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The Thieves Guild
00:00:04
by Jake Kerr.
00:00:12
Episode 127:
00:00:16
Let the River Run Red.
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Rodgers had no escort and he had no men.
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He was given new clothes, a sword from Polo's armory, and a pat on the
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back.
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As he made his way to Trader's Bridge, he realized he didn't even have a mission,
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just to cross the bridge and keep our guild members in the lower quarter safe,
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as Orion put it.
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Making things up as he went along wasn't necessarily Rodgers' favorite way of
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operating, but it was clear he was good at it.
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Also, Polo had said he dispatched a guild member to the old quarter to
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tell the guild members to stay there, and if they could,
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arm themselves.
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Their job was to wait and then attack across the Great Bridge when the time was
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right.
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That left Rodgers with a few Harvest Guild members in the lower quarter, who had
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remained behind.
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They were most likely the sick and elderly.
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The challenge was that when the civil war arrived in earnest, he would need to protect them.
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But how? In fact, how could he avoid being captured?
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Running around in the colors of the enemy wouldn't exactly avoid the attention of the
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knights and merchants.
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Rodgers stopped and stretched. He was nearly to Trader's Bridge, and he figured
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that he would come up with something during the remainder of his walk.
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He had just started walking again when he realized that the war he was preparing
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for had already begun. Harvest Guild members were rushing down the
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street, away from the lower quarter.
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Rodgers picked up his pace, and moments later, a young man just out of
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boyhood stumbled past him, bleeding from a wound.
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Rodgers grabbed him by the arm. He looked terrified.
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"What has happened?"
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The boy looked up. He was shaking. "Are you hurt?" The boy
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noticed Rodgers' captain stripes. "Oh, thank the gods.
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Captain, it is the knights. They swarmed Trader's Bridge and slaughtered our guards,
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and would have killed every guild member on the bridge if we hadn't fled."
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Rodgers glanced down the road. The bridge was too far to see, but he
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didn't hear the clang of swords or fighting.
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"How many, and did they enter the quarter?" "I fled, sir, but there were perhaps a
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dozen. They just walked across the bridge, killing any of us in their path."
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Rodgers nodded. A dozen? So their goal was to simply
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take the bridge, not overwhelm the upper quarter with a surprise attack
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by a large force. Rodgers looked around and saw a Harvest Guild member
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leading a horse with a small cart down a side road.
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"You there." The guild member turned and looked at Rodgers.
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"Take this young man to Harvest House and report to Esma.
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It is critical you get there as fast as possible." The guild member just stared at Rodgers,
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slack-jawed. Rodgers unsheathed his sword and marched toward him.
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"Do it now." The man turned his horse and cart around and headed toward
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Rodgers. Rodgers gently squeezed the injured man's shoulder.
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"Go directly to Deputy Guildmaster Esma and relay to him everything you've seen.
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Tell him that Captain Rodgers is heading to the bridge to help, but that he needs to immediately send a huge
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force to reinforce the Upper Triangle."
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The man and cart arrived and the young man climbed into the cart.
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It was laden with vegetables. Rodgers closed his eyes.
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He knew that it was probably the last time he'd see a cart with vegetables in a long
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time. From now on, they would be filled with weapons, or armed, or wounded
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guild members.
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Rodgers rushed down the road. He had only one fear: that the
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knights or merchants would destroy the bridge.
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That would be a horrific blow to the one advantage the Harvest Guild had:
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enormous numbers. But such numbers did little good if they couldn't
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flood into the lower quarter. Even if the rangers took the wall, there was
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still no entry from there to the lower quarter other than the night watch and the Night
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Guild Tower.
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No, if Trader's Bridge was destroyed, the war would be fought
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via boat crossings and long marches to the Great Gate through the outer
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fields. He had to retake the bridge, and he had to do it before the knights or
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merchants could reinforce it with more troops.
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As he rushed down the street, he gathered a few Harvest Guards.
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They were patrolling the streets, but immediately joined up with Rodgers as he explained
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what was going on. By the time he was peering from an alley toward the bridge in the
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distance, he had a mighty force of six guards.
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Six!
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The boy had at least estimated the night force well.
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There were 10 of them, and they were amassed on the upper quarter side, walking along
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with swords unsheathed, glancing into the upper quarter as if daring
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anyone to try and assault them.
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Rodgers turned to the oldest of the guards, a woman named Ji.
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"We can't surprise them, and we can't take them with just our small force.
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We need more.
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Uh, take your fellow guards and look for more might, guild members with axes or scythes or
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even hoes.
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If you can find any with bows and arrows, that could be the decisive difference." "It shall be done."
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She turned to the group. "Let's go directly to the Black neighborhood.
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It isn't far, and they are strong and will have what we need."Rogers
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didn't want to admit to his lack of knowledge as to what the Black neighborhood was,
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so he pretended to go along. "Yes, that's an excellent idea." Ji
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smiled.
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"The miners will have pickaxes and strong arms."
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Miners, of course, Rogers thought. They would get to the mines
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via the river and have an enclave of families here.
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"And I-" Ji smiled even wider. "Know a
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family that has an expert bowman."
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The group rushed away while Rogers kept an eye on the bridge.
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The knights continued to march around, oozing arrogance.
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They clearly had no intent on destroying the bridge. Was that for the next group?
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Or was Sax and Orion so arrogant that they didn't think destroying this
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entry to the lower quarter was necessary? He hoped it was the latter.
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The bowman arrived first, but he wasn't the bowman Ji had mentioned.
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"Your son is in the outer field." Rogers had just been told the marksman
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was away, but that this old man would do as well.
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Rogers had his doubts. The man was stooped and appeared in poor health.
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He had long, gray hair and dark eyes, so dark that they appeared
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black.
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Rogers wasn't sure he could pull the string back to loose an arrow, let alone hit the
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mark. "My grandson is in the outer fields."
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The man deftly slid the bow off of his shoulder.
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"But at this short distance, I can fill his place."
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Rogers looked at the more than 100 yards between the houses and the bridge, and found
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he couldn't trust the old man's confidence.
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"I am Raif."
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Rogers couldn't help but smile. The ancient bowman had the same name as
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Raylan's loyal friend. That had to be a good sign.
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"Can you hit a guard or two?
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I simply need you to distract them from our attack."
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The man laughed. "Young captain, the name Raif appears unknown
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to you.
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She knows."
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Raif motioned with his shoulder to Ji. She nodded.
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Her smile was so wide that Rogers could see nearly every one of her teeth.
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"But rather than have her regale you with stories of
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harvest festivals past, let me show you."
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Rogers couldn't do any more than nod his head.
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He wasn't quite sure what was happening, other than Ji had somehow found one of the
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best marksmen in the upper quarter. At least, Rogers hoped that was what he was
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hearing. "Let us go to that building.
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I can distract them from the second floor."
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The man chuckled as if distraction was a pretty funny description for what he intended.
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"We will need to wait for the guards and reinforcements."
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Raif turned, walked over, and put a gnarled hand on Rogers' shoulder.
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His coal black eyes looked directly at Rogers.
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"No, we won't."
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The man let go and wandered to a building that faced Trader's Bridge.
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It was perhaps 100 yards from the guards, who all wandered along the edge of
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the bridge. Rogers followed close behind.
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"There are 10 of them. Can you hit a few of them from this distance before they retreat or
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assault us?"
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The old man just shook his head in reply, as if the question amused
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him. The owner of the house immediately gave them access and escorted them up to
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his master bedroom. He appeared wealthy, as he had a large window that looked out
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upon the bridge and the lower quarter.
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It was a wonderful view and a perfect spot for a bowman.
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Raif looked sad as he turned to the man.
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"I'm sorry, young guild mate. We will need to break your window."
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"I understand what is happening
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and what others have lost.
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It is the least I can do." "You are an honor to the guild."
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Raif swung his bow and shattered the window, shards of glass falling to
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the lawn below.
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Without saying anything else, he pulled an arrow out of his quiver with such speed
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that Rogers wasn't even sure how he did it.
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"The first arrow, you pull it at random so there is no
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insult to the others. It is an honor,
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and its flight will inspire its brothers to fly true."
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Rogers not only didn't know how to reply, he had no time to reply.
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Raif crouched down slightly, nocked the arrow, and let it loose before
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Rogers had even formulated a thought.
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By the time he had turned to see if the arrow hit its mark, the old bowman had
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already nocked a second arrow and let it loose. It was extraordinary.
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By the time Rogers realized that Raif was pulling arrows from his quiver and
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immediately shooting them in rapid fire, three guards were lying on the ground,
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unmoving.
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Rogers peered out. He wasn't sure, but it looked like an arrow was sticking out of the
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eye of each guard.
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Two more guards fell before they had even realized they were under attack.
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There was no place to hide on the bridge.
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There were small decorative towers at the end, but they provided scant protection.
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In fact, a guard hid behind one as his fellow guards fled across the
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bridge, only to fall back into the river as an arrow struck him in the neck.
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In mere seconds, Raif, the old bowman who was presumably famous
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within the guild, had shattered the knight defenses, killing over half the
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defenders. Rogers looked over at the old man, who was already sliding
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his bow onto his shoulder.
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The old man wasn't smiling. In fact, he looked grim.
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He stretched his fingers. "Thank you."
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Raif turned to Rogers, his grim look turning to sorrow or relief,
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or some other complex emotion that Rogers couldn't read.
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"Now the hard work begins."
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He once again put his hand on Rogers' shoulder.
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"A piece of advice, young captain." "Yes?" "Toss the bodies
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in the North Fork. Let the river run red as a warning to those who threaten our
00:12:35
guild."
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Rogers would let the river run red.
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He would let the streets run red.
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But first, he had to secure the bridge.
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And as he looked at the road that led up and down the North Fork, he had just the idea
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on how to do it.
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(dramatic music)
00:13:16
A Podcast Alchemy
00:13:17
production.