Dreams of the Oath Sworn Thief

Never lie: for my words are meant to inspire and not deceive.

Be Brave: for my actions are meant to bolster the spirits of those around me.

Be Kind: for we fight to protect the weak, and a blade does only half the job of a hero Compassion and forgiveness is crucial.

Have honor: for a blade must be wielded with care and action should be a last resort.

These are my oaths, oaths that I have sworn to a man much better than myself. A man who gave away his wealth to those in need. I owe my life to him, for when I tried to rob him, instead of killing me he chose to let me live, telling me there was a better path in life instead of robbing and thieving. This man, Lord Herren of Drakenhold, was the best man I have ever met in my life.

In front of me now lies the bloodied corpse of what once was my salvation. His previously gallant face flayed open, what once remained of his fair skin now purple and broken, sword still in his honorable hands, his blade still conquering the abdomen of one of our attackers. 4 more corpses lay scattered around us in a perimeter, 4 corpses that when I stare into their soulless eyes I see nothing but remnants of myself from a time so recent, but also so distant from who I think I am now. Vagabonds, thieves, and highwaymen, all doing what they needed to do to survive.

I feel as though my stomach is slowly coming alive for the sole purpose of ripping itself apart. Saliva pools within the blood in my mouth as I retch at my promising future suddenly becoming unobtainable. What am I without my lord's help and guidance? What use is a mercenary who only slays those he deems unworthy? What use is any common man with honor in a country of war and pillaging?

I look at my beloved deceased friend with reverence, the pain from my own wounds begin to whip and nash at my side as my adrenaline is replaced with despair. I have lost so many companions in my past, so why is this so difficult? In the past it was simple, when one of your crew dies, you strip them of everything useful and leave them for the crows. Lord Herren is better than that, he deserves a warrior's burial.

I grab the axe of one of the fallen bandits and use it as a shovel to dig the grave. Tears drip from my face uncontrollably, as I contemplate what this means for me, The city of Taelkrim is nearby, its a place where low lives and thieves prosper. I look down at my broken armor and half broken sword. I need coin, Lord Herren had a habit of giving out his coin to anyone that asked, whether that was a beggar or a man who was asking behind the threat of violence, only to be confused by the willingness and the patronage of my Lord.

I finish digging the grave, and carefully place Lord Herren. Looking down I try to think of what words I could possibly say to honor a man such as this, nothing comes to mind, as I am not an educated man, I am not a brave knight, and I am not a hero. I think of something to say, not as a eulogy to my friend, but I speak as if I am talking to him while he is still alive. “I miss you already M’Lord, I have a difficult path ahead of me. I am grateful for everything you have taught me, I need coin, and I need to break my oath to get that coin. Taelkrim is nearby and you don't make money in Taelkrim by being honorable, honor in a place like that is a death sentence. I will retake my oaths when I collect enough money I swear to you.”

I have never been good with charisma, Lord Herren could calm a rioting bar and have them laughing before he was finished with his drink, I never gained such skills. I never had a reason to, I was born a carpenter's son in a city that went under a 9 month long siege when I was a child. Education and charisma, those were privileged skills for nobility, not for an orphan peasant turned bandit.

After some time reminiscing, I began my walk to Taelkrim. I have enough gold in my purse for a week in an inn with some poor meals. That will get me enough time to get back into the mindset of a thief. It used to be so easy for me. I could pickpocket as easily as I could breathe, I could walk through a busy street and pickpocket everyone I was nearby while maintaining a conversation with a person. Now I think to all of those I have stolen from, people just trying to get by doing honest work. I think of those who I have killed, people trying to defend themselves while on the road, and I think back to my master's split open face as he lay in the grave, that was the reality of my actions as a bandit. Life felt cheap when I didn't realize what someone's death meant to those that loved them.

I get to the rogue city of Taelkrim after hours of walking, the only thing I need right now is a strong drink and an actual bed. I saunter with a quickened haste, my eyes dash around to those around me, my hands are still, but tense, as if I am ready for action at any moment. My few months on the road with Lord Harren have not overridden my keen thief senses. I go from the flatfooted walk of a knight, to the quickened tip toed step of a man who's known more trouble than comfort.

This is my element, this is who I am. I am not some holy knight from a children's book. I am a product of the real world. I see a purse that is ripe for the picking, my mouth begins to salivate, a habit I had forgotten I had. Being a child thief, I would go days without food, an easy coin purse means food, and my brain knows that, and despite not being starving now, my brain still keeps the habit of salivating at the prospect in front of me.

Without thinking my body jolts into motion. Walking quietly past the man with the easy purse, my fingers have kept their agility, as I quickly untie the purse and claim my ill gotten gains. I continue walking before my stomach knots, “Be Kind” an important part of my oaths, the one I always struggled with.

Lord Herren scoffed at children's stories of heroes. “Saving a Princess from a dragon does not automatically make you a hero.” I remember him telling me one night. “Sure it takes bravery and skill, but a hero is defined by why he does a good deed. Would the hero from the story still save the damsel in distress if she wasn't a princess, would he do the same if she was a peasant?”

I look down at the stolen coin purse in my hand, have I really turned back to my old self so easily. Is the price of my honor so cheap, is my word so shallow I break my oaths so easily? Will I truthfully return to my oathsworn life once I repair my gear? Or will I sink to the depths of the life of a vagabond in the city of thieves. I contemplate this as I walk.

I find myself at the front door of an inn called “The Laughing Wolf” The wooden sign over the door depicts a wolf laughing under a crescent moon. I peer through the window, there is only one group of 4 men sitting at a table in the corner.

I enter as quietly as possible and sit myself down at a table on the opposite side of the inn. A young lady limps towards me, her leg seems to be hurt in some way. When she speaks she speaks as though she's trying to be regal, but it ends up just sounding like her mouth is full of cloth. “ Good ‘ay, I am Isobel, What’a’I do for you.” she says with a curtsy that obviously hurt her lousy leg.

The strange regality of her actions is offputting considering my chair is sticky and her dress has more holes than my shirt, and I had just been stabbed earlier today. She watches me as I watch her, and she smiles a more genuine smile as if I just caught her in an embarrassing secret. She whispers to me looking over her shoulder “That man o’r there is a noble-man, I am trying to make him fall in love with me so he can whisk me away from all of this.” she gestures at the run down inn, I notice a bruise on her arm.

She has no idea but she and I are similar, born the life of a peasant and all we can do is look to those at the top and wish that were us. For me I wanted to be a hero, a knight in the storybooks, for her she wishes to be free of this life of suffering. I look into her eyes and see hope, she looks into mine and she sees someone who has given up on that dream, but it was nice to have some hope for some time. To have a few months where maybe I had a chance to be something great. I am glad Isobel still has that aspiration, it makes the bitter reality a bit sweeter.

I order my meal and sit at the table with my own thoughts. I notice Isobel walk out of the kitchen, her dirty dress sways stiffly. A smile creeps across my face, Good for her I think to myself, she is trying to live her life. Whatever gave her those bruises has not slowed her down, she has a much stronger will than me. I strain my hearing to try and listen to what she says but I cannot hear her flirtatious whispers.

What I hear is the the cracking SMACK from across the room, going against my habits as a thief I look over directly to see her with her hand on her face, cheek is already glowing red, her eyes welling with tears.

The nobleman speaks up in a loud voice “You impure troll! You dare speak to me like that, look at you, disgusting and worthless, can't even deliver our drinks properly because of your ghoulish limp.” He spits at her feet, as tears coalesce in her eyes. The two halves of myself war with each other. The thief in me wants to look down at my table and pretend I don't see anything. What would even be the point in doing anything? He’s a nobleman, if I lay a finger on him he would have every right to kill me, it does not work the other way around.

The other half of me is balling up my fists and staring directly at the vile Nobleman. I think of my oaths, Be Brave, Be Kind, Have honor, I feel these words seep through every orifice of my body as my teeth clench and my face turns hot and red with anger.

This is where I decide who I am, do I stare at my table like a coward and a thief, or do I stand up and be the hero that Lord Herren wants me to be, a true hero that stands up for the peasant and the princess alike.

I breathe the hot air of anger from my mouth and inhale the cool breath of bravery in through my nose. I stride from my booth to cross the room, to the men and Isobel, the nobleman has a tight grip on the girl's wrist. They notice me stride confidently towards them and the noblemen's lackeys stand between us. The lackey has brown hair, a nose that's been broken too many times to not notice, and a determined face that is pleading for me to not make his job difficult.

The lackey puts his hand on his sword and shakes his head “dont be hero” he says with an strange uneasiness to him, I look in his eyes and see the same thing that I see in Isobel's eyes, this man is also just working to be noticed by his noblemen, we are all working for this same system that that batters us all down and forces us to be something we don't want to be.

He tells me to not be a hero, but he has no idea how much I don't want to be, how all I really want to do is sit over at my booth and stare at the table until my food and drink is ready all while ignoring the cries of someone who didn't know their place in this world. Despite my genuine desires, I am here in front of these 4 armed men defending someone I don't know in order to gain nothing more than an ass beating. I take another deep breath, what I want to say is “sorry for the inconvenience, I'll get out of your way.” but I hold my ground, when I finally find the words I want to say I open my mouth before I am suddenly violently knocked to the floor.

I don't remember getting punched, all I can see is the boots of the men getting out of the booth, the girl hobbles away. I look at and smile watching her go back to the kitchen. I feel a tooth swimming in the pool of blood inside my mouth, it was already loosened by my previous bout. The Nobleman speaks to his men “What is with people today, do I not look like a nobleman? Do the people of this shit hole city forget their place?” He begins stepping on my head, I feel my jaw strain underneath the weight.

A portly voice is heard from the back “M’Lord if you will, we want to keep the floor clean for you, would you mind’n’ taken that outside, if you do there'll be fresh drinks at your table waiting for you, on the house for you m’lord” I glance to see a large man standing in the door to the kitchen. Isobel is standing behind him looking at me with sad teary eyes, despite it all, I smile at her.

The nobleman steps harder on my already swollen face, using me as his personal soapbox “About time you peasants understand who I am, and to reward you good sir, I will take this filth outside to have some fun, and when we return we will await your free ale and your finest complimentary chicken!” The Lackeys pick me up and start dragging me out the door.

They all take turns beating me, one after the next. Each punch stings but I don't feel regret. The Noblemen talk to me, but I don't listen, I am too focused on my victory here today. For I went into the city of thieves expecting to let it drag me down into its depths and corrupt me. I made myself and Lord Herren proud by proving I am a hero. I saved the princess from the tower, and I did so without throwing a single punch.

The men eventually get tired of beating me. They leave me broken in the alley after throwing some curses my way. I lay on the cold wet ground for a long while, and I can't help but grin, but my cheeks are too swollen to really show it. I hear footsteps approaching followed by the familiar voice of Isobel “Why would you do this for me.” I hear her say through a voice that's been crying.

I try to sit up but the wound from my side is aching, no hero ever addresses the princess while laying in a puddle of his own blood so I pull through the pain, getting up to balance between the wall and my hurt legs. I finally manage to croak “It's what a hero would do.” I attempt my smile again, my cheeks swollen and I feel my teeth are loose in my mouth. Her lips part revealing a massive smile through her swollen cheek, mirroring my own. She smiles at me with the same knowing smile I gave her when she told her her dreams of being whisked away by a prince. “I have the rest of the night off, my boss says he does not want me around the nobleman anymore because it would cause too much trouble.” I close my eyes to try to numb the pain, but it begins flaring even more.

She looks at me in my swollen eyes and gives another gentle grin “You really did save me back there, you are my hero.” At that moment, any idea of being a thief left my body. I am an Oath Sworn Hero, I have left the darkness of my past behind me, and now I will not lie, I will be Brave, I will be Kind, and lastly, I will live with Honor.