Steal What Now?

"No." Aoric said. "No way – have you lost your mind?"

Irene's expression hardened. "I don't remember giving you a choice, thief."

Aoric rolled his eyes. "Yeah, I get that. But what you're asking isn't difficult, it's impossible. Do you know what that word means? Impossible!" He cried out. "I'm not some master thief who can just steal whatever he wants! I'm a normal person! I need to have opportunity to steal!"

Irene's blank expression made him realise he was wasting his words. "You don't care, do you?" he asked with a defeated voice. Irene shook her head. "Thought so." He muttered.

He got up and limped towards the window. "Tell me more about the cathedral." He said, giving up. If his only options were to die, or try to steal something that's impossible to steal, he would always pick the latter.

"It's the Cathedral of the Old Blood. I don't know what you want to know." Irene said, rolling her eyes. "Be more specific or find your information elsewhere."

Aoric swallowed his annoyance. "What's the inside like?"

"There is an altar at the centre, right below it's central tower." She pointed at the tall tower right at the centre of the cross shaped cathedral. "There are lines of pews leading there all the way from the door. The two wings on the sides and the back side of the cathedral are off limits to all but the priests and the sorcerer."

Aoric pressed his lips together. "Only one exit?" he asked. Irene nodded. "Of course, this is a cathedral."

"See," Aoric made a vague gesture. "That's where things get complicated." He tried to explain. "A limping person is going to draw some attention, and only one exit means they will see me go in and come out. Are you sure there aren't any other ways in? Through the roof, in the side wings or in the back?"

Irene shrugged. "How should I know?" She asked. "I'm no thief."

Aoric frowned. "Yeah, I know you're no thief." He grumbled. "Who's the sorcerer?"

"The highest authority in Vesporum rests with him. He decides when to close the city gates and such. He is out link to the old gods." She smirked. "He's a very annoying person, so you should try to avoid him."

"Of course I should avoid him, I'm going in there to steal stuff!" Aoric rolled his eyes. "Do you know of any time when he would be outside the cathedral? Preferably during nighttime?"

Irene pondered a while. "The festival, perhaps?" She mumbled. He is to walk the streets and give alms to the poor, bless the common folk and give his respects by the tombs."

Aoric grinned. "Tell me more."

One week. He needed to wait for one whole week before he could get this done and get the hell out of Vesporum.

Irene and her sister, whose name he later learned was Ivy, had provided him with a room, and promptly threatened him not to leave it if he valued his life. As much as he was annoyed by their behaviour and the way they treated him, he didn't mind staying in the room.

It was a comfortable room, with a soft double bed and an its own little bath. He washed his clothes, then himself, and relaxed under the sheets of the bed as he waited for them to dry.

He had also gotten a chance to properly care for his wound, and he was pleasantly surprised that it wasn't as bad as it first looked. Sure, he had about a dozen little holes on his leg where the wolfdog bit him, but the wounds weren't too deep, and they hadn't cut into his muscles.

A couple days of rest would be enough for him to be at almost full capacity again. He washed the wound, dressed it with some proper bandages and mostly let his leg rest as much as he could. He didn't see Irene again that day, but Ivy dropped by in the evening with a tray of food.

"Lazing around?" She asked as she placed it on the small, round table in the room.

"Thinking." He replied. "Once I can walk properly, I need to check the area around the cathedral."

Ivy's lips curled down. "Do you now?" She muttered.

"The more I know about the place, the easier and faster I can do what you two ask me to do." Aoric made a vague gesture. "Look, I get it. You don't trust me, and for good reason. But I need a level of information if I'm to do my job. And I can't get that information sitting in this room."

Ivy chuckled. "That's right, we don't trust you. But I see your point. I'll talk to Irene." She pointed at the platter of food. "Eat up – it wouldn't do if you starved to death before you finished the job."

"And what do you expect me to do?" Irene asked, glaring at the tall man standing by the entrance. He seemed rather unhappy, and for an acceptable reason. "My Lady," He spoke with a respectful voice, though she could hear a hint of urgency as well. "So many have died already. Is it not time to for vengeance? For how long are you going to let those vile bats trample upon out honour like this?"

"A handful of ruts have died." Irene responded, folding her arms. "As much as it is an unfortunate situation, the death of half breeds does not warrant a full scale war, Lord Ruthvic. My mother had warned our people on the topic of half-blood offspring. Those who did not listen pay the price."

"But it is not them who pay, my lady!" Lord Ruthvic protested. "It is the half breeds, who are innocent in the grand scheme of things. They had no choice on the matter, and your promise to them was protection!"

Irene's lips curled down with a frown. "And I will protect them. Are you implying that I lied, per chance?" She snarled.

Lord Ruthvic's face went pale. "No, no of course not. I would never!"