The Thieves Guild Monthly Binge - April 2025

The Thieves Guild. By Jake Carer, episode one hundred and thirty seven. An odd team. Vesper couldn't get the last comment, Allard whispered to him from under the sheet, out of his head. We make an odd team, do we not? Blade? Were they actually a team? Was Vesper even a blade anymore? If not? What was he looking out for himself? Was always his guiding principle, But that didn't explain everything he had done lately, risking his life to say Allard certainly didn't fit that bill. But the first question actually bothered Vesper the most. If he wasn't a blade, what was he? What role was he filling? And more importantly, what role did he want to fill? His thoughts were interrupted by a shout from behind. He had carted de Lard's foe dead body nearly to the entrance of the mines, The bloody axe on the top of the cart and the gruesome neck protruding from under the sheet deterring anyone from lengthy questions or close inspection. But shouts were never good. He picked up his pace. He was so close to the open road he could practically feel the breeze stop that cart. So this is it? Vesper thought, dying to a bunch of pickaxe wielding guards afraid of the sun. He put the cart down and shoved Allard in the leg. Time to fight our way out headless? Do we at least have weapons? Allard lithely swung his body out from under the cart and got to his feet. He was still badly bruised and most likely had something or other broken. I at least had the foresight to grab a sword. Vesper handed it to a lad as a bunch of minor guild members looked on the strange scene with mouths agape. But all I have is a knife. Are we near the exit? Vesper pointed to the huge tunnel entrance. It was hundreds of yards away. I suggest we run. Allard took off, and Vesper immediately noted that Allard wasn't running so much as limping fast. He also noted the eyes watching them. A giant of a man in black rushing out of the mines wasn't something that someone overlooked. Vesper easily caught up to him stop them. The voice was from the distance behind them, but was clear enough. Still, no one stopped the Harvest Guild member running with the dagger and the large thief deputy running next to him. They were about one hundred yard guards from the massive mine entrance and freedom, with two groups of harvest gilled guards heading their way. One was a fast approaching group of well armed guards from the mine entrance. They didn't even need to hear the shouts from behind Vesper and Allard. They were guards and would have intercepted them anyway. The second group was presumably the guards that discovered the bodies in the execution room. They were still well behind the two of them. We fight forward, Vesper nodded. Standing their ground made little sense, and fighting their way through and doubt was their only hope. It would require them to fight their way through the guards from the entrance fast enough that the guards coming from behind didn't catch up. Was it possible? Vesper had no idea, but they had no other options. When you break free, make your way to the guild tower. We need you. Vesper twirled his knife in his hand. And no one in his entire life had said that they truly needed him. They used him, they relied on him, but no one had ever said they actually needed him. In an odd way, Vesper could not explain, he realized that the comment didn't inspire him, it filled him with hope. And then the guards were upon them. There were six of them. Having seen Alared battle, Vesper would have placed hard earned crowns on Alard to alone beat them, but Alard was clearly still badly injured. Vesper dodged to the left, and it was as he had expected. The guards were well trained in the fundamentals, but lacked any kind of practical experience. He kicked the back of one of the guard's legs, and as he lurched, Vesper stabbed him in the side of the chest. Under his arm, dodging a slash from another guard, he glanced at Allard. The broadsword looked like a dagger in his hands, and he wielded it with a mighty force. He watched as Alad knocked two sword swings away like they were toothpicks, nearly cutting a guard in half with a downward swing. Another kick, this time between two legs, and Vesper had dispatched another guard with a well placed stab. He backed from a guard and stood next to Alard. Two guards faced Allard and one faced Vesper. Should we spare them? Allard's question clearly terrified the guards who stood at a distance and didn't seem inclined to know the answer to the question. Then one of them smiled. Pounding footsteps, Vesper turned to the sound, and as he did, he heard Alard grunt get to the tower. The words were followed by blood dripping out the sides of Allard's mouth, and then him raising the borroweds and lunging forward. It took only a moment for Vesper to take in what was happening. Alad attacked the three guards facing him, and Vesper with a sword plunged nearly to the hilt sticking out of Allard's back. Behind Alad was a single guard staring at the violent apparition that was the giant thief deputy, presumably unstopped by a sword in his back. More guards were rushing up in the distance. All eyes were on Alad. Vesper knew what he had to do, and it was what he would have done in every other instance in his life. Run to save his own life. Yet he paused, could he save Alad? Alard himself provided the answer, run, so Vesper did. Rogers couldn't swim, so he was more surprised than thankful when the disruption of the huge rocks falling into the river created such chaos that the river carried him to the bank. He had held his breath and was about to take a lung full of water when his hands felt mud and sandy dirt. Desperately clawing forward, Rogers took in huge gulps of air as his head emerged from the water. As he caught his breath, he looked around. He was not far from the bridge, or what was left of it. He couldn't see anyone else. The boats on the river were retreating from the violence, so there was no hope for anyone that fell that couldn't swim, and most of ness couldn't swim. The guards from the Night Guild were dragged down in their armor. Even the horses were nowhere to be seen, their own armour making survival impossible. While destroying the bridge save the upper quarter, it had been a mutual massacre. He looked around for any sign of g She was resourceful and strong, but could she swim. He scanned upstream and downstream, across the river and nearby, but he didn't see a single survivor. From the destruction of the bridge, Rogers had washed up on the lower quarter side that presented its own danger, So he ripped off his green shirt and wiped every other bit of exposed green on his clothes. With mud. Standing up, he looked around. He knew the lower quarter as well as anyone, but with all the fires, the chaos, and the guilds in a civil war, all his standard safe houses and allies were uncertain. A safe house, Rogers thought he could see if he could get to one across the throughway and near the bridge and find merchant colors. Even if the house was burned and empty, perhaps there was a cash of thief resources. He stumbled up and made his way to the throughway. All he had to do was not run into any knights or merchants. Unfortunately, the moment he rushed across the throughway, a group of Merchant guild members ran toward him. They were coming from the end of the throughway near the Great River and heading toward Trader's Bridge. That's at least hopeful, Rogers thought they won't know what's happening. Seeing Rogers, the group, which was about a dozen people, didn't stop. They ran right past him. The person coming up the rear turned to Rogers. Fine shelter flee. The Outlanders have invaded. Rogers changed plans. He stopped heading for a Thieves Guild safe house. He headed down the throughway and toward this invading force. Ness needed defenders. A podcast Alchemy production, The Thieves Guild. By Jake Carer, Episode one hundred and thirty eight, The Cursed Office. It was after killing Keras that Carch settled on a plan. As he approached the Guildmaster's office, Karch had to stop to catch his breath, breathing heavily hurt. He was still badly bruised and most likely had several broken ribs from the sadistic blade vesper, but he was not so bruised that he couldn't take care of Oryon's pathetic nephew. Still feeling stabs of pain while he breathed was not a distraction he wanted. He flashed the guildmaster seal at the guard, a young man he had known since he had first been put on tower duty the previous year. Do not disturb us. The guard turned away. Karch knocked on Keras's door and entered without an invitation. Keris was on the sofa holding a half naked woman with her head buried in his neck by the. God's cart out, I'll have your head for this. Kach walked over to the woman, grabbed her roughly by the arm, and pulled her to her feet. Get out, I have urgent business to discuss with the guildmaster. The woman stumbled and then stood up, arranging her blouse to cover herself. Now, God, come in here this instant. Before Karch could literally kick her out with his boot, the woman rushed to the door and out of the room. Kerris stood up and made a fist. Unless you are here to tell me that my uncle urgently needs me, you may not survive my beating Karch. Your uncle is dead. The news stunned the young man, who dropped his arms to his side. What how, Kach walked toward Keras and put his left arm around Keerras's shoulder in a sympathetic manner, as if to comfort him. Carras had taken one step when Kach moved his other arm up and slid his jeweled dagger between Keras's ribs and into his heart, pulling him close with the arm he had around his shoulder as the blade slipped in deeper. Oh, I'm sorry, my mistake. It isn't your uncle who is dead, it is you. Keras's body slumped to the floor, and Kach threw the knife on top of it. After one last glance at Ryan's nephew, Karch walked out. The guard watched as Karch approached, wiping his bloody hand on his cloak. When I informed the guild master that the Outlanders were attacking, he cried out in despair and killed himself. Please tell Dervish to take care of the body. We can have an official funeral when things have calmed down. That office appears cursed. The guard gave away the hint of a smile. Karch patted the guard on the shoulder. Yes, in fact, block the door and leave the body inside. I believe one of the reasons Kers killed himself is that he was haunted by the ghost of last It is better not to disturb such spirits. The guard nodded, Consider it, Dun, Guildmaster. Guild Master, it was the first time in his life Karch had been called that he planned on it happening many many more times into the future. He started toward his office. There were many reasons that Karch got rid of Orion's nephew, but the main one was that he was Oryon's nephew. Karch had no doubt that with Larsen dead, Polo's rage would be aimed at Sax and Orion, and having Orion's nephew as guild master pulled the Merchant Guild into the circle of Polo's Rage. The future was clear to Karch. The Rangers and Harvest Guild would defeat the Knight and Craft guilds. It was a foregone conclusion in his mind, and with Trader's Bridge destroyed, a slash and burn assault on the upper quarter like Larsen did in the lower quarter was now impossible. The only question was how could he join the Harvest Guild while they still had little trust of him and his guild. And, to make matters worse, he was surrounded by Night and Craft Guild members who would immediately punish him for betrayal. That may all have been moot as the city was under attack by the Outlanders. The Outlanders, of course, they were the solution to everything. Katsch almost laughed out loud. His original plan was to have them assassinate or be blamed for assassinating Polo. That would have rallied the city to the Merchant Guild as the city protectors. Now he could do the same thing. It was almost comically appropriate. The vile and dirty Outlanders who massacred his men outside their small city in the plains and almost killed him were going to be the ones that restored the city's faith in the Merchant Guild and save his life. Carch turned from the staircase to his office and headed toward the garrison on the first level and Dervish's office. Before they attacked the Outlanders, they had to betray the Knight and Craft Guild, and Karch had just the idea for how to do that and do it without risk. It wasn't until they had climbed to the third floor that Maeler met someone she knew. It was a guard she had trained with when she. Was younger, James, where is everyone? The guard's eyes went wide when he took in Maeler. Maeler, by the gods, we thought you were dead. He ran over and the two hugged tightly. As they parted, Maeler waved her arm toward Dullah. I would be dead if it wasn't for this mighty Harvest Guild guard who saved me. Tis an honor James bowed his head. The honor is mind, noble guard. James looked over and noticed Prosper, who stood cold and dour in his red. Someone who wears red? Who is this? And of what guild? I am? Prosper? I was a senior wizard of the Magic Guild. My home is Ness, Prosper shrugged, Not this Ness, of course, Magic Guild. Maeler grebbed James's arm. Never mind that, we can explain it later. Where is Allard Raylan? How come Pelos isn't prowling about the lower floors. I was expecting him to skewer me before I could. Get out it was me. We don't know where Raylan is. He left for a mission with the Outlanders, but then they invaded, so we're worried about his fate. Felos is leading the guild in an attack against the Outlanders across the foothills. James paused and lowered his head. Aled went on a mission to the lower Quarter and is missing. By the gods. James, who is in charge. Assistant Guild Master Raife is leading us. Race Rayland's idiot friend. James look shocked. You should hold your tongue even Phelo says that Rape has a brilliance we haven't seen in many years. Are we talking about the same Rafe, the one whose expertise is taking the blame for Raylan's mischief. With Maeler still holding his arm, he started toward the wide staircase up the tower. There is much you have missed, Rafe can fill you in. I am not privy to the conversations, but I heard Deputy Allard whispering to Felo's about some of Rafe's mysteries. The Deputy seemed impressed, so you should do well to pay attention. Maeler didn't like being lectured by James, but she admitted that there was much she had missed out on, if nothing else, watching Rafe's shock when confronted with a member of a magic guild he had never heard of, would be worth a smile. Then take us to him. She would humor Rafe while she awaited Allard's return. The podcast Alchemy production The Thieves Guild. By Jake Carer, Season three, episode thirty nine. Six Armies. They weren't armies, not really, but they weren't mobs of people either. They were all organized with a singular mission. Armies it is, Rafe thought as he looked out from the Thieves Tower balcony. The fact that everything was so clear from his spot miles away was almost magical. Who am I kidding? Of course, it's magic. The reality was so obvious. Rafe spoke the words out loud, even though he was alone. He'd learned much over the past few weeks, and even the things that weren't written down were as clear as ink on paper. Magic infused the Thieves Guild. Magic was the Thieves Guild. The tower was the most obvious example. It was massive, and while far from the city across the river, it still should have been as clear as the mountain, but it was so well camouflaged as to be in vis camouflaged by magic. And the balcony upon which Rafe stood was another piece of magic. By all indications, it was simply well crafted stone. But if you wanted to see something within the city, really see something, it somehow was just within sight, not like one of the extremely rare spyglasses where you could focus on the distance, more like a vision from the distance that was just close enough that you knew what was happening. Such was the case, as Rafe surveyed the war spread across the city. There was the Thief army driving into the rear forces of the Outlanders after having emerged from the gate sewer. Within the city were the Harvest Guild members overwhelming the Outlanders through pure desperation. And in a surprise to Rafe, the Merchant Guild had sent forces which were squeezing the Outlanders with the Harvest Guild members like a vice. And then there was the wall, forces of white rushing from left to right, and forces in brown marching from right to left. The only guild missing was the Craft Guild. Rafe couldn't find them anywhere within the city, even with the assistance of magic. There was a flash of red near the Great Gate, which drew Rafe's attention. Red who would be wearing the red of the Magic Guild. Rafe peered ahead, but it was gone. Was there an Outlander in red? Now that would have been interesting? What secrets were there in Goutland, in Callisto and the other cities no one had visited in centuries. Turning from the balcony, Raife walked back toward his quarters. As much as the unfolding violence would change the City of Ness, it wouldn't even be to affect things as much as the mysteries that Raife had discovered hidden in the many books, One mystery most of all, one that even Rafe was struggling to believe. Quiet Old Pietro was much more than any one had ever thought. They wore black and swarmed out of the sewers like rats, covered in filth, with the only color to be seen being the white of their teeth behind vicious snarls. To his delight, Wilhelm's forces had easily marched into nests, but now as he and his rear guard passed the gate, a large force attacked, crawling from dark holes with grates removed. Wilhelm was surrounded by his personal guard, and his heavily armed and well trained men repulsed the attack, despite taking heavy losses into the city. The thieves will scurry into dark corners to attack again. We must get to the open terrain beyond the gate. His men escorted Wilhelm deeper into the city, down the paved road that was all too familiar to him, as it was the same road that entered his own city. At this point, Wilhelm realized he was in dire straits knights in black upon the wall, rained arrows upon them, and the road full of bodies made it clear that his invading force had faced similar death from above. His only hope was to move out of range of the archers. Don't stop. Follow the road along the river. We will sweep into the city and establish defensive positions. Captain Wilhelm addressed the captain of his personal guard. The thieves in black will return guard our rear. Wilhelm had a vague plan of taking the entire city and repulsing the rangers and knights that were amassed in the outer fields. He immediately saw a major mistake in his plan. The city behind the wall was huge, much larger than he anticipated. He would need to establish a position within the city and do it quickly. His force moved forward, and as they left the gate and wall behind, they started to catch up to the main invading force. Wilhelm stood up in the stirrups of his great horse, peering ahead. A messenger was running toward him. He sat down and impatiently waited, Crown. A force in green has stopped our advance. Are they well armed? The knights here where white and black they are not? They bear clubs and pitchforks, But they are countless. They came across a giant bridge like insects an attack from everywhere. More were coming as I left to inform. You, Wilhelm shook his head. He should have considered that desperate citizens would provide a defense even if the Rangers and Knights were off at the outer fields. His two needs came together. They had to establish a defense, and they had to secure their forces in a way to make attack difficult. We shall establish a defense there. Wilhelm pointed to his left and the part of the city that was clearly full of homes and cottages. He could see the ravages of a great fire and even smell the smoke that was ever present. But there were many blocks of houses that were untouched by flames. Perhaps he could take advantage of an empty part of the city recovering from disaster. Yes, Wilhelm thought, our well armed force could establish a base within the residential area, and then he could send out scouts to look for ways to halt any eventual attack by the Rangers or Knights. As words spread among the outland of forces that they were to turn from the road and into the lower quarter, loud shouts came from somewhere among the houses, and then the oddest thing happened. A large and well armed force in blue rushed from behind and among the houses and slammed into Wilhelm's forces, only to be joined by shouts from behind, where the force in black renewed its attack. Green in the front, blew to the left, Black to the rear, and a raging river to the right. Wilhelm knew he only had one chance to the night Tower. We must find our way in to take the wall. The wall would be easy to defend, and if nothing else, Wilhelm could rain death upon the city that cursed his people's existence. For as long as anyone could remember, Rogers knew Dervish. Everyone knew Dervish. He was a cranky old man, but one of the few Merchant guild captains that people liked. He enforced order and oversaw the Merchant Tower with an iron fist, but he was fair, so when Dervish approached Rogers from behind along the North Road with a truly impressive force of merchant knights, he knew what he had to do. Rogers checked his outfit. He looked awful, but there was no real visible green, which was more important than him looking impressive. In fact, he looked in sad shape, perhaps like he had just been in battle. Luckily, Dervish didn't know Rogers. Dervish's force was on foot, and he paused as Rogers waved his arms. What is your name, young man, he looked, Rogers up and down. You have seen battle, yes, sir, my name is Rogers. I was there when the outlanders breached the gate. I held ground, but it was hopeless. I fled on foot to find help. Help us here. What guild do you call home? I am a merchant like you, sir, A modest shop in the flat well met guild mate. Dervish called over his shoulder, get this man a cloak and some arms. You will join us. It was a command, not a request. I will happily defend ness, sir. Rogers looked around, But where are the knights? They have betrayed Ness. The Craft guild guards the same. Guild Master Karch informed Guildmaster Orion of the invasion, and Orion ordered his men to ignore it. They are ferrying men into the upper quarter. Dervish spat. They appear more interested in defeating the harvest guild than defending the city. There was loud grumbling from behind Dervish after he spoke Guildmaster carch. Now that's interesting, Rogers thought, But enough dawdling. Do you have any guidance on where the force may be? I recommend we leave the north road and cut to the throughway and head toward river Road through the flats. We will be well hidden and a force won't expect to be attacked from a difficult to navigate residential area. Dervish nodded, that's a wise plan, Rogers. Stay with me. We will do as you say and surprise these vile outlanders from the cover of the flats. Dervish then added, almost to himself, and then we will do the same to the night and Craft guild. Raylan had to give Rebecca credit. Despite her regal nature and arrogant bearing, she waded through the shit and piss of the sewers without complaint, and indeed seemed unbothered by the smell. When Felos held up his hand at the large sewer grate near the Great Gate, Rebecca unsheathed a long knife that must have been hidden under her black dress. They are still passing through the gate we will await the last of the forces and then attack from behind. Everyone nodded. Rebecca turned to Raylan. Have you ever killed anyone? No? Rebecca seemed nervous, and Raylan couldn't tell if it was from excitement or uncertainty or fear. You have only people I have known. Raylan was too stunned to reply. Was plural. She had killed multiple people, and only those she had known. What did that mean? Before he could even consider a follow up question, Pelos shouted, Now the greats came down and their forces rushed forward. It is but difficult only the first time, dear Raylan, But then you realize your actions are for the greater good and it becomes easier. She smiled at him, and it wasn't the sarcastic smile or arrogant smile he was used to. It was one of warmth and understanding. Be strong, This will be over soon. And with that, Rebecca rushed out, Raylan, following close behind. Carol Miller, old but not frail, rushed over the great bridge wielding a shovel. She was not as fast as the young ones, nor as strong as the field workers. She simply picked apples. She didn't even carry the baskets to the wagon. She was a modest apple picker, but modest or not, she was from an old and respected family, and was proud of her guild and loved her city. So she grabbed a shovel and joined the force that was racing across the Great Bridge to attack the invading outlanders. She thrilled at the enormous wave of green, the thousands of people that the other guilds had forced into the Old Quarter. Yes, even this elder Harvest guild member from the Inner Fields now called it the Old Quarter. Those people, forcibly escorted in large groups over days, were now rushing back across the bridge in an enormous force. All at the same time. The river of Green filled Carol with pride. She was older and still should have had many years left in her, but she knew the cost. She was most likely going to die. It was a decision she was at peace with. Dying on a ladder against an apple tree, or in a bed with an illness didn't seem quite so worth while as being part of this river of green. A river of green, What a lovely thought it is to be won with a flowing river. And as she approached the horrific sounds of battle ahead, she grimly smiled and gave out a snarling shout of her own. This wasn't just a river of green. It was a raging river, dangerous to anyone who dared to attempt to tame it. When Sas first heard of the Ranger Guild betrayal, he grinned he never liked that whiney little Quinto, who seemed to obsess over pointless details when all he had to do was kill whoever approached the city. Simple, bloody and gets the point across. Sax was now personally going to do the same thing to Quinto and his weakling forces. Yes, they had taken the night Watch, but they had the element of surprise, and the night Watch was historically lightly defended. Such a victory would be Quinto's last. When Karch personally delivered the message that the Harvest Guild and Rangers were amassing in the Upper Quarter, but the Trader's Bridge was destroyed, Sax's plan was simple, use every boat on the river to get his forces into the Upper Quarter. It would be a mighty mission, and Sax was certain he would be celebrated far into the future for his decisiveness, and Carch even noted that there was an outlander incursion, but the merchant guards would helpfully handle it. Of course, there was. The cowardly rangers had abandoned their posts. The outlanders would be foolish not to raid. At this time, Sax was grateful for Karch and the merchants for leaving him alone to handle the rangers. As Sax made his way up the tower steps, he could hear the screams of battle from the gate and grinned again. Outlanders dying always made him smile. He patted the hilt of his enormous sword. He would personally retake the wall. The corridors were wide, but still restricting to a force. His idea was simple but would be brutally effective. He and John and his personal guard would just march forward, killing every ranger in their path Sas climbed the tower steps to the top of the wall with John beside him, he was perhaps a little heavy in the middle, but Sax was still strong as an ox. So what that he had to catch his breath at the top In the heat of battle, his sword would shatter shields. I had forgotten how long this damn wall is John. It had been hours of marching and walking. Aye John looked tense as they peered ahead, nothing but a barren corridor ahead of them. The march was so long that for the first time Sas noticed two odd things about the battlements on the wall. The first odd thing was that they were on both sides of the wall, providing protection to attacks not just from outside, but inside as well. But the oddest thing about them was that they were capped with stone projections that acted almost like a shield above the wall. It was as if the wall needed protection from attacks from above. Before Sax could give the matter more thought, however, one of his men shouted. A group in brown in the far distance was approaching word foolish man a John, thinking they can defeat our broadswords and iron with their puny daggers and wooden shields. But John couldn't answer. He'd fallen to the ground, the feathered end of an arrow protruding from one of his eyes. A podcast Alchemy production The Thieves Guild by Jake car. Season three, episode forty, The Battle of Six Armies. Crown Wilhelm was no stranger to violence. When he was younger, he had led many raids on the outer fields of ness. It was his daring and skillful attacks during the Great Famine that led to him being named crown. That was many years earlier, But there are some lessons you don't forget, and surviving while facing a force with swords and armor is at the top of the list. To the gate, spread the word we retreat to the gate. Wilhelm stood high on his horse, a vision of courage and splendor despite his cowardly message. He may have been a coward, but he was also wise. The force in front of him was enormous, and the force to his left appeared small but very well armed. Finally, the force in black behind him was significant and powerfully armed. But there were two two things that worked in his favor with a retreat to the gate. They were smaller than his force, and behind them was Dragon Road's long slithering path to Goutland. Facing death. Wouldn't they let him retreat? He felt it was at least a possibility. Another benefit of a force with a history of stealth and extended operations was that they knew how to communicate well. His entire army turned within minutes of his shout from atop his horse and with a nod, Wilhelm turned his mighty steed and rushed toward the black rats, which he hoped would scurry back into their sewer. Rogers had barely emerged from a hedge, his new sword in his hand, when the army in front of him disengaged and rushed back down the Great Road. The rest of the merchant guards charged forward, blood in their eyes. Rogers, however, assessed things from the left. Far in the distance. Howls and screams, and green cloaks and shirts were rushing forward. The force from Goutland held them off as they retreated. Still, they couldn't help but take losses. The merchant force was being pushed back furiously. Rogers couldn't quite believe the size of the Outlander's army. It stretched up and down the Great Road and seemed well organized. He wondered why they didn't attack earlier. With their force, they could have overrun the city if they had even a token understanding of the city's breadth and thin defenses. As it was, they had picked the absolute worst time to attack, with a massive force of citizens emerging from the Old Quarter and a merchant force that clearly was trying to send a message. The merchants were taking real losses, and Rogers rushed forward and started yelling for the force to pull back and wait and see what the outlanders would do. He felt pretty strongly that they were going to retreat back to their city across the plains. Losses at this point would be senseless. Spread the word we should pull back, let the outlanders flee. Most everyone ignored him, but a few of the younger guards seemed to embrace the don't put yourself in death's way message. It was odd. The outlanders were mere yards from him, but they were so focused on retreating that they ignored everyone but those immediately engaged with them in battle. So he felt like a ghost watching the battle proceed without him. He quickly made his way down the line, and one of his shouts caught Dervish's attention. He disengaged with an outlander who seemed interested solely in protecting the retreat, and let him go without chasing him down. Rogers, what in the name of the gods are you doing? They are retreating. Our losses are pointless. We should pull back and simply make sure they leave the city. Dervish looked terrible, with blood from gushing wounds he caused, splashed across his armor and dripping down his face. His sword was more red than gray. There was a moment that Rogers wondered if Dervish would swing his sword at him, But as quickly as he thought it, Dervish scowled and pointed his sword at him. Close your mouth and leave. I will deal with you later. Without another word, Dervish turned and launched back into battle. Rogers was no fool, and he knew there was naught else he could do. As the battle continued, he melted into the charred remains of the flats. Sachs launched himself forward with a bellow that shook the walls. There was a time he could take a half dozen well armed men by himself, and although that was years earlier, much of his might remained. His men followed closely behind. An arrow embedded itself in his chest armor, penetrating enough just to make him angrier. Before another could fly, he had knocked two rangers to the ground with his powerful bulk, and removed an arm from another with a mighty swing of his broadsword. This is what it is all about. Sax felt, joy filling him as he swung his sword in an ark, forcing two rangers to fall back, while a third was nearly cut in twain at the waist. His men were similarly rabbid sas had personally picked them, mighty fighters who had waited years for their swords to dance like this. Another ranger fell, and Sax laughed, you're nothing but squirrels. You are more timid than rabbits. You can't hide in the plains now, you pathetic excuses for warriors. I should have kicked you out of the guild years ago. You don't deserve the title of Night, Sax spoke as he dodged, leaped to the side, and then stabbed forward. A cry of pain was the fitting exclamation on Sax's battleground speech. The rangers fell back, but Sax was relentless and marched forward. The tight space gave him every advantage. Pure might was all that mattered in a corridor of deadly steel. How many had Sax killed? A half dozen? A dozen? He took two steps forward. It would be more, oh so much more. But as he stepped forward, three rangers found a small gap and sprung around the guard to his right and turned Sax's attention from the front. He was suddenly not fighting two or three, It was six, with more pushing forward. He pounded one of the rangers with the hilt of his sword while kicking one in front of him. It was at this point that the might and formidable warrior glanced ahead. He had not done so, being lost in joy of battle, and the sight made him grit his teeth. As far as he could see down the wall. There were rangers, dozens of them, perhaps hundreds. He could cut down a score and they would be replaced by three times. That his men dispatched the rangers that had slipped through, but not before Sax had taken a glancing blow to his shoulder. It meant little, but the fact that a blow got through made Sax think. While he fought, he had a decision to make fight to the death or retreat and rally a more organized force. Fiolo stayed well behind the Thief forces, acting as a shield for Raylan, who was ill prepared for such a battle. Pelos refused to let Raylan head to the tower, being worried that the Outlanders would have another force approaching from the south. For a similar reason, he didn't want Raylan left lightly guarded in the sewer. He had patiently explained this to Raylan, and despite Rebecca's and his own protests, he was little more than an observer. It was a sudden change in the battle that made Felos rush to Raylan and reverse his previous plan. Guild Master, you must head to the sewer, cross the river and head to the tower. The outlanders are retreating and they will soon overwhelm us. We will hold them to give you more time, and then we will follow. But you must leave now. I refuse to leave my guild members. I will do my part. Do you have a dagger or sword? Felos didn't even reply, but turned to Rebecca. Can you force him to go? She laughed. I can't even force him to flee in unguarded prison. She patted Pelo's on the shoulder. But I can convince him. My dear Raylan, you are the guild master, and you promised me a visit to an inn. Please don't foolishly die on me and your guild members. Raylan knew it was wise, so he didn't hesitate. He grasped Pelos's forearm. Your mission is to save as many of your guild mates as possible, nothing more, I guild Master. He waited until Raylan turned and jogged toward the distant entrance to the sewer. Rebecca glided lightly behind him, her swaying black dress making it look like she was floating across the ground. Simpson was too old to fight, but he fought anyway, after all, hadn't He succeeded in his mission to travel to Harvest House and returned to the Thief Tower without assistance. Still, he was old and slow, and one of the final people in the wave of Green to make it across the great Bridge. There were shouts ahead, and Simpson had to strain to hear what was being said. A young man ran past him. They are retreating, They are retreating. Simpson continued forward. The battle may have been over, but he still wanted to be a part of it. The bodies began not far from the bridge, and he realized he didn't want to be part of it at all. For every one dead Outlander were three or even four bodies in Green, Women, men not much younger than himself, youngsters barely out of apprenticeship. They all lay in pools of blood, body parts severed and laying nearby. The streets ran red with blood. He continued onward for no reason other than to honor the courage of his guild mates. The dead lay everywhere. There were many dead Outlanders, and at a certain point he realized that even a mighty force can't defeat masses of people with something to live for. The dead Outlanders never outnumbered the dead in Green, but the number of dead Outlanders became so great he couldn't count so many dead. Simpson didn't recognize any of the dead, and he considered that a small blessing. He passed a young woman, nearly a girl, lying on the ground and holding a stick, not even a club, a stick. She looked unwounded, and Simpson knelt down to lift her and see if he could help her. Perhaps she was simply unconscious. He lifted her head and it rolled back in a sudden lurch, her neck clearly broken. The cruelty stunned Simpson. She was no threat. She was probably just standing there too, stunned to do anything, and someone walked up and broke her neck. Simpson slid to the ground and started sobbing. A pair of simple leather shoes approached from the edge of his vision. Come my friend, let us go. There is a reason that battles are aren't for the old. It's not that it's too hard for us to fight, it's that it's too hard for us to survive. It was perhaps fitting that the mighty Sax did not die in an epic battle against a fellow warrior. It was also perhaps fortune smiling upon him that Sax did not die drowned in drink. In the end, however, his death was how he had wanted it. There were bodies next to him that he had slain through force and skill, and it was not a single sword thrust, but many from many hands that ended his life. But perhaps the most glorious of all was that he died not due to someone besting him on the battlefield, but due to his arm tiring from unleashing death upon others. As the rangers rushed forward, routing the remainder of Sax's personal guard, a few stayed behind, looking upon the former guildmaster Knight. He had an odd smile on his face, with blood dripping upon it from a gash above his eye. Look at that smile, I wonder what he was thinking. He was probably thinking about a large flagon of ale. There were luffs, and then Sax's body was covered with a brown cloak, the new color of the night Gild, as declared by its new guild master, Quinto. Wilhelm had to pause his retreat to get word to the forces that had penetrated deep into Nests. He had hoped that a retreat would pause the attacks it had from those in Green in the rear, but the force in Blue seemed intent on sacrificing itself to make his retreat as difficult as possible. It was such needless death. Wilhelm leaned down to the messenger, tell Canton to sweep away the Knights in Blue. I don't know what their intent, but they are killing our men as we retreat. The messenger rushed off, and Wilhelm turned his attention to the thieves, but as he did, they were gone. He had planned on a deadly assault through the thick line of thieves to clear his path through the gate, but when he turned back to them, they had disappeared like roaches under firelight. The path is clear. Retreat as quickly as we can. I doubt we will be attacked, Wilhelm thought of Raylan, imprisoned in Goutland, unlike the forces in blue. His had discipline and wisdom. They will live to fight another day, Wilhelm thought, and that day will come with a kick. Wilhelm's horse vaulted forward, eventually passing under the Great Gate and rushing down the long and winding Dragon Road and back to Goutland, where he hoped his wounds upon ness would achieve something. Rogers worried over the merchant forces. They were well armed but badly outnumbered. His earlier warnings were common sense, he thought. The retreating army focused even slight attention on the guards in Blue, they would be overwhelmed. So while Dervish led his forces into faint and attack against an army uninterested in battle, Rogers kept an eye for any hint of a counter attack. It came so suddenly that Rogers had little time to do anything but rush forward, yell and point at the mounted knights rushing their way. Dervish was far up the line toward the gate, so Rogers focused on getting word out among the guards, hoping yelled warnings would be faster than feet. Look cavalry approaches, maneuver into the flats, we can regroup. Rogers made sure not to use the word retreat, But he didn't need to worry too much about how his message was going to be received, as when the guards looked up the Great Road, the cavalry were hard to miss. To Roger's relief, the guards fled into the houses and alleys of the flats. Rogers ran as fast as he could, yelling out to escape the attacking cavalry, and his warning took hold quickly. At the last possible moment, Rogers himself fled toward the houses, a swing of a sword from horseback barely missing him as he dove into a charredhouse. As he expected, the knights didn't follow. They were simply cutting down anyone who dared to attack the retreating outlander force. He hoped that his warning had made its way to Dervish and that the proud old man would choose wisdom over foolishness, but such concerns were out of his control now. He exited the house through the back door and began gathering the scattered merchant guards to get them into an organized force again. But what he'd do after that, he had no idea. Raylan slipped upon a stone step and fell into a pool of piss and shit. Been mad but it reminded him of his escape with Mailer. As he pulled himself up, his wet hand slipped on a different stone and he fell back into the putrid water again. You do realize that's not a bath, Gildmaster. Can you just give me a hand? I most assuredly cannot. Raylan scowled as he looked at Rebecca. She somehow still looked elegant, despite what he was certain was a dress covered at the bottom with filth. I'd be angry, but I don't blame you. Raylan pulled himself out of the water and wiped his hands on his tunic. Did you know that my first official duty as guildmaster was to be pummeled with garbage and piss? I did not. You must tell me the story. And as he and Rebecca wandered through the sewer and made their way out and then over the southern foothills, Raylan told Rebeccah about his first few weeks in the guild, the Founder's Day parade, the banquet is escape from the basement of the Merchant Tower, and his first trip to Goutland. Rebecca was mostly quiet as he told the story, only interrupting at moments to applaud his courage or his wise decisions. By the time they arrived at the south Gate, Raylan realized that he had unintentionally impressed Rebecca. He didn't know quite what to make of that he always seemed to stumble around girls. Mailer mocked him. All his previous girlfriends thought of him as just a mischievous boy, but Rebecca seemed impressed with his achievements as skill Master. As they waited for Pelos to organize the entrance through the gate, Raylan decided to make idle chat to go over some practical things. The tower is massive and there are plenty of unused rooms. I'm sure we'll be able to find you a place to refresh yourself and then sleep. My dear Raylan, you are such a gentleman. But I have my own quarters on the second floor. A Podcast Alchemy production