This was not one of those jobs you would be proud of. In fact, one of her least favourite kinds of jobs: up-close, personal, messy and desperate. She was, of course, in no place to turn down the one job no one else would want to do. For good measure, she was only told the bare minimum: There’s a young lad with sandy hair working at the bakery who has a special ring.

  Rona tried to neutralise the stench that mocked her. The best she could manage at short notice was finding some sandalwood sawdust and wood shavings to rub all over. Passable, maybe. The muddy wine was still running its course and in full flight, so best not try anything that requires much hand-eye coordination. It has to be done relatively quickly before he gets home, making it a lot trickier. Better to get near the boy, keep a low profile and look for a way.

  A few moments later, she found him. Rona had some foresight; Sneaking through a back alley behind the bakers, and peering through the yard’s back door. Unironically, the lad was there, staring at his ring with a longing in his doe eyes. It even glinted, revealing a rectangular emerald on gold. It would be very easy just to snatch it and run off, but she can’t be seen taking it. Instead, she eased down her bag against the outside wall and bided her time.

  Before long, he got up from a wooden crate after finishing breaktime. Looming quite tall, he stood next to the door frame. Without thinking about it, the ring was put away in a jacket pocket as he passed into the hallway, ducking his head inside. Having not looked her way once, it was a safe bet to follow with haste to the doorway. Poking the toecap of her boot just past the frame, it prevented the backdoor from being fully closed.

  Waiting thirty seconds, she went into the hallway. Fortunately, there was a row of coat hooks on the wall. There it was, the same light brown jacket hanging up. After a quick dip in its left pocket, the ring was procured. She stole away, back out of the yard. After a glance around in the alley, she got a proper look. It looked even more impressive up close. It’s really beautiful! I should just sell it myself instead.

  Selling this ring could get you by for a long time, a couple of months at least. Trick is, finding someone with enough money who won’t have you arrested. Better to minimise risk whenever possible; it is already a very hazardous industry, after all. When backtracking to this guy’s big grotty house, Rona was seething. However, she would not part with it lightly for just a squalid room for the night.

  Already waiting in his own doorway with a cigar in hand. “So, how did it go?”

  In that second, she knew that he already knew. “Too easy, but I didn’t know I was stealing the most valuable thing in this flea-ridden village. You need to cut me in on a much more rewarding deal, if you want to see the ring!”

  He showed her in, smiling, “Please. Come in. My name is Drago.”

  The wooden floorboards creaked as they went into the dining room. It looked well-worn. “I bet you’re doing well for yourself around here..” Rona said, prying as she sized up her surroundings. She could tell the floorboards have had a lot of foot traffic

  Holding out his hand, “Let me know when you’re ready to be shown to your lodgings for the night. Now.. Give it to me.”

  “How about you show me to all your gold instead. Oh, and while you’re at it, I’ll need a carriage out of here early tomorrow.”

  Drago put down his hand and sucked his teeth. “I can get you safe passage, but trading me gold for gold sounds like silly business to me. How about instead of giving you my pittance, I can give you an appraisal of that wine before you drink it all. That would be far more valuable, I assure you.”

  This made Rona become instantly wary; this was not divulged earlier. The two bottles had not left her bag since White Gate. He obviously knows something, better to try and figure out what it is.”If that carriage is discreet and if the appraisal values my wine a lot more than this ring, then you’ve got yourself a deal. Oh, and I want porridge with my lodgings. Not any of that gruel dreck!"

  He held out his hand again. It still felt like such a waste handing it over. “That’ll stop that big galoot from marrying my cousin. Ahah-argh! Now show me that wine”. He grabbed a bottle. Checked the neck and then the flat part underneath. “This is probably a couple of hundred years old. I can still smell it off you; it’s the same stuff.”

  Drago looked up with big eyes to make a poignant pause before continuing, “I know this because some of the ingredients you cannot get ‘roun here anymore. There are no identifiable marks on it anywhere. So it was probably made in secret, but there is a hidden number. Do you see it, here?”

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  After he proffered the bottle, Rona could just about see an engraving on the underside. “Run your finger over it, and you can easily make out the number, eighty-eight. Makes you wonder why anyone needs to make wine in such secrecy. It’s never been illegal unless it has some questionable ingredients.”

  The wine itself probably wasn’t illegal because Rona knew it was against the code to drink alcohol in The Order. She had deduced that those skeletons down in the cellar were likely friars. “Enough of the mystery. Could you put a price on it?”

  “Hard to say, but at least three thousand, five hundred crones. The wax on top makes it airtight; it must be in mint condition.”

  Rona was sceptical, “How do I know that you’re not just telling me what I want to hear, ay? That would be twice the money that this whole village has.”

  “I know that you are probably in need of the right buyer. My appraisal would be well respected and trustworthy by this man. Hey, why don’t I throw in a free certificate of authenticity?”

  She could tell Drago wanted something more, and that he knew what it was early on. As she was peeved, there was an awkward silence for a moment before he went on, “I can vouch for you and set you up a meeting with my old friend. You shouldn’t have any problem selling it to him for so much money. I just need you to do one last job.”

  His honeyed words left a bittersweet taste. She really didn’t like this seedy guy, and this premeditated, too-good-to-be-true routine was irksome. This did not bode well; the job had to be something much worse. Rona asked disdainfully, “What is it then?”

  “A night guard took a family heirloom, a necklace worth a lot more than this ring. Ginger bastard, can’t miss him! He is leaving as soon as he can to sell it in the city, but lucky for you, he still has to finish one last shift.” Night guards can’t just take off instead of doing the shift; it counts as deserting their assigned post. The Order punishes such offences with exile from society, effectively a death sentence. “He is wiry, paranoid and pretty much the ringleader of a group of thugs, other night guards. Everyone is afraid of them because they terrorise the entire village.”

  “Ok, so do you know where he might keep this necklace?”

  “It never leaves his sight. No way is he parting with it until it’s sold.”

  “Hm. You can show me to my lodgings now.”

  It was only across the hall. Once, closing the door behind her, she got straight to cleaning herself as thoroughly as possible. This involved a half-filled small metal tub, scrubbing with a brush and rags. The worst part was the syrupy wine that stuck to her like tar. Before long, Rona had gotten rid of the stench, too. Although it did take a generous helping of lavender oil. Bonus, it helps keep the bugs away rather than being a lightning rod of wine sap.

  The planks that lined the floor looked splintery. It did not stop her from plucking up a couple, side by side. As anticipated, there’s a crawl space under. There, she found a handy hidden spot to put in the bag. It would be no challenge for Rona to move around, in and out of this house, freely.

  She had allowed for it to get as dark as needed. They would be a few hours into their shift, making the rounds by now. Just one last job. This one might qualify as a good deed, even. No more barely surviving like a little starving girl. One good day is all that’s needed, just one. Rona wanted to be shot of this loathsome oaf soon.

  Even though she didn’t know the name of said ginger guard, he would still be easy to find. Most are quiet, hiding indoors and maybe sneaking a peek if they hear anything go bump in the night. As long as they stay inside until first light, then an upside-down iron horseshoe above the main entrance is enough protection.

  The Order have adopted a horseshoe emblem underneath an omega symbol that’s divided by a horizontal line. Their military branch is called The Last Guard who instead have an emblem of a simple white hand that looks like a halt hand gesture. A subdivision of The Last Guard is The Night Guard. Provided that you know which end of the pike is the pointy part, you can be a Night Guard. Unlike Censors, Night Guards are one of the least revered positions within The Order. The pay is decent, but that’s almost its only perk.

  Chances are, word of Rona being back up on the wanted list has found its way along this trade route by now. There is great risk in being seen, but it calls for a ruckus. She stepped out onto the open road, boots gentley echo like ripples on a still lake. Brazenly, she strolled into the middle of the crossroads. A guard came out from behind one of the stalls, and others began to convene from each direction.

  The first one came to the edge of a spotlight, which Rona was at the centre of. She could not make out his face, but the light caught his wiry orange hair sticking out at the sides under a helmet. “What’s this, a lady of the night?”

  The others sniggered, drawing nearer. She had to suppress her natural quip reflex instead, feigning uneasiness and fear. This was an ambush, quite well rehearsed too. Four torches surrounding, closing in. Their leader continued, “It’s not safe to be out at this hour. We’re gunna need to teach you a very important lesson and am afraid you’re gunna hafta learn it the hard way!” and with that, he went to snatch at Rona’s hair.

  She backed away while he snatched into the air in front. Turning around, she hurried off before being faced with one of his cronies. The crony lunged and was dodged to the side holding the torch. To make matters worse, Rona then lifted her elbow to guide the hand holding the torch into his moustache.

  A bloom of flames gusted out from his face as he let out a muffled,”-argh!”

  This was when Rona broke out into a sprint, and as the others were recovering from this distraction, she gained a sizeable distance. They quickly set off in pursuit, livid.