An Old Quarter Welcome

The Thieves Guild written by Jake Kerr, episode fifty eight, an Old Quarter welcome. The Old Quarter received them, not with the chaotic squalor of overflowing refugees that Vesper expected, but with a quiet, determined order. The chaos of the Great Bridge gave way to streets that were crowded but not panicked. Throngs of harvest gild refugees moved in organized groups, guided by silent figures in black who emerged from alleys and doorways, their authority unquestioned. The air still smelled of smoke and fear, but here it was tempered by the scent of cooking fires and the low murmur of a community at work. This was not the lawless, wretched slum of Larsen's tirades or Orion's dismissive descriptions. This was a city with a pulse. As they moved deeper, Maela's posture changed. The tense, coiled readiness she wore like a second skin in the Lower Quarter eased. Her steps, became more confident, her gaze lesser scan for threats, and more a fond recognition of home. A man in a captain's black tunic, his face weary, but his eyes sharp spotted her from across Founder's square. A wide, relieved smile broke across his face. Maela, By the gods, you're alive. Maela's own smile was a rare, brilliant thing. Cood. It takes more than a living house to keep me down. The captain of the Old Quarters strode forward and grasped her forearms, a greeting of deep respect and relief. We had no word. We feared the worst. He nodded to Vesper, his eyes assessing curious but not hostile. And you've brought a guest. This is ves He's with us. The simple declaration seemed all Cood needed. He gave Vesper a curt nod. Any friend of Maeler's is a friend of mine. Welcome. He turned his attention back to Maeler, his voice dropping, there is. Much you have missed. The guild Master has returned from the plains, but he has already gone. Again, gone where. Maeler's good mood evaporated, replaced by a familiar frustration. He's needed here. He left on a stealth mission to the Upper Quarter with an outlander woman. He left no word of his purpose, only that it was vital. Vesper filed the information away Raylen and an outlander moving secretly through the city. There was another piece in a puzzle. He was only just beginning to see. And Rogers has he reported in Coude. Let out a short, incredulous laugh. Rogers has done more than reporting. He passed through here on his way to see Polo. You won't believe it. He's a captain for the Heart Guild now, and Carch has named him captain of the Lower Quarter for the Merchant's. Vesper's eyebrow arched Rogers. The man who had led the defense of the pit was now a captain for three different warring guilds. The man wasn't just a survivor. He was a political chameleon of the highest order. It was a skill Vesper could respect. He is playing a dangerous game. Her expression was a mixture of awe and concern. Indeed, but for now he serves our purpose. The lower Quarter is in our hands more or less. He gestured to the tower, a dark spear against the bruised twilight sky. The guild master is gone, and Allard we have had no word since he went to the flats. The tower is without a head, then we will give it one. His voice cut through the uncertainty. He looked at Maeler. We need to see Raylen. He is not here. Coode's tone was confused. He will be our message, bring him back. Vesper's certainty was absolute. He turned to Maeler. Let's go. I can spare you a horse, only one. I'm afraid the refugees will walk. He declared it before Maeler could accept sharing a horse with her was one step further than he was willing to go. I want to see the city of yours. Maeler gave him a quizzical look, but didn't argue. The walk was long, and for Vesper it was a revelation. He had crossed the ashfields and glimpsed this place from a distance, but to walk its streets was to understand the true scale of what Pietro and Allard had built. This wasn't a slum, It was a city. It was a fortress. The buildings were old but solid, the streets clean and orderly. Guards in black patrolled with a quiet, disciplined defficiency that put the swaggering night protectors to shame, and the people they looked at the black of the guild, not with fear, but with respect, with a sense of belonging. He had spent his life as a blade, a necessary tool kept in the shadows, his skills a source of fear and revulsion. Here the shadows were the seat of power. The skills he possessed weren't a dirty secret. They were the foundation of an entire society. As they rounded the final bend in the road, the Thieves Tower came into full view, and Vesper stopped, his breath catching in his throat. He had seen it from the fields, a distant, camouflaged shape against the mountain. It had a seductive feel, as if hidden from everyone but him. But from this angle it was a monument. It was impossibly massive, a creation of stone that seemed to have been borne from the mountain itself, reaching for the heavens with a silent, unshakable authority. It was a declaration of power hidden in plain sight. Vesper's ore of the tower, the impossible drawer it had on him, increased in power. This was not a den of thieves. This was the heart of an empire. A feeling he had never known, a feeling he couldn't name, settled deep in his chest. It was a profound sense of rightness, of alignment. He had spent his life serving the ambitions of lesser men in their gaudy, sterile towers. He had looked for the winning side, for the seat of true power. He had always told himself that he was always serving one master, himself, but he now knew that was a lie. The old quarter and the tower made that clear. His master was the force that built that tower, the force that built this city, the force that had built an empire he knew existed, even if hidden. It was as if he had been walking a crooked path his entire life, and had finally, after a long and bloody journey, arrived home. Maeler came to a stop beside him, her own face alight with a fear's proprietory pride. She looked from the tower to the smoldering city across the river, a distant, angry scar on the horizon. Finally, finally, we can bring the city together. A podcast Alchemy production