Private Tales Snake Eyes

[Otto von Geist]

The exact details of what had happened still weren't abundantly clear to Otto. He was rotting away in a dungeon now in Amol-Kalit, caught while trying to steal a crown jewel from the palace. The job description wasn't great, but the offer was too much for a veteran thief like him to pass up. He wasn't going to gain any notoriety by taking on small jobs, and he sorely missed having nobles in his back pocket like he'd had in Alliria. That greed made him careless, far more than a master thief like himself should be, and now he was going to pay it. Dearly, from the looks of it.

He was bound in chains, but found some straw on the prison floor. He tied a few of the pieces together, and slowly began the process of trying to unbind himself. Isolated cells like his were usually laxly guarded since escape was usually near-impossible, but he doubted they'd ever had a prisoner like Otto von Geist.

Details were returning to him. Otto had actually managed to secure the jewel in his pack. He began to suspect that the job was foul play, which Otto was usually good at sniffing out, but this time he'd somehow missed it. He guessed some noble somewhere was behind it, perhaps to make another noble look like a traitor to the crown. Otto was good at sussing out plots like that, too, but sometimes the dice come up snake eyes, and there isn't much you can do about it.

He broke off his straw lockpick inside the lock itself, but managed to get one of the manacles open. Hardly deterred, Otto started working on the other, hoping no guards would come by as he did so. Time was everything to a thief. Especially in a place like this.

Gerra of Molthal

 

[Gerra]

Heavy footfalls sounded down the dark corridor leading to the cell. The air here was cool, but stale. A refreshing reprieve from the arid desert outside, but not a place to stay for long.

The footsteps continued to sound until a large shape emerged from the shadows. The figure stood there for a moment, then there came the spark of flint on wick and a lantern roared to life in his hand, illuminating hard, obsidian features and eyes that flickered like embers in the reflected light of the lantern.

The lantern-bearer loomed impassively, taller than any human man, unless the dim light played tricks on the eyes.

"Do you know what they do to thieves in Kherkhana?" he said at last, his voice impossibly deep, oily, and rich.

 

[Otto von Geist]

Otto had heard the footsteps approaching and quickly hid his straw lockpick in the folds of his clothes. He pretended to be downtrodden, sitting in the corner with his head bowed, appearing as weak as possible so as to not draw attention to himself. When finally the fiery figure appeared before him and spoke, Otto made no motion as he made his reply.

"Can't imagine it's much worse than what they do in Vel Anir," he said. "I knew a man--friend o' mine--got his innards pulled out everywhere they could find em. I think the Anirians had a damn good time doin' it, too."

The man was big, and only reinforced that Otto had very much gone in over his head. How he'd get out of this, he wasn't sure. But he was determined that this wasn't the end of the line. Even if the dice were loaded.

 

[Gerra]

“Ah yes. Anirians… I am sure they did.”

The lantern swayed slightly. The lips of the giant tugged up, as if he might have smiled but thought better of it.

“The Blue Orcs would not find such pleasure. They would place you in a mine shaft for the rest of your years, which would be short, if they did not crush you to death beneath a boulder instead.”

An overly large finger tapped against the lantern grip thoughtfully.

“There is beauty in that economical use of labor, yes? And horror. But it is good you are neither in Vel Anir nor at the whims of Kherkhana’s Nakharar…”

He leaned closer, the lantern fully illuminating a face minted on coins throughout Amol-Kalit.

“…But in my realm.”

 

[Otto von Geist]

Otto at once found it strange that the ruler of this realm had come to see him personally, nothing more than a burglar in the wrong place at the wrong time. But he knew better than to disrespect nobility, because if there was one thing that thieves and royalty had in common, it was the importance of respect.

"Your Majesty," he said, gruffly. "Hope you'll forgive my askin', but what does an Emperor want with a thief?"

It was rhetorical, but Otto was a consummate professional, and had made his way out of more than a few dungeons in similar circumstances by buttering up lords--sometimes their ladies, too--and looking for any possible opening to free himself, or start a new business opportunity.

He had no loyalties, and he didn't get attached. Money spoke for itself, and Emperors had a lot of money. Still, this was probably the end of the line for Otto, and the Emperor was likely only here for sadistic pleasure. Otto had seen his fair share of that, too. But the window of opportunity was always closed for those who weren't trying to jump through it.

 

[Gerra]

“I wanted to see if the rumors were true,” replied Gerra, “if you were as skilled they say.”

He stared at the thief in the dim light of the lantern.

“You call me Emperor, but in my months of absence there are many who might…. Disagree.”

Muscles writhed in the half-giant's jaw, clenching and unclenching.

“Someone of your particular talents could be useful in that regard. And you would, of course, be handsomely compensated. Starting with removing you from this cage."

Gerra reached over, ran a hand along the door lock as if he might rip it open with his bare hands, then produced a key from within his robes and unlocked the cell with a heavy click.

 

[Otto von Geist]

“I wanted to see if the rumors were true,” replied Gerra, “if you were as skilled they say.”

"My reputation must have grown beyond my understanding, if even in The Empire my name is being spoken to those in positions of power. I thought it was only a problem in Alliria," he said, knowing the ruse was up. He would have to leverage his reputation now, which could be either good or bad. Still, the Emperor seemed impressed with him, which could mean a business opportunity was coming his way.

“You call me Emperor, but in my months of absence there are many who might…. Disagree.”

Yep. Business.

He was surprised, however, when the Emperor opened the door to his cell without so much as a breath of negotiation. Otto started to wonder if he might do better in life by changing his name and retiring.

Otto stood up, revealing that he'd broken the other manacle lock while the Emperor was talking. He hadn't been here long, so he wasn't particularly malnourished, although he could definitely do with a proper meal.

"Though you have me at a disadvantage, Your Majesty makes an irresistible offer. Otto von Geist accepts." He did a proper bow--at least, for Allirian nobility--then brushed himself off. "Which of my clandestine services do you require?"

 

[Gerra]

A smoldering gaze passed from the discarded shackles to the bowing thief. A single brow lofted ever so slightly.

“Come, walk with me.”

Gerra turned and began to lumber back up the dark passage, lantern swaying and spilling forth light.

“Desert wolves are slender creatures. Alone each is a frail, starving carnivore. But together, united in common purpose, they can take down animals three times their size.”

The passageway led up, past two guards. These were not ordinary guards, but masked Immortals from the Madrasa.

The guards fell into step behind the odd pairing as they past.

“We need a common purpose, Otto.”

Gerra pushed open the door of the prison and the four of them exited into daylight. Stretching out before them was a city, full of hurrying crowds and loud color.

The emperor turned to regard the thief as he snuffed out the lantern with his bare fingers.

“How much do you know of the Cortosi kingdoms?”

 

[Otto von Geist]

Otto had been in the pockets of many nobles before, in Alliria. But he'd never been in the pocket of an Emperor, which made this a particularly intriguing proposition. Still, he felt some degree of nervousness; the bigger the client, the higher the stakes, the bigger the risk, and the grander the reward. This could mean Otto's demise, but, it could also be his magnum opus.

“We need a common purpose, Otto.”

"What common purpose does an Emperor and a burglar have, my lord?" He asked as though he expected a real answer, but Otto already knew--this man of great power needed something done to someone that he couldn't do himself, and Otto was going to pick up the slack. It was always that way with royalty.

“How much do you know of the Cortosi kingdoms?”

"Very little, my lord. I made my name in Alliria, got too big for my own good, and was ruined by an overly ambitious guard captain. I was looking to make a name for myself again before I invariably got caught. Security here's a lot better than Alliria, that's for sure. Your Majesty is gracious to let a common criminal like myself breathe the free air again."

 

[Gerra]

Gerra snorted.

"Please, do not flatter me as you would an Allirian banker. I think we both know how games such as these are played."

Handing off the extinguished lantern to one of the masked Immortals, Gerra stood surveying the city around them, his simmering stare taking in everything.

"I too lost my fortunes in the east."

His gaze grew grim and glazed by thousandfold thoughts. Thoughts of a King of Ash in a throne of fire amid a molten hall. Thoughts of four thousand dead orcs in tunnels, charred and hacked bodies stacked so high you could scarcely move. Thoughts of a father's wrath and the fear that came with it.

"What feels like an age ago... You can rebuild here, Otto. As I have. Truly, I know not yet what motivates you, but I think it is more than mere coin. A man must have a name."

The half-giant clasped his hands behind his back and looked out into the middle distance.

"I want you to start a war."

 

[Otto von Geist]

"I want you to start a war."

Otto stopped walking, just for two paces, before resuming. He'd sowed seeds of discord among the nobles in Alliria, but nothing ever resembling an actual war. Intrigue and subterfuge were more his domain. He'd certainly make a name for himself doing this, but was he up to the task?

"I don't know if I'm your man, then," he said. "Never started a war before. I was the guy they called to plant some girl's garters on some other noble's coat pocket. Raised a lot of hell that way. Maybe it's not so different, what you're asking."

He took in the sights of the city around him, having not appreciated it when he stole through it the night before.

"Still, starting a war's going to cost. You and me both. I won't ask questions unless I need to know it for the job. I take it I'm on retainer for you sparing my life?"

The notion of rebuilding appealed to Otto, but trust was a commodity for a thief, and the Emperor was going to have to make an investment if he wanted him to stick around.

 

[Gerra]

"Indeed. We will meet again tonight. I have other matters to attend to. In the meantime, my bodyguards will seen you are well cared for."

And looked after.

* * *

Later that evening, after Otto was offered to bathe in hot saunas, dine on dates and fine wine, and a wardrobe offering fitting for an emperor's guest, Gerra met him in one of the many rooms of his mansion in the city.

Gerra reclined upon the cushions, somehow seeming made of stone despite the atmosphere. A lamp hung above them, the flame flickering and casting shadows across them much as the lantern had before. Only the setting here was far different. Or at least... the bars were made of gold instead of iron.

"I trust you find the accommodations to your liking? This was once the manor of a Kaliti prince. I took it from him when he was slain at the Battle of Ninagal. To the victor the spoils."

But the emperor did not seem pleased, far from it. Something lurked in those molten eyes. Something his mind would not let go of.

Otto von Geist

 

[Otto von Geist]

The accommodations were certainly an upgrade from a dank prison cell, that much was certain. This was more of what Otto was used to--lavish rooms with decadent food and drink, and fine clothes. It certainly piqued his interest about what this "Emperor" could offer. It also likely meant that the stakes for failure were rather high. But he'd escaped that fate in Alliria, so if he needed to, he could perhaps escape again.

"I trust you find the accommodations to your liking?"

Otto nodded, listening to Gerra talk about the situation of their current living space.

"People shouldn't play the game if they aren't ready to lose everything," Otto said in response. "Not to be too blunt your Emperorness, but you said somethin' about a war and it's got me on needles here."

He could see that something was bothering Gerra, and he imagined he was about to find out what.

 

[Gerra]

"Ah. Yes."

Gerra sipped from a goblet as he reclined. The wine tasted like ash. Everything tasted like ash now. In some cultures, ash could carry different flavors and mixed with grain, or certain foods, could enhance the flavor of the dish. But not when each bite tasted only of bland, chalky acidity.

He swallowed, features twisting in annoyance, and put the cup down.

"The great Cortosi city of Torleon has produced many adventurers, such as the Alcantara brothers, and their treasure fleets have brought back riches beyond compare. They say the king of Torleon's vault is filled with gold bullion and jewels from a hundred islands in the east."

The emperor raised an eyebrow, "If this vault were to be emptied and end up in another, nearby Cortosi kingdom... it would be... advantageous to me."

 

[Otto von Geist]

Otto nodded in response to the burning Emperor's description of the job, with a knowing look as the gears were already spinning in his head.

"Starting a war isn't easy... or cheap. Nor is stealing a whole Kingdom's treasury, unless these Cortosi fellas don't have much in the way of gold. Even without needing to deal with all the heightened security, you'd need a whole platoon of men to steal that much bullion, potentially more, which only complicates things more..."

He shook his head. Talking back to an Emperor was a bad idea, but so was trying to empty a kingdom's treasury with only one man.

"If I may, your Emperorness, is there somethin' more personal I could lift off the local regent? Something even as simple as placing the queen's garters in the wrong person's pocket could have the same effect without needing to create so grandiose of an operation... And besides, the fewer people you need to count on, the fewer who can stab you in the back when the job is done. So, that said... What is the king of Torleon's most prized possession? Or do I need to find that out for myself?"

His gaze was confident, his tone conversational. He would find a way to do this job on better terms, or he wouldn't do it at all, Emperor or not.

 

[Gerra]

"Hmm. Perhaps you have a point," said the emperor, tracing his thumb along his jaw.

"The king's most prized possession is the ancient crown of Torleon. It is rumored to have been forged long ago and imbued with magical properties to enhance the wisdom of the wearer beyond that of any mere mortal. The king only takes it off when he sleeps..."

The emperor's eyes narrowed.

"Are you up to such a task?"

 

[Otto von Geist]

Otto stroked his chin at the idea. Stealing a crown wouldn't be easy, but it would be possible. Getting a King drunk and disorderly at a party probably wouldn't be an issue, and he was quite the filcher. If not, breaking into a king's quarters was technically possible, although less likely.

"That's something I can do," he said, his voice still quite serious. "I'll need all the information you can get me. Information and timing are everything. You may not value my life, but if you value this war, I'll need whatever resources you can give to me. I need a list of every detail you have on this king, including upcoming public gatherings, close friends, and anyone else of note I can use to get the job done. Do this, and you'll have your war."

His eyes were intense and focused. Business was business, and Otto took it very seriously.