Kindly's Boys

The young recruits were in a ragged state, bunched together in the wood-paneled great room of the guild hall. Their shirts were more potato sack than tunic, and there wasn’t a shoe in existence among the lot of them. Dirt covered and starved as they were, these were now Kindly’s boys. All twelve had, just today, surrendered their future to guild service in exchange for hot meals and a bed, and it was now Kindly’s job to make thieves of them.

He’d never been a troop master before, as he was just a young rogue himself, but Kindly’s tenure with the guild meant he was due for increased responsibility. He stepped forward with his shoulders squared and lengthy curls pulled back, attempting confidence. “Right. So, I’m Master Kindly. You may call me that or Master, your choice.” He swallowed, pausing for a moment, “and for the next two months, I own you.”

None of the boys stirred at this. Instead, they all held a steady gaze toward him, each of them holding a different story behind their eyes. Some flashed brilliantly in anticipation, others held wide eyes in fear of what was to come, and a few stared distantly, still harboring the wariness of the streets and unable to focus on anything Kindly had to say. Maybe they were too young to understand the gravity of Kindly’s words. Either way, he pushed on, trying his best to avoid thinking on the circumstances that brought these boys to the doorstep of the guild house.

“Now head to your evening meal. Return to this room within the hour for your first lesson. Afterwards, you may rest in preparation for tomorrow’s training.”

Kindly turned sharp and strolled away from gathering in the great room, hearing the murmurs build as he progressed further out of earshot.

…

The first lesson with his boys ran closely to what Kindly had expected. The boys took no notice upon his arrival to the great room and continued laughing and jostling in small huddles, spirits evidently lifted from full bellies. This lot with no discipline, raised by the law of the gutter, couldn’t be expected to hold themselves attentive to an authority figure. Though that didn’t mean Kindly had any responsibility to cater to them. Instead, he used their distracted state to find his first mark out of the bunch.

Kindly began talking over the troop with a firm voice, quickly reigning them in to silence.

“Now you may think my name to be the product of my demeanor,” he meandered through the crowd toward a rather portly boy who was entirely occupied with plucking pieces of tonight’s meal from his shirt, “but please do not operate under such delusions.”

He swiftly chopped the poor boy in his thick jowls, sending him flopping to the wooden floor with a yelp.

“It is true I earned this name from my ability to reel in my mark with charm, but my intentions are never kind.” He stared down his nose at the lump on the floor, portraying a sense of disgust he did not feel.

“You will listen when I am talking, and you will remain attentive as though the words from my mouth are honey to your ears. I demand it.” The group stood silent now, each boy chancing a look from the corner of their eye to glimpse the lad sprawled on the ground.

Externally pleased with his demonstration, Kindly kneeled down beside the boy, “And by the gods, let’s hope you have some great merit, or we will be forced to leave your name as it stands, Crumbs.”

Kindly stood now, addressing the room.

“I am your father but also your master. I am here to help you succeed, but you are here to make yourselves useful to the guild. Now help your brother up and head to the bunks. We start again tomorrow at dawn.”

There was no argument as the boys shuffled silently to pry Crumbs from the floor and made their way down the corridor to their room.

…

The weeks passed, and the trainees progressed through their basic lesson in thievery. They built the mind with practice in observation, strategy, and debate while also flexing the well-known physical traits of fast hands and sleuthing. Each boy began to show signs of possessing valuable skills, which Kindly took note of, mentally filling out the guild ranks with fresh blood as he watched on from the corner of the training hall.

He hated the whole of it—the allotment of young souls to tasks in the underbelly of society. Kindly had begun a bad habit of caring for the boys, wondering what they could have been if left alone. They could be successful merchants, he thought, or healers or even patrolmen. He liked the irony of that. However, he always came back to ground himself in a less rosy and sobering conclusion that these boys may have been dead by now had they not joined up.

The truth was that these recruits were handed an opportunity not only to survive but to have a home and pick up a trade along the way. However immoral it was, these boys were making something of themselves.

Kindly had been skeptical of the guild when he was a fresh recruit himself, always thinking about the outside world and whether he’d made the right choice to accept this devil's bargain of food for work. This guild was a means to stay alive, no doubt, but did he truly make his own way? Here he was, still toiling under the thumb of the masters. And these boys, was this the best future for them?

Kindly shook the fog of memory from his head as he focused in on the boys looking to him in silence, “Sorry Crumbs. Come again?”

“Well, master. We was wonderin when it was we were sposed to learn about knife work.” A few of the boys flashed eager grins at this.

Kindly sighed a bit and took on a stern look.

“Knife work, lads, is a last resort. In fact, you’ll not be learning any of the killing arts under me.” The faces around him fell a little at that. “There’s a subtle way in which the arts of thieving come together to function properly, and you lads will have to master this before you even think about a knife. Until then, using force just makes you a bruiser. And that’ll get you killed just as quickly as the miserable lives you left in the streets would have.”

He punctuated his last point with a bit of a snarl, letting the heat escape his tongue. Moving along with the lesson, Kindly regained his easy face and reached in to pull on the collar of another boy's tunic.

“I see the seamstress fitted you all well. A good first step in convincing someone you mean no trouble is to look the part. Then,” he came away, draping a locket over his neck, “you manipulate their emotions whilst also manipulating their pockets.”

“Hey that’s me mums,” cried the boy.

“And you’d be clueless had I not revealed it.” Kindly walked back to the center of the great room, “Violence,” he said, drawing out the word in a hiss, “will grant you a few coins and an expedited date with death, but true, artfully crafted theft will pay you forever.”

…

The boys lay gasping on their cots. A few covered in blood stared in shock at the ceiling, and the others looked wide eyed back at Kindly.

“What happened?” He shouted. He had heard the commotion of their return from their first outing exercise. They lay ragged before him, and by his count, they were one short.

“And where is Crumbs? Did I not teach you to look after each other?”

The boys traded glances, all afraid to speak up. Kindly plopped down on a cot and looked to start raging again when Smalls, face covered in blood, stammered, “we got found out, but we were trapped in the inn. Teeth had to gut that lady who saw. Then we ran”

“And Crumbs,” asked Kindly.

“And they got Crumbs. Couldn’t keep up. We didn’t see what happened to em, but,” the boy looked down at his trembling hands, managing a hoarse whisper, “he stopped screamin before we turned the corner.”

Kindly fought away hot tears in his eyes, turning instead to anger.

“Dammit boys! You left him to die?” He jumped up from the cot, staring them down and waiting for a reply, but nothing could be done for now. He left them distraught in the bunkroom, slamming the door on his way out.

…

Kindly wept that night. All his fears were coming to pass. These boys, not even teenagers, were facing down a life of risk and possible death in the trade. Sure, many may go on to be successful and happy thieves, but some won’t. Crumbs didn’t belong in this thieving guild any more than he belonged in the king’s court. How many more would he let die while trying to bolster the ranks for the guild?

That night, he decided. None was the answer. At least not unwilling.

He walked soberly, but uncertain down to the boys’ room. He’d brought towels, water, and bandages in the hopes it would set their minds on recovery. Opening the door, he found them scattered, talking in hushed tones or sitting in corners alone. They looked so broken—so lost.

“I’ve left loaves in the kitchen and five silver stashed inside each.” He laid the towels out on a bed and walked the water jugs to the middle of the barracks.

“I’ll not be the judge of you. Nor will I attempt to stop your leaving if this life is not what you want for yourself. Now, it isn’t much of an offering, but you deserve a choice in it. You’ve likely never been given one, and had I received the same opportunity, I would have thought hard on it.” The boys stared back in silence with tears in their eyes.

Just boys, he thought, willing himself to remain impassive in front of them. He didn’t know if any would trust him or take the opportunity, but they deserved a chance to choose. So, Kindly gave a gentle nod and left them to decide.

…

The next morning, Kindly stood firm in the guild master's office. “That’s right, sir. Half of the dozen left in the night. Must have popped the locks—quick learners they were.” He smirked, which was bold given he’d lost half their recruits. “We still have a healthy bunch, though, and more resources to devote to their training. The boys left are dedicated, and I’ll see to it we make good thieves of them.”

Kindly left after a long scolding from the master of thieves, but he didn’t wear sagging shoulders. He stood upright and couldn’t hold back the thin smile curling on his face. He finally felt he’d done right, and now he was back to teaching a group that he knew chose to be here out of their own desires and not some trade on their life. 

Maybe, he thought with a sense of warmth, there is more to my name than just my talents. Though I won’t mention it.