Chapter Sixteen

“You nobleman are both too kind to help me move my statue!” The woman cried out as Brutus and Secrat tried their hand at the task.

Chiseled from stone and standing as tall as Secrat himself, every step The Thief took was followed by a silent prayer to the heavens that his back wouldn’t give out.

“Not a problem,” Copé said, before his jaw went back to its clenched state, gnashing his teeth so hard he feared they would break.

To his credit, Brutus was lugging a lot more of the weight than his fair share.

“And if you are guys lucky, there might be a little coin in it for you!” She hollered out, rubbing her fingers together.

“Oh boy, oh boy!” Brutus said in a high pitch voice as soon as she walked out of earshot.

Between that and seeing him splash half naked into a creek on the outskirts of Italina, Secrat was fairly certain that Brutus should never be allowed anywhere near children.

“Be civilized,” Copé instructed. “And everything will work out.”

“Oh, yeah,” Brutus said. “What is your big idea for how to do this?”

“Well, … she won’t be calling us nobleman afterward.”

Secrat could hear Brutus wheezing some and did his best to carry a heftier amount of the weight. Soon after, they arrived out the doors of Marlou and met the outside of her carriage; a small two person chariot with two wooden slats and a single horse at the front. The slats acted as separators, at the front, two individuals could stand at the reins, and behind that, a small section that acted as a trunk of sorts.

“I didn’t expect coming out here that I would be sharing my buggy with Livius Reid!” The woman said, offering a laugh and snort as restitution for her obnoxious sense of humor. “They say even in the time of war, Livius’ elegance never waned and his clothing was always without blemish!”

Copé and Brutus said nothing in-response. Secrat did offer a polite smile to her but was certain Ess wasn’t as courteous. Lifting the statue into the carriage did little to increase Copé’s self-esteem. Brutus, gassed and all, was able to lift it higher up without issue, but Copé damn near fell and dropped the whole thing.

Luckily, The Thief loved himself and didn’t need an ego boost.

They finished loading up the statue into the back of the chariot, situating it at an angle to keep it from hopping out from the wagon. The woman looked more than thrilled, standing to the side of Copé.

“Will you need help getting the statue into your house?”

It was a pointless question to ask, and Secrat realized it after it was said, but as Brutus poked the woman with a knife from behind, all of it seemed to matter.

“I am afraid we have a small question to ask,” Brutus began.

The woman jerked back, startled, but not yet aware of her predicament. She turned her torso and caught sight of the blade. As she jumped again, the coins in her hand fell from her clutches and slapped against the marble floor of the city. Copé anticipated her scream and cupped her mouth with his hand.

“Be quiet and live, scream and die,” Brutus said, the tone of his voice sounded more focused and with vile intent.

Secrat’s hand left her mouth. She didn’t scream, but in a shouting whisper asked: “What do you want?”

“The statue, obviously,” Brutus said.

“If you kill me, you will never make it out of the city with it,” she said.

“Yes, but we are taking a large gamble you don’t want to die,” Brutus said.

The woman’s face looked flushed. Her skin pale, even for that of an Italina native. The sight was almost heartbreaking – the sight of a woman once joyous and ecstatic, now petrified. Secrat would live, however. And as Ess led her into the chariot, the knife remained pressed up against her back. She stood in the middle, to the left of Brutus, the knife uncomfortably thrusting her spine forward to make room for itself.

Secrat joined them in the chariot. It was a cramped space. The carriage was really only suited for two people. Copé took the reins, standing to the right of the woman. Secrat body would act as a shield for the knife from outside vision. This steal would be a day’s work by itself. It seemed almost too easy, although he knew the hard part was coming.

The woman could call their bluff in an instance and raise the alarm on them. Neither Copé and Brutus could actually kill her as that would be against dear ol’ Father Toucan Veras’ instructions. Trying to navigate through Italina’s overtly populated city would be a bitch as well. But, the carriage also offered a better view of the Aer Festival. The commotion had died down considerably. It wasn’t as much that everyone was leaving as it was everyone arriving at where they wanted to be. Musicians and street performers littered Italina almost as much as regular townspeople. All of the strummed instruments and vocals in unison made a conglomerated collage of incomprehensible nothingness. The smell of the city had the thick scent of fresh bread and smoke. Copé looked to the sky, and sure enough, there was a black cloud of smog that floated overhead.

“So, you guys are in cahoots or something, what are you, assassins?” The woman’s voice stammered with an ignorant tone making Copé feel in control.

“How dare you! Cahoots? Assassins? Brutus said, trying his best to fake being offended. “We are thieves, ma’am.”

“And I assume you have intent to kill me once this is all done?”

If you do as you are told, you will live,” Secrat answered.

The woman let out an aggravated moan that expressed she was none too convinced with the thief’s assurances, but Secrat opted not to give a rebuttal. Copé continued to navigate through the crowd; inching ever-so slowly to where they began. The activity proved tasking, the townspeople showed no fear of being run over by the horse and buggy.

“You are a bunch of wanderers, aren’t you? A bunch of no goods from the Wilderness? How do you sleep at night, scalping children’s heads and burning knights alive!?”

“True,” Copé began. “The children murderin’ is a little queasy on the stomach but setting knights and women like you on fire makes it all worthwhile.”

Brutus chuckled, but the woman said nothing, and that was how Copé wanted it. The carriage in front of Secrat’s stopped. He wondered why, but soon, he found the answer; he watched on while a group of Italinian knights crossed the road. A gasp from the woman told him Brutus was making silent threats.

“What is your intention for the statue? To sell it?” She asked, her voice sounded erratic, like she could hardly fathom such a concept.

“Yes,” Secrat answered.

A loud banging noise happened next; it startled The Thief. However, the noise came not from below, but in the sky, a flash of light appeared. It was faintly visible in the broad daylight. Several louder banging noises came, one after another, and an array of colors filled the sky until descending down like fallen stars. It had shades of dark purple, a shade of pink, and even one tint of blue.

“What the fuck is that!?” Secrat said aloud, unable to suppress his surprise.

The Thief tugged the reins and brought the horse to a standstill. He looked to Brutus, who gawked at the sky destruction with the same dumbfounded expression.

“Buffoons,” The woman stated. “Don’t you dare tell me this is your first time seeing fireworks? They’ve happened ever year for over half a decade! It was one thing to be kidnapped, but to be kidnapped by uncultured swine is the icing on the cake!”

Copé and Brutus offered no retort, their eyes transfixed at the sky in disarray. The sky was clear now, but the lasting afterimage was engraved in their head.

“Look, The woman began again, snapping her fingers in front of Secrat to make sure she had his attention. “If you want to have the statue then, by all means, have the statue, you can, but those fireworks entail the jamboree near the Sanchi Tower is beginning, and it culminates at night’s end with a speech from King Harries I would very much like to hear!”

“You will be set free the very second that our asses are on the other side of the Italina gates, but not a second sooner,” Brutus said.

“And I am supposed to take you at your word for that?”

“You are supposed to sit down, shut up, and understand your predicament, or do I have to sever off those eyelids before you start seeing the bigger picture?” The tone Brutus Ess carried was not his own at all.

Secrat didn’t recognize it, but he damn near believed it, and had he not seen reason to believe otherwise, he would have.

The woman did as she was told. Copé appreciated her cooperation. The less confrontation in such a circumstance would be for the best. When people tried to act out, mistakes were made, and usually those mistakes entailed a mess to clean up. Less and less people traveled the roads, only horses with carriages carrying men and supplies, or the occasional wanderer on the marble streets. It would seem a lot of them were traveling toward Sanchi Tower for the dances and drinks and the King’s eventual speech; likely a generic one, commemorating another year celebrated with the Aer Festival. As they neared the gates leaving Italina, had not an inkling of what to expect. The crowd was bare, with less and less entering the city, but guards remained at their designated areas. Secrat could see knights pacing back and forth on the castle walls, overlooking the outside wilderness. The Aer Festival must have brought on a lot of trouble for them if they were this concerned. The Thief felt no fear about it, however, not after his last discussion with an Italinian Knight. They were nothing to be afraid of.

The once pristine, blemish free marble streets were now riddled with dirty footprints and other trash. They had been very clean towards the beginning of the Aer Festival, which begged the question, did the King employ individuals to mop the streets at night? How were they so clean before?

Secrat worried not about that, the only thing he was concerned about was making it outside of Italina with the statue, himself and it unscathed. He halted the horse a little ways away from the wooden gate and anticipated his leave out from the city. Several knights from atop the castle walls took notice of their arrival but they made no quick action to open the gate.

The Thief rested his hands on the front side of the chariot, he looked over to the woman.

“We will let you leave us a little way off, make certain we will be all the way back to Hardan by the time you can inform the guards.”

Secrat knew not how effective his lies were to the woman. Although Brutus boasting about killing children might have instilled fear and lying about their intent to stay at the Aer Festival might help either keep her from informing the guards in a best case scenario or make them think being on the lookout for them would be a lost cause, maybe.

The noise of crinkling chains was the prelude to the gates opening up, leading back out of Italina, and as they did, a small crowd of people entered into the city. Secrat waited for them to vacate the entrance prior to yanking at the reins and advising the horse to venture forward. Three knights were beyond the doors, standing between the walls. As fate would have it, the knights were the very same ones who had allowed them in earlier. Secrat let out an audible gulp and glared at the woman. Her face looked facetious, though, it once more might have been his imagination playing tricks on him.

One of the knights approached them as they were making their leave. Secrat gave him a weak half smile. A small neigh came from the horse as Secrat halted him once again.

“Leaving so soon?” The knight asked.

“Nay, we are only providing transportation to our friend here, she bought this fine statue over at Marlou’s, a lovely place, have you ever been there?” Secrat asked, but he didn’t wait for an answer, We will be right back afterward.”

“Coachmans,” The knight said, nodding his head, “We have seen a lot of them today already.”

The knight walked by them. Even at Secrat’s elevated position, the man was tall enough to see eye to eye with him.

“Although it is uncommon for their conveyance to be done in such a small carriage.”

Secrat and the knight made eye contact, and in that moment, Secrat could sense the knight’s suspicions.

“We’re,” Secrat started, then stopped, “We are not really coachmans. The woman was willing to pay us handsomely and needed some extra sets of hands as an escort.”

Although Secrat fumbled some over his words, he thought his reply came across believable enough.

“Right,” The knight looked over to the woman. “Are you a collector?”

“What?” She responded, at first, not expecting to be acknowledged, and then, she adjusted herself accordingly, “Yes, of sorts, I think the statue really does add something special to my home. I mean, if Livius Reid was able to do something so courageous in a time of all out destruction, whatever situation I am in can’t be too bad, can it?”

Secrat didn’t know what to think of her comment, but it definitely set off some kind of alarm in the back of his head.

“That is … certainly a very unique way of looking at things,” the knight commended. “And, you are from…?”

“Acera,” The woman said at once.

She looked down at her hands, nervously shaking and tapping against the front of the carriage.

“Your skin is very pale for Acera, ma’am.”

“I have been away for a very long time,” her voice cracked midway, but the knight didn’t noticeably react to it.

She added: “It will nice to be able to see my family again.”

Behind his silver helm, the knight’s face scrunched and squinted in a way of some skepticism, but it soon swayed and transitioned into a friendlier kind of smile.

“I wish the three of you safe passage through the Unprotected Wilderness.”

Secrat felt relief, but chose not to speak, rather, he simply grinned and bowed his head.

He fumbled loosely with the reins of the chariot with his hands, but tensed up once another knight hollered out: “You are the same men that I spoke to earlier, aren’t you? Tell me, commoners, how is it you expect to be right back from Acera here to Italina? Those must some awfully fast horses you’ve got or else I fear that is a complete impossibility,” the knight said.

The knight was familiar, the very same one that had spoken to them earlier with a long, drawn out sales pitch of all Italina’s greatness.

“We will only be taking her some of the ways to Acera. She has friends that will be meeting us,” Secrat said.

The lie was weak and he knew it. The whole presentation was riddled with flaws, but it wouldn’t matter once they had some distance. They would have to wait until these particular knights were off-duty before trying to enter the city again, however. The smile with a smiling smirk maintained himself, however, the knight with the long, thick mustache seemed less than convinced. Nevertheless, Secrat Copé, alongside his Red Flux brethren Brutus Ess, and their hostage, were allowed passage out from Italina.

Copé was unable to keep the relief from showing itself on his face.

“You have your statue and you are out of the city, can I please be on my way?” The woman stammered. “I swear I will make no mention of your actions and you will have your safe leave to Hardan.”

The horses galloped briskly into the Unprotected Wilderness, and in that moment, Secrat could do nothing except take in the open range. There were no crowds or carriages, or annoying knights, or anything else to offer hindrance, and that was the way Copé preferred it.

“You will be on your way,” Brutus said. “But not until we are deeper out.”

Copé looked over at Brutus, whose face looked stone cold and plain, even his voice didn’t sound as high pitched or as reckless as it usually did. Secrat saw a meticulous being that savored being in control of the situation. That made Secrat uncomfortable, even though he and Brutus were on the same side. A switch between the guards would surely happen soon. They had arrived at The Aer Festival later in the day and the night sky was overhead – there had to be some kind of rotation in place. When they were replaced was when Copé and Brutus would be able to reenter back into Italina.

“This will be about right,” Brutus Ess advised, and as advised, Secrat Copé slowed their their pair of horses, their hooves almost inaudible as they made their steps over the yellowed grass.

Secrat released the reins from his hands.

“Let’s stick to the basics from now on,” he said, not even caring about the woman standing behind him.

He only felt relieved to have had nothing at all go wrong with the ordeal.

Copé brought himself out of the wagon, if for no other reason than to stretch his legs, and because he doubted Brutus would be the one to move so the Italinian lady could leave the carriage. But, in unison with the sound of Copé’s boots slapping down against the hard ground, he heard a yelp from the woman behind him and the rustling and rocking sound of the carriage. The Thief flinched, turning fast, his hand at his leggings in search for his knife, but he didn’t search long enough to properly find it. He looked back in time to see the woman thrown off the chariot to the outside by Ess. She fell hard and a yelp followed. Copé looked in the eyes of Ess and saw the unflinching coldness he had seen since they had taken the woman hostage. He eased his hands and watched as Brutus left the chariot.

“We have all that we need from her, Secrat Copé said, hoping to remind Brutus about the rules established by Father Toucan Veras before they left.

Brutus said nothing in response, and only walked closer toward the woman. He was like a man sleepwalking, or in a trance, perhaps he was possessed by a more formidable man? Brutus crept ever so slowly toward her. The woman sat up, irritated at first by Brutus’ rudeness, but as she realized the situation, her face became petrified with fear. She crawled away backward; her eyes stuck on him. Brutus returned the look, although, his look wasn’t that of fear. The knife was held tightly in his hand. Everything looked different about him, even his physique looked more composed and intimidating, his back straightened.

“You can’t kill her, Brutus,” Secrat started, walking beside Brutus and grabbing his wrist, the one holding the knife.

“Don’t tell me that you have gone soft,” Brutus replied, looking over to Copé with a smirk.

He then jerked his wrist free and moved forward.

“Dammit, I don’t want to be kicked out again!” Secrat said, walking in front of him.

Copé reached a second time for his knife. This time he knew for certain it was gone. Brutus shoved Copé out of the way, which turned out to be a much easier feat than Secrat previously would have hoped. However, as he did, the woman sprung to her feet, plunging Secrat’s knife to the stomach of Ess, who reacted with a large release of air and a wordless grunt. Copé climbed to his feet and grabbed for Brutus, catching him before he could fall back. Gently, The Thief lowered his Red Flux mate to the grass, worried as he lifted Ess’ shirt to expose the wound.

Behind him, The Thief could hear the woman running off deeper into the Unprotected Wilderness. As fate would have it, she had, for some reason, perhaps accidentally, found herself running the opposite way of Italina. Secrat sighed. He didn’t pursue her, he was more concerned with stopping the blood loss from Brutus, all while mumbling things like “You can’t die” and “What will everyone think!?”

The blood dressed Secrat’s hand with its thickness. He adjusted himself to keep it off of his clothing. If worse came to worse, he would leave Brutus Ess’ body and claim to have lost him in the crowds.

“Fucking idiot,” Brutus yelled out, returning now to his crackly and raspy, yet high pitched state of being.

“I didn’t know you intended to kill her,” Secrat said, not making eye contact with Brutus as he tried to keep any more blood from flowing out of him.

Brutus Ess finally slapped his hands away, “It isn’t bad.”

Brutus fought to his feet, removing his shirt and then, using it as a plug over the wound on his stomach.

“You better hope that our asses weren’t just compromised by that bitch!” Brutus had placed an emphasis on the fiver word, screaming it at the sky like he expected the woman to still be in earshot.

“Is the wound still bleeding?” Secrat inquired, while watching Brutus Ess walk about aimlessly. “If you get back into the carriage, we can go find Taison. Samuel Syi had supplies for these kinds of things. Medical supplies and,” Secrat rambled.

Brutus waved his hands forward, silencing him.

“Enough talking,” Brutus said as he forced himself up into the chariot, leaning against the back of it as support.

“I want to unload our cargo, and then, I want to drink myself into a coma at the nearest pub,” Brutus smiled largely but winced during.

His teeth were black with plaque and yellowed with age. The ones that Father Veras left intact, that is. Copé grinned back at him, and he meant it. It was a sincere smirk. Throughout the whole heist, nothing bad happened. Or, at the very least, Secrat Copé was no worse for wear.

2.

Secrat Copé and Brutus Ess soon found Taison and, more importantly, the wagon. Brutus didn’t speak very much on their way to finding it. Personally, Secrat Copé didn’t mind it. Instead, he mostly stuck with grunts of agony and grumbles of discomfort.

Taison even looked enthused to see them. A day’s worth of solitude and quiet reflection likely had made for a very humdrum day for the Red Flux prospect. His eyes went from excitement to worry upon taking sight of Ess’ battered predicament, however. The blood no longer flooded out of his stomach like civilians would out of Italina when The Aer Festival ended, at least. Brutus would live but would most likely be sitting out the rest of the Festival.

“What happened!?” Taison asked, his voice resembling that of a nervous child, looking around worriedly as if he anticipated a fleet of Italinian knights were on their way to kill him.

Samuel Syi kept the basics in medical supplies. Copé combed through the crates, rifling through its contents. Meanwhile, Taison awkwardly assisted Brutus Ess into the wagon, where he leaned against the walls, no longer letting out groans, but instead, quietly suffering.

“This fucking idiot got me stabbed by some woman!”

Or, something like quietly suffering, Secrat thought.

Secrat snatched up a bottle of alcohol to disinfect Brutus Ess’ wound (and refill his flask), however, once retrieving it, Brutus immediately made a grab for it. It would have been too far out of reach had Copé not offered him a small assist. It did no good having Brutus exert himself and making matters worse. Brutus held it in his hands with a smile of satisfaction, then, took a swig out of the bottle, drinking a quarter of it in a single gulp.

“Disgusting,” Ess said afterward, carrying a sour expression on his face, but, nevertheless, he went for a second mouthful.

“Don’t drink all of that, you will need it to treat your wounds,” Copé said.

Unfortunately, Brutus didn’t listen.

Secrat took his knife and ripped up the articles of clothing on hand for the occasion, specifically, Brutus’ shirt.

“Is that the knife she stabbed me with?” Ess inquired.

“No,” Copé lied. “This is my knife, the knife she had was her own and must have been dropped somewhere in the Wilderness.”

“The bitch,” Brutus barked. “You shouldn’t have gotten in the way.”

That last sentence was directed at Secrat, who Brutus stared at with a piercing glare. Not as piercing as The Thief’s knife into Brutus’ belly, but very rude.

“You should have made me aware of your intentions beforehand,” Copé fired back. Moving on, “Here,” Secrat said, dropping to one knee, “Lean forward.”

Brutus obliged, letting Secrat wrap the shredded shirt around his stomach and tying it in a knot. Secrat would have to buy Brutus a new shirt at the Aer Festival, but, otherwise, everything would be alright. The wound was superficial, although, from the expression on Taison’s face, Brutus might as well already have been dead.

“Is … is … are we safe?” Taison stammered.

His face looked bright red and his hands nervously shook like tree branches attacked by the wind.

Copé stared at him, donning a serious grimace: “They are coming for us, Taison.”

Taison’s expression went from bright red to something even more mortified.

“And, it is said that the Italinian knights feed on stupid, chubby children. Wait, can you hear that?” Copé stopped for a moment. “… Taison, … Taaaaaaaison … ,” Secrat called out, trying his best to sound like a ghost or a spirit. “Oh no, Brutus, I think they know we are harboring a stupid, chubby child,” Secrat spoke, feigning fear.

“Sorry, Taison, I think we might have to let them take you,” Brutus said, laughing, although still wincing in pain. “Do you know what they do to pretty boys like me in a prison cell?” Ess smiled largely, rubbing the makeshift bandage on his large stomach.

From mortified, Taison’s face went to a different shade of red, it was a brighter, more embarrassed red.

“You guys are assholes,” he said.

“You’re right,” Secrat said. “That is what we are, but we are successful assholes,” The Thief bowed his head over at the chariot.

A priceless statue of Livius Reid was now in The Red Flux’s possession.