It was summertime in Pelargir.
"Oh, Gúrverior... Are you sure about tomorrow?" She asked, laying naked in her bed.
"Trust me, Eruanna. I always get what I want." He had just finished dressing up. He smiled at her; that irresistible smile, the smile that opened doors and legs, with the same ease a hot knife cut through butter. She giggled.
"I will see you tomorrow, my dearest." He walked to the open window. The nearest rooftop was a few feet away. He could easily make the jump. It would hardly be the first time. She waved dreamingly, rolling around her large feather bed like a satisfied kitten.
Eruanna Arphenion was the latest of his conquests. Her beauty was surpassed by few, her wits by most, but it was her standing that made her unique. Eruanna Arphenion, the young, naive, wealthy daughter of Tirithon Arphenion. Her father was a merchant; officially, at least. His dealings had made him quite a fortune, much of which was spent on providing all the possible luxuries to his only daughter. Expensive dresses, jewelry, the best tutors money could buy... From a young age, he bred her to eventually be wed off to nobility, thus securing a title for him and his family.
Gúrverior was far from nobility.
Tomorrow was Eruanna's seventeenth birthday. Her father had prepared a glamorous ball for her. Harondor's cream of the crop would be there. As would Gúrverior. Her father hated him like the plague, but he could not break his daughter's heart on her birthday. Reluctantly, he had allowed her to invite him.
It was sunny in Pelargir.
Gúrverior walked towards the main square, then took a turn and headed down to the docks. He was content. For the past month, he was bedding one of the wealthiest girls the city had to offer. It came with privileges. She had bought him fancy clothes. She had bought him a horse. He had a few chances to get some private time with her handmaidens. All the while, he was advancing his plan. Tomorrow, his hard work would finally be repaid. A young apple merchant smiled at him as he passed by. He smirked at her, approaching. It was still noon. Plenty of time to indulge in some fun.
Night fell over Pelargir.
A warm summer night, which found Gúrverior playing cards in cobbled alley. His childhood friend, Tûrdir, was there. The one person that knew of his plans. The two of them had pulled off quite a few cons and scams during the last several years, but even to him, what Gúrverior had in mind this time seemed extreme.
"Gúr... Think this through. If they catch us, we're dead. Tirithon's not some two-copper merchant, he's wealthy; he has connections. Powerful friends... Just drop this. There's plenty of other fish in the sea." Tûrdir was a good man. A sensible man. He didn't have the stomach for danger.
Gúrverior smiled reassuringly. "The other fish will have to wait for their turn... You don't have to come tomorrow, if you don't want to. I won't hold it against you..." Reverse psychology always worked on Tûrdir. He shook his head defiantly. "No... Where you go, I go. We'll do this together, little brother. Like we always have." Gúrverior won the pot that night.
The morning sun rose over Pelargir.
Gúrverior and Tûrdir were up early. They went over the plan, one last time. Gúr would distract the guests, while Tûrdir would conveniently relieve them of their possessions. By the end of the night, they would have more than enough money to sail to Anfalas, leaving the Port City, and their share of troubles, behind. It was a simple plan, one that they had done countless times before. Only, this time, Gúrverior had made further arrangements of his own. Tûrdir would have to find out about them, when the time was right.
Fireworks lit up the sky over Pelargir.
Eruanna's birthday ball was already well underway, when they arrived. She greeted them personally at the entrance of the mansion's great hall. She looked stunning. Her white sleeveless dress with the deep decollete, her silk gloves, her chestnut brown hair... The large, priceless beryl gems adorning her slender neck. Gúrverior had seen them before, one month ago, the day he first met her. It was the day he conceived his plan. It was the day he first slept with her. Tonight, his goal would finally be achieved. It would be glorious.
Gúrverior quickly worked his way around the hall, entertaining the guests. A well-timed compliment here, a hilarious joke there, a witty comment or two about the latest political developments... He effortlessly became the center of every circle he approached, drawing eyes, ears, and attention towards him, for just the right amount of time, before joining the next, and the next. It was a perfectly executed choreography, one that he had mastered over many years. Tonight, he was the dancer, and Tûrdir was the collector. Before long, he had ran out of hidden pockets and pouches to fill.
It was time they took their leave. Tûrdir left first. Gúrverior assured him that he would follow soon, after spending one last time in Eruanna's bed. He snuck upstairs. She followed him, giggling and drunk. He undressed her, seductively. By the time he removed her beryl necklace, she was too distracted to notice that it never went to the jewelry box.
Hours passed before Gúrverior was back. Just as Tûrdir had begun to worry, his rising fears were quickly laid to rest, as his friend arrived, a bottle of Southern red in each hand. Tûrdir was eager to leave immediately. Gúrverior convinced him to spend the night in the Port City, celebrating their success. They could always leave tomorrow. Tûrdir believed him. He was the first to fall asleep.
[Originally written by the player of Crow (Derakoth)]
