Crow Lockton, the most infamous thief in the Kingdom of Brerra, rolled over on the hard stone mattress of his prison bed.
It had been one year to the day since his public trial and condemnation to life in prison, and the weight of his misfortune was bearing down on him more relentlessly than usual. He didn’t even bother stifling the obnoxious rattle of the chains around his wrists and ankles when he moved. Before, he had amused himself in his cold, gray cell by practicing his stealth, but now, what was the point? Every escape attempt he had made had failed. There were simply too many guards, too many routine body searches, and too many other prisoners who were willing to scream for the knights if they caught him outside of his pen. Now that he had made the damning notch in the wall that marked the anniversary of his confinement, he was beginning to lose hope that he would ever see the outside world again.
He rolled onto his back to stare dully up at the ceiling. Even if he wanted to try to get out again, he wasn’t sure he if had the strength anymore. The time he’d spent in prison had taken a drastic toll on his body. Once upon a time, he’d been fit and muscular, able to carry out all the physical feats it took to be a successful thief. He could scale the side of a building with ease and outrun the fastest bounty hunters in the woods. There wasn’t a mirror in his cell, but he didn’t need one to know that he’d turned into a ghost of his former self. His limbs had atrophied from malnutrition, and his skin hadn’t been touched by the sun since he’d been carted away from his trial in the palace courtyard.
The only aspect of his appearance that he’d been able to keep up was his hair. He didn’t have any belongings in the rock and metal cage—at least, none that anyone else knew about—but the guards had allowed him to borrow a copper razor on occasion to shave off his beard and trim his hair when it started to reach past his shoulders. They weren’t afraid that he would use the tiny blade as a weapon since he had never demonstrated even a hint of violence before or after his arrest. He sometimes wondered if they hoped he would use it on himself though. It would have freed up the cell for another, less infuriating prisoner to use.
His pale green eyes drifted toward the corridor beyond the bars as the dim glow of a lantern caught his attention. He really didn’t want to see the guards today. Throughout his time in captivity, they had poked fun at him on their daily rounds, and he dreaded to think what they would say now that the ‘master escape artist’ had been locked up for an entire year. Rolling over to face the wall again, he closed his eyes in the hopes that they would go away if they thought he was asleep.
Unfortunately, he wasn’t so lucky.
The jingling of keys followed by a loud grating sound echoed off the impenetrable walls as the door to his cell slid open. Two guards stepped inside with irritable looks on their faces, and Crow sat up on his bed. It wasn’t often that the knights entered the quarters of the convicts. About twice a month, they would force the prisoners to stand against the wall with their hands on their heads while they cleaned out the accumulated mess in each pen; and once every other month, they would allow the criminals access to a water pump, so they wouldn’t get sores from sitting in their own filth for too long. However, his cell had been cleaned less than a week ago, and he’d bathed almost as recently. He wondered what other reason the guards could have for entering his domain now.
In answer to his unspoken question, the guard on the left, a burly man with more musculature than the thief had ever hoped to don, spoke stiffly: “Get up, Lockton. Your presence has been requested.”
For a moment, Crow just stared at him. The announcement was so absurdly out of place that it felt like a dream. He didn’t know anyone who had the authority to order his release from prison, temporary or otherwise. Concerned that he was finally losing his mind, he eyed the knight challengingly without moving. “Oh? I didn’t know I had admirers in such high places. Who shall I thank for this opportunity to see daylight again?”
That was the wrong answer. A muscle in the guard’s beefy neck jumped, and he ground his teeth in vexation. “It doesn’t matter,” he spat. “Get over here now, thief.”
Crow cocked his chin, unamused with the guard’s response. In addition to his reputation as a thief, he had also been known for his strong will and, unfortunately for the knight, had decided to invoke his wanton power now. “No,” he said flippantly, laying down again to face the wall.
“No?” the guard echoed, taken aback. “What do you mean ‘no’?”
“I mean,” Crow drawled, apathetically fingering the chain around his left wrist. “I’m not moving until you tell me the name of the person who wishes to see me.” He was fairly certain this wasn’t a dream, but the realization that this moment was actually happening only swelled his curiosity. Whoever had requested to speak with him would have had to have quite a bit of influence on the king. He couldn’t help but wonder who he knew that had that level of sway, and he wasn’t going to put one foot on the floor until he heard said individual’s name.
“Son of a—” the guard took a step toward the thief, but his companion stopped him.
“We’re under orders, remember?” the second guard, a leaner version of the first, whispered. “We can’t hurt him.” More sensible than his brawny comrade, he turned to the bullheaded criminal. “Your presence has been requested by the King of Brerra.”
“See? That wasn’t so hard,” Crow said casually, trying to hide his surprise. The king wanted to see him? He had been imprisoned for attempting to steal the king’s crown one year ago. The man loathed him. The only reason he hadn’t ordered his execution was because he believed the thief would suffer more by rotting in a cell. He couldn’t imagine what could be so important that the king himself would choose to bring him back out of confinement.
Eager to find out what was going on, he climbed down from his bed and shuffled over to the guards so they could free him from the cuffs that bound his ankles. In actuality, he could have easily unlocked the metal restraint on his own with a pick lock key he’d managed to keep hidden in the sole of his right boot, but there was no sense in giving away that little secret, so he waited for the knights to do the job for him.
Once the chains were removed, he followed them out of his cage and into the dark corridor beyond. Pointlessly, the knights fell in step on either side of him as if they expected him to suddenly bolt for the exit, but he ignored their tenseness. They had no reason to worry. He’d learned from experience that he couldn’t escape while he was still within the confines of the prison. If he took so much as one brisk step away from his surly escorts, the other nearby guards would fall on him like a pack of wolves. He didn’t feel like being tackled by armored men today.
Eventually, the trio came to the doors that led out of the building, and Crow felt his heartbeat quicken with excitement. Freedom was so close, he could almost reach out and grasp it. He couldn’t wait to see what had become of the kingdom while he’d been locked up. However, as soon as the knights pushed open the doors, his enthusiasm was replaced with a sharp wave of pain. After spending so long in complete darkness, the sun was blinding. He cursed loudly and shielded his eyes against the light, but the other men didn’t give him a chance to adjust. Snickering unsympathetically, they wrenched his hands away from his face and dragged him forcefully along the road.
Naturally, the thief didn’t take kindly to the ignominious treatment. Tears streaming, he gritted his teeth and dug his heels into the ground to make their task as difficult as he possibly could. The plan backfired though, as the guards then proceeded to pick him up by either arm and carry him in a completely degrading manner.
“Alright, alright,” Crow protested, squirming against their iron grips. “Put me down! I can walk on my own.”
“Stop fighting with us, or I swear, I will personally carry you into the palace,” the beefy guard growled as they set him down again.
Crow shot him a venomous look and sniffed as he rubbed the water from his squinted eyes.
After a while of walking through the crowded streets of the citadel, in which the thief earned a number of quizzical looks from noblemen and women who were surprised to see him out of his cell, the three arrived at the castle. The guards led him through the long hallways, and he looked over his surroundings with intrigue. The last time he’d been inside the palace, it had been the middle of the night. In the light of what he guessed was the morning—he’d been imprisoned for so long, his sense of time was in shambles—the decorative precious metal accents seemed to glitter of their own accord. If they hadn’t been mounted so high up the wall, he would have pondered how to pry them off the stone. Silver and gold fetched a high price no matter where one sold them in the kingdom.
The king’s council chamber, their final destination, was just as ornate. Crow’s gaze was fixed on a particularly pretty vase on the long table that was inlaid with rubies before he turned to the monarch. His Majesty himself stood by one of the windows, looking out over his kingdom. It was difficult to tell what was on his mind, but the thief doubted he was thinking about the citizens. The king was known throughout Brerra for his greed and mistreatment of the peasants who lived on the outskirts of society. As one such individual, Crow had seen the effects of his abuse firsthand, and he believed his ruler was an even more avaricious criminal than he was.
He held his head high when the man finally turned toward them. Though he was rail thin, and his bedraggled clothes hung loosely off his skinny frame, Crow still had a commanding height when he stood up straight. At the moment, it was the only quality he could assert as his king stared down his nose at him and then wrinkled it as if he had stepped in something foul. The look on the monarch’s face told him that he was still just as hated as before.
“Your Highness,” the guards said in unison, bowing deeply to their rule. The muscular one elbowed Crow harshly in the ribs when he failed to do the same. He winced and dipped his head in grudging compliance, but his short-lived acquiescence disappeared the instant he opened his mouth.
“What do you want?” he asked belligerently, earning an icy glare from the guards for his blatant lack of respect for their ruler.
The king ignored his obstinate tone. “I have a task for you,” he replied, striding away from the window with the grace and poise of his elevated status.
Crow was unimpressed with the display. “Lovely,” he said with a false note of cheerfulness. “What would you like me to do? Steal some bread from the poor? Or perhaps you’d like me to fetch a brooch for your mistress?” If it was possible, the guards looked even more taken aback by his treasonous words. The thief didn’t care what they thought though. He despised the man wearing the gilded crown he’d once tried to purloin. Any opportunity he had to demonstrate his animosity wouldn’t be missed.
“You would be wise to hold your tongue,” the king said sharply, delighting Crow with the revelation that his disrespectful words had gotten under his skin. “Do not misunderstand. I do not require your abilities to complete this task. You’re merely a tool to make the job easier, and I can find another thief if you’re not willing to cooperate with me.”
“But you still requested me specifically,” Crow pointed out blandly.
“Yes,” the king growled. “As much as I hate to admit it, your skills are… hard to come by, and the object I need is not easily accessible.”
“Why thank you,” Crow smirked, enjoying the way his ruler squirmed when volunteering praise for a criminal. “What is it you need me to steal?”
“I will have you go to Younis and take their king’s staff. For generations, it has been a symbol of divine right to our neighboring kingdom. The people believe that only a man who has been hand-picked by their matron goddess is able to hold it. This man is in turn made to be their leader. If I can get my hands on it, I can annex Younis without a war.”
“But,” Crow objected. “What if they’re right and only the rightful king can touch the staff?”
“Then I only lose one worthless thief,” the king lifted his shoulders. “I can still take over Younis by force if need be”
“Wonderful,” Crow muttered, liking the task less and less. He knew most of the members of nobility didn’t believe in the power of the gods, but religion and superstition were deeply ingrained in the culture he’d grown up around. If there was a legend stating that the foreign ruler’s staff was cursed, he didn’t appreciate his odds.
Even worse, it seemed the king wasn’t done yet.
“I have assigned a group of knights to accompany you on your journey,” he went on. “After all, I can’t risk giving the most infuriating thief in the kingdom an opportunity to escape, can I?” He gestured with a wave of his hand at a small table in the back of the room, where three knights were seated patiently. They had been so quiet that Crow hadn’t noticed them until now. There were two men and one woman.
The king was visibly pleased with his look of disappointment. “These three will go with you to Younis.”
