WitchHunter ✔️

The PickPocket

Velius Dag is dressed in all black, his robes parted in the front to show off his massive chest. The WitchMaster is huge, larger than any man I've ever seen. He holds his hands up away from his body, accepting all the cheering and praise the townsfolk throw his way. He clenches his fists suddenly, the muscles in his arms rippling, even disguised by his garments. He wears a wide smile, riding the wave of celebration. They're celebrating him, a man like that.

I lower my eyebrows, allowing the disapproval to slip onto my face. A man like Velius Dag doesn't deserve praise. This man, this beast of a man, was meant to protect the ridge; His Hunters were meant to protect the people who live here from the lochri who destroyed us. Yet, here I am, living on the streets, my mother and father killed in the flames that Velius Dag didn't stop.

He will have to pay for that.

The carts roll to a stop in a line in front of the crowd of villagers, all excitement and applause. It's simple enough for me to slip through the masses and behind the carts. The circle is mostly empty on the other side of the carts, and the shadows flicker in the lantern fire light. I slip between the second and third carts in the lineup, crouching low next to the wagon wheels. The WitchHunters are facing the crowd, their backs to me, so no one notices my approach as I creep along beside the carts and oxen.

Velius faces the crowd, arms outstretched, enjoying this all too much. Now's the time. I rise just slightly, attempting to stay in Velius's shadow. His robes brush against my arms and chest in the light breeze that whips up the lantern fires. Velius's coin purse lays at his hip, out in the open, where any wandering shadow may pluck up his riches and vanish into the night.

I am the perfect shadow for the job.

My small hand slips inside, under the protection of his long, draping sleeves. My fingers deftly maneuver a few coins into my awaiting palm at the same moment my other hand replaces them with a hefty rock. I pull out my treasure and pocket them without looking. I would revel in my spoils later. There are more coins in that purse.

I know I shouldn't get greedy. You never go for it twice. That's the first rule. Take just a little from a lot of people, and never go back for seconds.

But this is Velius Dag. The second rule of pickpocketing in Kindleridge is to never steal from Velius Dag. If I'm breaking the rules, I might as well break them royally.

I slip my hand in again, in the same moment making eye contact with Tank, poking his head through the crowd. His eyes grow wide when he sees me, trained to find things that commoners cannot. His face falls, shaking his head at me, but refusing to break eye contact. A small glimmer of shame hits me, and I have to look away. I need to focus anyway. I'll make it up to Tank later, when I share my riches with him.

I fumble past the rocks I'd already placed in the bag to get ahold of more coins. My practice never prepared me for there being rocks already inside. I scoop up as many coins as can fit in my hand, replacing them once again with a couple stones and pieces of clay shingle.

That's enough for me. I slip them into my pocket and crouch back down. Velius doesn't notice a thing. I did it. I pickpocketed Velius Dag. I did what the other street boys thought was impossible. I-

A hand clamps down on my shoulder, and another on my arm. I am lifted high into the air by my wrist, and come face to face with Revler Jiffrum, Velius's right hand WitchHunter. My heart pounds in my chest as I gaze at his rough face, his mouth turned down in an angry frown.

"Velius." He barks, drawing the older man's attention.

"What have you caught there, Revler?"

"This little street rat just stole something of yours. Check your coin purse."

Velius steps down from his chariot, his right hand slipping into his bag of rocks. A shocked look comes over his face, and he begins pulling out rock after rock, dropping them onto the cobbles below. If not for the fear coursing through my veins, I might think it humorous, the WitchMaster's face becoming more and more surprised as he continues to pull out stone after stone. Finally, he stops, the small pile in front of him standing like a mockery to his pride.

"And just what is the meaning of this?" Velius demands of me. "You know the punishment for theft, boy!"

I swallow hard. Oh, I know alright. I muster up all my courage, and jut my chin out at him. "And just what is the punishment for you, Velius Dag?" I swallow my fear. "You allowed the Cinderous bastards to burn up your city, and they took my parents with them. So pray tell where your punishment is!"

Velius's face sours even further. "I lost my wife to those flames, boy. Don't think I haven't suffered for it."

"And yet there you stand, arms outstretched to receive the praise of your people, when it's you who allowed us to suffer! You think you've suffered half as much as I have? In your cushy bed up in Fortress, looking down on all of us as we starve or freeze to death in the streets?"

Velius Dag's eyes narrow. I've done it this time. "What is your name, boy?"

"Hale Arsen. And my parents? Those people you allowed to die? Their names were Attalie and Jafkan."

"And where do you live, Hale Arsen? Do you have a home?"

I won't tell him where the house is. If I do, he's sure to do something to punish me, and in turn, all of them. I won't let him get to them. "The streets. My home burned to the ground with my parents inside, thanks to the bravery of your Hunters."

"Revler, his coin purse." Velius nods down at my side, and the tall man holding me in the air swipes the pouch from my belt.

"Hey! Give it back! I stole that money fair and square!"

"And we're stealing it back." Revler replies.

I squirm, but this massive man doesn't budge.

Velius takes the pouch and glances inside. "That's quite a bit of money you have here, Hale." He says

"It's mine. You can't take it."

Velius raises his eyebrows as he glances at me, well aware that most of that I had stolen from him just moments prior. "I wouldn't dream of it. On one condition, though." He gives Revler a nod, and he lowers me to the ground, his big hand leaving my wrist and replacing itself on my shoulder, holding me still.

Velius kneels down so he is face to face with me. "You, Hale Arsen, will come live in Fortress as my ward, and my son." He holds my pouch out to me, an offering. An understanding.

I look up at him. "You- you aren't going to cut off my hand?"

Velius chuckles. "Would you like me to?"

I shake my head vigorously. "No."

"Come live in Fortress. I know I can't replace your parents, but maybe I can make it up to you in some small way. How does that sound?"

I think about it. I could leave my life on the streets. I can have a home again. I nod. "Yes, that would be good."

Velius smiles. He takes my hand in his, and places my coin purse in my palm. "Well then, Hale Arsen, my son. I think we'll become good friends."