Rolf had decided to start early. He left for the gate only a few minutes after waking, and used his experienced eye to find a nice stake out spot. An alley off the main street, a little obscured by the crowds, but with a clear enough view that anybody wearing rich clothes or riding in a nice carriage would be easy to spot. So he waited, leaned up against the wall, a surreptitious watch for any good targets.

He didn’t find any.

He cursed under his breath. He’d been watching for a couple hours now, and nobody of interest had decided to show up. ‘Just my luck,’ he thought. He was in the throes of hunger, but he couldn’t risk leaving and missing his opportunity. The moment he decided to find another spot, or get something to eat, or do anything that isn’t watching that gate, some noble was going to waltz through the city, he just knew it. But he was beginning to feel antsy just doing nothing.

Another hour passed, no change. The tolling of the bells told him he’d been here all morning, and the twelve chimes struck him each time they echoed. He couldn’t take it anymore, he’d have to jumpstart his luck on his own, then. He stopped looking for a rich target and started looking for an easy one, which he found quickly. A young man, about his own age, who was gawking around the city like a country bumpkin, which he almost certainly was. He was short, had messy blond hair to match, and was carrying a bag over his shoulder and a sword at his hip. He carried himself evenly, and seemed comfortable with the weapon at his side. If he could get him jumpy, he’d have his chance, though he’d have to make a quick escape to avoid getting stabbed. Easy enough pickings, especially since he had a spot in mind where he’d set up a distraction a few days ago, so deep in the alleys and so out of the way that he could leave it for probably a week without it being disturbed.

The blond boy was getting closer, time to act. He pushed off the wall and started walking towards his mark, pretending to be a little distracted watching the shops, but that went unnoticed. Rolf bumped into him.

“Hey, watch it,” he said, feigning annoyance.

“Ah, sorry about that!” he got back.

A good in. He asked if the boy was new in town, to which he replied that he was, and introduced Rolf himself as Louie. A common name, one that won’t arouse suspicion. He learned that the boy’s name was Alder, which, opposite Louie, was very uncommon. Must be a country thing. They had a good, friendly energy going though, so he offered to be the boy’s guide, show him around a bit. New folk always want to see the sights, but Alder seemed wary, not quite trusting him. ‘He’s got a decent head,’ Rolf thought. He decided to take a self-interested route, lying and saying he would be getting some coin out of the deal. People are skeptical when a deal is too good to be true, but add a little selfishness and that can usually convince them. It worked, too.

He began to lead the boy through main streets, then into the alleys, and then into the alleys. He watched as Alder got more and more tense, ready to get ambushed. His eyes scanned for any places people could hide, his ears listened for the sound of footsteps approaching from behind, and he moved his hand to rest on the pommel of his sword which seemed to reassure him. Guess he was well-trained after all, though that would end up working against him here. Rolf felt a tug on his lips and smiled, a genuine one, not the friendly fakes he’d been flashing this whole time. He was sure to face forward so that Alder couldn’t see it. He could feel the boy’s watchful gaze on his back though, checking him for threats, or a weapon maybe. Good thing he kept his dagger close to his body, well concealed in the folds of his clothes.

Finally they neared the spot, a dingy alley deep in the slums.

“It’s just around here, my friend,” gesturing for Alder to take the lead. Rolf could tell he’d chosen the right spot, as Alder’s doubtful eyes weighed the consequences of looking around one last corner before leaving and decided it was safe. ‘Gotcha,’ he thought as Alder began to walk forward and watched him carefully. He feigned innocence, returning it with a confused look. With each step, Alder’s tension showed more and more; his grip on the sword tightened, he lowered his centre of gravity, he swiveled his head. It wouldn’t do him any good. Rolf watched as he stepped around the corner, nudging a string he’d put up at the entrance, which was connected to a little contraption that would knock over a carefully balanced pot. The loud noise echoed through the alley, and Rolf watched as Alder moved faster than any swordsman he’d seen, dropping his bag and unsheathing the sword in a smooth, practiced motion. He didn’t—couldn’t—let that distract him, though. He used the loud noise from the pot to cover the sound of his approach, and snatched the bag right out from under Alder, moving in his blindspot as he stood, ready for attack from the front. Then he ran, back out the way he came, through the dark and twisting alleys. Hardly anyone could chase him here, he was too fast and too familiar with these streets, and though he could hear running footsteps from behind, doubtlessly Alder, he knew it would be no time at all before he got away.

Or so he thought for the first minute. After that, he began to grow frustrated. He was being kept up with, though Alder wasn’t going to make up the distance. Another minute they ran, Rolf going through more and more alleys, but still hearing the footsteps behind him. He’d have to try something else. He ducked down an alley he’d used as an escape route before and headed for the rooftops. He went up on a crate, leaped and grabbed onto the uneven brick of the wall, kicked off again and grabbed the edge of the roof, using his momentum to help swing himself up. It was hell on his arms, but he managed it, and stopped to catch his breath and check the prize. He walked a little further and opened up the bag, peering inside. The pouch of coins he snatched quickly and reflexively, hiding it in a pocket. Then he took a closer look for anything else of value.

Nothing caught his eye. Looked like a bunch of junk, to him, and was that a braid of hair? Stupefied, he took it out and held it up to his face. It was definitely hair.

Rolf heard a noise, as if something hit the roof, and looked over to the edge where he climbed up. There was a hand, and from the edge rose the face of Alder, hard eyes staring straight at him as he pulled himself up. That look, such a departure from the bright-eyed boy he’d marked an easy target, scared him. He looked for somewhere to run to, but he hadn’t accounted for someone being able to follow him up, and it seemed there wasn’t a good place to escape unless he wanted to jump straight off the side of the building. Alder smoothly found his stanced and wielded his blade.

“Give it back,” he ordered. Rolf dropped the hair back in the bag and set it down, backing up further and raising his hands. He wasn’t getting killed over a bunch of junk. Alder walked forward and checked it quickly. He stared at Rolf then, who stood there, afraid of what Alder might do if provoked, and watched as the boy’s eyes took him in in his entirety, his clothes, his body, and finally his eyes. Something changed in them when he made eye contact, and the steely eyes that had been ready for a fight were clouded by doubt, and maybe a little shame.

Alder sighed, putting away the blade and retrieving his bag. Rolf felt relief go through him, but he was still a little nervous. Alder told him to keep the coins and turned to leave. Something clicked in Rolf’s head; he smelled an opportunity, and found himself stammering, asking his would-be attacker to wait. He was a little shocked when he actually listened.

His mind raced to connect the dots of Alder’s personality, think of the right thing to say. He was young, hopeful, and seemed to consider himself an honourable knight: that’s why he felt shame when threatening a seemingly harmless pick-pocket. His skill and determination suggest he had spent a long time training, and his willingness to give up his money meant he was kind. It was a gamble, but he was familiar with those, and it might be the fastest and safest way to get him out of debt.

Rolf began to explain himself, his situation, and watched as Alder wavered and considered what to do. He could do this, he could talk him into it. He pushed a little more, not asking for trust or anything of the sort, and offering to find them some jobs. This was the moment, now. He’d said his piece, and had to trust he’d judged Alder correctly. He stood there thinking, hand absent-mindedly rubbing the pommel of his sword, for what felt like one long, stretched out moment. It was as if someone was getting a twisted pleasure out of keeping Rolf suspended like this, unsure of what would happen next.

“Alright, I’ll help.” he finally said.

Even though he was the one who’d asked for help, Rolf had a bad feeling about this.