Rebecca's Influence

The Thieves Guild, written by Jake Kerr, chapter twenty three. Rebecca's influence. For some reason, and despite having visited before, Raylen always expected Goutland to be a reflection of nests, perhaps dirtier, perhaps poorer, but similarly thriving, with people doing things and buildings to house them. He was wrong. Goutland was not a city. It was a hungry mouth. The streets were paved with cracked clay that shifted under foot, dusted with the gray grit of the plains. The buildings were low, huddled together as if seeking warmth, their walls patched with mismatched stone and timber. There was trash in the gutters, bones, broken pottery, the detritus of desperate life. Wives, beggars didn't just sit on the corners, They lined them, their eyes hollow, their hands grasping. Even the sunlight seemed harsh here, baking the despair into the very bricks. It stood in the shadow of ness and wore its poverty like a shroud. And through it all they walked himself, Phelos and Rebecca, amidst the teeming poor of Goutland. Their group was just another sad collection of those in need, Raylan's finery was ruined, stained with the dust and sweat of the road. Felo's was a towering wall of battered armor and silent menace, his great sword sheathed but still unmistakably a weapon of war. They looked like what they were, desperate travelers who had crawled out of the wild, except for Rebecca. Raylan watched her confident stride. She could make rags look elegant, he thought. She walked a half step ahead of them, her head high, her strides purpose. She had washed the worst of the road from her face and hands at a public fountain at some intersection, and though her red dress was torn at the hem and stained, she wore it like royal vestments. Keep your heads up, Do not look like you're lost. Look like you're exactly where you intend to be. I intend to be in a bath soon. They turned a corner onto a wide avenue lined with statues of stern faced men holding books and scales. This was an area of the city where the desperate apparently didn't tread, and the city's response made that clear. A patrol of city guards marched toward them. Six men in gleaming breastplates, harbards resting precisely on their shoulders. Raylen instinctively tensed. He saw Felo's hand drift toward his sword hilt. Halt, No vagrants are permitted here. You should know this. Rebecca didn't stop. She didn't and even slow down. She simply turned her head, locking eyes with the guard captain. She raised her right hand, fingers curled in a specific, odd gesture. Raylan tried to catch what Rebecca was doing, but while he failed, the captain didn't. He froze. The casual aggression drained from his face, replaced by a sudden pale shock. He snapped his heels together, lowered his head, and stepped aside. My apologies, lady, pass. Rebecca swept past him without a word. Raylan and Pelos hurried to follow in her wake, Raylan catching the captain's eye as he passed. The man was staring at the ground, terrified. What was that local custom? That wasn't a custom? That was fear? Raylan stopped, and Rebecca, realizing it, stopped and turned around to look at him. You're hiding something up here, Raylan. I told you that. Rebecca shrugged. Raylan decided to drop it, even though they were stopped twice more, each with the same result. It is strange to see you command with a mere snap of your fingers. The implication was clear. Rebecca had real power here. She may have been the granddaughter of the imprisoned Pietro, with parents who had died, but her adoptive parents had influence. It's the sign of a powerful family. Raylan recognized where they were. It was the northwest part of town, a wealthy quarter full of large houses, none as large as his father's, but certainly mansions within the context of this city in the plains. The large government building on the northern edge was where Raylan had been imprisoned in Pietro's cell. Rebecca was taking them directly to the books where the wand would finally unlock their secrets. It was when and a large guard patrolling the courter confronted them that Raylan lost his patience. The guard didn't even wait for Rebecca's sign. He had a moment of dawning comprehension as he looked at her face, and then backed off full of apologies. He knows you. Yes. Rebecca stopped this time, and as Raylan watched her, he could tell that she was debating whether to share something with him. Finally, she sighed, walked over and stood in front of Raylan. My nanny, the woman who raised me. She was Wilhelm's sister, Wilhelm the the crown. Yes, she never married, never had children of her own. She poured all of that into me. She hesitated, then looked at Raylan and my parents, my adopted parents. They are Wilhelm and his wife. Raylan felt the air leave his lungs. You're Wilhelm's door in name, in name only. Wilhelm did love my grandfather and my parents. Death was hard on him. They were close to Wilhelm before he ascended to the crown, so when they died, he and his wife took me in. Rebecca's tone turned dark. But I was never their daughter. I was a burden, a debt repaid, or an image to be maintained. My real mom was my nan. She took care of me, She loved me. She started walking up the steps again. But being Wilhelm's daughter has its advantages, and with the wicked smile Raylan had known her for, she opened the large door that led to the building that housed Pietro's secrets. Rebecca escorted them directly to the study. No one stopped them or even gave them a second look, that is, until they reached Pietro's and Raelan's former cell. A board guard stood in front of the door. Rebecca approached him, her chin high. Step aside, we have business in Pietro's study. You'll need to talk to the captain. My lady, there are prisoners inside. Rebecca paused, her brow furrowing, excuse me. Raylan couldn't tell if Rebecca was more stunned. Some one told her no or that there was some one in Pietro's cell and that person's name wasn't Raylan. Who's in there? Raylan asked, stepping forward. The guard looked Raylan up and down, his eyes flicking over the ruined clothes. Then he looked at Felos, taking in the size of him the battered armor. These are indeed strange days. We have odd folk both inside and outside the cell. Who's inside? Rebecca looked like she was going to shove the man aside out of impatience. A dirty goblin and his assistant a goblin. What's a goblin? Rebecca put her hand on Raylan's shoulder and squeezed. She looked at the guard, her face stern and intimidating. How impolite of you they wished to be called dwarfs. Rebecca stepped forward. I shall talk to this dwarf. Let us in, and if you must lock the door behind us, so be it. Presumably not seeing a risk in imprisoning more people, the guard unlocked the door and stood wary as Raelan, Pelos and Rebecca walked past him and into Pietro's study. Before Raelin could even take in the odd sight standing in the room before him, the door's locked clicked behind them. The podcast Alchemy production