The Barons guards it would seem were creatures of habit, two shipments of fresh ale a day from one of the finest distillers in all of Ratain, and always the same two guards there to give their seal to the paperwork, and obviously filch a portion for themselves. Damion let a slight smile cross his features as he sipped from a lightly bronzed goblet which had been polished to a keen shine on one side, in which he could see the old mans cart role toward the gates. By all appearances he was the perfect image of a noble, tall, and lean with a fair featured face which always seemed to catch the eye of many a fair lady, and clad in the finest eastern cut dark silks, complete with a frock coat which had likely cost more than the poor old peddler of spirits made in two cycles of the calender. His ravenesque hair hung in a neat knot at the back of his scalp, but his green eyes seemed to hold a feel of quick intelligence, which belied his station. He had arrived this morning via coach, and had been attending the festival being held in honor of the Baron Gambor’s seventieth birthday. Yet now he was quiet sure he had become discontent with the festivities “Perhaps I shall pay the dear Baron a visit before I depart.” He said it with a slow almost drunken slur, which served to make the keeper of the small stand which he occupied chuckle his large frame almost rumbling with the exertion “I am sure he will be happy to see you Me”lord,” the words were said with a look which said he thought the young noble would be on the block before the day was through ” Good day Me”Lord.” He gave the man a slight nod of farewell, a more than generous parting for one of his station to a commoner, Damion was gone down the dusty street which led to the Barons estates, but alas it was not to be as his wine caught up with him, and he stumbled falling drunkenly into a small alley much to the delight of the passers by who began to laugh heartily.

Damion lay there for some time, his form twitching periodically to confirm he was indeed alive, and far too drunk to be reasoned with, and finally the amusement subsided as the various patrons dispersed to leave him to his unscheduled nap. He watched them all as they departed one by one, and slowly almost as if it were awakening from a sleep of its own a smile tugged at the edge of the mans lips, yet this was not a smile born of drunken dreams of the bosom of some worthy bar maid, it was a smile born of a carefully laid plan which was coming together nicely. Sitting up slowly Damion found himself quiet capable of movement as he sprang to his feet running to the back of the alley way. His right arm shot out grasping a small crack in the wall, and he pulled himself up, his other hand reaching for the side of the wall which separated this alley way from the street beyond. Once he had hauled himself atop it he was gone as if his feet weighed but nothing running along the wall, before leaping up onto the roof of the guard garrison of all things which was situated just outside the manor grounds.

He stopped just were the roof began to rise, stripping first the jacket , and then the boots, pants and shirt from his body, revealing a form clad in cotton cut black beneath. He then stowed his garments away in a bag which had seemingly been tied to the back of the wall of one of the smoke stacks before hand, and bounded lightly from the roof to the estate wall before dropping off of it into the dense foliage of the forward garden.He was nestled between the wall and the gardeners tool shed,and with a light smirk he began to count his breaths and heartbeats, he was going to be here for some time. ” Oh what improper behavior for one of his station!” He could almost hear the voice of one of the higher born ladies he had spoken with today chastising him. Fortunately they would never know, these fools wouldn’t know a noble if one walked up and stuck their nose up in everyone of their faces. Even the oh so esteemed patron of this town was little more than a rich trader who had somehow found his way into the queens good graces, and it had fattened his pockets greatly, unfortunately those pockets would get a little lighter tonight if he had anything to say about it. By the time they knew what had happened he would be sitting in a tavern in Sel”mestra enjoying a fine bottle of the keeps best.

Matt growled low in his throat as he made his way down the street, nightfall in this place had come with all of the tidings of horror any great story teller might conjure up before the low burning hearth of a warm tavern to tickle the spines of its patrons. A full moon hung high in the sky, and the streets lay all but vacant most of the festival goers having long since retired to more cozy accommodations.  Yet here he was a kid barely twelve summers walking around in a deep fog in which any thief or worse might be lurking, if that wasn’t safe he didn’t know what was. With a grimace he pulled his cloak around him tighter and hurried on down the street. He found the place easily enough, an old rundown barn on the edge of town, he had scouted it days ago, and knew it was never used, so this was exactly what he needed.  Slipping inside he produced a corked bottle filled with lamp oil, on the floor piled toward its center, lay a great pile of rubbish seemingly discarded by some careless traveler, he started pouring the oil on it letting it soak thoroughly into it, and then waited moving to watch the sky through a small hole in the back wall. He had a bit to go yet before his part needed to be played, and Damion would leave a knot on his head the blessing of the goddess herself couldn’t cure  if he botched this. Wait until the moon sits aligned with the building across the road then burn the place. He didn’t know exactly what the superstition was about the moon that made the timing so important, but he wasn’t about to tell Damion he was being stupid that was bad for his health.

He was just about to settle down and nibble the bit of cheese he had brought wrapped in cloth in his pocket, when he heard the sound of rumbling hooves. Panic seized in his heart Did they catch him, had they made him talk? No way Damion wouldn’t sell him out. His thoughts were cut short though as the riders stopped directly in front of his hiding place. They were all cloaked in black save for the rider in the lead a tall man in ornate black armor, he spoke to those behind him with an heir of command that marked him as someone who was used to being obeyed. ” I don’t have to tell you how important this is, if you fail me I will kill you, bring me the artifact, and make sure our good friend the Baron isn’t feeling up to his next birthday ” Matt shuddered at the mans, words and noticed a few of the riders shifting uncomfortably in their saddles. A moment later the man road off, and the others followed him. To say that Matt breathed a sigh of relief would have been an understatement, but in the next instant it turned to fear and panic. Damion was in there, and they were gonna kill the baron, he hoped his friend was paying attention, but there was nothing he could do, he had to stick to the plan. No matter what follow the plan exactly, A careless thief is a dead thief. He heard Damions words echoing in his ears, and he stayed put he was going to have to trust him.

On second thought he saved that cheese, if he knew Damion he would be in a hurry when he came out of there, and who knew when the next time they would eat would be.

Damion felt his legs going numb, and blocked it out for the millionth time since he had hidden himself away, with nightfall the soft dry grass had turned dew covered, and the wetness had him itching in places no man liked to itch, and lacking the ability to scratch he was going insane. Finally he stirred from his hiding place his bare feet embracing the wet grace with all of the grace of a cat stalking a dark courtyard.His eyes peering around the wall, as if he expected to find guards posted on the walls, but a moment later he was laying back on the ground pressed flat to it. Somethings wrong, there should be seven guards were the hell are they? Most thieves would of thought themselves blessed by the goddess to find a mark like this unguarded, but Damion believed in caution which was why he was definitely going to regret his next decision. He had sixteen bronze pieces in his pocket, and kids didn’t eat on nothing, gritting his teeth he pulled himself onto the roof of the shed making his way to the wall. He was careful with his shadow making sure he never stepped into the moonlight enough to cast one, and soon he was crouched low moving across the wall, suddenly glad he had left his boots behind, the damn thing was covered in smooth stone and he probably would have been laying on the ground with a busted head if he hadn’t.

He leaped from the wall to the roof landing on all fours climbing quickly to a nearby window. He pressed his hands to it and pushed slowly, relief flooding hm as the window slid sideways and open. He leaned close  to the opening and stuck on foot through then the other dropping silently down into the dark room below. Judging by the thick smell of dust he had found a storage room of some sort, he could see boxes scattered here and there in the dim moonlight, and with all of the joy of a child opening a packaged gift he began to rifle through them. Within minutes he had a small collection of women’s jewelry, a few solid gold goblets, and he began putting them in a bag he had also found. He had hoped for a big score off of this, a rare gemstone, or something else small and easily hidden, but the lack of guards made him nervous and he was going to make this job quick there were always other nights.