Metal clashed with metal, ringing through the room as Ratty deflected a guard’s swing. A second guard pressed in, forcing him back, parrying desperately. Some of his attacks slipped through, but his blade skidded off chainmail, failing to bite through the padded gambeson beneath.

  The first guard’s sword came down from above. Ratty’s back hit a table covered in thick, leather-bound record books. Desperate, he grabbed one and raised it just in time.

  The blade sank into the cover, slowing down as it continued slicing deep into the pages. The guard hesitated for a split second as he watched the sword slow. His hesitation only further slowed the blade, as he then moved to shift his left hand toward his weapon, attempting to prepare a half-sword technique.

  However, the guard's hesitation and attempt at changing his maneuver gave Ratty the opening he needed. He quickly used the book to control the blade and pushed it to the side as he lashed out with his own sword.

  Only to halt mid-swing as the second guard lunged in. Forced to abandon the attack, he barely twisted in time to deflect the new threat, his blade ringing against his opponent's as he fought to keep from being overwhelmed.

  Ratty leaped over the desk and grabbed a handful of books, hurling them at the guards as fast as he could. The first instinctively flinched, raising an arm to shield his face, while the second took a step back in reflex—just for a second. The books bounced harmlessly off their armor, but by the time they realized the attack was meaningless, Ratty was already at the bookshelf.

  With a grunt, he shoved it over.

  “Wait, wait—fuck!” one of the guards stumbled back, arms raised as the heavy wooden shelf crashed down.

  “Shit,” the second guard muttered, his mouth open—

  Just in time to see Ratty’s sword flashing toward him.

  The guard barely moved before the blade stabbed toward his armpit, slipping past the edge of his raised arm. He gasped as the iron pierced through padded cloth, but before Ratty could press the attack, the guard, in desperation, grabbed the sword with his gauntlet and swung at Ratty in a counterattack.

  “Fuck off!” Ratty yelled, letting go of his sword and dodging the strike.

  “I ain’t looking to trade hits with you,” he commented as he moved to grab another sword on the floor, one which had been disarmed by method of bookshelf dropping.

  The guard yanked the sword free with a grunt, the blade pulling out from the gambeson with resistance as the tightly packed fabric layers clung to the iron blade with a metallic scrape against his armor. A small dark stain began spreading on the padding where the point had penetrated. He quickly tossed the weapon and its bloodied tip to the far end of the room with a clatter.

  “You’ll pay for that, you damn little rat. When you’re captured, I’ll ask the torturer to give me some extra time with you,” the guard hissed as he spat in Ratty’s direction. His feet stood shoulder-width apart, knees slightly bent and weight balanced for quick movement, favoring his uninjured side. His sword was raised before him at chest height, angled slightly outward, his free hand extended to help maintain the balance of his defensive stance.

  Ratty flashed his silver smile, slowly edging sideways. Slowly edging toward a stool, as his fingers brushed the braided whip hanging at his belt. “Oh? Let’s see if you can. Now I have the advantage of range,” he taunted as his fingers closed around the weapon’s handle.

  The guard tensed but maintained his stance, eyes narrowing at the whip. He began a measured advance, keeping his sword positioned to deflect any strike, his injured arm slightly raised to protect his face.

  Just as the guard closed distance, Ratty’s grin widened as he abandoned the whip, grabbing the stool instead and swinging it in a wide arc toward the charging guard. The guard instinctively parried with his sword, the blade sank deep into the wooden seat—just as a sword appeared at his throat

  “Sucker,” Ratty laughed, “I don’t even know how to use that thing.” He patted the whip still hanging from his belt.

  The guard stumbled backward, his boot heel catching on the fallen bookshelf pinning his unconscious comrade. He toppled with a curse, the back of his head striking the corner of a nearby desk before he hit the ground. Stunned, he clutched his throbbing skull as the desk leg splintered under the impact. Ledgers and record books cascaded from the collapsing desk, several heavy tomes striking his helmet with dull, metallic thuds. His eyes rolled back as consciousness fled.

  “You’re making me look bad,” Ratty commented dryly, staring at the bookshelf that had now claimed both guards.

  “By the way I’m not that much smaller than you. Why do you have to call me little rat? I’m only about a head shorter than you,” Ratty said staring at the unconscious guard.

  “Guild work is so dangerous. I’m glad I have the safe job of being a bandit.” He chuckled to himself as he surveyed the destruction around him.

  Ratty turned, prepared to aid his partner in crime, only to see a white carpet painted with fresh glistening red. His partner—a stocky man he had been working with for some time now—held his neck, staring at Ratty as his blood dripped down, continuously painting the room’s decor. He attempted to walk forward only to drop his sword, its cold bloodied iron now added to the chaotic decoration of the room, and to fall, spilling blood on the purse of silver left on the table. Payment Ratty had brought to pay the informant for his information.

  “You traitorous shit,” Ratty spat.

  “I’m going to enjoy gutting you.”

  The traitorous informant spun his blade deeper, a cruel smile playing across his face as another guard moved to step on the dying bandit.

  The other half of the room fared no better than Ratty’s as torn tapestry and broken furniture lay around. His partner had fought hard—the splintered remains of a chair and a guard’s discarded helmet testament to his struggle—but he’d been outmatched from the start.

  “Don’t blame me, blame your fellow bandits. You crazy lot have been attacking and stealing from the king, there is great reward for those against you and greater punishment for those with you,” the informant said.

  “Now Ratty just lay your sword down and give up Draven The Pragmatist, that’s who the city lord wants, not someone like you.” As the informant continued, noise from outside could be heard as it seemed the fighting had attracted attention.

  “Ha, no chance. I’m going to kill you, that guard next to you, and then for my pal that you killed I’m going to…” Ratty paused as his ears picked up the sound of boots coming up the stairs.

  “On second thought, I didn’t like him that much, was thinking of getting a new partner. Welp, see ya.”

  The magpie bandit ran toward a broken door leading to the guild balcony. His eyes caught the shine of gold from its corner. A walking stick that had fallen to the ground at some point during the battle between him and the guards lay next to an elaborate chair, the cane topped with twin rubies that gleamed in the torchlight. Without breaking stride, he snatched the prize, feeling its surprising weight as he burst through the doors and leapt over the stone balustrade.

  “Compensation for the bad information, haha,” Ratty yelled as he leaped down with his prize.

  The second-floor balcony overlooked the guild district’s cobblestone street, merchants’ stalls lining both sides offering shade from the afternoon sun. Market-goers scattered as Ratty descended, some pointing upward and shouting warnings while others simply fled the imminent chaos. He fell into a pile of hay, its soft straws breaking his fall.

  “Ah, always a pile of hay around when you need it. It’s almost like it was put here just to break people’s falls.” Ratty patted the hay as he got off and began to dust himself.

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  “Man, I’m glad boss had some of us old boys train under that retired drunk, whoring, fat guard, oh shiny,” Ratty muttered as he scrambled to his feet, pocketing a particularly appealing apple from a nearby stall.

  “Hmm, all of that wasn’t necessary, but I enjoy insulting him. It just feels... right.”

  Ratty heard the rattling of chainmail. Looking up, he saw guards staring down at him.

  “Well, that’s my cue.” Grabbing one more apple, the magpie bandit ran quickly.

  Market stalls and buildings passed by in a blur as shouts erupted from behind. The guild district’s narrow streets worked to his advantage as he maneuvered through tight corners, staying within the shadows of the overhanging upper-story buildings. He suddenly stopped and ducked behind a barrel as he saw three guards in a three-way crossroad.

  “Fuck,” he whispered.

  “Where is he! You go that way, you that way, and I’ll go this way,” a guard said while pointing in different directions.

  The guards split up, each taking their designated road. One guard ran down Ratty’s street, forcing the bandit to huddle as much as he could behind the barrel, hoping it would hide him.

  The guard nearly ran past Ratty before stopping a mere five feet away. He slowly turned toward Ratty, as if he’d noticed him subconsciously. Ratty quickly got up and gripped the cane with both hands, bashing the guard’s helm with full force the moment he turned. The impact twisted the guard’s head to the left. Ratty stared nervously as the guard slowly turned his head back to face him, spit covering his lips as his eyes stared in confusion at what had just occurred.

  “D-d-did y-y-you j-just hit hit me?” the guard, clearly disoriented, asked.

  “Sorry... I’m gonna do it again though. Stay down, will you?” Ratty shrugged as he hit the guard once more. The guard’s head turned to the right this time, before slowly turning back to stare at Ratty. His eyes reddened now, drool dripping down.

  “I’m g-g-g-g-gonna l-l-l,” the guard went to a knee and slowly laid down, tears running down his face as he stared at the ground, confused and in disarray.

  “Damn, I feel bad now... well, time to run again!” Ratty once more dashed through the streets.

  A quick glance over his shoulder confirmed his fears—four guards spilled into the street he had just left. The shouts behind him made it clear: they’d found their fallen ally.

  Ratty turned a corner walking through the sea of commoners, weaving to avoid the polished helmets bobbing through the crowd he now walked in. Hiding between fabrics and even purchasing snacks at stalls to hide within the other people who stopped for bites to eat.

  “Why are there so many food stalls? Great for cover, terrible for my waistline,” he muttered, licking grease off his fingers after his fourth meat pasty.

  “Damn, they are starting to cut off side streets.”

  Ratty veered down a crooked alley between a fabric shop and a wine merchant. The passage stank of spilled spirits, its cobblestones slick with mysterious fluids he chose not to contemplate. Halfway through, a heavy wooden door with a faded red lantern above it caught his eye—The Lustful Pillow, one of the city’s more reputable brothels.

  More rattling of chainmail was heard behind him and without hesitation, Ratty threw his shoulder against the door. Inside, a curvy woman with wavy hair looked up from counting coins at a small table, her eyes narrowing at his breathless entrance.

  “Guards,” Ratty gasped, already flipping a silver coin her way. “Need a room. Now.”

  Without waiting for a response Ratty continued moving. The Madam raised an eyebrow, pocketed the coin with a knowing nod, then returned to her count.

  Ratty ran up two stairs at a time, the sounds of pursuit growing louder outside. The hallway above was lined with doors, muffled sounds emanating from behind several of them. He moved to the only room that was quiet, reaching the third door just as the building’s entrance crashed open below.

  Without knocking, he burst into the room, quickly closing the door behind him. He took a moment to catch his breath, resting his head on the door.

  “Ok now time to…” he paused as he turned around to find a young man enthusiastically engaged with a blonde woman who was still holding her undergarments in her hand. Ratty’s eyes looked at the two up and down.

  “Best hiding spot ever!” he said with a smile at the two confused people.

  “What the—” the young man began, pulling a sheet to cover himself while the woman simply stared at the bandit with cold eyes.

  “Guards coming. Silver for you both if you hide me,” Ratty interrupted, already scanning the room for options. At the mention of silver, the woman's face brightened with a smile.

  “Let’s help him. It will make for one hell of a story for your first time. Sex, danger, adventure,” she purred masterfully into the young man’s ears.

  Heavy boots pounded up the brothel’s steps as three city guards entered. Their chainmail clinked with each step, the sound amplified in the narrow stairway

  “Remember,” one of them growled, “we’re looking for a man with silver teeth. Check everywhere.”

  The madam stood at the top of the stairs, one eyebrow raised. She leaned against the wall, arms crossed over her bountiful breasts.

  “Why is it every time someone runs around this city your lot come here?” Her tone held annoyance.

  The guard moved closer. “We go everywhere. Now then silver teeth, carrying a ruby-topped cane. Where is he?”

  Silver teeth?” She examined her nails. “Sounds like a valuable customer, anyway, people come and go all day, you should know that though since I’ve seen plenty of guards come in, that’s the business. I don’t have time to check everyone’s mouths.”

  “We need to search the rooms,” the guard insisted.

  The madam sighed dramatically. “If you must. But be quick about it. You’re disturbing paying customers, and I’ll expect compensation for lost business.”

  “Split up,” the sergeant ordered. “One room each.”

  The youngest guard hesitated. “Sir, what if they’re... you know...”

  “Just find the damn criminal, boy!”

  The first guard approached the nearest door, and pushed it open without waiting for a response. Inside, an elderly man looked up, hands tied behind his back as a woman young enough to be his granddaughter poured candle wax over him with one hand and pleasured him with the other. The two stopped abruptly, and the woman brought up the blanket.

  “City guard,” the guard announced, scanning the room quickly. He checked beneath the bed, behind a screen and nodded apologetically before backing out. “Excuse the interruption.”

  Further down the hall, the second guard found a room with three people, young men and one older woman lost in lust. He cleared his throat, yet they seemed oblivious to his presence.

  “Don’t mind me,” the guard muttered to himself partially annoyed at his lack of presence as he checked the room. He retreated shortly, pulling the door shut with excessive force.

  The third room door was opened with excessive force. The wood banged against the inner wall.

  Inside, the young man lay on the bed as a blonde woman bounced on top of him, her breasts swaying in the air for a moment until she moved to quickly pull the covers to her chin. Both became wide-eyed at the intrusion.

  “What’s the meaning of this?” the young man demanded, voice cracking with equal parts outrage and fear.

  “Someone was spotted coming to this brothel,” the guard said, eyes narrowing. “A criminal.”

  “And so you deemed it appropriate to kick this door open? And enter? Sir, what is your name, I shall have my father, Sir Asterits, make a report about this!” the young man spoke, outraged.

  The sergeant shivered at the name and quickly bowed.

  “Forgive me, I didn’t know you were the magistrate’s son I...”

  “Get out!” the boy yelled.

  The guard quickly left, the door closing behind him.

  The man and woman could hear his voice in the hallway, as he rejoined his men. “Nothing. Keep checking the rooms. I'll take room six this time, you two get four and five.”

  “I think it’s fine now,” the woman said.

  “You were right, that was fun. I feel a rush,” the young man gave a silly smile.

  “Yup, told you. Also, this was not the worst threesome I have been in. Now if the two of you would, please get off me now so I may escape.” Ratty’s voice came from under the man and woman.

  They scrambled off him, the young man nearly falling from the bed in surprise. Ratty emerged from beneath them, fully clothed and flattened against the mattress. He stood and stretched dramatically, joints popping as he twisted from side to side.

  “Gods, I thought I’d never breathe properly again,” he groaned, rolling his shoulders. He glanced at the young man. “You need to eat more, lad. Too light.” He gave a wink as he turned to the woman with an appreciative grin. “And you, my dear, have weight in all the right places.”

  Ratty reached into his belt pouch and tossed a small coin purse to the woman. It jingled heavily as she caught it, her eyes widening at its unexpected weight.

  “For your discretion, now make sure you two have way too much fun.”

  Ratty went to the door and cracked it open, glancing to see the hallway clear. He moved quickly down the stairs before the guards came out of the rooms they were inspecting, only to see another guard stationed by the entrance.

  The bandit circled around the room, passing between some of the workers who were waiting for a patron to purchase their time and a room to spend it in. Ratty gave a silver coin to some of the women in exchange for them becoming movable cover. He walked closer to the stationed guard and spun his cane around.

  The guard turned and grinned as he saw a group of women coming towards him.

  “Not now girls, I’m working. Maybe later we can... oof!” The guard finished his sentence with an agonizing yelp as Ratty’s golden cane struck him in the groin.

  “Sorry about the balls, but gotta do what I gotta do,” Ratty apologized before bashing the side of his helmet twice, dropping the guard to the ground.

  “Get him to the side somewhere it would be a bit harder to spot him,” Ratty said as he left the brothel.

  QUILLTOME IV

  END