GOLDEN LION WIP

Prelude

 

The eyes of two men locked onto each other. They fought an intense mental battle over the Redjohn table; it was their last round, and they were evenly matched. The House Champion of the Redjohn game – the man with a monocle and a long, white streak in his, otherwise, jet-black hair was now on his last legs. His ire was apparent.

 The man on the right – a tall, blond gentleman, with a piercing gaze – was smiling. It was the smile of a man who knew that he had won. Won big. That was no easy task, and beating the House Champion of The Golden Lion Casino was considered an achievement in the gambling world of Elderhearth. 

The silence of anticipation that was radiating from the onlookers around the table was electric. Patrons of The Golden Lion were wealthy men and women dressed in the most expensive and lavish of clothes that the Elderhearthian tailors of the Artisan City could offer, bedazzled in jewelry. Cigarette and pipe smoke billowed and curled overhead, all the while, glasses with the most luxurious liquor were emptied. Casino table overseers, in their vests of matte black, with perplexing patterns woven in them with golden string, were gathered around the Redjohn table. They were making sure that the players were not cheating. And they were always the type of observant people you could never cheat.

 Well, almost never. The blond man could feel it prickling his skin. He was moments away from victory, fame, and wealth. This moment was what he had been practicing for the last ten years. The excitement of pulling off the most elaborate cheating scheme in the most complex of games, in the most prominent Casino in Elderhearth – all under the watchful eyes of more than two dozens of people – was hard to contain. He was almost giddy with glee. This is who he was.

 A genius. A conman. A gambler. A victor.

The hands went down, splaying the cards across the red cloth draped over the table. The gathered crowd let out a collective gasp, as slowly, the realization sunk in. The House Champion was House Champion no more. The blond man utterly crushed him in that final exchange. And he was beaming. The about-to-be-declared former House Champion looked as if someone had crushed his spine. His back was bent, his arms hung limply at his sides. His lower lip quivered in disbelief. 

“Mr. Jonah Reel is the new House Champion with a winning hand of two million Eldarians!”

Cheering and excitement exploded from the crowd.

The ex-champion looked devastated.

Jonah got up and bowed to the people around the table. More cheering. Some even clapped his back. He wanted to escape the mob of wealthy, well-dressed idiots but he was unable to discern any viable opening in the mass of perfumed bodies. He didn’t imagine that winning would be so – claustrophobic. He wanted to claw his way out of there. Wanted to get away from The Golden Lion as fast as he could. Fame and glory is great, but from a comfortable distance, he thought.

As if they knew what he needed at that moment, the casino attendants opened a way through the crowd. “Follow us, Mr. Reel.” One of them whispered in his ear. “The Lion wishes to see you.” Jonah felt the bile in his stomach rising. Why would the manager want to meet him? Oh, he’d just beaten the House Champion – of course, the manager would want to meet him. The prospect of sitting across the – arguably – most powerful man in the gambling industry in all of Elderhearth, wasn’t one he enjoyed. As the casino attendants pulled him out of the crowd, Jonah breathed a sigh of relief. He felt his mind clear. The sickness he'd felt disappeared. Jonah allowed himself a smile. He’s going to meet The Lion, after he’d cheated his way to the top. And no one in the Casino knows. If they had discovered him at any point during the last four months he had spent attending the Casino…well, he knew that his gambling career would be over. That’s the type of influence The Lion had. If you cheated in one of his places, not even the lowliest and scummiest of illegal gambling dens would have you at a table.

The attendants took Jonah across the luxurious grand lobby of the Golden Lion Casino. They stopped in front of a large, red door that had a golden ornament that resembled a lion’s head with its mouth opened, mounted in the middle. “Wait here.” One of the attendants went in. Jonah took a deep breath. There was a life waiting for him in Sredinah Empire, he thought. Away from Elderhearth. Away from everything he hated. And he finally had the means to acquire a new life for himself. He wanted to finish this Lion business as soon as possible.

The red door opened. Jonah saw two figures standing in the hallway. One wore completely white robes, and the other wore completely black robes. They even had masks that matched their outfits.

 “Mr. Jonah Reel?” the White one asked.

 “Y-yes. That’s me.” He stuttered.

 “Come with us. The Lion is waiting.” The Black one said.

They stepped to the sides, letting Jonah know that he is to walk in front of them. He assumed it was protocol. These two, he knew, were the Lion’s personal bodyguards. They would occasionally be present during big game nights, walking around the premises, keeping watch. It was of no surprise to Jonah that, The Lion chose the Twins as his protection detail. After all, they were a very notorious pair of assassins in the Elderhearth’s Underworld.

They walked down the hallway, taking a few turns along the way. Arriving in front of another large, ornate door, Black stopped behind Jonah. White walked in front of him and knocked on the door in five short knocks.

“Bring him in!” a muffled, female voice came from the other side. The Lion is a woman? Jonah was thinking. It could be possible – after all, he had never seen The Lion during his time spent in the Casino. Maybe that was part of her image? Jonah breathed and squared his shoulders, preparing for whatever it is that he was about to walk into.

The door swung open and he saw…a grey, stone backyard. Confusion struck him. This was no office of the Lion. There were numerous barrels neatly stacked on top of one another against one of the walls. Four barrels were separated from the rest. Two had lids on them, while one had green liquid sloshing inside of it. Two men, carrying a barrel lid, approached the remaining barrel. There was a human hand sticking out of the dark-green liquid inside the barrel. Jonah assumed that it was the same liquid as the one in the previous barrel.

He felt a kick slam into his back and he was sent flying through the door. He landed on his wrist with an audible snap. That made him yelp in pain. He looked around him and saw a pair of black, leather boots standing above him. Before he could react, one of the boots moved and delivered a swift kick to his head. His vision blurred instantly.

“He cheated in a game with Reg? What a sorry bastard.” The female voice said.

“Our books show that he has been a regular for the past four months. This was probably planned.” Black’s voice.

“All the more reason to gut him like a fucking rat.” The female voice sounded angry. She really didn’t like cheating, Jonah understood.

He felt another kick, aimed at his rib this time, followed by a flurry of relentless kicks all over his body. Jonah screamed and wailed, as the woman was unleashing her fury upon him. Ribs cracked. Skin bruised and broke. His fine clothes were probably destroyed by now. Why was he worried about his clothes? He was about to die. Or was he? Nothing made sense anymore. Nothing, except the fact that he was in so much pain. He felt his stomach churn. Another kick sunk into his belly and he hurled. Vomit, mixed with blood trickled from his mouth.

“Boss says he wants to talk to you after you finish up here. We have other business.” Jonah could make out White’s voice through the deafening sound of painful throbbing in his head. He groaned. His face was stuck in his bloody vomit, pooled underneath him. The sound of receding footsteps and closing of the door rang out.

Another kick connected, aimed at his kidney this time. It was so strong that his kidney’s probably gone. “F-fu-fuc-k…y-you-u!” he managed to spit out. He can’t die without showing at least a little resistance. But his pathetic attempt at defiance was met with scornful laughter, followed by the brisk, sharp sound of a sword being drawn.

“Get him up!” the female voice commanded. In a moment, Jonah was grabbed by two pairs of arms and hefted in the air. Pain stabbed into him from every part of his body. He realized that a number of his bones were shattered. He could barely keep his head up, but it was the least he could do. With all his effort, he raised his vomit-smeared, bruised, and cut face and looked at the woman who gave him the worst beating in his entire life.

She was pretty. Her sharp face and slightly angled eyes, framed by a luscious head of chestnut hair that fell to her shoulders in waves. She wore a three-piece black velvet suit and held a gleaming blade in her right hand. It resembled an Osakyoan katana, by design. And her expression as that of furious bloodlust. She looked at Jonah with genuine hatred, which startled Jonah beyond any beating could. He’d suddenly gotten the urge to run away from that place, never to return. His broken legs and the fact that he was being held still by two men made that impossible. Instead, he decided to laugh. A loud, hearty laugh that was rich with a sound of miserable anguish echoed in the large backyard of the casino. His stomach muscles and his lungs ached, but he kept on laughing. To think that he could cheat his way to the top, in the absolute greatest Casino in the kingdom of Elderhearth. To him, that now sounded like a naive dream of a stupid kid. He roared with laughter, only to start viciously coughing and sputtering blood. His breaths were short and shuddery.

“D-do…i-it. K-k-kill…m-m-me.” He managed to let out weakly. And he closed his eyes.

He heard the friction of cloth when the lady with the sword raised her hand up for the killing blow. He heard her inhale air, ever so slightly. He heard the blade cutting through the air, and he felt it connect. There was nothing more to see. Or feel. There was only the embrace of eternal darkness.

Act I – Two Days Prior

“Remember, stand behind me and look menacing. Maybe cover your fists with your magic. For the dramatic effect.” Art, a man who walked with a confident swagger, told Smoke. Art was seemingly unaware of his surroundings, but the way his eyes scoured everything around him, said otherwise. He wore a long, red coat that trailed behind him like a flag would wave behind a host of soldiers.

“Sure thing, boss. What happens if someone wants to throw hands, tho?” Smoke asked. She was a tall, young woman with broad shoulders and tanned skin that, sometimes, billowed smoke behind her as she walked. She occasionally scowled at a person while they walked. Smoke was wearing a tank top, which looked like someone used it to wipe down a coal furnace, with most of the skin on her hands bandaged. Her long, reddish-brown hair was tied in a ponytail with idle strands popping out of it. Two locks of hair on the sides framed her grumpy face.

“Then throw hands we shall. Until then, just look angry and be ready to pounce.” Art said, pulling on his cigarette.

The streets of Elderhearth’s Second Level were busy with people. Carriages carrying passengers and goods alike trudged along the stone-paved roads, while people went along their business. Workers were changing shifts in the factories. People in dirtied overalls, carrying toolboxes, lunch boxes, and bags of food they bought were heading homes. It was a warm spring afternoon. Buildings rose everywhere the eye could see. Tall. Short. Narrow. Wide. The diverse architecture spoke of hundreds of years of history. Selmani-styled walls with intricate engravings that snaked around the curved arches of painted windowsills were found on a lot of buildings. Various designs of Sredinah pillars that adorned the entrances of many administrative buildings. But the predominant style was the industrial Siewerski style. Their buildings were meant to be practical, not aesthetically pleasing. A lot of the facades were single-colored monoliths, weathered over time with windswept patterns that, if observed carefully enough, carried a unique beauty to them. What with the Elderhearthians being people who didn’t enjoy bleakness, the majority of the buildings were painted over in hues of red, blue, and yellow. The greatest part of the apparent disarray of architecture was that it wasn’t chaotic at all. Colorful buildings and different aesthetics all combined to make a unique display that was authentic to Elderhearth. Not just in the Second Level, but across all seven Levels. It was a marvel to behold in of itself – apart from the sheer titanic size of the White City. Elderhearth was a miraculous product borne from different cultures and civilizations that mixed and mingled over the hundreds of years of the City’s history.

Elderhearth was home, Art thought. And as all homes, this one had its own sets of problems that brought with it their own troubles. Speaking of problems, Art and Smoke were heading towards one right now.

Art was invited to a private meeting with the Patron. The Boss of the Elderhearthian Underworld. And that was never a good thing.

The entrance to the “Patronate” as the Patron’s large villa was called, by everyone who had any manner of business with the man, was guarded. These weren’t regular Elderhearthian guards, of course. Nor were they subtle in any way. Shining breastplates coupled with long spears cradled in the bend of the guards’ elbows, topped with crested, open-faced helmets adorned the men that plagued the spacious lawn of the Patronate. It wasn’t exactly the kind of flair you’d expect from a man who controlled the criminal underbelly of Elderhearth, but there it was. Fancy and obnoxious – as if the Patron wanted to make a statement that he was untouchable by law. And it was true, in a sense. Bribes and whispered words in the right ears go a long way. Art knew this very well, for he did the same things himself. A master thief who doesn’t ensure his security is a very dumb master thief. Be as it may, the Patron wanted to parade his power and influence by all to see by having a small personal army of men posted outside his mansion – and the effect was apparent. Only a fool would think to stir trouble in here.

“Afternoon, boys.” Art waved to a pair of guards that passed them, receiving no answer.

“I’ve never been here, boss. The Patron sure is a rich cunt.” Smoke whispered.

“Well, Anders is rich. Although I would refrain from calling him a cunt to his face. We have to be civil, lest we risk our heads.” Art was buttoning up his coat.

“I hate rich cunts.” Smoke scowled at a guard.

“I know, Smoke. Should I be worried?”

Smoke looked at the mansion. “I could get in and out without bein’ seen, ya’ know. I’ve visited bigger n’ badder houses than this.”

“That’s the reason I recruited you in the Syndicate. But we came here to talk, not rob the Patron blind.” Art smiled. “It does sound appealing, I won’t lie. Maybe some other time.”

“Nah. I’ll behave. Promise.” A wisp of smoke curled off of Smoke’s cheekbone.

“That’s good. Oh, here we are.”

They climbed the stairs to the mansion’s entrance. Two guards halted their approach.

“What do you want?” asked one of the guards, his voice coarse.

“We are here to see the Patron. Private meeting.” Art said, pulling out an invitation from the inside of his coat.

The other guard inspected the invitation, and after a brief moment, he nodded. “Checks out. Boss is waiting for ‘em.”

“I’ll need you to leave your weapons.” The first guard said, before allowing them inside the mansion.

Smoke raised her hands and shrugged. “Don’t carry none.”

Art pulled out two daggers and handed them over to the first guard. “Don’t lose them. They’re family heirloom.” He said and they walked in.

Calling the mansion’s entrance hall rich would be an understatement. It was luxurious. Dozens of marble and gold statues lined up along the length of the wall; expensive vases that certainly belonged in museums from their apparent historical value, and yet here they were – hidden away from the world inside the mansion of a very rich criminal. Stone walls inlaid with silver and gold, curling and weaving patterns across the entire smooth surface, were made out of marble and granite blocks. The carpet was soft, as if they walked on a soft cloud, and Art could see that it was a very thick, finely made Selmani wool carpet. Just this fancy rug was probably worth around eighty thousand Elderians. Wasteful, as all luxury is. Smoke was scowling at everything, rightfully so. Art could see her eyes taking in every item she saw, calculating their worth. When the numbers tallied up in her head, Smoke’s scowl grew deeper. “Fuckin’ rich cunt,” she muttered.

They came upon a heavy set of double doors, carved out of a single piece of thick, umber wood. A carving made by the deft hands of a master carpenter, which was that of a star casting its light rays down upon four circles, adorned the doors. It represented the Patron as the shining light, and his Four Families as the ones he’d shine his light upon. “Pompous.” Art said softly. He knocked on the doors three times. Three short bursts. The doors opened after a few moments. An elderly servant greeted them, nodding politely at the two men.

“Master Baldrick is waiting for you. Follow me, gentlemen.” She said and turned on her heel. Her age was apparent, but both Art and Smoke had to clumsily half-walk, half-run after her.

She led them up a winding staircase and into a large waiting room with sofas that looked like sitting in them would be the best experience of their lives. They remained standing. The servant lady looked at them before she went through a door. Art and Smoke used that time to cast their analytic gazes over the room. Tables and chairs made in the hybrid style of Selmani woodwork, topped with Sredinah marble were in the corners of the room. Osakyoan crystal filled with, no doubt, expensive alcohol stood atop every table. There were paintings on the wall and Art was awestruck after he recognized a few.

“That one is a Rhoynal. It’s his famous Lady Mage and the Dog painting he made for the mage empress of Elderhearth. Three centuries ago, I believe.” He was amazed.

“What’d ya think, how much is it?” Smoke asked, rubbing her chin, as the friction from her fingers caused a twist of smoke to coil off her face.

“I don’t need to think. I know. Had my eyes on this one fifteen years ago.” Art said, a tinge of nostalgia touched his eyes. “Someone bought it before I could plan the heist and now it ended here. Five hundred thousand. That’s how much it is worth.”

“Pelari?”

“No. Eldarians.”

“Damn.”

“Damn right.”

The door opened, and the lady servant gestured them to enter. Inside was a very compelling display of power that Art had seen in a long while. As opposed to the rest of the house looking like a warehouse of expensive objects strewn around the premises at random, the Patron’s office was a very harmonious edifice that radiated with might. Various blades adorned the wall on the right – mounted in a half-circle around a very intricately designed suit of armor that stood on a mannequin. Colors of the room were in hues of de-saturated reddish-browns for the carpets and the furnishings, and the walls were painted in a dark red color, almost resembling blood. It was a bit on the nose, the domination of redness, but it was not obnoxious. Something about it was making the whole thing work – and Art realized that something was the large, glass window that looked out to the lush green of the garden in the Patron’s backyard. As well as the large, white tapestry that hung directly above the Patron. It had the sigils of all the Elderhearthian Gangs woven in a single cohesive diagram that represented the hierarchy of the Underworld – with the Patron’s personal coat of arms in the middle of it all. A red sword stuck in the ground that had a closed fist in place of a pommel, on a field of white.

And beneath it, sat the man himself. Anders Baldrick. The Patron. The man who controlled all of Elderhearth’s criminal Underworld. One of the more influential people in all of Elderhearth’s Seven Cities. He was heavyset, but not in an obese way. His size signified strength. Anders was a giant of a man. Thick muscles bulged from underneath his white shirt with a high collar. His broad shoulders leaned comfortably against the high-backed chair he was sitting in, with one of his muscled arms idly twirling a large coin on his tabletop. His black hair was slicked back, with the sides of his meaty head cropped closely. His broad nose and squat forehead spoke of a man who spent his life fighting other men. He looked at Art and Smoke with a domineering gaze, underneath his thick, angular eyebrows. A golden earring hung from his earlobe, and he had a patch of beard underneath his lower lip. He wasn’t alone. Next to him, an older, red-haired woman sat. She wore golden chains fashioned to look like a spider web woven in her hair. Her dress was dark-emerald, and it finely contrasted her very light, blue eyes. She gave Art and Smoke a disinterested look and sighed.

“Do sit down. You’re guests.” Patron spoke with a deep baritone, gesturing to the only chair present in the room. Art nodded to Smoke and sat down, unbuttoning his coat for comfort. He mirrored the Patron’s posture, relaxing his shoulders and leaning back into his chair, with his chin slightly tilted upwards. It’s the little things, Art thought.

“Thank you, Patron. It’s a beautiful house you have here.” He said, gesturing with his arms.

“It belonged to the previous Boss of Bosses. This room right here was where I found him. Hiding. Like a coward.” the Patron smirked. “If you want power, you have to go out and take it with your own two hands, don’t you think?”

Art met the Patron’s stern gaze with his own. Silence, for a few seconds, and then he spoke: “I do agree! Indeed, that has been my motto ever since I first learned how to hold a sword. My grandfather used to tell me, No one but yourself will take care of you”

Patron’s lips curled into a predatory smile. “Exactly. I like you, mister Artis.”

That sent quite a bit of shock through Art. He went to great lengths to make sure his name stays secret, save for a handful of people. This certainly complicates things. He knew that the Patron knew about this, and this was something he’d done to try and throw him off – but Art decided he wasn’t going to bite.

“What could I have ever done to earn such words from the Patron himself, might I ask?” he feigned ignorance.

“Ever since you pulled off one of the most spectacular heists in recent memory, I’ve had you in my sights. Great work, by the way. Your approach to building an escape route was quite impressive. Whatever did happen to Genarro’s Solace?”

“Thank you. I sold it, six years ago I believe. To a nobleman in Sredinah.” Art idly twirled his mustache.

“Aside from that, you and your…team…” the Patron paused, intentionally not calling the Syndicate what they were – a gang. “…have recently come to my attention. See, I usually don’t do this kind of thing. If someone thinks they’re smart enough to break the Patronage Laws under my nose, in my City, well... you know how the Revenant Sons ended a few years ago.”

“I hear that they still can’t remove Josiah’s bloodstain from the wall they found him on.”

“That is correct. Now, having that in mind, mister Artis, you’re guilty of operating on the Patronate’s territory without my explicit permission. Or anyone’s permission, really.”

“I do have one question.” Art said. The fact that he was invited to the Patron’s mansion rather than being murdered in his sleep, meant that the Patron didn’t want to kill him immediately.

“Ask.”

“Why am I still alive?”

“I told you I liked you.”

“Oh.”

“Yes. Your vigor reminds me of my own, back in the day. That, coupled with your talent for this line of work, well let’s just say that killing you would be a great waste. Do you smoke, mister Artis?” the Patron proffered a box of Osak’s, cigarettes made with the finest tobacco the Osakyoan Isles could offer.

“I do, yes.” Art leaned over and pulled out a cigarette. Both men puffed smoke before resuming conversation.

“This is where we are. You are. You’ve now come to a crossroads, and you must make a choice. Do you know what your choices are, mister Artis?” the Patron leveled his piercing gaze at Art.

“I have heard something about the choices. What are you offering?” Art looked him in the eyes, allowing the slightest of smiles to touch his lips. This is the reason why he has come here.

“Option number one: You work for me – for the Patronate, actually. Under my Patronage of course. You will join one of my Families. You and your team will be assimilated into a gang of your choosing. From that point on, your careers will flourish.”

“Our freedom is basically gone, if we join a Family?”

“Well, I wouldn’t say it will be gone, only severely limited. After all, you must obey the Head of your Family.”

“Anders, dear. If I may?” The woman next to the Patron gently touched his arm, as she spoke for the first time.

Art looked at the Patron, and the Patron nodded to the woman. “Please, Elsine. By all means.”

“Master Artis. I am lady Elsine. You and your companion here might know me as Mother.” Art and Smoke looked at her for a few seconds before something clicked in their heads. They recognized the woman in the chair as a Head of the Four Families. She was the leader of the Knife Sisters and the Patron’s right hand. They both nodded.

“How may I help you, lady Elsine?” Art asked.

“I have been briefed about the escapades of you and your team. I happen to find myself in need of capable individuals, such as yourself. I assure you, should you choose to join a Family, my Family” she made it clear that she wanted Art to join her “I will give you free rein. Under a single condition.”

“And what would that condition be?”

“When I decide that you need to go do something, you go and do that thing. Regardless of where it is, what it is, or how hard it is.”

“And we get our freedom, whenever we aren’t following your finger – we can do whatever we wish to?”

“As long as you follow the Patronage Laws, then yes. By all means. I do think that my underlings should enjoy a certain amount of independence.”

“It is a tempting offer, my lady. I wish to hear the second one before I make my decision – if that is okay with you.” Art said, politely bowing his head.

“Oh, of course. One mustn’t rush himself into quick decisions. I trust you will make the proper one, in the end.”

“Thank you.” Art turned back to the Patron. “What’s my second option?”

The Patron spent some time looking at Art. His eyes moved on to Smoke and then back to Art. “You pay The Sum, and become an independent Gang.”

“How large of a sum are we talking about here?” Art knew that he wouldn’t tell him about the Impossible Task. Being informed is the greatest thing in the world, he thought.

“Not a sum. THE Sum. Twenty million Pelari – delivered to me in two days from the meeting. After my counter has confirmed the amount, you get to walk out of here as an external associate of the Patronate. Your status as an Independent Gang legitimized.”

“If I, hypothetically, choose to pay the Sum…” that made the Patron stifle a laugh “…I am to obey the Patronage Laws, correct?”

“That is correct, mister Artis. In a chaotic world, what kind of people would we be if we didn’t adhere to rules and regulations? I do prefer everything operating smoothly, rather than letting everyone run amok with their own ideas and fantasies.” The Patron pulled a long whiff of smoke. “That kind of disorganized leadership is why the previous Boss of Bosses fell so ungracefully. That, and the fact that I shattered both of his legs.”

“I see.” Art thoughtfully stroked his chin, giving the illusion that he was considering what option to choose. Which way to go? In truth, joining the Knife Sisters and being Elsine’s personal lapdogs didn’t sound all bad – if Art was a man who liked throwing away his dignity and principles. There was certainly a massive boon to working for the second-in-command of the Patronate – but, Art didn’t want anyone above him. He was free and he wouldn’t have it any other way. Paying the Sum would be easy, and he knew exactly where he could get the money to do it. It would be effortless and unimpressive. If he was to build the Syndicate up, then he would have to do it in a way that would elevate them to a legendary status before they even join the Patronate. And that leaves…

“What about…the Impossible Task?” Art asked, his gaze challenging the Patron with ferocity.

Anders was known to be temperamental, but he was really doing one heck of a job, keeping his rage invisible. Other than the fact his fists where white-knuckled from the amount of force he clenched them with, there were no visible cues to indicate that the Patron was so angry. His blood was probably boiling.

“What about the Impossible Task? Seven have tried, and seven have failed. Killed or captured. I thought you were a smart man, Artis. Now, I’m not so sure anymore.” The Patron managed to squeeze through his teeth.

“Well, I may be a fool – but I am a confident fool. If I fail, you lose nothing. If I succeed, however…you get a worthy addition to the Patronate. And forgive me, lady Elsine – I would rather I didn’t work under any Family.”

“You are a fool, master Artis. But at least, you have guts. If you change your mind – no matter what Anders here tells you…you will always be welcome to join me.” Mother finished, and Anders looked at her. He was furious.

“Impossible Task, you say? Well, if that is what you want – then that is what you’ll get.” The Patron took a deep breath, somewhat calming down.

Art had sat up straight, expectation and excitement rising within him. If the Patron told him to break into the Emperor’s own bed-chamber, he’d do it. By the Eight Names, he would! Smoke nervously shifted on his feet.

“The Golden Lion Casino.” Patron sniffed. “I want the small, ornate safe box the Lion keeps hidden somewhere. Be it his vault or his personal office – I want it. Rather, I want what’s in it. Bring that to me and I’ll legitimize this Syndicate of your as a Gang.”

“How much time do we have?” Art asked.

“A week. Starting now.”

That already sounded pretty far-fetched. Proper heist planning, with every detail and contingency, accounted for, with gathering of equipment and preparation usually takes around a month. Sometimes more.

“Anything else?” Art asked, making sure not to let his voice give away worry.

“Do it without being noticed. And don’t get captured.” The Patron took a deep breath, and his lips twisted into a sleazy grin. “One week. Should you fail and survive, well…” and he let his sentence hang in the air, unfinished, with an ominous tone about it.

“See you in a week.” Art said as he got up. “Good day to you.” He bowed. He and Smoke got out of the Patron’s mansion as quickly as they could.

-

“DAMN HIM TO ALL THE HELLS THAT EXIST IN EVERY RELIGION ANYWHERE!” Art kicked a can into an alleyway and an angry meow echoed back in response. “Oh, shut up!” he yelled at the unseen cat.

“Calm down, boss.” Smoke’s hair was trailing smoke for a good ten minutes now, and when Art looked at her – preparing to unleash a salvo of angry insults for telling him to calm down – he just laughed. Smoke looked pretty ridiculous with a pillar of grey smoke pluming from the top of her head and into the sky.

“Oh damn it all Smoke. We’re going to do this thing. And we’ll do it in such a way that it’ll be talked about for years to come! Let’s go, we have to break the news to the rest of the gang.” Art took out another cigarette and stuffed it in his mouth.

 

Elderhearth’s Second Level, Layla’s Safe – Ashhearth’s Workshop

The day was busy, with customers coming in and out, ordering various repairs for different items. Cade, a brown-haired, tall, handsome fellow with a distinct, pointy Elderhearthian beard, a two-day stubble on his usually shaved cheeks, walked in the workshop. He waved at Ashhearth, then pointed his fingers to the floor, gesturing downwards. The wild-looking engineer was tinkering with some kind of steel cylinder at his table. He raised his head and his wild, shaggy, dark hazelnut beard and scruffy, long hair to match – bobbed, and looked at Cade through his goggles. He nodded and went back to tightening screws. That short nod meant a lot, in Ashhearth’s language. He wasn’t a man of many words – but the ones he said mattered. Cade understood “Basement’s empty. You can do your thing.” From a simple head bob that rocked Ashhearth’s locks. He walked through the workshop where five engineers were hard at work – putting together a safe Ash recently designed. And that meant Cade had work to do.

He went into the kitchen of Ashhearth’s house – technically, his house as well. Cade was living there, with four others, for the past four months, operating as the safecracker for the Syndicate. A gang, under the very ambitious leadership of his boss, Art. And they used an engineer’s workshop as a front. Not only that, but Ashhearth was a safe designer, one of the more prominent ones in Elderhearth. Cade was good at cracking safes, but living in this place, where safes were manufactured, did wonders for his skill. He pressed a combination into a stone plate next to the freezer. A door in the floor slid open. He could smell the strong, pungent scent of Konquestian tobacco from the basement. That meant Ari was down there.

The red-haired mage-assassin was sitting in a chair, looking at various blades displayed on the table in front of her. Ari’s pale-white, ivory skin had dark veins popping from underneath. Yellow light from the glow orbs on the wall danced playfully upon her ghastly visage, seemingly making Ari glow. She tore her gaze away from the knives and looked at Cade with a set of completely azure eyes. Her pupils weren’t visible, and the blue eyes looked as if they were burning. “What time is it?” she asked, her voice faintly echoing in the large basement.

“It’s noon. How long have you been here?” Cade asked, as he took off his pale-blue coat and hanged it on a nearby chair. He started to roll up his sleeves.

“A couple of hours. Or days. Can’t say. Forgot my watch.” Ari’s directionless gaze was a little bit upsetting, but Cade had gotten used to it. Well, almost gotten used to it. The first time he met Ari, he had nightmares for a week. Better to never tell her that, since she can get a little irritated when you start mentioning her appearance.

“Well, take a break. You want coffee?” Cade asked as he pushed into the small of his back with his hands. His spine made a cracking sound and he breathed a sigh of relief.

“Not thirsty. Maybe later.” Ari was looking at the arsenal on the table.

“What’s that you’re doing there?” Cade approached and clapped her shoulder, gently.

“Maintenance. Some need re-balancing. Others, sharpening. I’m deciding which ones to throw out.”

“You sure do have a lot of knives.”

“One can never have too much.”

“I…I don’t disagree.”

“Always keep one in your boot. Never know when you’ll need it.”

“Thanks, I guess. I’ll have Ash make one for me.”

“You can have this one.” Ari said and picked out a short dagger without a hilt. It resembled a needle more than it did a knife. “Made out of crystallum. Mages can’t detect it.”

“Neat. Thank you, Ari. I appreciate it. You sure you don’t want anything?” Cade stowed the dagger in his coat pocket. He’ll have to get himself a boot sheath.

“No. I’m good.” Ari said and picked up another knife. That one had a jagged edge, and steel that was tinted red. It looked really nasty and Cade knew that it has seen its fair share of blood. Ari was the deadliest member of the Syndicate. And however strange she looked, Cade was thankful that Ari was there.

He turned to the eight different safes that were placed along the basement wall and cracked his knuckles. “Last time was forty minutes for all of them. I need to work on my speed.” He pulled out a watch from his breast pocket and looked at the time. “It’s twelve twenty. Better be finished till half-past one.” He took the tool bag that was lying next to the closest safe and threw it open on the floor next to him. “Let’s go. They don’t call you Sapphire Bandit for nothing!” Cade dove into cracking the first safe.

-

Somewhere within Elderhearth’s Third Level

Anthony White, called Ty by his close friends, was taking a drag of smoke from his cigarette. They were Bullseye. A rather cheap variety, with tobacco that smelled like burning charcoal, if the charcoal was damp and doused in combustive oil to help it burn. Which is probably how the – otherwise quality – tobacco was processed. Ty exhaled a plume of smoke, observing how a small cloud curled above his head.

The person that was sitting at a desk across Ty wrinkled his nose at the strong smell. He was a thirty-something-year old manager for a big-time banker in Elderhearth. Janos Thawney. Married, two kids. A cheating, lying piece of shit who is as unfaithful as the story of a piss-drunk hobo on a street corner who’s telling me about a dragon he saw. Ty shot a glance at Janos, whose annoyed expression revealed that he or his business propositions weren’t welcome in the office. We’ll see about that, Jan. He blew smoke in Janos’s direction.

“Mr Brooke.” Janos winked a few times, as to keep the smoke out of his eyes. “Your offer is very generous, but I don’t think it is possible to change contractors so abruptly. They are due to arrive in two weeks, and the safe is already being manufactured.” He sighed.

“Ah! How thoughtful of you!” Ty shot Janos with an annoyed gaze, then turned back to observing the smoke he was exhaling. “You see, I represent my company. Safe and Sound. And, in these situations – my company policy has a saying.”

“I am sure that your company does great wo-“Janos started, but was abruptly cut off by Ty.

“The policy is: I don’t fucking care about what you think.”

Janos looked perplexed. “Mr Brooke, that’s awfully rude to sa-“

“Rude? Let me tell you a story, Jan.”

Janos tried to say something, but Ty cut him off.

“Shush. I’m talking now. So, Jan. A wolf came to visit a sheep, about a deal. Now this wolf wasn’t just any ordinary wolf. He was a smart wolf, Jan. So, the wolf found out every tiny detail of the sheep’s life before coming over. And the wolf knew that this sheep was cheating on his poor wife.”

Janos’s face was mortified. He froze in his chair, taken aback. “How do you- I’m not- But-“he clumsily stumbled over his words.

“A-ta-ta!” Ty pointed his finger at Janos. “I said shush. Now, the wolf also knew that this naughty little sheep was also stealing from the man he was working for. The sheep was a scummy little piece of shit, you see.”

Janos seemingly stopped breathing.

“The worst part is, Jan, that the sheep’s poor family hasn’t seen a single coin from the cash pile the sheep has amassed over the years. The wolf thought that was very rude of the sheep, Jan.” Ty blew another lungful of smoke into Janos. The manager, whose face was drained of all color, suddenly bent over in a coughing fit, as he accidentally inhaled the smoke.

“While your lungs recover, I will let you know that the wolf was such a good person that he went out of his way to find the sheep’s hoard of money, and he sent it to the sheep’s family. Anonymously, of course. The wolf doesn’t need the recognition. He was just concerned.”

Janos heaved as another coughing fit threatened to tear out a piece of his lung.

“And before you ask, I assure you – the sheep’s wife was overjoyed when she received the money. All teary-eyed and emotional, you know? Now, the wolf was smart. He didn’t share the information he knew about the sheep until they made a deal. If the sheep, however, refused the deal – then the wolf would have to resort to being a tattletale, which isn’t very becoming of the wolf. So the wolf told the sheep that everything will be fine, if the sheep cooperated. End of story.” Ty had almost smoked the entirety of his cigarette. Time to close the deal, he thought. “There’s a point to this story, hidden somewhere inside it. I can’t quite place it, you know, but I thought you could maybe figure it out.”

Janos was wide-eyed, his face red from the strained coughing. Beads of sweat dotted his forehead. He pulled on the collar of his shirt, trying to regain his composure.

“Oh, and I almost forgot. The name of this cheating, lying scumbag of a sheep was Janos Thawney.”

 “W-what do you w-want?” Janos squealed.

“Cancel the contract you have with Elderhearth’s Safebox, and give the job to Safe and Sound. You said they were due in two weeks, yes?” Ty asked, as if he didn’t already know this information long before he walked into Janos’s office.

“Y-yes.”

“Great. Here’s some good news then. We’ll have the safe delivered to you within a week and three days. The price I’m offering is fifty thousand Pelaris.”

“But that’s…that’s not even half of what Safebox offered us,” Janos said, forcing himself to speak normally.

“Fool!” Ty exclaimed, startling Janos. “Your boss is going to happily pay less if he can. He’s as greedy as they get. You’ll receive a commission of that money for your cooperation.”

As expected, Ty thought, as Janos’s eyes flickered hungrily at the mention of money.

“It will be very hard to convince my boss.”

“You’re a smart man. You’ll figure it out.” Ty opened his briefcase and threw a fascicle of papers on Janos’s desk. “Here’s all the paperwork you need.” He gently closed his briefcase and got up.

“Mr Brooke?”

“Yes?”

“You won’t…you won’t tell anyone?” Janos sounded genuinely terrified.

“Finish the job, Sheep,” Ty said, as he dropped the smoldering butt of his cigarette into Janos’s coffee cup. He stopped and reached over with his hand towards Janos, who flinched in fear. Ty lightly tapped him on the cheek a few times, and with that, he stalked out of Janos’s office, slamming the door on his way out.

 

Ashhearth’s Workshop

“Evening boys!” Art slammed open the door into Ashhearth’s house. Cade and Ari were sitting at a table, drinking coffee. Cade grinned in response, while Ari just gave them a look with her completely azure eyes. Smoke immediately pushed her was towards the kitchen counter and poured herself a cup.

“What’ve you two been up to?” she asked, as she plopped herself onto a chair between Cade and Ari.

“Well, Ari was explaining to me what the easiest way to kill a man was.” Cade slurped.

“It’s a valuable thing to know.” Ari’s eyes were locked onto something in the distance, as she idly spun a small throwing knife between her fingers.

“Damn straight is valuable. Hope you never need it.” Smoke drank a big gulp of coffee, then her brows furrowed in slight disgust. “Who made this?” she hissed.

Cade looked at her, his face looking as if someone just stung him. “I…I made the coffee. Why? Is there something wrong with it?”

“I’m gon’ be honest with ya’. It’s pretty shit.” Smoke didn’t even hesitate. She took another sip. “But it’ll serve ‘till Ashhearth brews his coffee. You should learn from him, Cade.”

Cade’s face was a mask of disappointment and annoyance. The thing about Smoke was, that she was always painfully honest. One could never expect honeyed lies and superficial compliments from her. But that was just part of her charm, and no one in the Syndicate resented her for it. Except Cade, who couldn’t brew a good cup of coffee to save his life.

“Oh hush, you villain. It’s good coffee. Any coffee is good coffee.” Art sat down, and drank from his cup. “Thank you Cade. I appreciate the effort.” Art nodded to him.

“I think it’s good.” Ari voiced her opinion, drinking more coffee.

Cade’s eyes glinted happily, as his back straightened a little bit. “Thanks, guys.”

“And where might the rest of our crew be?” Art asked while getting up. He disappeared into another room for a moment, before re-appearing with a stack of papers and pens in his arms.

“We have a job to do,” he said, as he placed the papers on the table.

“Ashhearth’s closing up shop. He’ll be here soon.” Cade lit a cigarette.

“What time is it?” Ari asked.

Art looked at his pocket watch. “It is almost seven in the evening, dusk is an hour out. Why?”

“Ty said he will return around seven.” Ari stared at her empty coffee cup.

“Well, until we have all gathered, Smoke?” Art looked at Smoke, who was busy re-bandaging her left arm.

“Yes boss?”

“When you’re finished with that…” Art took out a small wad of cash and slid it over to Smoke. “…go get us dinner. For everyone. Don’t dawdle, I want you back here at eight.”

Smoke quickly tightened the bandage. “Right. Don’t dawdle.” She took the money and went out the door.

“Hey Boss?” Cade started.

“Don’t call me boss.”

“Sorry. Art.”

“What is it?”

“How did the meeting with the Patron go?”

Art chuckled. “When everyone has gathered, I will tell all of you. It is more efficient that way, wouldn’t you agree?”

“That’s certainly true. Well, you need me to do anything before we start?” Cade asked.

“Yes, actually. I think that we have a writing board somewhere in the shed. Find Ashhearth and bring it here. We will need it.”

“Alright. On it.” Cade disappeared through the door that led into Ashhearth’s workshop.

Art placed a cigarette between his lips and looked at Ari. She was still flipping that knife between her fingers. Her skin wasn’t as pale as usual, and Art could swear that he could see a shadow of something that resembled a smile. Ari never smiled.

“Ari?” he asked, holding his matchbox halfway to his mouth.

“Yes?” Ari looked at him with her iris-less, blue eyes.

“The Patron is probably going to be sending out his goons to stake us out, or perhaps they will have orders to attack us. I might have angered him somewhat, so I need you to do something for me.”

“What do you want me to do?” Ari’s expression soured ever so slightly.

“Go out and scout the area around the workshop. See if you can spot anyone who doesn’t belong.” Art lit his cigarette and inhaled the smoke.

“Kill?” Ari asked, the throwing knife she twirled around her fingers disappeared into her sleeve. She got up and started checking her coat, bracers and boots. She tied her bright-red hair into a ponytail.

“Yes. But make it look like an accident. We are breaking the Patronage Laws as is, so I’d very much like we avoid open war as much as possible. If you find no one, come home.” Art took a sip of Cade’s coffee and slightly scowled at the taste.

“Understood.” Ari got out the house, as silent as an apparition. Art wondered who was more silent – Ari the assassin, or Smoke the cat burglar? In any case, he was happy to have the two on board. The Patron was sure to try and prevent them from completing the Impossible Task. Oh, I’ll rob the Golden Lion. Nothing you do will stop me. Art told the Patron off in his mind. He had a few minutes of peace and quiet, and he decided to spend them by letting the shadows of the first ideas form in his mind.

If you want to accomplish something, an idea is the first thing you will need. But you cannot have an idea if you do not actively try to think about one. They do not appear out of nowhere, Astaroth. A good leader must have a sharp mind. The voice of Art’s grandfather echoed in his head, as he closed his eyes.

-

Ty walked down the street in Elderhearth’s Second City, or the Second Level – as it was frequently called. He spent the past thirty-something years living here, and Elderhearth was still a marvel to behold. Even after three decades spent looking at its streets, at its people, working and living here. It was a megalopolis built upon seven levels that stacked into the sky, built into a mountain. That alone was enough to cause awe. He felt as if there was always something new to see, to experience.

His role in the Syndicate was clear. He handled all the background paperwork, due to his past as a lawyer. That, and a few other things – such as extortion and persuasion. The frightened face of Janos floated in Ty’s mind, and his lips curled in a self-satisfactory smile.

He was a predator. And everyone else in this titanic city was his prey.

Two blocks away from Layla’s Safe, which was his current abode – Ashhearth’s workshop and house – Ty thought he’d seen a familiar face. Upon closer inspection, indeed it was. Smoke came out of a Selmani food shop, her voice loud and cheerful. She’s probably thanking the people inside. For a cat burglar, she sure can be rowdy, Ty thought and went on to meet her.

Smoke’s hands held two big paper bags filled with steaming food. She’d registered that someone had spotted her, and her face lit up when she recognized Ty, who was heading her way.

“Buying dinner?” Ty asked, while rummaging through his pockets.

“Yep. Boss’s orders. We got a meeting tonight.” Smoke stuffed a pastry into her mouth.

“Meeting? Oh, that reminds me – how did the meeting with the Patron go?” Ty had already lit his awful cigarettes.

Smoke chewed quickly. “Honestly? We ain’t dead, so that’s somethin’. But the Boss made the Patron angry.”

“How so?”

“Well, he refused to pay the entry fee and he refused to join a family.”

“Ah. He chose the Impossible Task, after all. I thought he would.” Ty exhaled a lungful of smoke. “There’s no going back now. What’s the job?”

“Golden Lion casino. We ought ta’ rob the place.” Smoke wolfed down a second pastry. Ty wondered if there will be anything left for the others.

“Interesting. Well, don’t spoil it for me any further. Let’s hurry back home and see what Art has to say.”

“Ya, shure. Letsh geth a mhove ohn!” Smoke’s mouth was full with a half of a third pastry.

-

Ashhearth walked in first, opening the door with his leg. He was holding one end of a large wooden board, while Cade held the other. The two men walked into the kitchen and looked at Art, who was sitting with his eyes closed – his head craned towards the ceiling.

“Put it on that wall.” He spoke, without opening his eyes. He pointed to the wall behind him.

Ashhearth and Cade carried and mounted the board on the wall. It was covered with a hard, black material that could be written on with a chalk. Ashhearth opened one of the hanging cupboards and pulled out a jar filled with chalk.

“Master Ashhearth, if you would be so kind as to brew us that legendary coffee of yours. I would be very thankful.” Art spoke, and opened his eyes. He fished out another cigarette from the pack. I’ll need more cigarettes, he thought, seeing that his pack was down to four more. This will be a long night.

Ashhearth nodded to Art, and turned to the kitchen. He pulled out a large pot, filled it with water and put it on the stovetop. He then opened the basement trapdoor and climbed down to get coffee.

“Hey Boss-Sorry. Art, where’s Ari?” Cade sat down.

“She’s out on an errand. I expect she will return soon.” Art puffed smoke.

Ashhearth appeared from the basement, carrying a metal container. Cade looked at it, baffled.

“What’s that?” he asked.

“Coffee. It’s a new blend I made.” Ashhearth popped open the lid and a rich scent wafted through the room. Both Art and Cade took deep breaths.

“Smoke’s right, damn her. Compared to this, my coffee is utter crap.” Cade’s shoulders slouched, as he sighed.

“There, there.” Art patted him on the back. “I didn’t hire the legendary Sapphire Bandit for his coffee making skills. You may not be an expert coffee-maker, but I wouldn’t trust anyone else in this world to crack a safe for me.”

Cade tried to hide his smile, but he failed. He was radiating with pride. “Aye, that’s right. I’m the safe cracker, not the coffee-maker.”

Ashhearth busied himself with the complicated process of brewing his coffee, but Art saw a hint of a smile touching his eyes. He was never the one to talk much.

-

The door swung open, revealing Ty and Smoke who stood in the doorway. Smoke walked in first and immediately set the two paper bags on the table in front of everyone. Art checked his pocket watch. “It’s seven forty. That was fast. Hello Ty.”

“You said don’t dawdle. I didn’t.” Smoke immediately started to pull out steaming packets of food wrapped in paper, handing them out to everyone present.

Ty took off his coat, leaving his briefcase underneath the coat rack. “Evening Art. Boys.” He sat down and hungrily opened his food wrapper.

“We’ll wait for Ari,” Art said, touching Ty on the arm. Ty looked at him and nodded, closing the wrapper.

“So, how did your meeting go?” Art asked Ty.

“We got the job. Now it’s up to Ashhearth to build the security system and install it.” Ty said, pulling out a cigarette.

“Really? That was quick. I expected more pushback.” Art raised his eyebrows, impressed.

“I thought so, at first. But, nothing that the good old method of being informed can’t solve. I just knew where to hit him, and when I hit – I hit as hard as I can.”

“What’s the deal?”

“Fifty thousand. And I told him we’ll have it done in a week and three days.”

Art looked at Ty, biting his lower lip.

“We’ll have to push that back. It needs to wait,” he said.

Ty looked at Art, and waited for further elaboration.

“The Patron’s job. He gave us a week.”

“A week!?” Ty exclaimed, almost jumping from his chair.

Art waved him to sit down. “Sit down. Here is the rundown. We are to rob the Golden Lion Casino.”

Now Cade and Ashhearth looked dumbfounded.

“What’s wrong, you two?” Art asked them.

Cade stumbled over his words. “N-n-nothing! Absolutely n-nothing! Only that the Golden Lion has one of the best security systems in the entire city! And by city, I mean Elderhearth – not just the Third Level!” he was wide-eyed and Art saw that some color drained from his face.

“And that is a problem, why?”

Now Ashhearth spoke. “Word has it that the Lion’s vault is a perfect system. It’s called Aegis Zero, and I know from reliable sources that some of the greatest locksmiths in Elderhearth couldn’t get through it.”

“Master Ashhearth. The greatest locksmiths of Elderhearth are, I firmly believe, nowhere near our legendary safe-cracker here. If anyone could crack the Aegis Zero, it’s Cade. And you are instrumental in his success, because you can find out how it works.” Art pointed at both of them.

“When you two work together, I do not believe there is a vault door capable of stopping you,” Art said.

The expressions of shock and fear were replaced with expressions of confidence and hopefulness. Both the safe-maker Ashhearth, and the safe-cracker Cade looked resolute.

“I will get in touch with my contacts and get the blueprints to the Aegis Zero. I know exactly who to talk to,” Ashhearth said.

“A long time ago, I told myself that I won’t ever be bested by a mechanism. The Aegis Zero may be legendary, but so am I.” Cade squared his shoulders and straightened his back.

“That’s what I want to hear. Now, Ty.” Art turned to Ty. “You have eyes and ears all over the Second and Third Level, don’t you?”

“And the First. I’ve got some in the Fourth and Fifth, as well.”

“You wonderful man!” Art smiled. “I want you to find out as much as you can about the Lion. See if you can find some of his ex-employees. I don’t care if they were a janitor or a table overseer. Any information we gather on him, will be useful.”

“I’ll have everything we need by tomorrow evening,” Ty said, as if it was the easiest thing in the world.

“Smoke-“Art started, but the sound of their door opening interrupted him. Ari walked in, and looked at them. Her skin was paler than usual, and Art knew she’d been using magic. Poor bastards, whoever they were, he thought.

“Come, Ari. Sit down. Smoke brought dinner.” Ty gestured at the only empty chair.

Ari sat down and wordlessly unwrapped her food, immediately digging in. Art gestured the same to everyone else.

They spent the following few minutes in silence, busy by munching and chewing.

“This is one of the finest Selmani kebabis I’ve tried in recent memory!” Cade exclaimed.

“Yeah, I only recently discovered this guy – Abdul, not a few blocks from here. It was the best damn kebabi I’ve ever tasted. Figured that you guys might like it too.” Smoke’s mouth was full, as usual. Her table manners were atrocious. The food she always brought was so amazing that no one complained about her loud chewing.

After they’ve finished with their food, Ashhearth gave everyone their mugs. What followed was a pot of coffee which had a scent like the most divine thing any one of them had ever smelled. Ashhearth took a ladle and poured the coffee in their mugs.

They all settled down and, while the coffee was cooling down, Art looked at Smoke. “As I was saying – Smoke.”

“Yes Boss?”

“You are recon. Tomorrow, you will go and figure out every angle of entry, of exit around the Casino. I want to know the guards, their shifts, their patrol routes – I want to know everything that can possibly be known about the building and its exterior. Cade, you’ll help her with this. Until Ashhearth gets you your blueprints.”

“Got that boss,” Smoke had a blissful, content smile. Happy that she ate. What a fascinating girl, Art looked at her for a few moments.

Cade wrinkled his nose in Smoke’s direction, and nodded. “Understood.”

“Good. Ari, you are with me. We will scout out the inside of the Casino.”

Ari nodded her head in response.

-          (3rd day)

“We’ve eaten and we’ve drank.” Art was lighting a cigarette. Last one. Damn. “Now, it’s time for us to focus and use our brains.”

He looked at everyone present. Art had a young face, despite being a thirty-something year-old man. He was clean shaven, with neatly, almost silver-like, combed hair that fell to the side. His calculating, inquisitive eyes took in the view of five people – his crew – that were sitting around the table with him, looking at him with expectant gazes. The scent of Ashhearth’s coffee still wafted through the room. It was relaxing.

The mad engineer with wild, unkempt hair was the only one who had an overjoyed expression at the mention of using the brain. Everyone else wasn’t as eager.

“Master Ashhearth, why don’t I start with you, then?” Art took a wad of papers and a pen, handing them to Ashhearth. “Ideas. In the next two hours, I want you to write down every single idea that we could use to approach this undertaking.” Art turned to the rest of them, and handed out wads of papers and pens to each member of the Syndicate. “All of you. All of us…” he said as he took the largest wad of papers for himself. “…whatever idea comes to your mind. I don’t care how stupid or ridiculous it may sound to you. I just want it written down.”

The rest of the gang stared at him. Ashhearth was the only one who’d immediately gotten to writing things down.

“Oh, and, you don’t have to be here of course. Come back in two hours. We start at midnight.”

When Art said that, everyone, save for the engineer, got up, picked up their papers and left. Ari and Cade went down to the basement. Smoke got out in front of the house, and Ty climbed the stairs up to his room. Only Art and Ashhearth remained sitting at the kitchen table.

Well, better get to these ideas. What about dropping in from the roof? Hm. Perhaps. I’ll need Smoke to breach first, find a room without anyone inside. Get a disguise and maybe open the door for us from the inside? No, that’s too risky. Maybe not have her go for a disguise, but a distraction? A well placed bomb on the top floors is always an option? Art’s mind walked into the maze of ideas that his sudden wave of brainstorming produced, and started scribbling notes onto the first paper in front of him.

-

“-roth!” Someone’s voice rang, drowned out by Art’s thoughts that raced with reckless abandon. He furiously scribbled down whatever new thing came to him.

“Astaroth!”

He thought he had heard someone calling his name. Storm drains? How do storm drains relate to the Casino? Could we perhaps sneak in through the sewers below? Blue. The color blue. We can use blue powder bombs to create a commotion while we’re getting out, so we aren’t seen. That means we’ll need blue uniforms for extra precaution.

“Astaroth!”

Wait, if we’re to get out of the casino, then we first need to get in. How do we get in? Drill a tunnel underneath? Ashhearth probably knows some eccentric bastard who has an earthen drill. Possibly? Smoke…Smoke…smoke bomb? No, rather…gas bomb? Could we knock people out? Interesting idea Art, maybe we should start there-

“ASTAROTH ARTIS!” Ashhearth’s voice boomed throughout the kitchen. That sent Art tumbling out of his hurricane of thoughts. He looked around and saw that everyone was already there.

“Is it midnight?” he asked, blinking.

“It’s past midnight Boss. You really got into it this time.” Smoke heaved herself on the kitchen counter. After Ashhearth shot her with one of his disciplinary gazes, she immediately got off and sat down on a chair.

“Well, shit. Alright, let’s see here.” Art got up. He felt the numbness that set in his back and legs. He hasn’t moved an inch for more than two hours, save for his arm. He looked upon the kitchen table and he saw that it was littered with papers upon papers that were filled with furious scribbles and notes. There were diagrams, illustrations, calculations, bullet points and sentences written up, down, left and right. He was awestruck. And he felt his right hand throbbing.

“There are around thirty possible plans on this table. How much have the rest of you got?” Art asked the others, massaging his pained wrist.

“I have four. But only one is salvageable, I think.” Ashhearth was first to speak, and he set down his papers that were filled out with neat, precise handwriting.

“I haven’t exactly written a plan, but I may have suggestions that might help us in making this impossible heist a reality. I’ll need more information, however.” Ty put down a single sheet of paper, upon which suggestions were numbered in a list.

“I got two. They aren’t exactly complete plans, more like concepts about the thing itself. But I hope they can be of use, either way.” Cade put down his two papers that had something scribbled in it, and Art could see “Aegis Zero????” written in among the notes.

“I helped Cade.” Ari simply shrugged her shoulders.

Art looked at smoke. She looked back at him and stopped chewing. When did she manage to stuff more food in her mouth? Art was stricken. After a few short moments of staring, she gave the bite in her mouth a few more chews and then swallowed. “Sorry Boss. Um, I ain’t exactly good at this using the brain to plan thing. I got my instinct and my skill. That’s all I ever needed.” Smoke gestured theatrically with her hands.

Art sighed. Never mind, he said to himself. “Okay, that brings us to the next point.” He started picking up paper by paper, moving them to the board on the wall behind him. He worked meticulously, knowing where each paper fit in, how the notes flowed from one sheet to another. His mind saw the intricate pattern formed by his seemingly erratic handwriting.

In a few short minutes, the board that was brought in by Cade and Ashhearth was now covered in papers that created some kind of large diagram.

“I’ve gone through a lot of possible ideas, and I’ve whittled it down to three possible ones. But before I elaborate – Master Ashhearth. Cade. If you would present your ideas to us.” Art pointed to the board, as he sat down on his chair. Now everyone was looking at them, as they stood in front of the Syndicate.

Ashhearth cleared his throat and moved his shaggy locks away from his eyes. “First of all, I’ve been thinking about the Aegis Zero. First thing in the morning, tomorrow, I am to visit one of our neighbors. Kandor.”

“You want to see the Hammer? Why?” Art asked.

“He’s got better connections in the Engineer’s Guild than I do. I know that his Thunder Hounds are in the Patronate, but he’s my only way in. He does owe me a favor, after all,” Ashhearth explained.

“I see. Well, he’s always been good to us, as far as I can remember. We never had a problem with him or his boys. I’ll leave it to you, Master Ashhearth.”

“Thank you. As for the plans…I have chosen one plan. It isn’t exactly a plan, but more of a blueprint for our communication system during the job. Give me a moment.” Ashhearth punched in the combination to the basement trapdoor and jumped in. Art rarely saw him be excited about anything – unless he was talking about his gadgets and inventions. It must be one of his toys, he thought.

“Ty. Give me a cigarette,” Art said, with his arm outstretched towards Ty. The ex-lawyer fished a pack out of his pocket and pulled one out, placing it between Art’s fingers.

“Thanks.” Art was already puffing smoke, when Ashhearth popped out of the basement trapdoor, carrying a large chest in his arms. He set it down on the table with a loud thud.

“You always said that communication was our biggest problem during a job. Especially when we are split apart.” Ashhearth opened the chest and took out a rounded, flat object that resembled a pebble. “Well, this is the first prototype. I don’t have a name for it yet. Here, take it.” He distributed one of the round pebbles to each person in the room.

“How does it work?” Ty asked.

“Look here.” Ashhearth raised one of the pebbles and pointed at its center. Art saw an intricate pattern engraved into its surface. He looked down upon his pebble, and the same intricate pattern was there as well.

“Not to bore you with details about how I made it, but if you press your finger into the center of this pattern here –“Ashhearth pressed, and Art suddenly felt his pebble vibrate ever so slightly. “– it will vibrate.” He pressed down two more times, and Art felt two more vibrations. Now everyone was looking at their pebbles, awestruck.

“I’m not sure about the range yet. We should test that as soon as possible. One of these…signal stones? Maybe? Hm. Well, one signal stone uses a very small Crystal to send out Ruhric signals that can be received only by other signal stones. Which is why the signal is undetectable by anyone other than the ones who possess a signal stone.” Ashhearth inhaled to keep talking, but suddenly, he stopped. Art saw the moment when Ashhearth realized that they all were listening to him very carefully as he explained his invention. That made him uncomfortable. Never a man of too many words, eh? Art smiled.

“This…I don’t know what to say. It certainly changes everything. Congratulations, Master Ashhearth. You’ve done it again!” Art got up and clapped Ashhearth on the back. He saw pride well up in the wild-looking inventor who wasn’t too keen on talking. “Well, as for your plan –“Art was interrupted by a barrage of vibrations in his hand.

“Who is –“he saw Smoke pressing down on her signal stone multiple times. “Smoke. Stop that.”

Smoke’s head jerked up and an innocent smile appeared on her face. “Got it, Boss.” She immediately stuffed the signal stone in her pocket.

“Okay. Master Ashhearth, you certainly made our lives a lot easier. We will need to come up with a code system on a short notice, so we can utilize these…signal stones of yours.” Art looked at Cade and nodded.

“Well, my plan…rather, mine and Ari’s. She suggested that we kill the guards and go through the back door – if one exists – and, it is a good idea. But I thought that maybe we can find a way in for us. One that doesn’t involve killing the guards?” Cade started walking back and forth in front of the board.

“We would perhaps need an inside associate in the Casino for that. So, what we figured out was that either Ty or Art should try and find a person in the Casino that we could have on our side. It isn’t exactly a plan, more of an idea, but you get my gist.”

“That sounds like an excellent idea. Good job, both of you. I had something similar in mind, but I think yours sounds better.” Art wrote something down on a sheet of paper. He got up and replaced a paper on the board with that new sheet.

“I figured that no matter what, we can’t exactly stroll in through the main entrance and start looking for the vault. But if we are to go through the back one, then someone needs to get us in.” Cade shrugged. “The faster I reach the vault, the more time I have to crack it.”

“Yes, that certainly makes sense. We will see to it. First, Ty needs to gather as much information about the Casino and the Lion himself, as he can. We can’t do anything without knowledge. A moment.” Art got out of the kitchen, returning after a few moments with a newly opened pack of cigarettes in his hands. As he lit one, he continued.

“My plans revolve around a lot of things. And it seems that tomorrow, I will first have to pay a visit to the City Hall. Or the Records Office. We need the blueprints to the Casino building. After we obtain them, should they exist in the first place, we will be able to plan a more detailed way of entry into the Golden Lion.” He exhaled a plume of smoke.

“We will have to split up, inevitably. I need to meet the Lion in person, before the heist. We need to figure out an exit strategy. There are a lot more factors that we need to take into consideration – but here is the rundown.” Art put out his cigarette and immediately lit another. “Master Ashhearth, if I could ask you for another batch of your wonderful coffee?”

Ashhearth nodded and got up to make coffee, while everyone else settled on their chairs. Art felt another vibration in his pocket. He glared at Smoke, who stifled a chuckle for herself.

“After we have gathered as much information as possible, and after we have the Casino blueprints…we will have a second wave of more detailed planning. But right now, we will have to split up. Which is why Master Ashhearth’s new gadget is enormously helpful.” He exhaled smoke.

“This is a job where we will need all hands on deck. We will each have a role to play. And we have to be as smooth as clockwork.” Art leveled his gaze on every member of the Syndicate.

“My grandfather told me once: If you wait for greatness, then you will forever remain small. Greatness is a thing that is achieved; through hard work, through blood, sweat and tears. It is achieved through grit and through resolve. But be wary of uncertainty. If you want greatness, then you must want it so much that you have to be willing to get it. Or die trying.”

Ashhearth had set down the freshly brewed pot of coffee, pouring the mugs.

“Now, my friends. I ask you…do you want greatness?” Art spoke, steel entering his voice.

Ashhearth nodded. Cade sat up straight. Ari’s eyes lit up with resolution. Smoke smirked. Ty lit a cigarette and spoke: “We wouldn’t be here if we weren’t. There’s a lot of crazy bastards in this world, but you’re the one whose lead I’ve chosen to follow. So, I believe I speak for everyone when I say this – we’re ready. Take us through your plan, Art.”

Art felt pride well up inside of him. I’ve chosen well, he thought.

“We are going to become…legends.” Art spoke with his voice deliberately hushed.

“As for the plan –“Art was interrupted by a beeping sound somewhere behind him. He turned around and saw a square box that was mounted on the wall above him. It had four small Crystals embedded into it, resembling a cross, or perhaps a compass rose. The one to the left was blinking, and Art heard that the beeping sound came from it.

“Master Ashhearth? Care to elaborate?” he stroked his chin. It sounded important.

“Perimeter breach. It’s after midnight, and this sound tells us that someone is very close to the Workshop. Someone that shouldn’t be close. The blinking Crystal says that the breach happened West.” Ashhearth’s face was grim. “At least the prototype works.”

“How far out?” Art fished out two long daggers from his coat.

“Perhaps two houses away? I did extend the range a bit, so we have time to prepare.”

The Crystal on the bottom started to blink as well, and the sound amplified.

“Another breach?” Cade asked, getting up.

“Yes. It would seem so. I am going to deploy the Workshop fortifications.” Ashhearth ran through the door that led into his workshop.

“Arrivan, you’re with me. We’ll take the Western side.” Ari nodded, and immediately got up. Her skin paled as her azure eyes began glowing. She’s channeling Ruhanaan. Good.

“Cade, Annabelle. You take the South side.” Cade nodded and got up. Smoke had a wide smile plastered across her face. She cracked her neck and squared her shoulders. From her pockets, she fished out a pair of brass knuckles and slipped them on her hands. She and Cade looked at each other and nodded.

Art looked at Ty. “Anthony, stay here with Orryn. You’re our last line of defense. You know what happens when he deploys the fortifications.”

“Aye. This places becomes a deathtrap. Usual signal?” Ty was extinguishing his cigarette.

“Yes. Lock up behind us.” Art said and got out the door.

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