Thrust, Parry and Riposte
Iatr and Klem celebrate their newfound freedom with a crime spree. Ratcliff pursues them with paperwork.
“Hey Mister, spare some change?” Iatr said to the passing merchant.
The man glanced down at Iatr, immediately sizing him up as a young ruffian and probably a pickpocket. “Get away from me, you filthy wretch. This is Kastan’s street! Your kind isn’t allowed to be here. This is a respectable street, and criminal wastrels like you aren’t welcome here!” [1] The portly merchant’s face quivered with growing anger, reddening to match the colour of his overly fancy clothes. His demeanour suggested a refined sense of self-importance.
1 - At least the blue collar kind.
He raised his hand as if to strike Iatr, who played his script exactly and cowered before the rotund and well dressed man.
“Sir, no!” he yelled aloud, sounding panicked and afraid. Other pedestrians stopped to look at the altercation, and the merchant grew angry by his behaviour, and the attention it was calling in.
“You will not ‘Sir, no’ me! You are obviously up to something and don’t belong. Guards!” the merchant yelled, unimpressed with Iatr’s theatrics. He swung at Iatr, who dodged out of the way, falling to the ground and dramatically cowering in the face of the man’s rage. Some well armed men, dressed in the uniforms of the city watch, approached the public display of improvised theatre.
“Sir, my mother, she’s very sick! And my brother! He’s even sicker! He hasn’t eaten in three days! And my mother hasn’t eaten in five days, sir, on account of her being a saint, and tryin’ to keep my brother alive! And while I’m not sick, at least not yet, I haven’t eaten in seven days because they need the food more than me! I’m all they have! They need me!” Iatr wailed out loud, drawing looks of concern, pity and sceptical annoyance. He was laying it on pretty thick. [2]
2 - Had Iatr ever considered NOT pursuing a life of crime, he would have done reasonably well in theatre. He wouldn’t have been… fantastic… but a definite above average. His failing was entirely a lack of restraint when leaning into his characters.
“Well I’d ask what the problem is here, but I think I’ve got a pretty good idea from all the shouting,” said the first guard to approach the scene. The merchant pointed at the cowering Iatr and looked at the guard with fury and scorn.
“What is this wretched con-artist doing here? This district is supposed to be clean of gutter trash like this. Are you busy with something more important than keeping Kastan’s street clean of pickpockets and beggars? This is a respectable shop district, they are bad for business! The guild pays you guards your extortionate fees to keep this trash out!” The fat middle aged man looked like he was about to invent the steam engine with the amount of pressure that was building up in his face.
A second guard came up and grabbed Iatr, pulling him to his feet. Iatr didn’t bother to resist, letting himself be dragged up to his feet as though he were exhausted and unable to resist the stronger man.
The first guard said to the merchant, “Yes sir, it's clear that he slipped by us. We’ll take him back to his home and his very sick mother. Isn’t that right, Iatr?” The guard turned to look beadily at Iatr, who winced, realising that this was a guard who knew him. What was his name? All the guards looked the same. [3]
3 - In his words, like bastards.
Which is pretty unfair considering Iatr himself was born out of wedlock.
“Iatr? That’s my very… deathly sick brother’s name… I’m… uh… Klem!” Iatr said, then winced when he realised that wasn’t a smart name to throw out. He wasn’t good at naming things. He would have to come up with a better cover story with Klem the next time they pulled this gig.
“Ah… Klem… right… and where is your partner in actual crime?” the guard said, his voice getting tight with annoyance as he realised the piece of the picture that he’d been missing and finally caught it.
Iatr tried to pull himself out of the grasp of the second guard, but he wasn’t having it. Iatr swore under his breath, “By Loki, why’d there have to be a guard who knows me… get me out of here…”
The third guard who had been hanging back said, “Hey! There!” while pointing across the market square towards a modestly dressed boy who was sneaking about the watching crowd. The crowd recoiled from the guard’s pointing finger, and Klem was exposed, looking shocked and guilty.
The scene paused for a brief moment in confusion, and Klem bolted.
Nearby onlookers who should have minded their own business tried to grab him as he ran. Shouts of “My purse!” started going up from the crowd, who, given the rapidly unfolding events, had checked their pockets for missing coins and had come up empty.
Iatr laughed, and brought his heel down on the guard's foot. The guard cursed and started hopping on one foot, letting go of Iatr in distracted weakness. The fat merchant tried to grab him, having been wise to the con early, but Iatr was quick and not as hungry as he’d let on. He bolted too.
He ducked under a horse, who reared in shock at this invasive manoeuvre. The rider fell off and smashed into a table full of hand carved wooden statues. Shouts of dismay erupted as Iatr and Klem engaged in the intentional sowing of chaos in their immediate vicinity to stir up distraction, noise and confusion.
Iatr pushed a box of fresh apples off a vendor’s table like a vengeful cat, which spilled onto the cobblestones of the square, and right into the path of the charging guards.
A guardsman on a horse tried to reach down to grab Klem, who pulled out a short bladed knife and sliced the straps of the guard’s saddle before he could pull Klem up. Already off-balance, the guard and his saddle crashed down to the ground, and Klem rolled free of the guard’s grip. The horse immediately reared and people scattered to get away.
One guard was met by a flying basket of milled flour as he got close to Iatr. An explosion of white powder erupted all over the guard and nearby onlookers, who were caught between indignation at the disruption of their peaceful market, and a terrible amusement over the utter chaos these two young street thugs were wrecking across the plaza. Those who had been robbed of their coins were substantially less sympathetic, and had joined in the chase.
Once the flour bomb had gone off, Iatr and Klem both fled in separate directions out of the square, following their pre planned exit strategies. Klem leapt up on a series of stacked wooden boxes and then onto a nearby roof, having decided to go with a “daring rooftop escape” exit strategy. Iatr, always one for a classic, disappeared down a suspiciously opened sewer manhole that any safety inspector would have insisted remain closed at all times.
One guard pursued Klem onto the rooftops, only to find no trace of him, or anywhere else in the vicinity. [4]
4 - The rooftop escape had been a misdirection. Klem had slipped over the side of the roof on the other side and doubled back into an open window that led into a warehouse that was usually unattended during market hours. It had been a risk that someone would be inside, but a dramatic risk worth taking.
They met not long after at their pre-arranged rendezvous, and disappeared into the darkness of the sewers, cackled over their spoils, having defied the oppressive lawmen of Rundellian city for the second time that week.
“It was NOT my fault, my lord,” Captain Rorrick said, stiffly. The captain was standing in a posture that could loosely be described as being ‘at attention, if you didn’t like or respect your superior officer, and that superior officer couldn’t actually fire you, but you HAD been caught in an embarrassing situation that was definitely your responsibility if not your fault.’
Sheriff Ratcliff, seated at his long desk, covered in papers, books and an unreasonable quantity of ink pots [5], simply raised an eyebrow, much as a fencer would raise his sword to say ‘en garde.’
5 - An unreasonable quantity of ink pots being more than two full ink pots. Any more and you’re just gloating. In Sheriff Ratcliff’s case, he had five.
However, in his defence, he wrote a lot of tersely worded letters.
“Then please, Captain Rorrick, explain to me how two roughly thirteen year old boys were able to escape your finely guarded jail during the mid-afternoon of a weekday?” Sheriff Ratcliff asked. Captain Rorrick grimaced in response to this invitation to skewer himself, and coughed.
“We believe that the one named Iatr picked guardsman Sanko’s pocket during the altercation we witnessed,” he said, gruffly.
“Ah yes, the angry one,” Sheriff Ratcliff said musingly. “But last I checked, which admittedly was some time ago, you haven't installed any back doors in the jail. So they’d have to leave out the front door. Where you presumably had guards on duty? I realise you’ve been concerned about the quantity of funding the guard has been receiving for… well many years now… but I recall seeing guards on duty. Did you dismiss them after I left?”
Captain Rorrick’s jaw flexed as if he was working extra hard to grind a piece of particularly unpleasant gristle between his molars. [6]
6 - It is likely, in his mind, he was crushing the impudent Ratcliff between his teeth. A man ten years his junior, and not nearly as cooperative as his predecessor in overlooking the liberties Rorrick took with the guard’s annual budget.
“They let… everyone… out of their cells,” Captain Rorrick said darkly. “And slipped out in the chaos while my guardsmen were dealing with the mass of escaped prisoners.”
“Oh dear,” Sheriff Ratcliff said, frowning, and sounding genuinely concerned. “Was anyone injured during the riot?”
Captain Rorrick grimaced. “Sanko got mobbed in what I can only assume was an act of revenge from some of the prisoners. We pulled them off him before they could do anything too terrible, but he’s going to be off duty for a month. Sergeant Phelps took a chair to the knee during that altercation and will be off his feet until he recovers.”
“That is unfortunate. My office will cover the cost of hiring an Apollonian priest for Sergeant Phelps,” Sheriff Ratcliff said, “Please send him my regards and well wishes. A good man.”
“That’s very generous your Lordship,” Captain Rorrick said, sounding a little mollified. He then frowned, and his own eyebrow raised. “Guardsman… Sanko?”
Sheriff Ratcliff and Captain Rorrick gazed at each other for a time, the Sheriff’s face impassive and unmoving. After a sufficiently awkward silence, Ratcliff said, “My office will not be covering the cost of hiring an Apollonian priest for Guardsman Sanko.”
Captain Rorrick opened his mouth to protest, “My lord… there will be concerns about favouritism if it's just…”
Sheriff Ratcliff cut him off, his eyes narrowing, “I daresay that the jail may find itself the subject of fewer expensive litigations with Guardsman Sanko on an extended leave of absence. My decision stands.” [7] Captain Rorrick coughed at this, then nodded, acquiescing.
7 - Sheriff Ratcliff was famous amongst his peers for his revolutionary approach to saving the king’s treasury by insisting that representatives of the crown behave in a way that didn’t get the government sued for breach of contract, unnecessary violence, or give themselves unsanctioned bonuses.
He was also strangely unpopular with many officers of the government.
Sheriff Ratcliff tapped his finger on a piece of paper in front of him, while pulling at the left side of his moustache as he thought. Captain Rorrick waited patiently for a moment, then asked, “If that’s all… my Lord?” Ratcliff looked up, as if he’d come out of a daze.
“Has there been any word of the two boys since the break out?”
“Yes my lord. A trio of guards spotted them in the Kastan market plaza. They caused a major commotion escaping capture, and managed to rob several onlookers in the process. Several merchants have already filed a petition for compensation for damages, as the merchants guild was paid up for protective services,” Captain Rorrick said, visible anger on his face. “My Lord, these two are quickly becoming the most expensive street rats to have come to our attention.”
Sheriff Ratcliff sighed, “Yes they do seem to be determined to rack up quite a large debt to the crown. I’m sure they’d wear that with pride. What are the total claims for this latest stunt?”
Captain Rorrick fished out a small notebook from the pocket of his captain’s uniform, and leafed through it for a time. He frowned, and looked up at Ratcliff. “Initial reports put the claims at roughly two hundred and thirty-two gold crowns my Lord. If the usual merchant bullshit is going on, I’d say about a third of those claims are true, but we’ll probably have to pay out closer to half of them.” [8]
8 - Never missing an opportunity to scam the government for profit is an incredibly merchant thing to do. Particularly when there are little to no consequences for doing so.
Sheriff Ratcliff frowned, looking upset, “Likely closer to two-thirds I’d imagine. Three of my bailiffs have gone missing in the last month, and the backlog of fraudulent claims is proving challenging for my remaining officers to investigate. I’ll have to petition the house of lords to allow me to raise the fines on any merchants caught trying to defraud the crown.”
Captain Rorrick guffawed, “Good luck with that.” Sheriff Ratcliff’s face twisted in distaste, but he didn’t argue the point. [9]
9 - The current members of the Rundellian House of Lords, in Ratcliff’s opinion, had forgotten they were noblemen in service to the crown, and were more interested in running their personal merchant empires. They tended to be unfortunately lenient towards fancy collar crime. A professional courtesy of sorts.
“Yes, I will likely need it,” Sheriff Ratcliff said. “Is the guard aware of any family of these two?”
Captain Rorrick frowned, looking up, “Guardsman Yunen mentioned that Iatr made a claim about a sick mother and brother, but assumed that was a bullshit story.”
“Interesting,” Ratcliff said, “And we’re sure their names are Klem and Iatr? Iatr is an uncommon name. Perhaps a street name?”
“Yunen is certain those are their actual names. He’s been dancing around those two for years now, and their names have been consistent throughout,” Rorrick said, putting the notebook back into his pocket.
Ratcliff smiled, “Thank you Captain. That will be all.”
Captain Rorrick turned to leave. Without saluting.
Ratcliff cleared his throat, “Oh, one other thing.” Captain Rorrick turned back to face the Sheriff.
“Send Guardsman Yunen and three other officers to me later this afternoon. Say around an hour before sunset. I’ll need their services this evening,” he said.
“Of course my Lord. May I inquire what you’re planning?” Captain Rorrick asked.
Sheriff Ratcliff smiled as he picked up the piece of paper in front of him.
“Why, I think I’m going to go speak with Iatr’s mother.”
Editorial Comments;
When I first started writing the short stories set in Armaviri & the Godswood, it was a pretty whimsical process that would channel the direction of which characters would get attention. Now I’ve started so many threads, something like 15 different directions I could go, I find myself contemplating, “How good of a juggler am I?” We shall find out in time.
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Robin George
Fun read! You had me laughing out loud with many of those footnotes.
Yay! Glad you’ll be joining. I’ll add you to the list for sure.