From Nebula nominee Jake Kerr comes a daily, full-cast audio serial following Ralan, a street rat turned Guildmaster, as he navigates civil war, political intrigue, and forgotten magic. This pulp-inspired epic weaves a tale of secret societies and ancient dragon lore into a rapidly expanding adventure.
📍 Episode 1 and more information: https://podcastalchemy.studio/...
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Some secrets are worth dying for. Some are worth killing for.
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CREDITS
✍️ Writer: Jake Kerr
🎙️ Showrunner: Jake Kerr
Production Note
This production utilizes the latest technology in content creation, including audio, visual, and production tools powered by AI under the design and direction of showrunner Jake Kerr.
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Perfect for a weekend binge!
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No one can be trusted when nothing is real.
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(suspenseful music) The Thieves Guild
00:00:04
by Jake Kerr.
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Episode 38:
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Caught.
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Mailer knew she didn't really have an hour to get to Polo.
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She'd spun a story of a tragedy with the guard, Richard, and if he lived close
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by, they'd be back quickly once they discovered the falsehood.
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Still, Mailer felt confident as she didn't have a large area to search.
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The passage was clearly within the massive tree trunk that grew up into the ceiling, and
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to Polo's quarters.
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After 10 minutes of searching, however, her optimism was fading.
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She'd examined practically every nook and cranny of the bark around the tree itself.
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There were no levers, no buttons, no cracks, and no doors.
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It was rough, deep brown bark.
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She turned her attention to the front of the tree.
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The throne looked like it was carved out of the curvature of the tree, creating a natural niche.
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The trunk itself acted as a majestic back that climbed all the way to the
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ceiling, while the sides acted as the walls of the wooden alcove.
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A closer look revealed that the alcove had not actually been carved at
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all. It grew that way. The throne had a wooden seat and
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armrests that looked so much like a real throne that Mailer was certain
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they, at least, were carved out of the wood.
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But a closer look showed that they too were natural.
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The Harvest House tree had been somehow grown to house the throne.
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Running her fingers along the armrests and the sides of the alcove the throne sat in,
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Mailer looked for levers or some other way to uncover steps, or even
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lift the throne itself up through the massive trunk. But there was nothing.
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At that point, Mailer started to reconsider whether she was actually right.
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While the throne was embedded in the huge trunk, a quick glance up showed
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solid wood. There was no hollowed out passage up to the second floor.
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To make matters worse, when she rapped on the wood of the tree to the sides and back of the throne,
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the sound indicated solid wood. Mailer tensed as she heard a shout in the
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distance, followed by the clang of armored men moving in a hurry.
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Despairing of a solution, Mailer sat down on the throne and pretended she was
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Polo. "Uh, I'm looking out on my guild members while being embraced by the living
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tree that is the heart of the guild. I spend hours on guild business.
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My day is done, what do I do next?" Mailer looked up and saw solid wood.
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She ran her hands along the smooth wood.
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It was difficult to concentrate, as Mailer heard another shout, much closer, and the
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sound of swords being unsheathed. "What I really want is to just close my
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eyes and have the tree to take me to my quarters." She shot upright.
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The entire house was a living thing. The throne wasn't carved, it was grown that way.
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But maybe it wasn't pruned and shaped, maybe the tree is doing this out of its love for the
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guild. The idea was absurd, of course.
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A giant thinking tree that works with the guild master?
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It seemed magical, and magic didn't exist.
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Still, the doors burst open and a group of knights ran toward her.
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Mailer closed her eyes and gripped the wood of the armrests.
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"Harvest Tree, I need your help. I don't know if
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you can see into my heart, but I am here to help the guild master.
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But I can only do that if I can talk to him. I need to reach him.
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He needs my help. I need your help to help him.
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Will you help me?"
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There was no grinding that you would expect from stone.
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There wasn't even the creaking that you would expect from old or dried wood being
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lifted or moved. There was only a slight whoosh sound, a sound akin
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to leaves blowing in the wind. Mailer opened her eyes just as
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living wood and bark sealed the gap in front of her.
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There was a glint of shiny metal, and then
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darkness. She was sealed inside the trunk of the tree.
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Within moments, Mailer felt a slight pressure against her bottom and feet.
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She couldn't see anything, but there was the perception of vertical movement, even though
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her sense of touch revealed nothing more than her sitting on the throne with her
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hands on the armrests.
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A slight lurch jostled Mailer in the seat, and then a crack appeared in front
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of her. It widened as she watched the wood pull back, once again with the
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sound of wind blowing through leaves.
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It almost looked as if the wood in front of her face was melting into the sides as the throne
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alcove was revealed.
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It didn't take more than a few seconds for Mailer to realize she was in the guild master's
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quarters. The light was dim, and she looked out on a room that was much
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smaller than the hall below. If possible, the quarters were even more
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natural than the guild hall. The walls were natural wood bark,
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while the large window that looked out on the wall in the distance didn't have
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glass, but rather was open to the air.
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Rising from the throne and stepping as quietly as she could in the armor, Mailer prepared
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herself to be confronted by a guard. A glance to the left showed a single door
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with an entryway filled with flowers and green plants.
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Across from the throne was the large window that looked to the east and the great wall in the
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distance.
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To her right was a circular staircase that looked like it was woven out of
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branches.
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It presumably led to the roof of Harvest House.
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To the right of the staircase was a large bed, upon which slept
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Polo.Meila took another glance around the room, but it
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was nothing more than a sleeping quarters, with a few pieces of furniture,
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presumably formed from the branches of the great living tree.
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Not wanting to scare Polo, Meila slipped off her helm and placed
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it on the floor. She also went over to the flowers and snipped off a
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brilliant red rose.
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Certainly Guild Master Polo would know that a young woman bearing a flower was
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not an assassin. With no plan other than to talk to the guild master,
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Meila walked over and gently shoved the old man on the shoulder.
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"Guild Master, I have a message for you," she whispered.
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With surprising speed, Polo whipped around with a dagger in his left hand.
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He held it between himself and Meila as he slid away from her.
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He looked to be about to call for someone when he caught sight of the red rose in Meila's
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left hand.
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"I'm old and cautious, but I'm not a fool.
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If you were an assassin, I would be dead."
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He nodded to the rose.
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"Nor would you wield such a weapon."
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Guild Master-
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"You will shut your mouth, or I will call my guards immediately.
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You will answer my questions, and you will only speak when I permit you."
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Meila nodded.
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"Good. You are wise for your years." Polo slid back some more and
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climbed out of his bed. "Sit on that chair over there." He motioned with his chin to an
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area behind Meila. Looking back, Meila noticed a stool that was
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near what appeared to be an empty workbench.
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Walking over, she sat down on the stool, which was attached to the floor.
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She placed the rose on the bench. Polo walked around his bed and sat on the
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edge, holding the dagger toward Meila.
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"How did you get in here?"
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"I sat on the throne and the tree delivered me to your quarters."
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"Impossible. The tree will only heed the commands of the guild master."
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"I, I did not command the tree. I requested that it deliver me to you, as I have an important
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message that will help keep you safe."
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Polo nodded, but kept the dagger poised in his hand.
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"What is this message that concerns my safety?"
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Meila felt a rush of relief. She had achieved her mission.
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"The guild master merchant has sent his deputy off to the outlanders to hire an
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assassin to kill you. His goal has no point of failure, as if the assassin succeeds,
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you will be out of his way. If the assassin fails, he will rally the populace against the
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outlanders and unite the city through fear in a way that he couldn't through political
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maneuvering."
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Polo stared at Meila for a few seconds.
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"That's it?"
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Meila was confused by Polo's response.
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"Yes. But the key part of the message is not that you should protect yourself.
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You obviously know this. It is that when you capture the outlander, you do not make it
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public."
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Meila wasn't sure what kind of response her message would receive, but she did not expect the one
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Polo gave.
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"Do you take me for a child?"
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"Um," she stammered. "No, sir."
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"I was guild master before you were born.
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Do you think I am so stupid as to allow Larsen to use an outlander to gain an
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advantage over me?"
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Polo sighed.
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"In fact, the message you delivered that matters most to me is your presence.
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You somehow got through my defenses, and how you did that is information
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I consider valuable."
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This was not going how Meila had planned.
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She had hoped he would thank her for the information, and then, in gratitude, let her go.
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In hindsight, it was an optimistic assumption, and that was nowhere more
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evident than in Polo's current line of discussion, which centered around her as an
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intruder, not a savior.
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"Who are you?"
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"I'm Lavender, a guild member from the outer fields.
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My father has a distant relative who is an outlander, and he informed me of the plan and told me to
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give you the message out of our loyalty to the guild."
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Meila bowed her head.
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"Nonsense."
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For the first time since Meila woke him, Polo appeared angry.
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"You did not get into my quarters being just some field worker."
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Polo stood up, and as Meila went to stand, Polo waved his
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dagger.
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"Stay seated."
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Meila sat down.
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"I know who you are. Again, do you take me for a fool?
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You are a guild master blade."
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Meila had to admit that Polo was definitely not stupid.
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"I am not, Guild Master."
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Meila picked up the rose.
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"Do blades bear roses?"
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Polo laughed.
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"I didn't say you were an enemy blade, just that you are a blade.
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If you were Saxes or Larsen's blade, I'd be dead.
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And Orion, I think his blade is probably a jester. No, I know who you are.
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You are Quinto's blade."
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"Quinto, the Guild Master ranger?"
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As soon as Meila asked the question, she realized why Polo thought that way.
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"Yes. The rangers live outside the wall and would know what is happening with the
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outlanders, and Quinto hates Larsen. Hell, he hates all of the guild masters.
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However, he loves the city, and if he felt warning me would help, I could see him
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doing it."
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Polo stared at Meila.
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"He's also politically naive enough to think I would need
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such a useless warning."
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"I'm sorry, sir, but I'm not a blade. I'm a Harvest Guild member."
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Polo turned and yelled out, "Guards, enter now, guards."
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Turning back to Meila, Polo said.
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"You should just admit it now, you are the blade of the Rangers Guild."
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"I am not, Guild Master Polo, I assure you,"
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Meila replied as the door swung open and two of Polo's personal guards rushed in.
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They were in chainmail and looked nearly as intimidating as Allard.
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Meila knew she had no chance of fighting her way out. She stood up.
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"I am so sorry, Guild Master. I was hoping to do a kindness to the guild.
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I apologize for not realizing you would already know this."
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She took a step forward.
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"Are the guards going to throw me out?
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Are you going to expel me from the guild?"
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Polo laughed.
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"Goodness, no.
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They're going to throw you in prison."
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(dramatic music)