*In an attempt to get myself back into the swing of writing I’ve been reading through some of my older works, some of them dating back to the days when I would lose hours of my day role playing on Yahoo chat and various message boards. I had about a dozen different characters that I would play in various settings and formats. My favourite and most prolific was a chap named Rand Caultrim, a thief and a rogue that had an eye for the ladies and a knack for getting into trouble. I RP’d this fellow through everything from Guild Wars, Vampire hunts, to getting married and having a child, to rampaging across the fictional country/realm of Ayenee. I also wrote quite a bit of story for him detailing the exploits of his that he got up to when I wasn’t playing him, and stuff that had happened before I introduced him.
That last batch entitled “Histories” started out (like most of them) as something to post on the short stories board of Ayenee.org. Then after I stopped posting due to one thing and another, I continued writing them for my own enjoyment, and they turned into a series of short stories. I apparently got as far as number eight before being de-railed and starting something else, and I seem to have lost the plot outline I drew up so I’m a little lost as to where I was going with it! So, whilst I try and figure that out to get writing again, I thought I’d introduce you all to a close personal friend of mine – Rand Caultrim, of Clan Blackrose (although that title has/will/does come and go!)*
Châteaux Gabel stood proud and regal, even shrouded in darkness, its dressed marble arches, and tall pointed windows all shouting money. The wrought iron gates were sealed, held closed with a heavy lock, built into the gate. A man in a leather breastplate stood beside the gate, his crossbow slung from a strap over his shoulder, and his form illuminated by the pole lantern resting in its holder beside the gate, its pool of golden light pushing back the darkness. The hired guard yawned lazily, and leaned against one of the stone gate-pillars.
In the darkness beyond the gate, well outside the glowing sphere of light in which the guard stood, Rand was crouched and watching. He’d watched the Manor house for a few days now, and new the owners had money. The hired guard made that clear, if nothing else. Silently, with a skill and grace borne of years of practice, Rand slipped through the darkened bushes, to a spot he had already marked in his head. Rand emerged from the gloom-shrouded undergrowth well out of sight of the idle guard. The Châteaux’ grounds covered almost two miles, and Rand had picked a spot well out of sight. He approached the fence, its tops ending in spear-like points. Rand had already tested their edge, and had no intention of landing on one.
On the far side of the tall spiked fence, a small copse of trees stood silent in the darkness. Although more than 8ft from the fence, they would provide Rand with entrance, and give him cover once he was within the Chateaux’ grounds.
Hanging from his belt was a length of rope, coiled around, and held together by a small piece of string. One end of the rope ended in a dull silver hook. Rand pulled the rope from his belt, and removed the string. Reeling out enough to allow him to build some momentum by swinging, he tossed the hooked end over the fence. The first throw fell short, no more than brushing the leaves of the closest tree. Slowly, Rand reeled the rope back in, and hefted the hook to throw again. The second try snagged around the branches of the trees, nestling firmly in the darkened boughs.
Rand gave a firm tug on the rope, assuring himself it would stay put, and tied his end of the rope to the base of a tree on his side of the fence. He then set about pulling himself to the top of the fence. His clothes barely rustled as he reached the top, the smooth black velvet worn for that purpose. Gone was his embroidered coat, and fancy trousers. Gone were his shiny leather boots, and his gold worked sabre. Now he wore his real work clothes. A matching coat and trousers, cut from the same black velvet. At his waist he carried a small pouch, and two dark metal daggers. The other blades were concealed about his person as always.
Placing his feet between the spear tips atop the fence, he held his crouch less than an inch away from sitting on one of the gleaming points. His gaze passed over the darkened Manor grounds, back in the direction of the main gate, then south, towards the servants’ entrance, then finally on to the Manor its self. Its tall arched windows were dark now, shrouded by the stillness of night. Not so much as a candle showed anywhere within sight. Rand nodded to himself, and dropped noiselessly to the close cropped grass on the other side, immediately darting for the cover of the trees.
Once there, he paused for barely a second, routinely checking nothing about his person had been dislodged by his drop. Finding all in accordance, he made his way softly through the night, towards the slumbering Manor.
Rand stopped, crouched beside one of the lesser servants’ doors. In the days he had watched this place, he had never once seen this door used, and judging by the positioning of it, it was too far out of the way to be of much use.
Reaching to his belt again, Rand unhooked the small bundle carried there. Unrolling it, he perused his selection of lock-picks, all in matt black metal, and selected the ones he thought most appropriate. He slipped the specially shaped strips of metal into the keyhole, carefully probing the mechanisms inside. A push there, and twist this. With a gentle click, the door was unlocked.
Rand froze. The click had been soft, even to his ears, yet still he waited. No one came, or acknowledged the click. Quickly replacing the picks in their places, he hooked the bundle back onto his belt, and stood, very gently pushing the door inwards. Dim light poured sluggishly from the half-opened door, before Rand slipped in, dagger in hand, and closed it gently behind him.
Looking about, it was as he thought. To his left was a small door, probably a servants access to one of the drawing rooms. To his left, a narrow passageway led off, door s along its length speaking of more servant access. Ahead lay a steep staircase, leading up towards the second floor. Nobles, for some reason he had never been able to discern, felt that their valuables would be safe, so long as they kept them above the ground floor. Rand shook his head, smiling slightly as he climbed the stairs
At the top of the small staircase, a narrow door waited. This one had been painted, on the inside, showing that it was probably used quite frequently during the day. Rand paused, pressing his ear against the wood, straining for any sound of movement beyond. Silence.
Placing his hand on the door handle, he gently opened the door, peering around the edge, down a long hallway, carpeted in plush red. Gilded stand lamps stood along the walls, only one in two lit at this late hour. In between them, lacquered chests, inset with pearl, or worked with gold and silver lined the walls, or plinths holding statuettes and vases, just like the niches in the walls, displaying finely crafted ornaments. Pushing the door gently part-closed, Rand ghosted down the corridor, his soft soled boots making no sound on the thick pile carpet.
Swiftly crouching at the chests along the wall, Rand opened all those not locked. At the first, he pulled a folded silk shoulder bag from his coat pocket, opening it before sliding a gold-worked porcelain plate into it. Silently he drifted along the corridor, taking only what he could easily carry, and use afterwards. No good in taking something you can’t sell or make use of yourself.
He reached the end of the corridor, regretfully leaving an oil painting hanging in its place. Too big. He moved towards the first door on his right, placing his ear flat against it. The silence of the night within was broken by the muffled sounds of a sleeper. On to the next room. Another sleeper. The third, also occupied. At the fourth, no sounds disturbed the dark silence. Tentatively, Rand tested the door handle. It moved easily, with no squeak. He silently thanked the foolish nobles for keeping their doors well oiled.
Rand slipped into the empty room. Moonlight streamed through the tall windows, with their drapes still tied back. The pale light illuminated things clearly enough, and Rand quickly found what he sought. Pretty statues and fancy plates were all well and good, but he preferred something a little more ‘real’.
The room was a study of some kind. There was no bed, but an adjoining door on either side connected it to the neighbouring bedrooms. A large darkwood desk sat facing the windows, with a large leather chair behind it. Bookcases covered most of the walls, and the spaces between were filled with maps, bearing the names of Ayenee, Ircania, and others Rand didn’t recognise. He wasn’t really interested in maps. It was the desk that drew him.
Swiftly and silently, Rand began rifling through the draws. A small purse of gold went straight into his pocket. An ornate dagger from the desktop was slipped into the shoulder bag. Letters, more maps, notes… A key. Rand grinned as he studied the key in the pale moonlight. A lock-box key, unless he missed his guess. The locks on those could be picked, but it took longer than a door lock, and taking them with you was too awkward. Especially when you had the key.
A muffled sound from the far door made him freeze. He looked to the other door. The noise was coming from the room he hadn’t checked. Foolish of him to go rushing in. Again, there was the muffled noise. It sounded, familiar somehow. Silently, Rand stalked to the door. He gently pressed his ear to the door. A female voice carried through the wood
“…she finds us, we’ll both be put out.”
“They will never know, provided you can keep from crying out this time” came a deeper voice, definitely male
“Come here, and I’ll make you…”
Rand stepped away from the door, smiling. A couple, making illicit use of one of the Ladies beds. He’d leave them to it, as long as they didn’t draw attention. After all, he’d be a hypocrite if he interfered!
Rand looked about the room, his eyes searching for the lock-box. Bookcase, table, a globe. Rand stopped on the last one. Was that a trick of the shadows, or an opening in the globe? He grinned again as he approached, reaching to the shadow, and lifting the top half of the large globe. Inside the half-hollow sphere were three bottles, no doubt containing antique alcohol’s of some kind, and a lacquered metal box.
Bending slightly, Rand slipped the key into the lock, turning it slowly. With a gentle click, the lock was released. Rand lifted the lid, and the moonlight sparkled with the lustre of gold. Hastily filling a smaller silk bag, Rand slipped it into the shoulder bag, and closed both the box and the globe. He made his way back to the table, replacing the key, and closing the drawer. Before he left the room, he paused. The muffled sounds from the other room were growing louder, perhaps more energetic. He grinned and slipped back into the hallway. If the couple carried on, they’d cover his escape smoothly. Not that it needed covering of course.
He ghosted back down the hallway, to the smaller servant door. Opening it, and gently closing it behind him. He paused again. He could hear the couple now, even here. It sounded like she couldn’t avoid crying out again. Shaking his head, and grinning, Rand swiftly traversed the steps, and stepped back through the door which had provided his entrance. Closing it, he darted across the darted grass again, headed towards the thicket. A brief backward glance showed a faint light, probably a candle, in one of the rooms neighbouring the lustful couple. He doubted he could have planned it better himself.
Once back in the gloom of the trees, Rand quickly found the tree with the hook snagged within its branches, and freed it from them. He climbed the fence again, this time relying on his knot around the other tree. Reaching the top, he spared another glance back at the Manor. Four of five windows were aglow now. It appeared the others were not very heavy sleepers. With one last rueful smile, Rand dropped from the fence, carefully cushioning his shoulder bag, and set about untying the rope. Within moments, the rope was freed, and coiled about his arm. Re-tying it with the string, Rand slipped it into the now full shoulder bag, and once more slipped into the night.
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