The Red Flux and the Wunderkind Thief

by Nicholas McConnaughay

"Leave, or I swear I'll have YOUR SEVERED HEAD on this stick!" Lukas Lewis' face was blood-red, and for all it's worth, at that moment, Secrat really believed Lewis meant what he said.

  Secrat wasn't afraid though. He'd never be afraid of Lukas Lewis. The man and him had thrown back beers in earlier years. They fought around as kids, and as kids, Secrat always won. Secrat couldn't be afraid of him. He did flinch, however. Lewis was overly sensitive, but was never one for loud words or tantrums, even as a kid, and it caught Secrat off-guard. The spear was pointed up, right beneath Secrat's chin and Lewis looked like he was contemplating his kill. But something soon after made him cease and withdraw. Lewis lowered his spear down again and backed away.

  Secrat turned his head and saw what it was, a woman named Mirai and a small child whose name escaped him. Mirai was Lewis' mother. Not old, but not youthful, late forties at best, and in-front of her black hair, strewn up in a ponytail, she wore a look of fear. The small child looked frightened as well.

  "Lewis, what's going on?" Mirai's voice called out after him. Not shaken. Not afraid. Meant to be soothing. To calm her son. Lewis stopped and looked at her for a second, but only a second before his neck jerked back and he faced Secrat once again. Copé's eyes were on Mirai, who hadn't looked over at him. "Go back inside," Lewis replied calmly.

  "Mother Lewis, it's wonderful to see you again," Secrat said, sounding enthused. "And look at you," pointing at the small child, "You've gotten so big since I left." Even if I can't remember your name. That didn't seem to make Lewis very happy and it wasn't supposed to. All Copé wanted was to stall long enough until one of the elite thieves came outside. They had a much lighter head about things such as murder and would be more helpful than Lewis.

  "What is he doing here?" Mirai said. But before Copé had a chance to answer Lewis' question for him, Lukas fired back at her: "Take Ansh and go back inside." Ah, yes, Ansh, of course!

  To Secrat's surprise, Mirai held her tongue and did as she was advised, walking back down the dirt-steps, beneath the stick-made roof and into her humble abode. Mirai was a good woman. Or at least that's the impression Secrat always got of her. She didn't help with the heists so he didn't see her much, she was one of the women that stayed at home and looked after the children. Copé had been raised to respect that, and truth be told, could never imagine a world as dull and dreary as having to look after a bunch of ankle-biting monkeys.

  Secrat waited until both Mirai and Ansh were both out of sight before he spoke again. "I understand you're a little miffed and one day both of us will have to sit down, have a cup of tea and hatch this out, but I am not in the mood for you right now, what I am in the mood for is to atone for myself with Father. I don't need to atone with anyone else," Lukas beamed at The Thief, who added: "At least not now."

  That didn't sit well with Lukas, once more, Secrat expected as much. What he did not expect was Lukas' reaction to be so violent.

  Lewis dropped the spear to the dirt. Copé looked down at it with something reminiscent of relief, ... before Lewis grabbed him by the throat.

  Secrat knew he wasn't in any condition to defend himself, he was ready to take a couple of fists and be done with it. Lewis shoved him forward, leaning his back against one of the walls concealing the horses. Copé could hear a ruckus from the inside of the pen.

  Lukas' hand was wrapped tight around Secrat's throat, and for an instant, Secrat even felt like he was about to start gasping for air. But before his suffering had a chance to begin, a voice called off the dog, Lukas, that is, and freed Copé from his grasp.

  "You'll be joining your mother and brother in your home as well," the voice called out. Secrat didn't even have to look to know who it was. The deep and raspy voice easily distinguishable, and the way Lewis freed Secrat a second later left no doubt.

  Father Toucan Veras stood.

  Secrat looked at Veras' large scimitar lying sheathed at his side. He always carried it around with him. It was a large blade that only stressed the sheer size of its owner.

  Lukas Lewis looked over at Toucan for a moment with eyes that seemed pleading and afraid, and his voice ushered out words Secrat couldn't understand, like he was about to speak but decided to muffle his words. Lukas turned his head from Secrat, with hesitation, and started way toward his hole in the ground.

  But, before that, before fully making his leave, he stepped in-front of Toucan. His back to Secrat. He heard what Lukas said in a voice that tried not to tremble, "Don't forget what he did. One of our own is dead because of him."

  Toucan looked neither frustrated nor annoyed, nor did he look sympathetic to Lewis, his stone face expression watched Lewis leave and join his family.

  "Father," Secrat Copé started, but Toucan raised his hand and silenced him.

  "We'll talk about this in the trophy room. Too many eyes and ears," Toucan said.

  Secrat Copé nodded back at him and followed while the leader of The Red Flux led. As Secrat walked, he expected to see stares and confused looks on his way. That there would be members of The Red Flux standing outside of their homes wondering about the conflict that had arose. But there weren't any. Or at least, none Secrat noticed.

  It was still early in the day and was to chance that many hadn't awaken from their beds yet. Even the Elites were unlikely to be awake.

  Only reason Lukas was awake is because he wanted to be an Elite.

  A thief in-training often accompanied Elite members and taught the trade by them. Once they were deemed fit to work alone, they were allotted certain privileges and opportunities.

  Secrat was allotted the chance to work alone in a heist, one where he was expected to rob Azlak Temps, and the one where he ended up killing Elson Mans instead.

  Before that though, a lot of manual labor went into it all, those wanting to be considered as Elite had the responsibility of tending to the horses and making for certain everything was in-order for the next heist.

  Elson Mans was an Elite and was taking Lukas Lewis out for a steal.

  Secrat followed. No eyes staring at him kept him calm. Lukas Lewis' reaction wasn't expected and made the thief feel a little uneasy. He was unlikely to be considered as in the good graces of the Red Flux after what happened, but he hadn't expected the emotion and boiling tension that he was feeling.

  Toucan led him down the dirt-made steps of the Trophy Room. A lot of steps. Footprints layered each and everyone of them. Wanderers weren't allowed to be in here, but at a glance, it was no different than one of the other dugouts.

  Once they went down enough and the roof went over head, it looked something like the Sidian Inn in Acera. Doors on the left and on the right, each made of bamboo that had been bound together with rope. Each of them with a sign on the front and a name scribed onto it. These rooms belonged to members of the Elite. All the rooms were without vacancy, and so, for new recruits, a new room would be dug for them.

  The hallway went on for long enough to assure they'd never run out of room for a new hole. The living conditions seemed strange to foreigners, but to The Flux and its thieves, digging their home was a rite of passage for self-betterment.

  There had been many times Secrat had walked through these halls to talk to Toucan, but he couldn't remember whether or not he'd ever seen inside of one of the rooms.

  Down some more steps, Toucan's quarters went several more feet underground. A lot of work had been done before Copé had ever been born, and it likely took every man, woman, and child to help dig it. Candles lit every several feet and between each room of the Elite, as well as on the left and right side of the stairs.

  The end of the stairs led to three rooms, the one walking in had Toucan's desk. He didn't spend that much time sitting around, so the area was often vacant and didn't have a whole lot when it came to decor. Toucan's large desk stood in-front of several wooden chairs, and the only time it was ever used was on occasion for when he had meetings with the Elite.

  Secrat recalled having once snuck under Toucan's desk and eavesdropp
ed on one of the meetings when he was a child.

  The desk was wooden and riddled with dust. Toucan was hardly a slob but there was nobody in their right mind that would refer to him as cleanly or well-kept. His attention was always on different matters rather than filth and grime. Regardless of his extravagant wardrobe.

  The desk also had several scrolls, Secret knew not what they had on them. To the left of this room was another that also belonged to Veras, it was his bedroom. A bed rested in the middle as well as a small candle lying on a large drawer. Secrat didn't know whether Veras kept clothes in there or something else, but Toucan never struck him as the type to have hobbies. His life was the Red Flux.

  To Copé's knowledge, he never took much to lovers or alcohol, and lived a dull and boring life absorbed by selflessness and the will to keep everyone else happy.

  Which isn't really living at all, so Secrat assumed Toucan kept his whores a secret.

  The third and final room was the Trophy Room, and it's name told of what it contained. Behind Toucan's desk, and behind a large, dark-red cloth was everything that The Red Flux had. Not everything they had ever stolen, of course, that isn't how it worked at all in the troupe.

  Father Toucan Veras wasn't a King, and there wasn't mountains and mountains of treasure behind him.

  When a successful steal happens and a member or members of the Flux make out with loot, the items are taken to the Trophy Room, where they stay until a trip is made to the Whispy Deserts or another reputable area for merchantman. The Elites and Veras make sure everyone is clothed and fed, and in-return, they only ask for loyalty.

  Secrat looked around the room with a certain feeling, like goosebumps, except his arms felt smooth, it all felt very strange to be back inside this room. The coolness of it and the way it smelled so strongly of dirt. The smell was suffocating and only gave-way to the feeling that everything was about to cave in on him.

  The last time he had been here the smell didn't bother him. It must have been a long enough time that the smell was no longer engraved in his nostrils.

  Father Toucan Veras walked forward. Unstrapping the scabbard and the scimitar off from his waist, he dropped it slowly to the side of his desk. It always looked so small when it was near Veras that Secrat forgot how easy it would've been to slice him in half with it.

  Toucan motioned forward, informing Secrat of the chairs in-front of his desk for sit. Secrat, while already aware, answered his pleasantries and seated himself. Toucan sat in the chair in-front of him, behind the desk. His eyes ventured off from the ground and over to Secrat. The stare made The Thief feel less than welcome, but Toucan didn't mind that. Father might as well have been staring a hole into him by the way is glare refused to sway or waiver.

  Secrat smiled awkwardly. About all he could think to do in a time like this, and even though he was certain it'd lead to his hand being stomped on again, he went ahead and did it anyway. "Why have you returned?" Toucan's voice sounded about as angry as it always did, yet it was enough to unsettle the Thief on inflection alone.

  Secrat gulped, his eyes venturing away from Father's. "Before I left, you may recall saying I'd be able to repent my sins and amend the wrong I'd done. You told me of a way to make all of this heart-ache lessen and to welcome myself back into The Red Flux." Copé chose his words like they were straight out of scripture, that was by design. It was meant to create the illusion of being this 'whole new person,' because he knew Father wanted that from him. And yet, Toucan didn't seem taken by his Son's words. He maintained his stoic expression of collected indifference.

  "I remember," Toucan Veras responded.

  He rested his hands at the top of his desk. Flat. Both of them large, just as the rest of him, and they looked as if they could wrap themselves around Copé's skull like a small rock. Secrat hoped this would never be tested.

  His hands were also filthy. Copé could see the black under the nails and it looked as though they hadn't been washed in some time.

  Secrat nodded nervously at Toucan, "I believe I had done that, or at least taken a very necessary and meaningful step in achieving such," Copé answered, his words carrying as much confidence as they could under the circumstance.

  Toucan's ears didn't exactly prick, but his eyes seemed to carry at least a flicker of curiosity by the statement. "Oh?" is all he said.

  Secrat stood from his chair upon kneeling to one knee before his father's desk, like how a loyal knight would've done a King. He unsheathed the sword and presented it in his hands, lying flat. "I offer you the Sword of Tertius," he said at once.

  Small speckles of mud were visible on the blade. Faint enough that Copé hoped Toucan wouldn't notice.

  "I see," Father responded, standing up from his chair as well. His eyes went over the blade. Father was never known much for sharing his emotions, aside from anger, frustration, or a simple lack there-of. This moment was not an exception.

  The thief tried his best to remedy the situation, to remember how Azlak Temps had spoken of the sword with such passion: "It would seem to me that someone here hasn't been reading their history books. When the Aeonians first ascended up," Secrat began, but before he could really get into digging his grave, Toucan lifted his hand up, silencing him once more.

  "I am aware of who Charles Tertius is." Toucan brought a breath of air into his lungs and let it dissipate out. "That sword will make amends with The Red Flux. That sword will welcome you back into our troupe and into our family."

  Secrat smiled. His head looking down at the sword, he stood back to his feet and eased himself. "Thank you," Secrat said beneath his breath before flashing his smile over to Father Toucan Veras.

  However, Veras didn't appear to be finished: "The Red Flux is a forgiving entity because it has to be. Thieves in the night, we've all killed somebody once before in our lives. I've killed more than my fair share and those are scars I wear for which I am not proud." Toucan's voice was calm but underneath that, Copé heard something else in his voice as well. Deep and hidden away, but it was there. "I look at you as one of my biggest accomplishments. I've never said that before but it's the truth. But I also look at you as one of my biggest failures, and do you know why?"

  Secrat knew what he was hearing in Toucan's voice now. It was shame and pity and it was frustration. All three of those things, each more abundant than the last. It was the words coming out that bothered Copé. They offended him, and it bothered him more to know whatever Father would say, would more than likely be true. But Secrat cared not about morality, and only cared about it his lack there-of being addressed. Holding his tongue, however, as there was nothing to earn from having a fit.

  "Why, Father?" Secrat merely asked. Humoring Father. Bracing himself.

  "You never change and you never learn." Toucan answered. "You are the same selfish and egocentric fool you've always been!" His voice was loud for the final sentence but that all went away as a quieter tone commenced, "Or at least that's what I am thinking. I am thinking you're the same as you always have been. Maybe you're a little humbled by your time away, knowing it's a lot more difficult to make it out-there on your own. But that's not what I am looking for. That's not change and that's not how one seeks to be forgiven. I don't want you welcoming yourself back because it's convenient to you. I look back at all the wrong things I've done with feelings of disappointment and feelings of disgust, but you look at them like humanity itself is nothing more than an obstacle standing between you, riches and treasure."

  Toucan counted on his fingers with each addition to the list. "And women. And alcohol. And you don't think of others as people." Secrat made an offended face, but fixed himself, trying not to lose his composure. "I won't keep you out of The Red Flux. I can't keep you out of The Red Flux. Not for killing another member. You're worth more than banishment. But you said something before I brought you in here, and do you know what that was?"

  Copé shook his head.

  "You told Lukas Lewis you didn't need his forgiveness. That's where yo
ur issue lies. You don't need it, but you're supposed to want it." Toucan Veras said, and for some unexplained reason, Copé made eye-contact with Father. His eyes made The Thief feel weak. And how a stare could be so condescending, Copé knew not.

  "Lukas isn't like you. Murder isn't something he has been in-contact with. He's weaker than you are. But he IS loyal and he IS a good person. These are traits I'd like more than anything for you. Lukas will have a room dug for him in the Trophy Room in due time. But you, you'll be starting at the very bottom. And the only way you'll ever go anywhere at all, be trusted on your own heist, or move up the ranks ... is if Lewis approves."

  Secrat felt goosebumps on the back of his neck by those words. Toucan smirked with satisfaction. "Welcome back to The Red Flux, Secrat. Your former home has since been filled, you'll have to dig yourself a new one. I'll sort it out with the rest of the members once they've awoke. Goodbye now," Toucan concluded.

  Chapter Nine

  Secrat Copé didn't fire back at Father Toucan Veras, as much as he wanted to, and in-fact, he said nothing in-response, offering a nod as substitute. Toucan wasn't the type for negotiating, and Secrat's body felt too battered and wearied from the day's travels to try and make him see reason. The dirt was cool and hard. It was uncomfortable. But he didn't care. With nothing to his name except the muddied clothing on his person and the empty flash in his pocket.

  The Sword of Tertius wasn't even in his possession anymore as Veras had taken it to the Trophy Room.

  The thief slept on the ground for what felt like an eternity, ignoring the commotion from everybody else around him. To his good fortune, nobody stomped on him or caused him heart-ache. When he awoke, while his clothing were, of course, still filthy, his body felt rejuvenated and reinvigorated.

  * * *

  The next couple of months expired fast. The thief managed to keep himself without issue or complication. It was different than how he left it. He no longer associated with friends and mostly kept to himself. The rest of the Flux didn't hate him, or at least, he didn't believe they did. Lukas Lewis hated him, that much was clear, but not the rest. The vision of Secrat taking the life of Elson Mans had evidently engraved itself in Lukas' mind. Everyone else hadn't forgotten, but forgiveness came easier to them.