8. The Master Thief

William cheered the moment Midwaden’s cobbled streets transitioned to the smoother, more paved roads of Opoulsios. Charis whinnied while Onyx continued to circle overhead. We were finally on the last leg of our journey. Our horses continued galloping down the road, seeming just as eager to be done with the long journey as we were, and the towns and houses grew more magnificent the farther we travelled. Rough, cobbled stones were replaced with smooth, more polished surfaces. The houses were adorned with beautiful, outside coats of paint that we’d only seen on the homes of the more luxurious towns in Midwaden—yet some of these towns even had dog houses fixed in fancy shades of reds and blues.

We passed by several fine chariots with paid drivers that carried the most noble men and women in all of Calduminia—princes and dukes of the many countries that comprised our continent, noble women from established houses searching for a husband, merchants and artists with just enough money to buy their way into one of the many parties held within Opoulsios’s four districts. The majority of the people we passed turned their noses up at us, which made me chuckle. To them, we were nothing but filthy travelers with poor clothes dirtying up their fancy streets, and that thought amused me.

We did not stop until we reached the Western district of Opoulsios, in a small town called Rodenwhal—a place Alfred mentioned would be a great place for us to establish ourselves given its quiet residents and distance from the larger palaces.

We made our way to a red-painted inn and paid a small fee to a nice innkeeper whose hands were far more calloused than I’d anticipated for a resident of Calduminia’s richest country, but I suppose I’m not one to talk. My hands are more calloused than even Penichros’s poorest.

As we walked up the stairs, I noticed that many of the other patrons did not seem much like the noble type. Sure, their clothes were nicer than those of Penichros, and all of the women wore pretty dresses and had their hair styled, but their faces were humble. Their noses were down, and judging by the meager meals of duck soup with little seasoning and stale bread with no butter, it did not appear as though they could afford much in the way of food. Perhaps Opoulsios had more commoners than I’d anticipated.

Our room was nice. With one wardrobe, two small, creaky beds, a night stand, and an empty chest, we could make do here for the next few weeks while we got a feel for the land. William plopped down onto one bed, and Isobel scolded him for nearly breaking it with his large frame. I giggled a bit and sat myself down at the small table in the corner that, though it had two chairs, was only large enough for one of us to sit comfortably at a time.

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Papers shuffled behind me, and I turned to see Isobel looking over some of the pages Alfred had handed her when he gave her the bags of money. Her nose scrunched, her wind-blown hair fell before her face, and her lips grew thin the longer she read.

“What is it?” I asked.

She shook her head but did not lift her eyes from the pages. “It’s nothing. I’m just a bit confused. Alfred’s notes instruct us to begin our search for Council members and recruits among the working class—the merchants, the soldiers, and the inns in small towns. He specifically suggested we avoid any high society gatherings.”

“That’s odd,” William commented, rubbing his chin as he sat up to join our conversation. “Ulfric suggested we do the opposite just a few days before we left. That’s the entire reason we came to the Western district to begin with—because of that ball or whatever occurring in their palace soon.”

“It’s not like them to disagree,” I commented. “But then again, we’ve never received instructions from them about establishing a guild before. Perhaps it’s just two separate approaches?”

“Perhaps.” Isobel said quietly, scrutinizing the note as thoroughly as she could as if she was trying to read between the lines and find the missing link.

“Perhaps we could simply try both?” William suggested.

“I don’t hate the idea,” Isobel replied while she finally set the pages down. “Alfred’s note does leave me a bit uneasy, though. What if there’s something going on in high society here that Ulfric is not aware of? Alfred has always been more keen on that.”

William stretched loudly; it was such a comical, boisterous sound that I was certain the floor below could hear him. “I’m sure it’s nothing we couldn’t handle. We’ll just remain on our toes at this upcoming thing.” He turned his attention to me, and the mischievous glint in his caramel eyes made me want to sneer. “We could use some extra funds, to purchase fitting attire for the three of us, of course.”

I groaned, but I couldn’t argue. “Fine. But I’m going by myself. I could use some space from William’s smelly breath.”

Isobel laughed while William feigned offense. I wasted no time in donning my assassin gear—an all black outfit with a harness that wrapped around my chest for my daggers and back for my sword and a cowl that perfectly concealed all but my eyes, though for me that was unfortunately an incredibly defining feature.

“Send a message through Onyx if you need help,” Isobel insisted as I prepared myself to climb out of our inn room’s window.

“Always.” I smiled and disappeared into the night.