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It was a simple assignment. The oil painting was kept on the fourth floor of the city palace, a height Royce had no problem climbing. Sure, the guards controlled the facade closely, and with the party going on, there was enough light that impeded Royce to hide in the dark. But the party constituted also a good diversion, because they knew the owner wouldn’t be in his office all evening, so they have to act.
They just need a nice diversion.
Royce reached the roof of the palace at the end of the road, then jumped from roof to roof until he landed in the one next to their target. From there, he was invisible from the guards that only checked their windows, but he could see very well Hadrian’s movements and listen to what happened below him.
“You don’t understand!” Hadrian whined, as one of the guards tried to push him away. “I need to speak with her! She just can’t leave me, you know? We were about to get married.”
“I’m really sorry, pal, but this isn’t Miss Barryton’s house. It’s Mister Lynch.”
“Marie! Come out! Speak to me!”
The guard grabbed Hadrian by the arm, a lot more gently than he should have, in Royce’s opinion. “Come with me.”
As an answer, Hadrian threw his arms around his neck and started sobbing against his chest. The guard turned to his colleagues, unsure of to react when a six-foot-tall man cried like a child with total strangers around. Then Hadrian moved aside, bent down, and pretended to vomit on the guard’s boots.
Royce smirked: sometimes Hadrian played the part of the lovesick drunker so much Royce suspected he was drunk for real. But at that point, the guards’ attention had shifted enough from the facade to Hadrian, that Royce could effortlessly slip down from the roof to reach the office’s window.
Balancing himself on the windowsill, and with an eye still on the street below to be sure Hadrian’s actions were still enough distracting, he forced the windows open and leaped inside. The room was completely dark, something he had no problem with. He saw in the dark the same way he saw in the light.
And that was the reason he spotted the man inside the room immediately. He was very skinny, almost scheletrical, with pale skin and dark copper hair finely brushed. His clothes were elegant, the fabric was definitely the last fashion in Delgos, and everything spoke wealthy, including the hands, who had long, well-kept fingers.
Under normal circumstances, Royce wouldn’t have any problems taking care of any obstacles or inconveniences he found on his path. Because of Hadrian, he wasn’t used to killing anymore if it was not necessary, but there were other ways to incapacitate a man, especially when Royce was still invisible in the dark.
What bothered Royce that time, and the reason he stood frozen next to the window for too long, was the man’s action. His hands were on the painting that was Royce’s target too, and he carefully took it off the wall it was hung to. His intention was clearly to hide it inside the luggage he had with him.
The man turned, painting in his head, and the light from outside was probably enough to make Royce visible, or at least his silhouette standing against the windows. The man froze and blinked on the spot. Royce’s hand went immediately to Alverstone and the blade shone in the dark, but before he could act, the man screamed.
“Thief! Assassin! Help! Please!”
The door busted open a second later and a giant man entered, looking around, with his eyes that passed between the man, who was gestured frantically at Royce. The new arrived did seem an enough skilled fighter, even if he wasn’t armed, and Royce decided he wouldn’t risk a fight, especially because he was sure the screams had alerted the guards and Hadrian’s farce wouldn’t be enough.
With a swift movement, he jumped on the windowsill again before the giant man could catch him and climbed back on the roof. He reserved only a brief look below, where he spotted the guards’ movements and Hadrian, who was pretending to still be sick from drunkenness but he had his hand on the pommel of his sword, before running away.
He reached the render-vouz with Hadrian an hour later, when both of them were enough safe no one had followed them and realized they worked together. Royce was pissed off, while Hadrian was mostly concerned by the situation.
“What happened?”
After so many years, the unwandering faith Hadrian had in Royce and in his abilities still baffled Royce.
“I’m not sure, to be honest.”
“Did you get caught?”
“Not really, no…” He looked at Hadrian straight in the eyes. “I think I actually impeded a robbery.”
“You had to admit, this is one of the stranger things that happened to us,” Jean said.
They sat down at the private table in their inn for breakfast, after being up all night to be interrogated by the guards and the city watch about what happened at Mister Lynch’s residence. It had been not easy finding a credible excuse for their presence near his office.
At Locke’s glare, Jean amended, “okay, maybe not the strangest, but close enough. How many probabilities there were that two thieving happened at the same time?”
“I’m pretty sure you can calculate it if you want.”
“You’re pissed off,” Jean stated.
“As usual, I applaud your observation skills.” Locke shook his head. “We spent three weeks planning this job, and it hadn’t been easy pretending to be Mister Reginald Caffrey, and everything went to shit in two seconds.”
“I guess the other thief will be pretty pissed off too,” Jean commented thoughtfully. “We basically ruined each other’s plan.”
“Climbing a palace and forced the windows open. Whoever he was, he had the elegance of a sloth swimming in a piss lake.”
Jean said nothing. The Bastard Gentlemen used to enter by the main door, but it had happened in the past they used more common thieving methods. He understood Locke was just complaining about the other thief’s physical abilities. Even Jean admitted he had never seen anyone move like that.
“So, what are we going to do now?”
“For now? Sleeping like a log. I can’t think if I’m this tired. Then…” Locke crossed his arms and lifted his head at the ceiling, his eyes narrowed in concentration. “I need to speak with Mister Lynch as soon as possible, to maintain our cover and have another shot at the painting.” He grumbled. “I’m sure at that point he moved the painting somewhere safe. Somewhere harder for us to steal. What a pain in the ass…”
“Do you remember I have the play tonight? I buy the tickets days ago.”
Locke looked at him with wide, betrayed eyes. “You can’t be serious.”
“I am. Not my fault if you prefer spending all your money with whores because they’re the only ones that kiss your ass.”
“Bastard,” Locke complained.
Locke woke up when someone shook him by the shoulder. He startled, his hand went to the sword, when he recognized the little chuckle.
“You’ll be already dead.”
“Not funny, you traitor,” Locke complained, and stretched. He’d fallen asleep at the table, scribbling and trying to find a plausible justification with Mister Lynch. “So, how was the play?”
“Nothing that actually justified all its success.” Jean shrugged. “But it was… educational, in some way. Do you want to know why?”
Locke eyed him. “Only if it could help with our current situation.”
“It actually can.” There was a grin on Jean’s face and his eyes shone a little. Lockle settled better on the chair and smirked.
“Go on, then. Surprise me.”
“Well, this play is freely inspired by the murder of an Avryn king that happened a couple of years ago. Nothing really interesting, it follows the story of the crown prince as he finds the conspiracy against his family and defeats the enemy and then becomes king.”
“I really can’t comprehend how you can be interested in this shit.”
Jean ignored him. “The prince is assisted during his adventures by two thieves. They’re actually the best characters and their lines were the funniest. But what caught my attention was how those two thieves were depicted: one is small, all dressed in black, and he’s capable with stealth mission. The other one is a lot bigger, and a skilled swordsman.”
“Now I’m listening.”
“I spoke a little with the public and then I slipped to talk with the actors. I wanted to know how much truth there is.”
“Stop being melodramatic and just tell me.”
Jean chuckled. “Fine. The author himself did not know much, but apparently, in Avryn it exists a couple of independent agents that accept assignments from nobles, like stealing, kidnapping, things like that. They called themselves Riyria.”
“Oh.” Locke joined his hands in understanding. “You think Miss Tiffany found us and hired us in that tavern because she mistook us for these Riyria.”
“And also that the man we saw in Lynch’s office was one of them. Credible, isn’t it? You also were suspicious at the idea of someone hiring us for stealing.”
Locke tapped his fingers on the table, thinking. “Well, we need to find out a little more about this, but I may just have an idea about this.” He grinned. “And it’s a good one. I should really kiss you for this.”
“Nothing is stopping you,” Jean replied, with a smirk.
“Except your ugly face, you mean.”
The next day, Locke was ready with his new plan. He hid himself in the Reginald Caffrey disguise, took the purse with the forgery he’d prepared, and headed for Lynch’s residence. They’d studied his habits so Locke knew he was at home and, hopefully, he was in a good mood after the lunch he had with his daughters.
As expected, he was actually in a good mood, or so Locke deduced because he was actually admitted in Lynch’s office, but the man had a scold on his face as looked at Locke.
“I had to say, Mister Caffrey, I don’t believe your excuse one second,” he said as a greeting, pacing in front of the window in his office. “I don’t know why you wanted my painting, but you were there for it. I’ll give you a free pass with the watch if you give me the right explanation.”
Locke sat down on the armchair. “You’re right not believing me. And I am here to give you an explanation, but I can assure you, I’m not here to rob you. Quite the contrary, in fact.”
Lynch crossed his arms on his chest and leaned a little against the windowsill, unconvinced. But he said, “I’m listening.”
“First, I have to confess someone. I am Reginald Caffrey, but I’m not a wine merchant. I am a clerk from Chadwick.”
“Chadwick? It’s in Avryn, isn’t it?” Lynch frowned.
“That is correct, dear sir. I was sent here by my Lord in order to investigate a particular situation, that involves you only marginally. That is the reason I kept a low profile and didn’t inform you sooner.”
“And now I should believe you why….?”
Locke took out one parchment from his leather bag. “I have here the letter of appointment that certified my identity and my lord’s orders.”
Lynch read it closely, his eyes narrowing on the small letters. It was the riskiest moment of Locke’s plan: he hadn’t had much time to investigate over Avryn’s seals to make a perfect reply, but his language style was pretty good, and Locke counted on Lynch’s lack of knowledge over Avryn’s nobles to not recognized a forged seal.
“Let’s say I believe you,” Lynch affirmed, after returning the parchment. “What is it this assignment?”
Inside himself, Locke was smiling. The first part of the plan was successful. Outside, he put on a grave face and said, “I’m investigating in order to apprehend two criminals named Riyria.”
He waited for Lynch’s reaction; although he pretended not to recognize the name, Locke understood he had definitely heard about them.
“Continue.”
“There is an arrest order coming from my lord but, of course, it was only valid in Chadwick. Outside it, I have to rely more on stealth. But I assure you, Riyria has a long story of thieving around, and Delgos wasn’t enough far away to escape their wrath.”
Lynch was pacing again in front of the window. “How do you know they want my painting?”
“I don’t,” Locke replied. He could feel the adrenaline rushing through his veins every time his con reached its peak. Father Chain had taught him to control himself on such occasion. “The painting was just a diversion once they realized I was about to catch them. I’m pretty sure they’re looking for something more… vital, for you. The worked for the king of Melengar, you know.”
Locke watched with quite amusement as Lynch’s body froze a little during his pace, his eyes narrow in concentration and then widened a little in understanding. He turned to Locke again.
“How do you find out?”
It’s incredible how much people could assume with only a few good word and started telling people something they shouldn’t.
“I’m good at my work. But don’t worry, like I said, this has nothing to do with you. I’m only interested in Riyria and, now that you know, I’d like to ask for your help.”
Since Lynch hesitated, Locke added, in a lower tone, “I may be able to stop Riyria, but alone, I can’t guarantee you it’ll be first they manage to put their hands on your private properties. I already failed once because I kept information from you.”
“What do you suggest?”
“I’d like you to help me setting a trap.” Locke relaxed and smiled pleasantly, his back now rested against the armchair. “Let’s them believe we are convinced their target is the painting. Publicize the fact you’re moving it to another, safer place. The safest one you may think.”
“I was already thinking of putting it in the safe of the central bank.” Lynch lips trembled a little as he tapped it with his finger. “I was about to ask the director for a spot. I don’t think he’ll deny me. And then?” There were expectations in his expression, and Locke knew he got him.
“You won’t move the painting, but the things Riyria was interested in, and you’ll be assured you’ll be accompanied by most guards,” he explained. “They will see your attention is all on it, and they’ll believe their path towards is free.”
“So they’ll try again to penetrate my office? My safe is there.”
Locke nodded. “Exactly. My associate and I, alongside a couple of expert fighters, will wait there for their move. We have to be few people, to not be spotted and not arise any suspect, you understand.”
“Of course.” Color returned on Lynch’s face. “But are you sure they’ll act within the day?”
“It’s their best occasion. You and most of your entourage will be distracted. I felt that, right now, you had the painting under heavy surveillance?”
“Yes. And by accident, it’s in the same place of… the other thing.”
“So, as you see, they can’t act now. They are lurking in the shadow, waiting for an opening. We’ll give them one.”
Now Lynch’s eyes shone and his mouth opened in a feral smirk. “I’ll go immediately to talk with the bank’s direction. Hopefully, we can have the transfer tomorrow morning.”
“Just remember to publicize it with everyone.” Locke stood up. “In the meantime, I’ll fetch my men so we will be ready to come as soon as possible for setting up the trap. Call me as soon as you have the confirmation?”
He leaned his hand forwards and Lynch shook it with enthusiasm.
“Absolutely. And thank you!”
When he left the residence, Locke’s humor rose considerably. He didn’t like much preparing con in so little time, and he had to improvise a lot during their conversation. Luckily, the information he’d manage to get over Riyria, Melengar, and Lynch were enough, and some sentence well-made had done the rest.
Now the last thing that remained was for Lynch to call him, so he could snatch the painting pretending to surveil it, and let Riyria break their heads into stealing the painting from the bank. Jean and he should make a hasty escape after getting the painting so Locke planned to spend the rest of the day organizing it and Mister Reginald Caffrey’s disappearance.
He maintained his cover until he was safe back in his room and only there he returned back to his old self. He had to take down the disguise on his face, but he and Caffrey had different walking styles, different postures, different ways to look around and speak.
“Not bad for only a day of preparation,” he said to himself, regaining his Camorr tongue. He cracked his shoulders, he was forced to keep sloppier as Mister Caffrey.
The time to place his bag on the bed, as he was starting to feel back like himself, and the sharp blade of a dagger was pressed at his neck. He remained completely still and lifted his hands. He turned back into Reginald immediately.
The room was small, with a wooden floor. It wasn’t possible someone managed to sneak on him. And yet…
“Impressive disguise,” said a cold voice behind him. “We need to have a bit of a chat, you and I.”
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