The life of Hernicius Pot

The life and Adventures of Hernicius Pot


    Chapter one: How it all began



Have you ever found yourself in one of those impossible situations?
  You know, demonic sirens and alarms blaring all around you, guards running at you with scimitars flashing, arrows whizzing past your head? And all that is going through your head is: “When the…? What the…? How the…?” With the all powerful pervading thought over-riding all the others; “RUN”. No?
Well, try to imagine what it would be like, if you can, for this is the situation that poor Hernicius Pot found himself trying to escape from at this particular moment of time.
  “Damn, damn, damn.” He kept whispering to himself, as he ran through the ever increasingly crowded corridors --increasing due to all the guards rushing in, that is—“Why in the name of Retifa did I ever listen to that stupid old wizard?!”

  You see, it all started about five days previously.  Hernicius was getting roaring drunk in his favourite tavern in the lower end of Flavium city, trying his best to drown his troubles in the cheapest, foulest ale in the whole city –on account of it being the only one he could afford!
  Poor Hericius. He wasn’t doing too well right now, what with having just made it out alive from the last town he was in. It wasn’t that he was bad at his job, as it were. I mean, he always managed to steal what he set out to steal; it’s just, he always seemed to get rumbled on the way out. It was only a matter of time till he would have stolen from every city around, and what then? He couldn’t go back. Oh no. He knew for certain that the last five or six places he had been still had a price on his head, and as for the others, well, let’s just say he would rather not chance it.
  Let’s face it, he thought to himself, I have to make a big break soon, or find myself an honest job somewhere quiet and out of the way. He shuddered, and took a big pull of his ale. It was not a thought that he particularly relished the idea of.
  He had finished the last of his coin last week, and was already well in dept with Piteous Locallus, the tavern owner. Luckily, they were old friends, so he had some room to breath on that score. The tavern, and indeed the city, were havens for him. In his fairly short, and rather infamous career, this was the only city that he had ever been in and not run out of with guards hot on his heels. Probably because he had never tried to rob it, at least not yet. And so, it was the one place that he would always return to, the one place he was, relatively speaking, safe. And consequently, the one place that he had any friends; if you could call them that!

  At this precise moment, while our dear friend Hernicius was mulling over his career prospects, the tavern door creaked open, and an old man popped inside.
  He sidled up to the bar, where he had a muffled conversation with Pitious, after which he received a rather dodgy looking drink in exchange for what suspiciously looked like double the price, and the he tottered over to Hernicius’ table.
  “Excuse me, kind sir, would you mind my joining you?”
  “Wha’ ya say?” Hernicius slurred, by now quite well on his way towards his goal of a drunken stupor. The old fellow gestured to the chair opposite Hernicius.
  “Be me Gues’” Hernicius burped out. “W’a’s yur name then?”
  “My name, my dear friend, is at the moment quite irrelevant. What is more to the point, is what I may be able to do for you.” He sat down, and took a careful sip of his drink. “quite as I imagined,” he said, “thoroughly undrinkable.” At this, he put it down, where it remained for the duration of his short stay.
  “Wad ya mean, wha’ ya can do fa me?” Mumbled Hernicius. He didn’t quite know what to make of the old man, who seemed to him to be the shabbiest, and most unkempt person he had ever seen, and believe you me, he had seen a few in his time.
  He had a long beard and hair, all tangled and matted, and covered in what seemed to be a thick layer of dirt. The man himself, as well as his clothes, was also caked in dirt, under his fingernails and in the creases of his rather loose skin.
  He looked Hernicius in the eyes, and there was a little twinkle there that seemed out of place on such a bedraggled character. Then he held his hand over Hernicius’ glass, which was more then a little drained already, and when he moved it again, Hernicius thought he must of drunk a bit too much for his mug was suddenly brimming with ale again. And when he took a cautious sip, by Retifa, it was the best damn ale he had ever tasted!
  He took another, longer, look at the old man. Now he could see about him a slight look of strength, which was earlier belied by his stooped posture, and ragged appearance.
  “Who are you?” He asked again, now suddenly finding himself sobering up.
  “As I said before, who I am is not important. What I am, is maybe more useful to you. I, my dear chap, am a wizard.”
  “Oh no, I bloody hate wizards.” Hernicius grumbled under his breath.
  “Well, I don’t expect you to like me, only to listen to me.” Said the wizard, who had obviously heard him. “I have a proposition for you, that I’m sure might pique your interest.” He dumped a small purse of coins on the table, which rattled tantalizingly.
  “I’m listening.” Hernicius wasn’t too fond of wizards, but as you already know, he was fairly in need of some money, and he would listen to even a wizard if it paid enough. He went to grab the purse, but the wizard stopped him.
  “There are one hundred and fifty gold DAI in there,” he said quietly, “and four thousand eight hundred and fifty more on completion of the job. How does that sound?”
  “Sounds negotiable,” Hernicius managed to say calmly, but inside he was jumping with joy. Five thousand gold DAI! It was a small fortune. With that he could pay off all his debts and settle down as an honest business man –not that that was very likely.
  “What’s the job?” He asked, and if he squeaked a bit at the end, I guess it is rather understandable. I mean, how would you feel if someone came and told you that they would give you enough money to set up your own business if need be? I am sure you also would be rather happy, don’t you think?
  “Ah, now there is the tricky part my dear. I hear you are one of the best in your profession,” –as we all know, a little flattery goes a long way, (and Hernicius is defiantly not immune) and strictly speaking it wouldn’t be so far from the truth, I mean he may always get chased, but he had never been caught-- “and so I trust, difficult as it is, that you are up to the task.”
  “Which is…?”
  “Which is, my dear boy, to put it quite simply, to break into the palace of Remono Pitano in Upper Flavium, and retrieve for me an item of some small consequence.”
  Upon hearing this, Hernicius choked and sprayed ale all over the wizards torso –which actually made it cleaner—and then sputtered out “What?! You can’t be serious! I mean, even for someone as good as I am” –here you can see he wasn’t immune to flattery even from himself—“that is an impossible task. Remono Pitano is one of the leading five of Flavium. Other then the Prince himself, he is one of the most powerful men in the entire city! He has over two hundred guards in his manor alone, not to mention wizards, –a deal more respectable looking then you, and probably more powerful too, I might add—alarms, traps and all sorts of other mumbo jumbo. How, in Retifa’s name, do you expect me to get in there!” He definitely squeaked on this last bit, and then took a big gulp of his ale, which still tasted delightful, I’ll have you know.
  “The wizard just kept calmly looking at him throughout this, then when Hernicius was finished, he said “I know all the things you have mentioned, my dear boy, and that is precisely why I can’t go in there myself.  He is paranoid that some of his more powerful enemies –of which he has many, I am sure-- will try to kill him, and he has set everything up so that nothing of any great power or consequence will be able to answer. That is why I have sought you out.” Upon hearing this, Hernicius’ ego took a gigantic blow, but the thought of the money was still fresh in his mind, so he let this indignity slip for now, and asked instead, “So what can I do that you can’t?”
  “I believe you may be able to slip in under all his detection spells. His wizards,” here he sniffed contemptuously, “as you call them, can detect a magical aura entering the grounds, but as far as anything else is concerned the only form of detection would be of the natural sort. In other words, if you are seen, smelt or heard. So as you can see, if you are really as good as you think you are, you should have a much greater chance of success then I would have.” He looked slightly peeved at this, as if he thought Hernicius was barely capable of tying his own jerkin up, and shouldn’t have a better chance of doing anything then he himself did.
  Hernicius was still rather worried by the whole concept. He knew that five thousand DAI were something he could hardly say no to, and that in the end he would say yes anyway, but he still couldn’t help feeling that the whole thing was a bit like being paid to tie the noose around his own neck.
  “OK, what is this ‘little thing of no consequence’ that you want me to liberate for you, then?” he said, somewhat sarcastically.
  “Well, as to that, it is simply a piece of exquisite taste. It is a jewel the size of your fist, with thousands of tiny little facets that gleam all the colours imaginable when shined upon by the sun. He keeps it locked in a vault, except at night, when he takes it out to sleep with it by his side. Get me that gem, and you will have all that I have offered you,” he didn’t seem able to look Hernicius in the eyes when he said it, but Hernicius hardly noticed “now , I must be going. Here are detailed layouts of his manor house, showing where most of the key sites are. Study it well. I must go now, but I will be here again at the same time, six days from now, if you want to take me up on my offer. What say you, old chap?”
  Hernicius still had his doubts, but on the other hand –five thousand! “Yes,” he said “I’ll see you then.”
  The old wizard smiled and rose from his chair. Hernicius looked down at his ale to take a swig, and when he looked back up again, the man had simply disappeared. “Blimey! You see where that old geezer went, Piteous?”
  “What, that old man? No sorry Hernicius, can’t say as I did. You want another one?” He asked, gesturing to Hernicius’ now almost empty glass. He thought about it for a moment, then decided that he would rather not, remembering how the stuff here usually tasted.
  “I think I’ll head off, if it’s all the same to you mate.”
  “Alright, see ya tomorrow. I guess I add that to you tab then, do i?” He said, looking at all the empty glasses on Hernicius’ table.
  “As you will mate, as you will.” Hernicius grumbled, rising from his semi-recumbent position, onto albeit slightly unsteady feet. He stumbled up the stairs to his room, and fell onto his bed. Within seconds, he was fast asleep.

      Chapter two: The big plan


  He woke up the next morning with a massive headache. It was as if someone had been standing there hitting him on the head with a mallet all evening –and I’m sure, judging by the quality of what he had been drinking, it had probably done as much damage too. He crawled out of bed, and relived himself into his chamber pot, which took about five minutes to empty all the fluids from his bladder.
  Then he sniffed his clothes quickly, which were obviously still ok in his books, as he then opened the door and stumbled downstairs to order a breakfast of what he severely hoped was bacon and eggs. And a mug of ale, of course. When he had first woken, he had thought last night but a dream, until he found the purse with the hundred and fifty DAI inside, in his pocket on his way down from his room. Quickly he counted the money at his table, and then when Piteous came over to bring him breakfast he paid him the twelve and a half DAI he owed him and ordered an extra pint of his finest ale to boot.
  “Holy Ratifa, where’d you come into money like that, then Hernicius? I thought I wouldn’t be seeing your tab paid off for many a long month. Not that I mind, o’course.” He added, hastily tucking the money into his jacket pocket.
  “You know, here and there, here and there.” Hernicius said, airily. He could be very airy when he wanted, especially when it came to things to do with money and debts. Piteous gave him a weary look, and walked off back to the bar.
  While he was chewing on a particularly gristly piece of the presumed bacon, he took out the papers given him by the old man the night before. It did seem to be rather detailed, and even listed the guard room, the vaults, and the wizards chambers, not to mention Romano’s private bed-chambers. They were on the third floor, in an opposite wing to the guards and the wizards, as he obviously didn’t want to mingle with the hired help, however much he relied on them for protection. Still, it looked far from easy.
  First, he would have to scale the wall, get past the outer guards and then either climb the outer building, which would be easier he thought, or penetrate into the interior, and go up that way, through all the guard patrols and traps. Not an enviable position, to be sure. One thing was for certain though, he would have to go at night. First it would make his capture less likely, and second he didn’t want to deal with a vault. He hated vaults. He still remembered the time in Guague when he was still fresh in his profession and he had written the code on his hand. He got in fine, but when it came to reopening the door on his way out, he had sweated too much and couldn’t read the last number. It had taken him ages to get out, and it was probably his closest call in his entire career.
  Anyway, before he did anything else, he needed to do two things. Number one: He had to get a look first hand at the manor, and number two: he had to get some equipment. Seeing as he wouldn’t know what was needed till he knew fully what he was up against, he finished his breakfast and headed out to the upper quarter of Flavium city.
  On his way there, he couldn’t help hoping that this time would finally be the one time so far where he didn’t get spotted during his getaway. He liked Flavium city, what with its teeming nightlife and the ability to get anything you wanted, for the right price that is. He didn’t relish the idea of leaving yet another city with the certain knowledge that ever going back would be a big mistake. Especially not this city. It was the closest thing he had ever had to a home, and he felt emotionally attached to it. Particularly to the fine ale and finer women (as he saw them, which would probably be said by a nice person to be a grave misjudgment).
  Despite that though, five thousand gold DAI were worth leaving anything behind, at least anything that he had in his life. He made his way up Quark street, lined with the houses of the richest people in Flavium, and stopped, ostentiously to gawk, outside every one of them. That way it wouldn’t look like he was only interested in Romano’s.
  He got some nasty looks, I tell you, and nearly got in a fight with some particularly mouthy guards outside one enormous villa. “Pompous gits,” he shouted at them, as he retreated up the street “First you work for them, then you become like them. Bloody rich b*****ds.” He mumbled to himself, as he drew close to his target.
  Much as he didn’t like them, he knew they were right to denounce him here. He didn’t belong and he knew it. He had to get a quick look, and then move off fast. Can you imagine it – big, rich houses, with landscaped gardens, high, thick, walls, guards and gates, and then Hernicius, scruffy, wearing a stained (and I might add rather odiferous) leather jerkin, slightly holey and considerably dirty breeches, with an odd assortment of accessories, such as a bracer on his left wrist, a belt with various things attached to it, knife included, and dainty looking slippers on his feet. He was more then just an odd sight. He was damn well out of place, and it was obvious to all. Of course, that didn’t necessarily mean he was up to no good, it just made people more likely to believe him of it, especially if he just ended up loitering about.
  So he had a brief ten second glance at the house, in which his trained thief’s eye took in all the details, and then started on his way again, dismayed at what he had seen. It seemed he would have no choice but to go through the inside. The walls of the manor were coated with Fluidia, a substance which made them so slippery it would be impossible to climb them, and he wasn’t fond of climbing ropes. He had had rather enough of getting half way up or down one, only for it to be seen and cut, and for him to end up running off with a very bruised and tender arse. He vowed that there would be none of that this time. So, in through the inside it was then.
  Once he was back in the lower side of Flavium, he felt much more comfortable. Sure, it was teeming with thieves, lowlifes and murderers, but at least you knew where you stood with their kind. He felt there was a certain honesty to someone who told you that they wanted to kill you, rather then just paying someone else to do it.
  Breaking out of his reverie, he wondered what he should do now. He needed to see the manor by night also, before thinking about his way in, and as there  was nothing else to do until then, he decided to spend some of his newly acquired money. He wandered around for the rest of the day in both the lower and upper halves of the city, purchasing various items of questionable use –including well-to-do clothes, a shave, and a bath (well needed, for it had been about four months since the last one), in order to fit in a little better whilst wandering around in richer areas. He felt somehow almost corrupted by the image, but decided after a while that he could grow quite used to it. Yes indeed, quite used to it.
  After this erratic stint of shopping (obviously gained from his mother’s side), he went back to Piteous’ and had a few hours rest before the nights adventures.

  When the sun went down, Hernicius slipped out of the window in his room and climbed up to the roof of the tavern, (it saved him having to worry too much about being followed) then slipped down to the ground a few roofs across. He quickly and silently made his way up to Romano’s House, winding his way laboriously through the streets of both the lower and upper towns, in an attempt to shake any persistent pursuit.
  He stopped a few houses down, and blended into the shadows, creeping up to the house as silent as a mouse.
  He stayed like that for what seemed like forever, observing stealthily. He watched the movement of the guards as they patrolled around the grounds, and made a note of their timings. After a few hours like this, he thought he knew them pretty well, and decided on a test. The wizards information told him that the house had two entrances; a main door at the front, and a small door for the servants on the left side. While the servants door would be less watched, it would also be more crowded, so his first intention was to enter through the main door. He didn’t know, however, whether the doors would be locked or not and he came to the decision to test that out now.
  Using what he had learned about the guards’ routine, he chose his time carefully, and hastily climbed the wall, lowering himself down on the other side just as fast. As soon as he hit the floor, he rolled behind a bush, and lay down holding his breath. A few seconds passed and nothing happened. He carefully looked out onto an empty garden. He hadn’t been seen. Some things never changed, he thought to himself smugly.
  He waited a few minutes till sure enough the patrol came right on time, disappearing again shortly after. Up he jumped, and on padded feet ran on a circuitous route from bush to tree and back to bush all the way to the main door (I’m sure if you can picture it, it looks something like a human pinball game, with him bouncing from here to there, but he was sure that it made him invisible, despite the pink embroidery on the seems of his nice black thieves outfit).
  He furtively glanced around, but there was no-one –by his calculations, he still had about fourty seconds—and so he reached out his hand and wrapped it around the door knob. Here goes, he thought, as he started turning. Whatever he was expecting, I don’t think he was ready for what came next.
  The door was locked, as can probably be expected, yet that wasn’t all. Poor Hernicius nearly jumped out of his skin. There he was, standing in his pink embroidered outfit, in the grounds of a noble man’s house, at night, with around two hundred watchmen on the premises around him, when suddenly there was an ear piercing howl, followed by a repetitive shout, “intruder, intruder”. This wouldn’t have been so bad, if it hadn’t been coming from the door! “Damn demonic contraptions,” was his first coherent response, quickly followed by “Holy s**t!” Next thing you know, he was sprinting full out towards the wall, hearing footsteps running to the sound from all directions behind him. A voice called out, “There”, just as he was vaulting the wall. Faster, he thought, and faster he went, this way and that, down the near deserted streets, hearing the sounds of pursuit slowly catching up.
  This will be a close one, he thought, but he knew something that they didn’t. Or rather some people that they didn’t. Running out of breath, he led them deeper and deeper into the lower side, down towards the most dangerous and low life area of Flavium city. Home, as he preferred to call it. He started seeing shapes on roofs and down dark alleys, and queerly enough the sound of pursuit behind him slowly changed note, becoming one of first confusion, and then ever more rapidly one of panic, until suddenly there was no more noise at all.
  As he was bent over recovering his breath, a shape popped out in front of him. “Well, well, well, what ‘ave we ‘ere. If it ain’t our dear friend, ‘Ernicius Pot. What ‘ave you been getting up to then, matey?”
  “Hello Gerdie. Thanks for the help. I haven’t seen you around for a long time now, have i? Where you been.”
  “Oh, ‘ere and there mate, ‘ere and there.” The shape moved forward into what little light there was, and materialized into a short, wiry man with short cropped black hair, and brown rags covering his entire body. He had a nasty scar running down his left cheek, like your archetypal cutthroat.
  “Well, mate, love to chat, but I got a living  t’make. Now, let me think…. That was six men, so it’ll be three DAI, I think.”
  Gerdie was a strange type of business man. He was probably the most powerful man in lower flavium and had quite a few followers. Their trade was, how to put it, unique. They wandered around the rooftops and alleyways at night, and provided their service to any that needed it. The service of protection.  Generally, that meant killing people or beating them up. Their service was usually given to people like Hernicius, who found themselves at various times being chased by a small group of angry men through the streets at night.
  “Holy Ratifa, Gerdie, those rates have gone up, haven’t they?”
  “Sorry mate, times are hard. Things ain’t like they used to be, it’s hard for a man to make an honest living these days.”
  “After grumbling heavily, Hernicius pulled a small purse out from some place I’d rather not describe, and paid the price.
  “Alright, cheers mate. I’ll see ya around.” Gerdie said fair-well and faded back into the shadows, eventually disappearing. With his departure, Hernicius could see many other shadows moving around him, and realized that they hadn’t been alone. He thanked Retifa that he was what he was before moving as fast as he could to get back to Piteous’, where he ordered a triple whiskey before retiring for the night.


  He woke up in the afternoon the next day, tired still from the previous nights encounter and he spent the next two days planning his way in, and hopefully his way out, not to mention what to do in between. At night he went up to the manor, to check if anything had changed after his little escapade. He observed the same thing both nights. The patrols of guards came twice as fast and were double the size. Every fourth patrol had with them a man that looked suspiciously little like a fighter, and a lot like a mage. He started to get even more worried then he had been to begin with.
  But he was committed now, so he devoted himself to doing the best that he could. He decided in the end that he would do the same as he had two nights ago, only faster, and that he would try the servant’s door this time. Servants were always coming and going, so he hoped however slim the chances, that it would be open. After that, he would have to go by ear, though he would stay hidden as much and as long as possible.
  By the end of the third day, he had it all worked out, with three left to pull it off before meeting the wizard.

  He rounded a corner, and ducked into what seemed like an abandoned building. It was the morning of the fourth day, and he was shopping again, though this was business, not pleasure. “Psst, Jonney, its me ya fool, let us in.” He said, when he got to the far end of the building, and knocked on a trap door in the floor.
  “That you Hernicius?” A voice issued up from under.
  “’Course it is, you bleedin’ idiot. Now open up.”
  There was a quick scrape and a groaning of wood as the trap door opened. Framed against it in the little light there was in the building, was a giant of a man. He must have been nearly half again Hernicius’ height —which was considered above average in this part of the world –and twice as wide.
  “Uh, ‘ello Hernicius,” He droned, in the voice of a half-wit. “Tis good to see you. Look what I done.” He held up a simple child’s puzzle, which he had recently completed.
  “Well done, Jonney, well done. I’m prowd of ya.” Jonney beamed at him.
  “Now, where is Harry? Is he inside?” he asked.
  “Uh-huh. Inside.” Jonney motioned, down the stairs towards the familiar doorway.
  “Cheers, mate.” He hurried down and through the door. “Hello, Harry.” A balding man looked up at him, and then levered his bulk off a stool to come over and shake his hand.
  “Hernicius, me lad, oiff so soon? I heard you only just arrived in Flavium!” He pulled Hernicius into the room, and sat him down on a chair, before returning to his stool.
  “What can I do for you me lad? We have some new extra quiet slippers, guaranteed silence, or your money back? Or how about our extra sharp grappling hooks-- stick anywhere they will. Guaranteed. What will oit be?”
  “Not the grappling hook, I can assure you. You should know I don’t use those auful things anymore.”
  “Oh yes, now I remember. I heard about that time in Dunrihal, yes I did.” He started chuckling.
  “Not funny Harry, not funny. Anyway, I have come for some things though. Here is a list of what I need.” He handed over a piece of parchment, which Harry looked over, occasionally making some sounds to himself, “oh, I see” or “umm-hmm” and reading one or two things out loud, “rope, yes standard”, “mask, mmm, hmm”, or “ah, so you do need new slippers!”
  When he had finished, he disappeared into a room off to the back of the one they were in, and was gone for a few minutes. Hernicius looked around. In the two years he had been coming here, it never changed. The only furniture were the stool, the chair, and a small desk. The only things on the desk were an inkpot, a quill, and a few pieces of parchment. The walls were still cracked and crumbling, the ceiling still had that same patch of damp, and the room was still full of Harry’s half created new inventions, destined to ‘Recreate the art of theft’, to use Harry words. To use Hernicius’, they were more destined to recreate the art of junk, but he’d never say that to Harry.
  Other then Piteous, Harry and Jonney were the closest to friends that our dear Hernicius got, I am afraid. It isn’t that he was unlikable, more just that as I said before, he doesn’t tend to revisit many of the places he has been, and he’s not so good at writing letters, so he tended to keep his own company, more then that of others. Also, the less people he was associated with, the less there were to try to sell him off to the odd bounty hunter that came looking.
  Harry came back soon after trailing most of the items on his list. “Sorry mate, but I ain’t got no choking powder anymore. It got too damn expensive to import, what with the prices the smugglers are charging these days. They steal more ’en you do. I even had to start making me own sleeping powder, just to get by. Also, I didn’t have no regular slippers your size, so I grabbed a pair of my new super silencers. Best thing you’ll ever buy mate, trust me.”
  Hernicius, not wanting to make him feel bad, mouthed grudging assent, as Harry started to pack the things for him. “How much do I owe ya then, Harry?”
  “That’ll be fourteen and a ‘alf, please mate. Shall I put it on tab?” He made as if too get his ledger.
  “No, not this time Harry. Cash up front!” He pulled out some money, and put fifteen DAI in Harry’s hand.
  “Keep the change, mate.” He said, slightly pleased with himself.
  “Cor blimey, Hernicius, where’d’ya get that from? It’s not like you to have so much money.”
  “Got a job on Harry, big pay. Got meself an advance in all.” He gave a smug smile.
  “Not too bad, Hernicius. Where is it your off to this time then?”
  “That’s the downside, Harry. It’s here. I can’t say where exactly, but it’s in Flavium.” His smile dropped now.
  “No, Hernicius, you can’t! You know what ‘appens when you rob a city. You have to leave, sharpish, and you don’t often end up in that part of the world again. You’re my best customer. What’ll I do if you’re gone?” He looked rather too distraught, to be just loosing a customer.
  “Don’t worry Harry, mate. I’ll stick around. I have a good feelin’ ‘bout this one. It’s gonna go smooth as a baby’s bum. I bet ya!”

  After leaving Harry’s, he went straight back to Piteous’ tavern, and started out on a mission of a completely different sort. He still had over eighty DAI left from his advance, so he preceded to get right drunk!  It was one of the things he like to do before all of his, ah, ‘liberation acts’. This time though, he spent nearly quater of his remaining money helping the rest of the tavern’s patrons keep up with him. Of course, they were thoroughly pleased with him, calling out his name all night and shouting out what a jolly good fellow he was, so that when he staggered off to bed, his head was full of thoughts of his own generosity and greatness of spirit. He lay down on his mattress singing softly to himself, and promptly passed out. 

  The next morning, he woke up late with a pounding head. He stumbled down the stairs and was greeted by a cheer from the occupants of the room, which did nothing to help his head. They thanked him for his kindness and asked him if he wanted to buy another round. Bloody cheek, he thought, but he did it anyway, getting himself an ale and some bread and bacon to break his fast. He went back to his room after, and spent most of the day resting in and out of wakefulness. Towards evening, he asked Piteous to find a girl for him, and when she came, acting a bit shy and demure, she was rather surprised by his request for a massage instead of a different sort of relaxation technique.
  He liked to be relaxed when he started a mission, to have his body supple and fresh.  She massaged him for over an hour, before he paid her and sent her off. Then he went down to eat, and spent the last few hours before nightfall going over his plan in his head.

          Chapter three: The job


  If you happened to be looking out of your window that night, and you thought you saw, just for an instant, a shape blur past, that would’ve been our Hernicius. Up to the manor he sped, fast as a cheater, quite as a mouse. Through dark alleys, over roofs, and occasionally strolling ever so casually across a brightly lit thoroughfare, he went towards his goal.
  Eventually, the shadows against the wall of the Pitano manor, grew just a little bit deeper, and just a little bit quieter. Then, poof, a small portion of the shadow detached itself from the wall, and up and over it went.
  “Ouch”, it breathed as it landed, “that stupid rock wasn’t there last time!” and it resolved into the form of our illustrious rogue. He quickly ducked behind a bush, and waited. Then, like the previous time, he began his pinball game to get to the door (the servants one, this time).
  He reached there finally, after nearly being spotted about six times, and fervently praying, he reached to turn the handle… “just what I was saying, Jimmy, I mean, the best pair o’ legs you ever seen, mate.” He launched himself into the nearest bush –which of course had to be brambles –just in time, as a barrel of a man came bustling out of the door, followed shortly after by a much smaller, more furtive looking figure.
  As they disappeared around the corner, Hernicius made a dive for the slowly closing door, cursing under his breath  at the many thorns piercing his none too thick hide.
  Once in, he took a quick assessment of his surroundings, and mentally compared them to the notes the old man had given him, which seemed incredibly accurate. Keeping this in mind, and constantly flinging himself behind things and ducking around things, he made his way through the house, towards the master’s bedroom.
  As he finally proceeded into the hallway leading upto it, he halted just round the corner, with one eye peeping round, staring at the five guards standing watch outside the room. I hope you’re as good as you think you are, Harry old mate, he thought to himself, cause he goes.
  He took out what looked like a little rat from his belt pouch, and sticking a little key into the side of it, he wound it up. Here goes, he thought, as he released it across the floor towards the guards, quickly popping his head back round to where his body was.
  “Look, Tommy, it’s a bloody rat. Even rich blokes get ‘em, it seems. Bloody squash it mate, go on.”
  “Yeah, go on tommy, give it one. Send it  off to hell.”
  “Alright, ‘ave this you little bastard!” Hearing this, Hernicius took out a piece of cloth, and put it over his mouth. Then there was a clang, as of a sword hitting the floor, a small chorus of cheers from the guardsmen (quietly of course, given that they were right outside their bosses bedroom) and then suddenly someone said, “What the….?” 
  After five quiet, but distinct, thuds, all was quiet. Hernicius poked his head round the corner. What he saw quite surprised him. The guardsmen were all lying on the floor, sleeping! “Cor blimey, Harry, you’ve made something that bloody well works!” he mumbled in awe under his breath.
  Then, not daring to stay too long and find out how long it would keep working, he moved double speed to the fallen men, and searched for keys. He found them on the one he guessed was Tommy, on account of his being the only one with a sword in his hand, and quietly thanked the mans bravado and stupidity.
  Just as he was reaching to put the key into the door, he paused as he saw a much smaller key hole on the wall next to the door. “S**t”, he cursed himself, “always remember the bloody alarms.” So he took a few moments to find the right key, and inserted it into the small hole. Then, finally, he unlocked the door, and proceeded quietly into Ramono’s antechamber. Across the pillows and through the curtains he went, eventually coming to the sleeping chamber itself.
  Upon entering, he took a look around, to ensure himself that all was as it should be, and then he moved stealthily to the sleeping Nobleman. Ramono was a fat, sweaty individual, even when asleep, and he took up rather too much of the gigantic four poster bed. Still, not diminished in beauty or presence, even when in such company, the jewel seemed to reflect even the darkness, and almost seemed to shine with the absence of light.
  Stunned by its radiance, Hernicius just stood there for a few seconds, gazing at it longingly. Then, recovering enough of himself to begin worrying about the sleeping guards, he reached out to disentangle it from its sleeping owner.
  Succeeding in this task, he finally had the prize in his hands. But, as he gently lifted it off the bed, its weight was far greater then he had imagined, and he stumbled a little, and braced his knees against the bed. As he was recovering from his lack of balance, he looked up and found himself eye to eye with a face that was manifesting in the headboard of the bed. Oh no, he thought, here we go. And without another thought, he stuffed the magnificent, but presently quite inconsequential treasure into his satchel, slung it over his shoulder, and rather unceremoniously, and in no uncertain terms, ‘legged it the hell out of there’. As he careened through the now gaping bedroom doorway, flew over the snoring guards, and bottled it down the corridor, an awful keening started behind him, and then as it reached an inaudible pitch, it cut off and was replaced by a squealing voice, crying out “Theft, thievery, skullduggery, roguishness, illegal acquisition, the act of taking that which doth not belongoth to you, stealing, and many other such words that were lamentably not incorporated into my limited supernatural lexis, these things have all at this precise moment occurred. Rise and to arms, defend your masters Pants.”
  This last bit rather confused poor Hernicius, and he could not but suppose that the creature or whatever it was, had got so flustered that it had confused, as it called it, its somewhat limited vocabulary. Anyway, confining this odd, but at this moment of time, rather unimportant linguistic deficiency, to the back of his mind he concentrated on the matter at hand. Which was, to say the least, escalating at a most alarming rate.
  After he had cleared the immediate vicinity of Ramono’s bedroom, he had thought to head back the way he had come, but while fleeing down the staircase, he had been met by a rather unfriendly flight of crossbow bolts coming the other way, and so he had decided he would look for another way
  Now, after about five minutes of running this way and that, he had quite an impressive following at his heals, comprised mostly of angry crossbowmen, interspersed with the odd halberdier and one or two minor demons, not to mention all the noise going on around him, from the various alarms. He couldn’t help but be a small bit impressed by this array, and even in a small way, slightly flattered that they wee all chasing him. However, this aside, he wasn’t impressed enough to stop and offer his praise to them, so he concentrated on staying just a little bit in front of them all, and just a bit to the left of this crossbow bolt, and a little to the right of that one, as they came whizzing past him.

Now this, as you may remember, is the situation Hernicius was in when we first came across him. Running for his life, and wishing fervently that he had never heard of wizards.

  At least there aren’t any wizards yet. Just as the thought was passing through his mind, he rounded a corner, and there at the far end, was a robed man looking suspiciously wizard-like. Oh well, he thought, it was a good life. He sped up, said a prayer to holy Ratifa, and just as the wizardly looking man pointed a finger towards him, and the strings of crssbows snapped behind him, Hernicius dived headfirst through the nearest window, shattering stained glass everywhere. For a second, time seemed to stand still as he hovered over the garden, and then poof, it caught up with him, and he was falling, falling, falling, then “OUCH!” as he was hitting, hitting, hitting. He rolled to break the fall, but still it felt like the time back in Trivial City, when he had entered the wrong bar one night, and everyone inside had seemed to take an instant dislike to him –he still remembered the crawl home.
  Anyway, up he shot, bruises and all, covered in tiny cuts from the glass, as stated sprinting across the lawn. That’s when he saw the dogs. Big, black, mean looking things, with pointy sharp teeth, heading straight for him. He gulped, and doubled his speed. More bolts whistled past him from upstairs, and the main door burst open, spilling guardsmen and wizards alike into the grounds.
  The wall loomed out of the darkness ahead of him, and he made an inhuman leap for it, with magical energy blazing all around him, quarrels sailing past, and canines –looking more demonic then some demons he had seen – snapping at his heels.
  This was, by far, the closest he ever remembered coming to meeting the holy one. He thanked all the gods he knew that he had once again escaped the fates, and kept pegging  it away into the distance.

                   

Chapter four: And then


  Sometime later, and we find good old Hernicius hiding out in an abandoned building, somewhere in middle Flavium, occasionally hearing men running by outside in pursuit of a man that by description looked remarkably similar to dear Hernicius.
  After a while, the sounds of pursuit grew fainter and fainter, and Hernicius decided it was time for him to make his move. Ever so quietly, he wafted out of the building, and glided up the outside of it, so he could skit across the rooftops. More then once he had to flatten himself down against the tiles on his way back that night, but eventually, he made it safely back to Piteous’ and crept into his room through the window.
  After cleaning up his cuts a bit with some water from the washstand, and changing his attire, he secreted the jewel away on his person and retired to the common room, for some food and a mug or two of ale, and to start planning what he would do next.
  He had to get out of the city, he knew that now, and even though it had always been a possibility, it left a sour taste in his mouth. He had always been fond of Flavium city.
  Oh well, no use thinking that now. How would he get out was the most pressing question. He figured Gerdie could probably get him out, though it would definitely cost him. But what the hell, he would be rich soon, he could afford it. Especially when it meant keeping his head exactly where it belonged –on his body, that is.
  While he was mulling this over, the door creaked open, and in tottered the old wizard. He moved straight across to Hernicius’ table, and sat down. “You have it, I trust, after all the trouble you seem to have stirred up.” He growled.
  “Of course I bloody have it,” Hernicius growled back.
  “Good,” hissed the old man, “maybe we should go somewhere a little more private to conclude our business, huh?”
  “Ok, follow me.” Hernicius got up, nodded politely to Piteous, and led the way up to his room. Shutting the door behind them, he turned to the old man,
  “So, you have my money. I bloody well nearly died fifty times tonight, and there aint no chance I’ll be coming back to Flavium anytime soon but at least I trust I can enjoy some comfort in my exile, no?”
  “Yes, yes, you will get what you deserve. But first, show it to me. Now.” This was said without and friendliness, and something inside Hernicius started to worry.
  “Show me the money, and I’ll show you the gem.”
  “Show me the gem, now. I will not ask again.”
  Even more worried now, Hernicius brought forth the gem, and the old mans face contorted into a picture of greedy delight.
  “Finally, I have it. The heart of Generalus. The secret of his power will now be mine.” He took the jewel from Hernicius’ grasp, and gazed at it in awe and desire.
  Then he turned his eyes on Hernicius, who had decided he didn’t really need the money that much, and was quietly moving towards the doors. Gazing maliciously at him, contempt now obvious in his gaze, the old man rasped “Now you shall get your reward thief!” and suddenly Hernicius cried out, as his body erupted in pain
  The old man laughed manically, as Hernicius writhed on the floor before him.
  “Did you think I would really pay you five thousand DAI, you pitiful fool. You were so easy to manipulate, desperate for any form of salvation or hope of riches. Why do you think I would pick you, if not as a unwitting pawn. There are so many others far better then you at acquiring things, but none quite so stupid and easily controlled.
  Now, pathetic fool, prepare to meet whatever god you think would create something as useless as you.”
  He started to mouth an incantaion, and weaved his arms inan intricate procedure.
  “Now, DIE.” He screamed, and….
  The door creaked open, as Piteous came in, “Hernicius, you have to pay for… oh no,” he breathed, as he saw what was going on, and sadly, it was the last thing he ever said, for as he came in the wizard spun round from Hernicius and his spell flew out to careen into poor Piteous the innkeeper, knocking him dead, and bowling him backwards over and over into the hall.
  At the same time, the terrible pain wracking Hernicius’ body stopped, and he saw poor Piteous struck dead through eyes blurred with tears from the pain. Before the old man could turn back to him, he leapt up, liberated his dagger from where it lay on his bed, and found it a new home in the evil wizards back. Then, quite promptly, he collapsed.

 

Epilogue: The aftermath


  With a very groggy head, and in a state of extreme agony, Hernicius came to a short while later. After a short spell of remembrance and a moment spent in silence for his fallen friend, he gathered his belongings (including the now to be revealed heart of Generalus), looted the wizard, and fled the scene.
  With the help of Gerdie (for a hefty price), he made it safely out of Flavium city.
  And so, with a newly gained magical artifact the use of which was completely beyond him, a few gold DAI, and his life, he started his travels again. But that is another story.