As Fog Rolls In

Come morning, when he left the inn, an unexpected fog welcomed him onto the streets. He stretched his arm and furrowed his brows. The visibility was… well, non-existent. He could barely see his hand.

"What the hell?" He mumbled as he walked along the alleyway, touching the wall to prevent getting turned around. How come was the fog so dense? He couldn't even see the wall opposite to the one he was walking against, and the distance between them was maybe a little longer than the length of his arms.

It wasn't much better on the main street either. Sure, he could see the vague shape of the buildings across the street, so the density of the fog was a little less here, but it was still really difficult to see much.

Was this normal in Vesporum? How could the city function when such a phenomenon happened so randomly? And most of all, how would this affect him?

He gritted his teeth. If the fog remained until dusk, it would be the perfect time for a theft. He could easily climb over the wall without being seen, and if he didn't bump into anyone working in the garden at the time, the rest would be easy.

He slowly started walking along the main street, plotting the theft. There were preparations to be made, one of which was to by a new pair of gloves, since his old ones had been torn apart on that night. It didn't take long for him to find a clothing shop, though as soon as he stepped inside and glanced at the price tags, he died a little inside.

Despite being on the poorer parts of Vesporum, the prices were quite high on even the lower quality clothes.

He heard footsteps and noticed a young woman walking towards him between shelves of clothes. "May I be of service, sir?" She asked. Her eyes glimmered bright green as she smiled. Her smile didn't show her teeth at all.

"Uh, do you happen to sell any gloves?" He asked. "Leather, preferably."

The woman nodded and gracefully turned around. "Please, come this way." She led him through the store, until they stopped by a narrow shelf. A handful of glove pairs were hastily put on there, and only two of them were leather.

"May I try them?"

The woman nodded. Her gaze went back and forth between his face and his hands as he tried the gloves. The black pair fit him fairly well, and he nodded with satisfaction. "How much?"

"Five silver coins, sir."

Aoric gave her the coins and left the store with the weight of poverty hanging over him. "Curse you, woman." He hissed as he slowly clenched and released his fists, trying to get used to the gloves. He missed his old gloves, the ones he had custom made. If only her dogs hadn't torn them to pieces that night! The more he remembered that night, the angrier he got.

He headed towards the alleyway he used to get off the roofs the night before and as soon as he was out of sight of others, climbed up on the statue of a chained up angel, then used her wing as a stepping stone to climb onto the roof.

Soon, he was on his way to the mansion again.

The fog remained throughout the day, and come dusk, Aoric could see just as little as he could in the morning.

He had spent the day watching the mansion as much as I could from the rooftops. With the setting sun, the torch lamps began to light up and a soft light began to shine from the windows of the houses. The cathedral lit up like a torch as the people began to gather there.

Aoric narrowed his eyes. Something like this hadn't happened the day before. Was an event going on?

He spotted men and women hurrying to the cathedral. Some wore silken dresses and suits, while others' clothes were woollen, torn and sooty. The rich and the poor flocked to the cathedral like lost lambs.

Aoric's lips formed a smile. This was the perfect opportunity, was it not? The mansion was bound to be emptier, and he could easily slip in and out in this fog. Had lady luck finally smiled upon him?

As the crowd slowly disappeared in the fog, he carefully approached the edge of the roof and let himself fall off, onto the head of a statue. Climbing down the rest of the way down was easy, and he was soon standing in front of the flat, tall wall surrounding the mansion.

"Let's get this over with." He uttered under his breath.

"And let us pray, to the Old Gods, and to the Old Blood."

Silence covered the cathedral as the man's words came to an end. The rows of oaken pews were only half full. Even that meant hundreds of people though. Hundreds of people, divided into two very distinct and very hostile groups.

Irene closed her eyes and pressed her palms together. The gods were no more, but the people didn't need to know that. Acting faithful cost nothing and gained the sympathy of her people.

The silence continued, until the deep, beautiful sound of the organ sounded. As the music began to play, the man by the altar raised his hands. "Now let us celebrate the full moon on this day! The eye of the Old Gods watches over us and protects us in this faithful night. May their watchful gaze be ever present, and their dream everlasting!"

The crowd repeated the chant.

"May their watchful gaze be ever present, and their dream everlasting!"

Irene whispered the chant as well. She envied the commonfolk's beliefs. The safety those beliefs provided them with. The peace of mind. She had no such luxury as one of the few who knew the truth. She had only herself and those closest to her to trust.

The frightened, yet defiant expression of that young thief came to her mind. If only she could trust in his abilities…