The knight nodded at him, and didn't offer anything else for comment. Instead, he threw his focus over to the man at the town's square. A burly fellow as described with short black hair and a thin beard and mustache to match. Copé didn't take too much time to wait around. Copé walked out of sight from both the knight and the large salesman. Off the cobblestone path, he walked behind the Sidian Inn. It took some time. A few seconds. The Sidian Inn was one of the biggest buildings in Acera, which didn't mean very much, but it took him a good minute to come out the other-side. He peeked his head out.
The knight spoke to the large-man with a calm and balanced demeanor. Copé was thankful that he wasn't too nervous about the confrontation. He might very well have reached for his sword in search of comfort. That didn't happen though. The words exchanged between the two of them couldn't be made out by the thief, but he made assumptions about some of it. The knight was explaining the situation to the man, and at moment even motioned over to where Secrat was once standing before realizing he was pointing at nothing at all.
The large man didn't become angry or yell in a fit of rage, and that was disappointing. Copé didn't exactly know what he wanted to happen, but something like a crazed obese man throwing punches and yelling out profanities would certainly be enough to create a small diversion. That's what he was counting on, in-fact, but that isn't what happened. Instead, Copé watched the knight lead the man out and away from Azlak Temps. Secrat sighed for a moment.
Before long, the man and the knight were away from view and it was safe for him to step out of his hiding spot. He walked nearer to where the large man was once standing. Everybody else was mostly focused off to the side at Azlak Temps, who continued to spout off a bunch of colorful words to describe the sword. As far as Copé had seen, there still hadn't been any bids for it, but he might have missed one.
Secrat looked at the cart of tomatoes and oranges, and all kinds of different fruit. Tomatoes were a fruit in Acera, though the debate raged on in neighboring cities. He picked up one of the pears and held it in his hand. He didn't know whether he wanted to take a bite into it or chuck it at somebody but the answer was likely somewhere in the middle.
He resisted both of the urges and decidedly rested the pear back into the barrel. There wasn't a whole lot of options he could think of, but if there was anything he had learned from The Red Flux, it's that the simplest answer often proved to be the best one. The same one that was looking him in the eye whether he realized it or not, like the loose planks in Christique's shack.
In that instant, he decided he didn't really have anything much to lose and while he wanted to avoid certain habits, there was a lot of other things he could do. His hands wrapped themselves around the handles of the barrel. The rustic feel of the metal in his hands felt weak and flimsy like they were hoist together with wet sand or a slightly stronger remedy. Nevertheless, he took the barrel and pulled it back. Not caring about whether or not one or more of fruits spilled out onto the ground. The wheels on the bottom of it didn't turn very well. The wheels shook as he stepped back more and more. Not a lot of room for mobility with it. The large-man likely relied on brute force to push the damn thing.
His eyes went over to Azlak Temps. A clear view of him and a clear view of the sword resting in its case. Azlak was unsuspecting of him, and only continued to talk, his hand-gestures remaining as energized as ever before.
It looked as if he was discussing the sword one-on-one with a potential buyer. Secrat paid him a final look, and didn't even bother giving his decision a final thought, he shoved the barrel forward and ran with it. The wheels didn't offer him very much assistance and by the time the barrel connected with the glass case it had also flipped along with it. Copé was sent tumbling over the barrel. It wasn't as if he flew into the air or anything, but more fitting to say he slid over the barrel and rolled one or two times for good measure. The sound of the glass breaking on the sword's case was loud, but couldn't be distinguished from all the other noise, like a grunting Azlak Temps that was sent spiraling off of his feet in a way that wasn't graceful.
Secrat's body didn't ache at all from the whole ordeal which was surprising, the drop onto the cobblestone felt like it should have knocked the wind out of him but it didn't. All of the fruit spilled out of the barrel and fell out onto the ground, tumbling and rolling around. Secrat climbed up to his hands and knees and worked toward his objective. He unsheathed the knight's sword out from his scabbard, the noise of bickering civilians disguised the small, quiet sound.
He felt around for the case as fast as he possibly could, checking back and fourth over to make for certain Azlak hadn't glanced over to him yet. Before long, he found the Sword of Tertius, and sheathed it into his scabbard. He held the knight's sword in his hands and swapped it into the other sword's case.
After that, he came up to his feet in a slow fashion, feigning a hysteria he didn't have. Soon, Azlak Temps returned to his feet as well and had an angered look on his face.
"You! Idiot! Do you realize what you've done!?" Azlak shoved Secrat away from the sword's location and lifted the case in his hands. "You're lucky this thing wasn't scratched or damaged, or you better believe some serious coin would be coming out of your pocket right now. I shouldn't have to tell you this, but this isn't just some useless fruit," Azlak said before throwing a kick at one of the oranges and sending it spiraling into the crowd of civilians. "This is the Sword of Tertius, and it's worth more than your life, friend!"
Copé faked embarrassment for a moment and gasped for air for an added depth, "You, ... I am terribly sorry about that, I mean, the barrel just completely went out of control. It was heading downhill and I couldn't make it stop."
There were no hills anywhere nearby, but for some reason, Azlak Temps didn't know that. Instead, he rubbed his temples with an irritated expression and finally spoke, "I want you to leave. Just leave! Take your stupid no-good fruit and take that stupid barrel, and let me get back to doing my job!"
Copé nodded back at him. A sad, somber, and completely fictional look on his face. He lifted up his barrel, or ... somebody else's barrel, and started to walk away with it. Most of the fruits having already spilled out from it. He took one final glance at Azlak with puppy-dog eyes, but Azlak wasn't having any of it with a no-good glare directed at him. "I have to apologize to everybody. It was my mistake, and so, all of the fruit you see resting on the floor is yours for the keeping." Copé announced aloud.
Nobody yelled or cheered about that, and more than likely a lot of them had already assumed that to be the case. But he felt like he had to say something, didn't want any of them to feel like they were doing something wrong.
2
Copé ventured off and out from Acera with a feeling of certain refreshment. The act and way for which he stole the sword was comical, but at the same time, he had the Sword of Tertius to show for it. Azlak Temps would likely continue trying to auction off the sword, likely needing a decent chunk of time to do so, and once that finally happened, he'd open the sword case for closer inspection, and find out the truth. That was all well and good, and Copé had time to make certain he was far away from the city before that time came. Not that there was anything that Azlak could really have done against him. Secrat Copé was a master thief that was heavily trained in combat, whereas Azlak was some no-good merchant trying to sell some stolen goods. It had to take him at least some skill to steal the sword in the first place though. But Copé wasn't very worried about it.
After this, Copé would be welcomed back to the warm sanctity of The Red Flux. Nobody from Acera would help Azlak either. None of the knights and most certainly not the Aeonian. The Aeonian could technically venture off the reservations of Acera. But seldom has that ever happened. The veil would be removed and it would leave all of the town susceptible to attack. King Harries wouldn't risk such a thing for some merchant in the first place, but he wouldn't send any knights after Copé either.
The fact is, both of them were in the w
rong from the moral standpoint, and the knights would simply laugh in his face and tell him he got what he deserved. Trying to sell a stolen sword in the dead-center of town and not face at least some repercussions. Even if they aren't particularly the ones one might expect.
Secrat walked off into the Unprotected Wilderness. No gate separating the two. A large gate surrounded Hardan from the Wilderness. Looked like one that would be expected to be seen holding criminals in. Italina had a fancier one. They were always very scenic and embroidered when it came to things in Italina. Neither of them were locked or even closed for most hours of the day. They were a precaution more than anything else. If there were ever a reason they wanted to keep others out from their city, they had it. They locked them at night to keep wildlife from finding their way in.
This meant if you were a thief and wished to steal things at night, you could expect also having to stay there for the rest of the night. This was one of the main-reasons that The Red Flux mostly stole from Acera and Urgway, even though Italina had much more expensive items. Because, while Hardan and Italina had stronger ties on security and had certain things that further discouraged stealing, Acera didn't have a gate. Acera had a sign though. A sign that couldn't even be read well from far away.
A sign that read: "Unprotected Wilderness – Children Beware!" in bright red lettering. From there, the dark-green cobblestone path, riddled with dirt and grime, ended, and the path leading to the wilderness began.
The Unprotected Wilderness induced a lot of fear over the years, decades and centuries when the term was first coined. Most of the civilians inside Acera hadn't ever even stepped far into it, let alone travel far enough to make it to Italina or Urgway. There were a lot of stories and a lot of folk about it all. Some of it wasn't too far off, but most of it was blown completely overboard. Fact is, there was a lot to be afraid of in the wilderness.
The Carvers were a bunch of murderers that would slice your teeth from yours gums while you were still alive, and make a necklace, if only for the satisfaction they'd get from the look on your face. This was an honest reality, and something that actually worried Copé at times. He had never come in contact with one of them, and very much wished to keep it that way. However, that was basically the worst of it, and everything else wasn't nearly as bad. The Red Flux stole, but most of them weren't murderers. Satin was as friendly as they come. And while there were other thieves, and other murderous troupes, none of it was worth living in fear over.
Wildlife was a terrifying subject as well for them. A lot of tales about enormous creatures, elephants with brown fur and sharp tusks. Mermaids with sharp-teeth swimming around in the ponds. Copé didn't really know how all of those stories happened, but none of them were true. He assumed most of it was simply a way to scare the children. To make them too afraid to venture out into the unknown. But the fact that everyone was too afraid to travel more than a few feet into the wilderness was telling of the amount of paranoia and obliviousness a lot of them had.
Knights were well respected in Acera. Everybody loved them and thought they were modern-day heroes. The actual knights didn't have the heart to tell them the truth. either that, or they simply appreciated the attention. Copé assumed the latter was true. The knights only had a couple of jobs to deal with. They were the front-man for the king. They represented a certain "image," and were required to fit that image. This was to make everybody feel safe and to make everyone think it took a hero to travel to Italina, or something. It didn't, of course. But their other job was to live a normal and everyday life among the civilians.
They'd help them with their troubles and would even at times stop thieves and certain crimes from taking place, but as said, a lot of crime either went unnoticed or was scarce. Their biggest activity was that of a donkey or a pigeon. They would head back in fourth and navigate the five major cities. This was usually because they carried some certain message, like from the king of one city for the king of the other, or because they had to deliver certain goods. This was often. For each city's survival, they had to work together with each other in certain ways.
Knights also did a lot of hunting and scavenging up supplies like fruit and berries. Some of that could be done in the city-grounds. The agriculture in Acera wasn't bad. It wasn't nearly as efficient or as bodacious as Urgway's but it wasn't bad. The Amisoic Sea was also nearby enough to allow them to fish from within the comforts of the Aeonian.
Copé didn't really have it in him to migrate where he needed to be. The Red Flux troupe was most likely somewhere in-between Acera and Italina. That wasn't too bad, and it could've been as little as a few hour's journey or something longer than that. But he still felt fatigue, and didn't really want to set out on another trip so soon after the last one. (The Trade Network was fairly deep into the Whispy Deserts, and was closer to Urgway and Jalint than it was Acera. A long trip.)
The Sidian Inn was out of the question. The chance of Azlak Temps stumbling in for any reason at all didn't feel worth the hassle. In a lot of ways, that was a laziness about Secrat Copé. He didn't like dealing with certain dilemmas unless he had to. Instead of that, he decided to take refuge outside of Acera. There were clouds in the sky and it looked like it could very well end up raining before too late into the day. That made sleeping beneath a tree seem discouraging, but he didn't know much else. He decided for the time being to keep walking and try to find shelter along the way before things got damp.
Acera had some down-to-earth folk in it. Italina could be seen as the complete polar-opposite of that. There wasn't a lot of difference in appearance from the wilderness and Acera's city. Less trees, and a cobblestone road. That, and there were a lot more running around in it, but they mostly kept the decor the same. But, even still, there was a difference that Copé felt. He walked along a dirt-trail for some time until coming to a small creek. The creek was shallow (about five foot deep) and only about three-quarters of the way filled with water, but it expanded for miles and miles. Copé knew that by most chances, the creek connected to the enormous Amisoic Sea.
The wound in Copé's arm had since started throbbing, throwing a wheel barrel and himself at Azlak Temps must have aggravated it. Copé dropped to one knee beside the creek. A small ache came to his knee beneath the rocks, and so he instead fell down onto his bottom instead. The water in his hands felt cold. It wasn't very clean. He could see the dirt and muck from the creek's underbellies reflected in its contaminates. The water felt soothing though, and that was enough to make him lower his own discretion. Unbandaging his wound, Copé took a look at the gash he received from Christique. It hadn't started to heal any, and it still looked fresh, but it felt nice to let it breathe.
Copé held a stone in his hands. Chilly to the touch, and looked at it before tossing it into the creek, a small splash came afterward that brought water to the thief's face. The water on his face felt nice. He could hear a frog ribbet somewhere, but couldn't pinpoint its whereabouts when he looked around. As if to say the sound was there for no other reason than to set the mood. He discarded of his clothing, throwing it off and onto the grassy ground beside the creek.
His sheath taken off and the sword resting down beside his leggings. Copé dipped into the water. Gradually. Without a splash. The water was filthy but it didn't smell bad. It didn't smell much of anything, aside from the smell of mud and a swampy smell that was only faint and not abundant. The squishy mud beneath his feet and between his toes didn't bother him either. All of it felt like something he could deal with. He had dealt with worse unpleasantries. Some rocks were at the bottom too, but none of them sharp or scathing.
He turned his body around and rested his back against one side of the creek, the side opposite of where his clothes were. The water was only up to about a foot beneath his neck. A sigh escaped him.
3
A little deeper into the Unprotected Wilderness, Secrat noticed something he hadn't ever seen before. It was because Copé was unobservant, and not because it was obscured or hidden.
It was a little bit obscure though. Something that could easily be missed at a first glance if one didn't know what they were looking for. Maybe it was because he only just now needed it that he noticed it at all.
A wooden cabin, nothing else very extravagant about it. The wood looked decrepit and old, like it had been sitting there for centuries and centuries. It hadn't. Copé assumed. The look of the build itself was enough to make it blend in with the wilderness, but the way that vines and trees seemed to wrap themselves around it really added to the camouflage. That, and the dark-green moss that almost engulfed it to its entirety.
Secrat looked at everything with a certain skepticism. Like it wasn't really there and that he was just imagining it. However, he had left the desert, the only place hot enough to give-way to such hallucinations.
He walked toward it. A knife was in his hands. As it almost always was. He expected it to be abandoned and long-since ignored. It certainly wasn't maintained any, although looks could be deceiving. The wooden cabin looked like a terrific area to shack up in until after the rain and until morning came around once again. The grass beneath his feet thickened and raised in height. In wasn't too high, about to his knees. As he walked through, he heard the snapping of several twigs. The sound was enough to startle him some. It caught him off-guard. That was all.
The Red Flux and the Wunderkind Thief Page 8
