–==Official Submission==–
FROM: General Debinani Rahl
RE: Chapter Twenty-Five – The Theft

They boy had sat in the streets of Trinsic for days,
begging for a few coin here and there, and generally being
miserable in the heat. He sat behind the façade of dirty,
torn rags, a mangy beard and a head of hair that could only
be described as belonging to a mad prophet. And he sat. He
waited.

When the man finally appeared walking down the road towards
him his heart leapt into his throat and stayed there. If
there was a single chink in the boy’s armor, this would
never work. The boy made old man shambled out into the
road, mumbling with a seafarer’s drawl about needing some
coin. The man walking towards him saw a beggar, one of many
in the streets of Trinsic, and with one hand began to fish
in his pouch for some coins. The banker handed the boy some
coins and continued on, brushing past the grizzled beggar
to do so.

The boy allowed himself a smile and pocketed the key that
he had deftly extracted from the man’s pocket. He shambled
into an alleyway and began his work. The rags were tossed
aside, a breastplate donned, and a quick dip in a rain
barrel and a touch of dye transformed the boy’s beggar
image into that of a young noble. He spent some time
looking into a hand mirror, finishing up touches and
generally taking three days of the streets off of his
features and demeanor, and then set off to the bank.

The boy entered The Bank of Trinsic with a swagger in his
step and loudly asked the banker for his safe box. When the
banker turned to the rack behind him, the boy…hid. A wise
old man had taught him once that hiding was not the act of
ducking behind a rock or under a table, but the art of
making those around you simply not notice you anymore; and
the boy was a master at it. As the banker looked around in
confusion, the boy slowly walked into the back room of the
bank, carefully maintaining his manner so as to attract no
attention. Once in the confines of the storage room, he
searched the rows of boxes until he found his quarry. He
fitted the key and carefully cracked the box open and began
sifting through its contents.

After what seemed an eternity, he extracted a small wooden
chest.

The boy shuddered slightly upon opening the chest and
revealing its contents. Before him rested five ornate
rings, carefully arranged within glyphs of protection. He
closed the box and placed it in his pack and escaped the
bank as quietly as he had come.

As he made his way down the road, the tiny magical device
in his ear crackled to life,

“Queen of Hearts to Jack of Diamonds,” whispered the
voice, “you’ve got a shadow.”

The boy’s heart attempted to choke him. He quickened his
pace slightly and heard the footfalls several yards behind
him quicken as well. When he was close enough to his alley,
he broke into a run. As he turned into the alley, he
clicked his tongue to activate the crystal,

“Jack of Diamonds to Ace of Spades, the package is wrapped,
request immediate extraction,” he whispered hoarsely into
the air.

A man in black, sword drawn, swept around the corner into
the alley just in time to see the residual sparkles of a
gate shimmer into nothingness.

—

Alexander Rahl sat back in a chair in the back room of
Tablenhelm’s Fall and put his feet up on the table in front
of him. He felt the weight of the chest in his pack, as if
the weight of a million souls threatened to drag him to the
ground. The room was filled with spirits today, and they
all watched him, silently trying to see into his soul and
test his resolve.

The spirit of Kironius Mengst sat down in the chair in
front of him.

“You did good boy,” he began.

“Can’t much say I like your methods, ” interrupted Captain
T’Panga.

“But you did good nonetheless, ” continued Mengst, “You got
the job done, and that’s the best that can be asked of
anyone.”

Alexander looked up at the spirit across from him and
scowled.

“Now what?” he asked.

Delayne Muerdetta sat across the room, eyes downcast as
always, and she made a slashing gesture across her throat
with her spiritual fingertips.

“We die…this is madness,” she moaned.

“Yer already dead woman!” shouted Turon, “this is the only
way.” The shade of Alexander’s grandfather looked to
him, “Think you can get through this son?” he asked gently.

Alexander nodded slightly and began preparing his next
disguise.