by Eric Ugland
“Um, why would you ask me to join if you didn’t want any new members in the first place?”
“Dear boy, I wanted you here. And our leader, Victor Woolf, wanted you here. But most of the others,” he paused and took a sip from his mug as he searched for the right words, “the others have grown complacent, comfortable. It is odd, I know, but this facility makes more money for us than any of our illegal activities did. Certainly when we average it out across the lower leveled members.”
“So you’re all happy just making cookies and—”
“We aren’t all happy, boy. Just some of us. A majority, perhaps.”
“All but two of you?”
“Maybe four.”
“So no one wanted me to succeed.”
“No one expected you to succeed. Minor difference.”
“I’m guessing there’s no initiation ritual or anything like that?”
“We aren’t a secret society; we don’t do things like that. There’s no branding — though I suppose, if you want, we could make you take some trays out of the oven with your bare hands so you get a good burn. But that’s up to you.”
“No party?”
“You want a party? Go join the Jolly Lollies.”
“Do they actually want new members?”
“Likely, but I doubt you’d appreciate their lifestyle.”
“They sound a bit…hedonistic.”
“Extremely. In any case, you are one of us now, regardless of how anyone feels. You were offered a test, and you passed it. Welcome.”
“Thank you.”
“We expect you to be aware of and follow the rules,” he said, taking another sip from his mug, and pulling a folded bit of parchment from his pocket.
“I get it — it’s a Union. Naturally rules come with it.”
“I appreciate you being so understanding.”
“Are you going to tell me the rules?”
He tilted his head and looked at me as if I was daft.
“Did you not receive a rule book?” he asked.
“You didn’t give me one.”
“It should be part of your character system. Did you not check?”
“Oh. Yeah, I just, uh, right. Of course. I’ll read them over.”
“See that you do,” Rowland said, and he fiddled with his piece of parchment again. It made me very curious as to what was on it.
But, seeing as he was busy with something else, I dug into my system, moving out of the character sheet to see a tab marked Guild. I clicked it, and got an overlay.
Guild: The Biscuit’s Union
Location: Glaton, Glaton
Rank: Rogue
Member status: Good
At the top, off to the side, was a button marked “Documentation.” I clicked it.
Rulebook
You shall commit no violent acts upon members of the Union without Leader approval.
You shall commit no crimes against members of the Union without Leader approval.
With the rank of Rogue you are required to fulfill one Union job per month, or pay one thousand gold into the Union pot.
With the rank of Rogue, you are not permitted to draw on Union funds.
With the rank of Rogue, you are not permitted to vote in Union elections.
With the rank of Rogue, you are not required to use the Union Fence for all goods.
With the rank of Rogue, all goods acquired through official Union jobs must be turned into the Union Fence.
With the rank of Rogue, you are given fair market value minus twenty-five percent for all goods sold through the Union Fence.
“The bit about Union jobs: are they—” I started.
“The jobs are whatever we need doing. Usually little things. Especially at your level. Though, most of the members these days just help out around here for their monthly work. You can join in if you’d like, mix dough, carry flour, that sort of thing. Now, let’s finish this up because I’m old and tired. You report to me. I report to Woolf. He’s currently the leader, and hasn’t been voted out in a long enough spell that I think he’ll hold on to the job as long as I’m alive at least.”
He looked down at his piece of paper and took another drink from the mug.
I looked around the room. It was small, with two doors: one behind Rowland and one behind me. The chairs were comfortable, old, but well made. No carpet, nothing on the walls. It was a bare little meeting room that made little sense to have in a bakery. At least as far as I could tell.
“No other questions?” Rowland asked.
“You’re waiting for me to ask questions?” I asked.
“I already know everything about being in the Union. Why would I ask questions of you?”
“Right. Uh, for what I took tonight, does that qualify as goods acquired in an official job?” I asked.
“Yes,” he said. “Though it is a bit difficult to gauge value of the orb. Priceless artifact, no one will be willing to buy and all.”
“Well that sucks.”
“I might have misspoke. There is at least one buyer.”
“You.”
“Yes. If I purchase the orb, its location will remain a secret, and an heirloom will be returned to my family.”
“So how much is it worth to you?” I asked with just the hint of a smile.
“Oh, economics. One potential buyer who is quite motivated. How far can you push him?”
“Well, there’s this building I’ve been thinking of buying—”
“A building? You want me to buy you a building?”
“Priceless heirloom artifact.”
“Where is this building?”
“Old Town.”
He harrumphed, then said, “At least you didn’t say the Bright. Old Town might be doable. What’s the building’s address?”
I told him.
He scribbled in a notebook he pulled from a vest pocket.
“I will look into it,” he said.
“And the rings and armor?”
“All will be catalogued and sold. The proceeds will be available in, uh,” he stopped and looked up from his notebook. “Frankly it might take some time. We haven’t done this for a while, and we’re rusty.”
“You mentioned that.”
“Well. It is true.”
“Bigger question, but what is an indicium?”
Rowland looked at me as if I’d asked what the air was. He blinked a few times before taking a long pull on his mug.
“I can’t believe I’m the one telling you this,” he started, still staring at me, involuntarily shaking his head slightly.
“What’s that supposed to mean?”
“Most children know what indicium are. Not sure how you missed out on that.”
“I had a different type of childhood.”
“I’ll say. The indicium is a marking on your body that denotes achievements or memberships you have attained, among other things—”
“Markings?”
“Yes. How do you— I’m not going to ask. I can only imagine I will be disappointed with whatever lie you choose to tell me. Extend your arm out, and will your indicium to show.”
“How do I—”
“Just will it.”
I frowned at the man, but I did as he said. And like magic (or because of magic, I suppose) a tattoo materialized on my forearm. At least, that’s the best way to describe what I saw. It was a series of black concentric rings culminating in a black circle holding two other circles next to each other. One had a numeral zero in it, while the other had a stylized R. Runic text ran around the outside of the largest circle, something I couldn’t read, and there was a stylized Imperial eagle at the top. It was really cool. I’d yet to get tattoos back in the old world, but I always wanted them. And now I had one. And it was awesome.
Then it faded until it disappeared completely.
“Yes, the indicium,” Rowland said. “I suspect now you’ll work on getting a whole set of them.”
“How many do you have?”
> “Enough that they don’t look fantastic all together, but that’s a rather personal question to ask.”
“Okay, sorry,” I said. “What are ‘acquit chits?’”
“A good question, but sadly, I can’t answer it. It’s something that has been part of the Union indicium from the beginning, but no one I know has managed to get one. The theory is that it was something which was used in the early days of the Empire, but has since been phased out.”
“I noticed the rule book spells out what’s required of me. But, well, what do I get out of the deal?”
“Membership benefits? If you should find yourself in jail, we have contacts inside. We can almost always make your stay there more comfortable, and if you have built up enough good will and credit in the Union, we might even be able to get you out entirely. If you have trouble with a particular guardsman, or woman, we have ways of easing that pressure. We are a contact point for those looking for individuals with your skillset, so we can provide you lucrative opportunities so you aren’t reduced to picking pockets of tourists wandering around the Arena or breaking into random houses at night hoping they’ve got a silver candlestick for you to pilfer. If you have trouble with another criminal organization, you come speak to us first. We are your guardians in that world. You are here because you can trust us, even though you may not be able to trust anyone else. And, should you want training, which you had better, then we are able to guide you on how to become a superior thief.”
“Sounds good. So what’s next?” I asked.
“You keep your head down,” he snapped. “You train, you live your normal life, and you do not make waves. You are invisible.”
“I’m not sure I know how to be invisible, but—”
“Sass me later. You made real enemies tonight, and I have yet to determine the full extent of what you did.”
“I did exactly what you told me to do.”
“And I will have to be more careful about what I tell you to do in the future, because you clearly have no idea what you’re doing.”
“I know I don’t. That’s why I wanted to join this damn thieves’ guild.”
“I do wish you’d been here when the thing was named. Much more evocative. But, alas, also quite pointed. Rather obvious what we do at that point, eh? For the moment, keep your head down and train. Focus on staying out of view, especially from any of the nobles. Especially Tollendahl. He’ll be raging after this, and someone will swing to appease his desire for blood. Now get out of here. I’m sure there’s plenty I’m forgetting, but that’s all I have to give you.”
He finished off the coffee in his mug and stood.
“Welcome to the Union,” he said again. Then he turned and walked out of the room.
I sat by myself for a moment, trying to come to grips with things. This was a very strange situation. I wasn’t sure what I expected from a thieves’ guild, but I was pretty sure it wasn’t the Biscuit’s Union. Was this even a group I wanted to be a part of? The benefits with the indicium were worth it, to a point. But, on the whole, it just felt like amateur hour.
The door popped open again. Rowland stuck his head through.
“I’ll get you your building,” he said. “Whatever it is. I wanted to pretend like I was going to be firm or negotiate, but I’ve wanted that orb back in the family for as long as I can remember. While my father clings to life, I am going to bring it back to him. That is enough for me to give you whatever it is you desire, and since you asked for a building, a building you shall have.”
“Uh,” I stammered, “thank you.”
He nodded once.
“Good night,” he said, and shut the door firmly behind him.
Chapter 78
I walked downstairs and heard laughter. Shae was sitting at a table, telling some story or another, and all five of the older people she sat with were almost crying laughing. She saw me, stood up, and gave me a genuine smile.
The actual members of the group stopped laughing, and looked over at me with a hint of sadness.
“You’ll have another chance,” the nice old woman said.
“I’m sure I will,” I said, “but hopefully after a good night of sleep.”
I didn’t wait to see what they might do, or say. Clearly they all thought I’d gone up to admit defeat to Rowland. Which meant Rowland hadn’t told them anything, which meant I wasn’t about to either. Instead, I looked at Shae, and indicated none-too-subtly that we were leaving. Or, at least, that I was leaving.
So I left.
Shae came along right next to me.
We walked through the area outside the arena, a well-lit spot that was verging on delightful. And yet, I couldn’t help but scan the skies, looking for anything that was moving. Anything that might indicate a coming attack.
“What was all that?” she asked, completely non-plussed by our nighttime stroll. She was comfortable and relaxed, and I wasn’t sure how to take that. How much did I not know about her?
“Thieves’ guild,” I replied. “Of sorts.”
“They seem rather, um—”
“Old?”
“Yeah.”
“I’m definitely the youngest person there by an order of magnitude. And judging by tonight, I think I’m the only one who’s actually interested in doing the things a thieves’ guild would do.”
“So it’s not a bakery?”
“It is. That’s the cover.”
“Good cover.”
“Did you try their cookies?”
“I did. Delicious.”
We continued on in silence, passing out of the arena’s marginal safe zone. There was no one around, and the middle of the night. Dark and creepy. Ahead, though, I saw the comforting light of the all-night cookie and coffee stand. Guards stood around, chewing the fat.
Shae reached over and grabbed my arm, tucking herself against me.
I stiffened up involuntarily (no, not like that). I just wasn’t expecting her to grab onto me. But then I noticed the way the guards were looking at her — hungrily. But as soon as she latched onto me, all their gazes hit on me instead. So I smiled.
One of the guards gave me a nod of appreciation, which was kind of shitty, but whatever, and turned back to his coffee.
“I’m guessing you don’t want another cookie,” I said.
“We could get some to go,” she said.
“Got a special one for you,” the cookie man said, holding up a cookie with a napkin around it.
I looked at Shae, confused, but walked over and held my hand out.
“For you,” the man said, putting the cookie in my hand.
“Thank you,” I replied.
He gave me a smile and a wink, and then returned to his seat.
I took the cookie and the two of us walked on. Having a weird feeling about things, I unfolded the napkin, and looked at it.
“Welcome to the Union,” it said in a flourishing script. Beneath that, it was signed: “Your Old Town Safehaven.”
A spot to run to if I needed to bolt. Nice.
We made it home without much in the way of problems. Just a few drunks lurching out of a bar, screaming their courage to the darkness above. Nothing swept down to grab them, so maybe it worked. Who knows?
We went upstairs to my apartment, which is where it got hard (no, not like that), because I didn’t know what I was going to do. With her. Shae, I mean.
Shae didn’t seem to know what to do either.
We both just stood there.
I realized someone had put a bed in the place. And a mattress. And covered it with sheets. It was a made bed in the same spot my destroyed bed had previously occupied.
I opened and closed my mouth a few times as I tried to find the right words to explain the mystery in front of me, but nothing came out.
“You can take the bed,” I said finally. “There’s, uh, I’m probably not going to sleep tonight.”
“You need to sleep though,” she countered. “You should—”
“Nah, I have thin
gs to do.”
Before she could respond, I hurried through the door, walked down a flight of stairs, and went into the training apartment.
I shut the door a little harder than I’d intended, and leaned back against it.
What was I doing?
I was getting flustered over a girl, and I didn’t like it. Not like I had an overwhelming amount of experience with women back in the other world, but I’d never lost my cool the way I just had. I hadn’t even been super awkward during the heist; I’d kept calm, cool and collected. Now that I was safe at home, I started to dweeb it up. Fan-damn-tastic.
In the other world, when I’d been frustrated or whatnot, I’d hop in a game and shoot the crap out of pixelated enemies until their pixelated blood came pouring out of my screen. I didn’t have that sort of luxury here. No games, because everything was a game. I could find enemies to kill, I supposed — likely just drop into the sewers, and find plenty of stuff to gank. But it’d also be likely I’d get ganked. And, frankly, I didn’t want that sort of stress.
But I needed to get some form of release (no, not like that — maybe like that). So I threw myself into the grind.
Pushups.
Pullups
Squats.
Sprinting.
Jumping.
I pushed myself until I couldn’t stand. My muscles burned with exertion.
I sprawled on the floor, and closed my eyes. I tightened my internal ball of mana and sent it all around my body, feeling the exquisite pain as the magic forced its pathways through my system. Then I cast my first spell of the morning: stamina regeneration. It required me casting the spell continuously as it did the minor repair work around my body until I felt refreshed and renewed.
Then rinse and repeat.
Except no rinse. The rinse came at the end. It was more repeat and repeat until I ran out of mana. Then I pushed until I ran out of stamina, and then I stopped, collapsing to the floor right outside the shower. I felt a hint of sleepiness, and I tried to think back to when I’d slept last. I couldn’t remember.
It took quite a long time for me to get my clothes off. I crawled into the shower and sat there as the water crashed over my head. It was cold. Which was fine. I relished the cold. It felt fantastic.
