Epilogue

Both the statue and the gold bars were taken deeper into the Unprotected Wilderness by the members of the troupe and they began scouting for a carriage to carry the cargo back to The Red Flux campsite. The initial idea had been to bury the items and leave one thief behind to watch over the area until the rest of them could find ample means of transportation. However, due to the cumbersome nature of the Aer Festival, it was made very easy to steal a small buggy and a couple of horses from slumbering wanderers.

Fireworks went off into the night as they made their leave, a commemoration, to some, of the Aer Festival and the finishing touches to King Harries’ speech. To them, however, it offered condolences for the broken hands, arms, ribs, and severed heads they had endured. It was a well worthwhile grand finale of fireworks that didn’t startle Secrat Copé this time when he heard it. They shot off into the sky and broke away like little falling stars. They were far more visually appealing at night.

The arrival back to The Red Flux campsite was met with welcoming arms. Lukas’ mother Mirai and little sister Ansh hugged him, and he, though shattered, feigned a smile. The rest of The Red Flux members clapped and hollered with signs of admiration, taken by the beaten battle scars that dressed each member. With a large statue, some decorative weaponry, and some gold bars, it may not have been the biggest heist in The Red Flux’s history, it was nonetheless a groundbreaking heist, and one that Secrat could say he had survived.

Copé ventured out from the wagon and off to the side, standing by Father Toucan Veras, who seemed aware, without having to ask, that all had not gone according to plan. His father wore a long, black cloak that went over most of his torso, very neat and clean, contrasting from Copé’s dirt riddled leggings and stained brown shirt.

“How is your hand?” He asked Copé, whose hand was a blackish purple, resembling someone who had contacted frostbite.

“It could have been worse,” Secrat lied, albeit thinking back to when daddy dearest stomped on his hand and broke it the first time.

Father Toucan Veras chuckled like the evil sadist Copé always suspected him to be and walked over to Samuel. Veras wouldn’t be chuckling once Samuel Syi informed him of the countless murders they committed and of Taison’s death. He didn’t, either.

Soon after, everything fell back into calmness, smaller and less reckless. A venture out into the Whispey Deserts brought fortune from the gold bars and the Statue of Livius Reid. They even tried to sell the Sword of Charles Tertius, but it was labeled as counterfeit by appraisers.

“That seems about right,” remarked Father Veras, tossing the sword back to Secrat Copé, but nothing else ever came of it.

Secrat Copé was made an Elite Thief. With Lukas Lewis’ recent indiscretion, he felt himself unjustified in his hatred for The Thief and relented. Although, that was only done through the help of Copé’s exploitation of the fact.

Back again, in time, Copé aimed his eyes at the night sky. He had his enemies, … many of them. Ones who wanted him dead. But, in the grand scheme, stars were all they were. Nothing more and nothing less. He would face them, undoubtedly. In time. Stars in the sky, sure to fall. In time. Such was life. But The Thief would be more than that.

Special. Unique. Phenomenal.

Secrat Copé would be the Moon.