The Ferret and the Three Keys

“So what’s the catch?” the gray furred ferret asked, her arms folded over her leather-clad bosom. Her muzzle was turned up in a smirk as she challenged the male coyote.

The ferret leaned against the wall of the cellar the impromptu meeting was being held in. A few lanterns hanging from the wall were all the illumination they were provided with. 

The coyote’s ears twitched as he grinned a toothy grin. “The catch, my dear Farah, is quite simply the fact that the bank is only the second most secured facility in our kingdom. No one has broken into the vaults. ...Well, not successfully that is.” 

Farah’s tail twitched. “First time for everything. But surely there’s more to this job?”

“Yes,” the coyote sighed as he rubbed his temples, “I’m getting to that.”

“Get to it then!”  a female polar bear growled. 

The bear was clad in chainmail, a round wooden shield rested against the seat she was slouched in, a bearded axe and a large seax knife were on her belt, and her massive paws never far from either weapon. It was obvious to Farah that she was once a raider, and now a mercenary.

 “I really should charge extra. I prefer working alone.” Farah grunted.

The polar bear snorted. The coyote sighed, “You all have a role to play. This is going to take teamwork. Zanna is the muscle. You, Farah, are the lock cracker, and of course Marshas will be providing his vaunted marksmanship.” 

Zanna looked to her right, having almost forgotten the quiet ocelot in the cloak and tunic sitting beside her. The feline twitched his tail, a crossbow propped up beside him and a truncheon hanging from his belt. 

“Do continue Harald,” Marshas purred. 

The coyote nodded. “So, do forgive me. There is one important thing I should mention.” 

Farah sighed. “Oh, here we go.” 

Harald continued on. “The object within the vault dwells in a triple-locked box.” 

There was a unified groan from the assembled ne’er-do-wells. Farah was first to make a comment. 

“Those are a royal pain-and-a-half to break into.”

Zanna grunted. “Can we not simply smash it open?” 

Marshas shook his head. “Not unless you have a hammer of the Gods. They’re built to withstand normal... even abnormal... levels of abuse. We would need a magic spell or something of that nature.” 

Harald flattened his ears. “The box is protected against spells by a warding spell of its own. it would take only the most skilled of spellcasters to get through that. Fortunately, there’s an easier solution that doesn’t risk damaging the contents.” 

Farah chortled. “We’re all ears, bossman.” 

The coyote stroked his chin and began pacing the room. He then turned to them abruptly. “The three bank managers each possess a key to the strongbox. All three keys also disarms the  enchantment on the box.” 

“Three of us, three managers?” Marshas asked. 

“Not exactly,” the coyote grinned. “You have one already.” He held up a long brass key with an ornate inscription. “I’m one of the managers.” 

Farah twitched her ears. “Oh, you’re the inside man.” 

Harald bowed. “At your service.” 

Marshas tilted his head, “Explains why you have so much money to throw at us then.” 

Zanna snorted. “I shall be watching you closely. None of you have shown a sense of loyalty. I won’t be double crossed.”

“I have my reasons,” Harald snapped back. “You worry too much. Now then. The plan.” 

The three leaned forward expectantly. 

“One of the managers will be on duty when we start the heist. I’ll bring him to the vault. Farah you will take the key from him as you will already be inside.” 

“What’s my avenue to the inside?” Farah asked. 

“From the rooftops. There’s a maintenance hatch on the west side on the roof. A thief of your reputation should have no issue getting in from here.”

“Yeah, too easy.” Farah nodded. 

“We’ll see,” Zanna grunted, Farah stuck her tongue out at the bear. Zanna growled.

Harald cleared his throat, trying to get the group’s attention back to him. “As for the last manager. He is a possum of habit. He takes the same route everyday. That’s where you come in Marshas.” 

The ocelot blinked. “You want me to off him?” 

“Certainly not. Farah, I know you use darts coated in sleeping agents. Can you provide those agents to Marshas?   

Farah tilted her head. “I should be able to provide that. Though I’m going to need a small fee on the spot to obtain them.” 

Harald sighed. “Ugh... how much?” 

“One hundred gold.” 

“Fine,” Harald agreed. 

Farah nodded, but felt it was important to add a detail. “You know a crossbow bolt will still kill him though, right?”

Marshas thumped his chest. “I’ll use a special bolt and aim for a place with a lot of meat. I won’t miss. I take that as a challenge, my dear stoat: to not make it lethal.”

Farah groaned. “Ferret.”

Harald nodded in approval. “I expect nothing less from the Ghost of Tallon Forest.” 

Zanna looked at the ocelot with a new respect. “That was you?” 

The ocelot shrugged. Harald continued.

“‘Soon as the manager drops, Zanna will go to his aid. get him somewhere safe and take the key. Remove the bolt if it is safe to do so.” 

“Fine.” 

Harald spread his hands. “After Farah has the box we’ll make our getaway. I need you two at the entrance, ready to ride. If things go awry we’ll need brawn and crossbow bolts.” 

Farah nodded. “A fine plan, but things rarely go to plan in my experience.”

“Then we’ll improvise,” Harald grunted.

“Right, then,” Farah grinned. “Money please, I’ll get those sleeping agents.” 

After Harald had given her the gold, Farah grinned as she looked at her new partners. “See you all tomorrow... bright n’ early.”  

Farah nodded: Despite her reservations of working in a team, Farah was enticed by the prospect of a real challenge. It had been so long since she’d had one. 

As silent as smoke, the crafty ferret left the cellar and the fancy home. Farah drew her green cloak around herself and scampered off into the shadows of the cloudy night. Past the wealthier homes she wound - many of which she had broken into before: crimes she remembered fondly.

Through the alleys, and over walls and roofs the nimble ferret wound her way to the shadier parts of the city. Farah stopped outside a nondescript shop and pushed her way inside. Within were all manner of trinket and bauble: jars of strange solutions, shriveled plants, and the prevailing smell of incense.  

“Grisha?” Farah called.   

The rattle of a beaded curtain and a female hyena appeared, standing behind the quaint counter as though she had always been there. The esteemed hyena tilted her head, her eyes the milky white of the blind.

“Ah, Farah,” she said in her ceremonial robes, her snout pointed almost to the ceiling to catch the scent. “My ferret. It is you.” 

Farah put fifty of her hundred coins on the counter. “Going to need more of your sleeping agents.” 

Grisha grinned as she scooped up the coins, “Of course. You are good to Grisha, bring her much gold, and pretty baubles.” The hyena ducked out once more through the beaded curtain into the dull green of the backroom to fetch the ingredients. 

“Thanks Grisha,” Farah said.

“You have a big job coming up?” Grisha asked. Farah could hear the mortar and pestle working hard to create the needed sleeping agents.

“Mmmmmmmaybe,” Farah replied.

“I shall take that as a yes,” Grisha replied as she continued to mix ingredients. “Be careful my clever ferret: I feel something in the air: there is something amiss.” 

Farah’s tail twitched, “Well everytime you sense something, it's been accurate. I’ll be extra careful.” 

The ferret patted ‘Fang’ and ‘Claw’ - her shortsword and handaxe respectively - before putting a claw to the chain around her neck. 

“You know you can come to Grisha for anything,” the hyena reminded her.

“Thanks Grisha. Might have to lay low for a while, but - as you know - I always come back.” Farah said, taking the sleeping agents. 

The next day was dripping and slightly overcast. Farah always appreciated when the sun was in absentia, even if temporarily. That morning, all four of the potential robbers faced the bank from a farm cart on the opposite side of the street, watching customers and employees line up for it to open. Farah glared at Harald.

“You didn’t say a word about painted dogs!” 

The tribal canines contrasted with the city beasts lining up for the bank:

Four of the large-eared canines stood guard outside the bank steps, each with a large oval shield in one paw and a long bladed spear in the other, warclubs stuffed in their belts. The ‘painted dogs’ lived up to their name: their fur patterns seemed as if they had been painted on with a swift and thick brush by some god above. 

Zanna growled. “They are good with spears...” her voice lowered. “I have fought them before.” 

The bear rubbed at an unseen scar on her side. 

Marshas squinted his eyes. “I see no tribal markings on them. They must be freelancers.” 

Farah crossed her arms and turned to Harald. “Alright mister, you have some explaining to do.” 

The coyote made a placating gesture and an annoying smile. “Until recently the guards were dumb brutes and old soldiers past their prime. But just a few weeks one of my… associates replaced the guards with these savages. It shouldn’t change anything if you are as good as you’re reputed to be.” 

Farah rolled her eyes. “Yeah, yeah, we’ll be expecting a larger cut of the loot for withholding crucial information.” 

“Oh, what?” Harald said, a little louder than he meant to. “Are you scared? Are you all cowa-?!”

Zanna gripped the coyote’s tunic and pulled him close to her muzzle. 

“I’d advise not finishing that statement.”

The coyote made a little whimper as he was slowly lowered to the dusty street. 

After he was turned loose, Harald dusted himself off and strode into the bank as Farah began the process of scaling one of the adjacent buildings. It was shorter than the bank, but it got her within grappling hook range. 

Marshas and Zanna were moving to intercept the third manager. Farah stood on the rooftop of the municipal building beside the bank. 

Farah marveled at how developed the city had become. No longer did they fear raids: only the greatest of monsters or rival nations posed a threat now...

...And, of course, her own little self.    

The ferret crouched on the roof behind a chimney, watching the bank roof. The bank actually had a rampart running along its roof where she could see two painted dogs with sheaths full of javelins. She’d have to cut things close if she wanted to reach the roof without being seen. 

Farah studied their movements carefully. She saw her chance as the two sentries patrolled: they seemed more focused with passerbyes down below than the adjoining roof. 

Luck for her. 

A swing of the hook as the two about faced and moved in opposite directions, and Farah latched onto something. With a grin she swung against the wall bracing with her feet and began to scale up the wall. As soon as she cleared the rampart she removed the hook and sprinted for the wooden hatch on the bank’s ornate stone roof. 

Farah quickly pried the door open and scampered down into the bank.   

Marshas and Zanna were already playing their part, both wondering if that ferret had gotten past the guards. Marshas threw his cloak over himself and crouched behind an empty vendor kiosk - even his tail was still as he waited for the opossum. 

Sure enough, the marsupial in the ornate tunic could be seen strolling through the street, munching on an apple without a care in the world. 

“Lights out, amigo.” Marshas grunted as he let the bolt fly. 

Right in the left buttocks, the bolt struck. The possum jolted upright and squealed, before the agents began to work and he pitched forward into the street. There were screams and puzzled shouts from the crowd. After a few seconds, Zanna pushed her way past. 

“Alright, clear out!” She bellowed. “Everyone disperse!” 

No one questioned the authoritative bear as she scooped up the marsupial and laid him on the empty stall, subtly removing the bolt and taking his key. A brief bit of eye contact and she and Marshas hurried for the cart in front of the bank again.

Farah had worked her way to the iron vault door during the events outside. 

“Oh-ho-ho,” Farah said, cracking her knuckles as she gazed upon the mechanism on the safe. “Piece o’ pie.”

Working swiftly Farah pulled her instruments: inserting long metal files and working the tumblers one by one, each giving a resounding *Click* before she began to turn the massive crank and used all of her little strength to pull the door open a crack.

Slipping through the slit she beheld the box on a pedestal. It was indeed ornate and made of oak and steel, yet she was disappointed it was the only thing within. 

She would need help moving, that was for sure. 

Farah positioned herself behind the vault door, sleeping darts at the ready. Her tail twitched in anticipation. The seconds dragged on and she heard what she was waiting for. Voices and footsteps. 

“Harald, really!” a pompous voice in the corridor said. “Inspections are not due till the afternoon.”

“Best we do it earlier, Alain.” Farah heard Harald say. “Ahhh, seems someone has already taken the initiative and opened for us.”

“What?” the pompous voice cried out. 

Running footsteps. Farah prepped herself. An obese racoon, Harald and two painted dogs were soon within the vault, and not one saw the ferret by the door. 

“It’s safe,” Alain sighed before Farah let a dart fly. “Ow, what the?” 

“Surprise!” Farah exclaimed as she threw the other darts and dropped the guards before they could react.

Harald nodded as he wrapped his coat over the box. 

“Come on,” Harald said. “We need to move quickly.” 

Outside the bank, Zana and Marshas watched as the guards outside exchanged gestures. 

“Something’s going on,” Marshas observed. 

“Have they been caught?” Zanna asked as two guards ran inside. 

“Let’s find out. I’ll keep you covered.” Marshas raised his crossbow as the bear strode across the street. 

Within, Farah and Marshas were strolling through the corridors when they heard the rhythmic feet of guards heading for them. 

“Uh oh,” Farah whispered. 

“I’ll handle this,” Harald said. Six guards soon pulled up short seeing the two. 

“Thank goodness you’re here!” The coyote exclaimed. “Secure the vault.”

The painted dog grinned. “No. We’ll be taking that box and your key.” 

Farah grinned as she realized what was happening. 

“Seems we’re not the only ones pulling a job here.”

The ferret and coyote dropped the box as the freelancers charged them. Farah freed her shortsword and handaxe and nimbly dodged a spear, her shorter weapons proving an advantage as she pushed the point away with her sword and struck with her axe. 

One down, but soon she was ducking the swing of a warclub. The dog snarled as he raised the club high, but Farah struck him between the ribs with her sword. 

There was a blinding flash and the other guards were howling and clutching at their eyes. 

“Harald? You’re a mage?” Farah asked. 

The coyote grinned. “Let’s go, they're only blinded.”

Box in one hand, sword in the other, Farah ran. The lobby was chaotic with customers and employees alike running and screaming to and fro as the freelancers were tearing the place up and terrorizing all within. Screams and cries of. “For the pack!” echoed through the marble halls.  

The escaping duo soon drew the attention of the marauders. 

“Stop them!” 

Farah fended off a spear point as she and Harald clotheslined one of the raiders with the chest. 

Outside they found more chaos. One of the javelin throwers’ broken bodies was on the ground, having fallen from the roof with a crossbow bolt in his chest. Zanna used her bearded axe to pull the shield down from one of the spearman as Marshas struck him with his truncheon. 

“Let’s go! The guards are pulling a job!” Farah shouted at her cohorts. 

Zana grabbed the chest and the four piled into the cart. Harald slapped the reins on the monitor lizards and the cart rolled forward. They didn’t stop till they were well outside the city. 

“We did it!” Marshas exclaimed as the buildings receded into the distance. 

Zanna grunted, Farah grinned. The keys were laid out on the wagon. 

“Thank you.” Harald grinned as he suddenly raised his hands. “Petrify!” 

All three were frozen in their tracks. 

“I have no need for you pawns anymore, now that I have what I want.” 

As Harald bent down, Farah suddenly punched him, breaking his concentration on the spell. 

“What the-? You’re supposed to be paralyzed!”  

Farah smirked as she pulled the chain around her neck up showing a silver and crystal talisman. 

“Damn you ferret! A protective charm!”

Zanna growled as she returned to consciousness. “Do we kill him now or later?” 

“Just tie him up. I want to see what’s in the box first.” Farah grinned. 

After Harald was bound, all three inserted their keys and turned. 

“By the Gods!” Zanna exclaimed as she looked inside.

The rest - including Harald in his bindings - peered over each other and marveled.