralize, and turn upon the very man who hatched the scheme in the first place. Several weeks versus two days.

Damn I'm clever sometimes.

“Your chair, my Lord.”

I was barely clever enough to avoid tripping on an irregular floor cobble and fall tumbling to the floor. Pretending not to notice this evidence of shoddy flooring, I smiled my thanks and allowed myself to be seated at the table's end, directly opposite of the Lord Teuring, who was standing behind his chair and slightly to the left as he watched his guests being seated.

I was very nearly the last to sit, and did not have to wait long before Teuring stepped forward and sideways, taking his place in front of his chair and stretching his arms to the gathered Lords in welcome. It was time for me to pay attention, for proper timing could mean everything at a moment like this.

“My honored Lords,” he said in a voice that didn't crack, but was clearly capable of the feat. “I welcome you to my table this night. It is my humblest wish that I be allowed to honor you all with food, drink, and a modest tale of cunning theft that transpired recently, which I thought I might bring up with our guest of honor this evening, Lord Vincent Tucat.”

He smiled in my direction and reached for his glass, the dozens of heads along both sides of the table turning away from him momentarily to look towards me.

I wondered if I turned my head as predictably when I attended such functions, looking towards the victim once cued by my host. I made a note to watch myself for it the next time that I was at such a dinner.

Sitting lazily to one side, I waved cheerfully at the assorted faces, which they took as their cue to look back to their host.

“I had cause to recently visit the estate of the honorable Lord Tucat,” he began loftily, “a thief of some small reputation.”

There was a smattering of chuckling at the understatement, I noted proudly. I chuckled and nodded to him from thirty feet away, as well as made a special effort to locate Lord Marcsun from among the faces assembled at the table so that I might point and wink knowingly at him.

He saw my gesture and scowled. Hey, I have to amuse myself somehow, don't I?

“And so, as preparation for my visit to his keep I confess to you all that I prepared for all manner of possible traps for the unwary. I studied his methods, his habits, and all manner of things I might have to contend with. And yet, what I discovered upon actually setting foot upon his estate surprised me more than any clever trap possibly could have. My fellow Lords, I found myself to be, I must confess, embarrassed for our poor Lord Tucat.”

Indeed? That’s how he was playing it? I raised an eyebrow at him from across the table.

“For all of his vaunted cunning,” he continued, smirking slightly at the reaction that his change of tone had received from the collected Lords, “the Tucat keep, of proud bearing and mighty reputation, was unprepared for my visit in every way possible. Sleeping guards, unlocked doors ... I was scarcely able to believe that I was able to wander about so freely, practically bumping into riches and relics that my own humble house would have bankrupted itself to try to protect.”

Okay, this was starting to get a little ugly. I felt any misgivings I may have had about devastating this audacious adolescent evaporate, giving him the kind of cheerful smile that suggests that death by evisceration is imminent.

“And thus, having practically the entire Tucat keep at my disposal, I was tempted to take pity on Lord Tucat and simply leave, when I happened upon a thing of ... of utter beauty. I recognized this object through my studies of history, though I was scarcely able to believe the place of relative dishonor it had been assigned – a mere table ornament for the Lord Tucat's own amusement.

“I saw on the table before me ... one of the Copperfen goblets.”

He paused to allow the assorted Lords and Ladies to ‘oooh’ and ‘ahhh’ in an appropriate fashion, somehow looking grave and smug at the same time.

“I felt as though I had been struck, no word of a lie my Lords and Ladies,” he continued. “To see this artifact, this tribute to a momentous and historical event that has shaped our past, treated in such a slipshod and contemptuous manner ... well, I admit that it made my blood boil. I had no choice but to rescue it from the ignorant Lord who doubtless had no inkling of its true historical value.”

The words this boy had chosen seemed to be deliberate – this was a very serious attempt to breed ill will between myself and Lord Greybridge, an insulting sort of attack that was directed specifically at my reputation. It was the kind of move that you might make when you no longer wished the intended party to pollute the aristocracy of thieves with their presence.

I also realized just in what manner this speech was going to backfire on him. I stifled a grin, covering it with a yawn. This poor, poor bastard.

“When I returned to my keep to inspect the chalice, I became amazed. To rescue such an object from ignominy is one thing, but to discover that it does not even belong to the Lord who possesses it? I can hardly put such horror into words.”

One of the lanky youths came forward with a fairly sizable box not entirely unlike the one half-hidden under my cloak, placing it on the table. The youth then turned away from the table, accepting the greyberry candle and flint-box being offered by an even younger servant. After the momentary shower of sparks had subsided, he turned back to the table, large candle in hand, a violet-blue flame shining brightly at its tip.

Lord Teuring opened the box with exaggerated slowness as he took the brightly burning candle from the subservient young man, allowing the contents of the box to be displayed down the table to the collected Lords. There was another round of slight gasps and appreciative 'Oooh's once he brought the candle near enough that its light could illuminate the Lord's mark that had magically been set upon it.

I couldn't see well enough to make it out, but I knew what must be visible. A gently arcing grey footbridge, outlined with lines of fine white, glowing wavy blue lines representing water running underneath it. It was the symbol of property belonging to Lord Greybridge.

“And so,” he added triumphantly, “I now take this opportunity to return this priceless artifact back to you, Lord Greybridge, having rescued it on your behalf. It is saved from the unworthy fate of languishing in an inadequately kept keep, the guest of an unappreciative house, managed by a complacent and undeserving Lord.”

I'd have to remember to buy Theo something nice for his birthday. This might have hurt, had I not acted to thwart it.

He’d had his fun. It was my turn now.

I waited until he had begun to pick up the goblet (I wanted it in his hands when I unveiled my surprise, looking astonished and holding something he'd suddenly rather not be) before coughing loud enough to get everyone's attention, and then coughing as if I was covering a laugh, followed by a kind of throat-clearing cough to indicate that I had gotten the best of my laughter and was attempting to speak. Teuring froze in place, holding the goblet gently by the stem, which was perfect.

Sitting back slightly, I raised a skeptical eyebrow across the table at him and spoke loudly enough for all to hear.

“My Lord Teuring, there are many things for which you should be congratulated, and I would like to take this opportunity to do so! First, for this fine meal that we ... no, wait, we haven't been served dinner yet.” I rubbed my chin, looking thoughtful. “Well then, for an opportunity to glimpse these glorious surroundings, which ... uh. Hmm.”

I continued to look troubled, as if trying to find something appropriately nice to say. He smiled condescendingly at me, probably assuming that this was my best shot, the only way I figured I'd be able to defend my family name. I smiled even bigger at him and continued.

“Ah, well then I suppose I should congratulate you for the theft of a ... sorry, was it a cup? Well, for stealing whatever it is you've got down there, I'm afraid I can't see it that well. I've got some dust from this ancient, cracking ceiling stuck in my eye. Possibly mold, I'm not sure. Still, you seem happy with it, and so, well done!”

I applauded gently, but stood as I did, making it clear with my body language that I was not finished with my sarcastic tirade just yet.

“However, most important of all, I would like to thank you for inviting Lord Greybridge to this affair, for it seems I have two things I need to present him with this evening, one of which,” I nodded gravely in his direction, making a note of the furious expression on his face, “is a most sincere apology.”

There were new murmurs, and an even bigger, arrogant sneer of a smile leapt onto the face of young Lord Teuring.

“And so, Lord Greybridge, I must ask for your forgiveness,” I said, lifting my box gently with one hand and placing it upon the table so that I could open it, “for until this very evening I had no idea my keep so closely resembled your own in appearance. Apparently they're near identical, for I can think of no better reason how our bewildered young host could have possibly gone and robbed the wrong keep by mistake.

“As for the second thing my Lord, I wish to return this priceless Copperfen goblet you entrusted to my care some months ago, which I have not allowed out of my sight since the moment-”

I stopped talking, since there was no point in trying to be heard over the scandalized murmurs once I opened the wooden box to reveal the second Copperfen goblet. Over the din of noise I recognized the sound of Lord Cleaver's booming laughter.

Lord Greybridge looked furious, glaring balefully down the table at me, and then at Lord Teuring.

Lord Marcsun was clenching his jaw and looking down the table at me, his mood having drastically changed after seeing that I would not be the one being humiliated that evening after all.

Lady Teuring was wide-eyed and looking up at her husband, an undisguised look of anxious concern on her face.

Lord Teuring looked as though he'd just fallen in a nest of live asps, standing there in mute astonishment, eyes the size of dinner plates.

Myself? I figure I looked rather clever.