Young Writers Society

Amani stared out at the rising sun, Shadya tucked beneath her arm. Though she watched the horizon—orange and pink streaking the sky from behind the snow-capped mountains—she felt Zain’s presence like a timorous string. He was brushing down the horses behind her, his eyes upon their coats. She suspected his attention was directed to her and her sister just as hers was to him.

Amani hadn’t argued when the prince suggested leaving them behind. It had made sense, after all. Trying to sneak not two, but five obvious foreigners into an enclosed city would’ve proven far too difficult. Not to mention their horses, which would either have been abandoned or snuck into the city along with the rest. Yet, the minute they separated, a chill slithered down Amani’s spine.

She had yet to figure out Zain’s role in this quest. There was no doubt he had ulterior motives beyond the gold the king offered. What those motives were, she didn’t know. She strongly suspected—knew—they involved her or Shadya.

Amani glanced over her shoulder at the sound of pine needles crunching underfoot. “We should start heading around the mountain,” Zain said, his hands tucked casually in his pockets. He had yet to reveal the weapons he bore, but Amani knew of their presence. She studied his form, wondering where they could be hidden. With his layers, it was impossible to tell.

“They likely won’t attempt infiltrating the fortress until tonight,” Amani commented. There was no rush to get moving.

“It’s better to be prepared,” Zain responded, his voice calm and precise.

Amani met his dark eyes, forcing steel into her own gaze. Zain was the first to break. He turned away and grabbed the reins of two horses. “Let’s go,” he said, examining the path before them.

Amani watched him from the corner of her eye as she led Shadya to the other horses. “The hills are steep here,” she said, her voice light. “We should find a trail more easily traveled.”

Zain nodded absently, his eyes falling from her to Shadya. Amani pulled her sister tighter to her side.

“You lead,” Amani said when Zain stared for a beat too long. He met her eyes, and she struggled to decipher what emotion lay within his irises. Before she could place a name to the endless, swirling darkness, he turned and began making his way across the slopes. Squaring her shoulders, Amani followed.

...

Ren didn’t think he could eat another fish for the rest of his life. Even after assuring each morsel of fish had been washed from his hair and skin, the pungent stench still clung to him. It was almost worse than the wolf.

That was the kickstart to his impressions of Styrka, and it somehow continued to worsen. Not only was Aryotsk teeming with guards––a fact never appreciated by thieves––but he wasn’t even permitted to stroll its streets. Ren had spent most of his time in Reindale, but in his rare visits to other cities, he had delighted in swiping new souvenirs from its inhabitants. Yet in Aryotsk, he wasn’t even allowed a step from his tavern room.

While Arlan had never been the tolerant sort—Ren knew just how vicious Arlanians could be regarding foreign appearances—it was a harmonized cultural fusion next to Styrka. The Styrkish were paranoid to the point of declining travelers' entry at ports. No foreigner, according to Rieka, could make it to inland Styrka without a direct order from the Chief, and that was only granted to valuable merchants and politicians. Rieka claimed the precaution was to protect Styrka from foreign threats and spies, but Ren suspected it was to ensure against nonconformity.

Regardless of Styrka’s inflexible laws and beliefs, Ren itched to explore its streets in depth. Such an untouched city could hold so many secrets. So many souvenirs.

He stared longingly out the window, the morning sun casting a golden light upon the stone buildings. The streets were bustling with the early traffic, and the faint sound of horses and shouting could be heard through the thick glass.

Aryotsk differed greatly from Reindale, and not just in the lack of diversity. The poverty that was seen in every nook of Reindale wasn’t at all reflected in Aryotsk. Rather, the stone paths were swept and pristine, and each passing citizen maintained full forms and clean skin. Even those dressed in torn, woolen cloaks had pouches of coin upon their hips.

It was a marvel that a city within such a hostile environment would have so little poverty. But every city had dirt between the crevices, and Ren had a gift of scoping it out.

Even from his sole window, he began to see the hidden crime in the square below. While the streets were clear of beggars and prostitutes, there were slipped trades between vendors and customers followed by whispered words. Any prolonged transactions drew the attention of the many guards, so most remained brief. A black market, no doubt. Ren itched to venture below and dive deep into the hidden network of crime its overlords had undoubtedly perfected beneath the strict law. Instead, he was stuck in the small tavern room, unable to even enjoy the fresh air.

“Stop moping,” Rieka said, poking his side. She didn’t bother to be gentle.

“Maybe if I could go outside?” he crooned, batting his lashes.

Rieka arched a brow. “Does that look usually work for you?”

“Yes,” he said with a smile.

“Fortunately for the people of Styrka, you can’t go outside and steal all their belongings today.”

“How about tomorrow?”

Rieka rolled her eyes and waved an impatient hand before turning on her heel. She began shuffling through the new supplies she and the prince had bought at dawn, the prince briefly stopping by the room before scurrying back into the streets with little explanation.

Rieka huffed, dropping the supplies to prowl, wearing a track in the stained rug. Kai sat at a single chair beside the door, his knee bouncing to a steady beat.

There were three steps to a perfect heist. One: having a stable team.

Ren glanced between Rieka and Kai, pursing his lips. Well, they were already failing step one.

Ren never worked in teams. Doing so ensured he was never cheated for what he deserved or betrayed when the heist was done. Working closely with others in a position as meticulous as thieving required trust, which happened to be one thing extremely lacking among their group.

Two: have the right information. They also failed to complete step two.

Whenever Ren thieved, he always guaranteed he knew everything necessary. His exact destination, any nearby threats, each twist and turn, every window and exit. Gathering all the independent variables was vital when one unexpected occurrence could throw off an entire plan.

Instead, all they had to go off on was Rieka’s knowledge—which was very little at all—and the prince’s detailed sketches of the fortress’s exterior. Despite having little time to study each detail during his brief ride through the Aryotsk gates, the prince had managed to remember the location of each bell tower, the placement of many windows, and even the guards’ current positions. It was far more thorough than Rieka’s abysmal layouts of the third floor and dungeons within the fortress. Fortunately, the archives where the layouts would reside were on the third floor.

Rieka’s only other bit of knowledge was of a guard shift change at midnight—albeit two years ago. The compilation of their information was nowhere near enough to formulate a solid plan.

Three: have a solid plan. Naturally, that was only another step failed.

The prince’s plan—which he had regaled them with that morning before dashing off—was the epitome of a not-solid plan. There could be no perfect plan for breaking and entering the Aryotsk fortress, and in truth, the prince’s ideas were the best they had. Ren had prodded each of their holes, assisting in finding solutions where he could, but after all strategies had been exhausted, they were left with a plan based upon luck and unstable information.

All in all, with none of the steps completed, Ren came to the conclusion that they were all going to die.

If they were in Reindale, the theft would’ve been easy. Ren would have access to his wide array of connections, allowing him to buy accurate blueprints, shift changes, and possibly pay off an insider who could assist in getting them in.

Only, they were in the intolerant Styrka, their only connection being Rieka who Ren could safely assume was not in the good-graces of any of her nearby relationships. Of course, they could attempt to make contact with the blackmarket, but doing so could take weeks. Not to mention, stepping into the streets immediately made Ren a target, and Rieka and the prince were hardly good candidates for making deals with criminals.

One thing many didn’t know about thieving was how much easier it became after years one did it. Not just from experience, but from connections. The most difficult part was establishing himself in a world of crime that had already been built.

Overall, they were attempting a heist with little to no strengths in their favor.

Although, the fortress did have flaws in its protection—flaws they made sure to exploit. For starters, it was a protection for the city, not from it, giving them a slight advantage as they were already past its walls. Then there was the matter of Styrkish pride. With such ingrained loyalty in the government and military also came a blindness to treachery. Rieka and the prince could be overlooked entirely for the sole purpose that the Styrkish believed their people were as devout to their country as Arlanians believed all were devout to the gods.

Yet, their ignorance was a flaw as great as those of the Styrkish fortress, setting them back from all the steps they managed to progress.

Ren sighed, tapping his fingers on his thigh. There was no use in worrying over it. Nerves only distracted from focusing on solutions, pestering him with problems instead.

The plan was simple yet entirely complicated. Ren and Kai were meant to enter the fortress as prisoners, caught in the streets by guards, and Rieka and the prince were meant to enter through a servants door dressed in Styrkish armor. Truthfully, it wasn’t this aspect of the plan Ren questioned, for entering the fortress had never been the difficult part. What he questioned was their methods of freeing him and Kai from the dungeon cells below and somehow getting out of the fortress and out of the city.

Rieka was meant to take the guard’s position in the lower dungeons, using a commander’s name the prince had picked up while wandering in the warriors’ districts. Meanwhile, the prince was meant to take the position on the third floor and attempt to find the layouts within the archives. Only, it was not confirmed the layouts would even reside in the archives, nor was it confirmed that a guard shift change happened at midnight—which their whole plan depended upon, for no guard would leave their post if another warrior claimed a singular commander had ordered it.

Ren had proposed he and Kai stay behind for the theft. While the prospect was a dreadful one, it made the most sense. Dragging him and Kai into a fortress where he would be under instant watch only added more problems then the ones they were already contending with. Yet, the prince claimed it would be easier to exit the city through the fortress rather under broad daylight where they had to attempt concealing them on some other stolen cart. Ren had to agree with his logic, even if it made their theft all the more difficult.

The door’s lock clicked, and Ren whirled around as the prince slipped inside. His cheeks were tinged pink from the chill, his hair disheveled.

“Enjoy your walk?” Ren asked as the prince relocked the door and sat on the edge of one of the beds.

Instead of responding, the prince wrung his hands, a crease forming between his brows. He seemed less sure of his own plan than even Rieka, who deemed anything the prince said as being the product of a fool. Ren didn’t know what was more concerning: the schemer doubting his own scheme or a team that doubted each other.

“We will have to wait until dusk before anything can be done,” the prince said, breaking the precarious silence. “We should go over the plan once more.”

“I propose another option,” Ren said, leaning forward from his perch on the windowsill. “I say we all try to relax.”

“It’s important we each know our roles,” the prince argued, his brows furrowing.

“And we do. It’s also important we aren’t so caught up in our anxieties to focus on what needs to get done.” When no one responded, Ren rubbed his palms together, a slow grin pulling at his lips. “You know the best way to ease tension?” All eyes turned to him warily. “Ale. I smell some fresh from downstairs. Rieka, be a darling doll and fetch me some?”

“Do I look like your servant?” she snarled.

“Of course not. I wouldn’t allow my servant to get one for themselves, but you, of course, have that privilege.”

Rieka’s lip curled over her teeth—the perfect depiction of an untamed beast. Ren didn’t bother flinching as she launched herself at him. Just as he predicted, Kai caught her before she reached half the distance.

“Stop,” Kai ordered as she attempted to bat his arms away. “Both of you. You can’t be fighting when it comes time for the heist.”

“Oh, of course not,” Ren said with a wave of his hand. “Only before.”

Rieka snorted, though she seemed disinclined to find anything Ren said funny. Kai gave her one last look before releasing her, and she straightened her tunic with jerky movements.

Ren stood, crossing the room to grab a pouch of coins and tossed it to Rieka. She caught it on reflex, her brows furrowing.

She seemed to consider, weighing her inclination to refuse Ren with her desire to drink. The latter won out and she tucked the pouch into her pocket before marching from the room, slamming the door behind her.

“So crabby,” Ren mock whispered.

“I heard that!” Rieka growled from the other side of the door.

Ren smirked and winked at the prince. The prince’s cheeks flushed a vivid scarlet in return. It was so damned easy to make him blush and equally satisfying every time.

Ren looked away and pulled a smooth, unadorned pocket watch from his pocket and began twisting it in his fingers.

“Is that my pocket watch?” the prince asked, his eyes wide.

Ren glanced up. “Perhaps.”

“How did you get that? I thought I lost it.”

Ren shrugged. “I have many gifts, prince.”

That blush returned to his cheeks—whether from Ren’s insinuation or merely the attention, which strangely seemed to embarrass him, Ren didn’t know.

“I have that effect on people, Your Highness. Don’t feel too embarrassed.”

“Let’s talk about something else,” Kai said, shooting a worried glance at his friend. Ren smirked, flipping the pocket watch into his palm then tucking it back into his pocket.

“What would you like to talk about?” Ren crooned, his eyes meeting Kai’s.

Kai raised a brow. “Something more productive.”

Ren sighed, slumping back against the windowsill. “We’ve exhausted every last plan regarding the upcoming heist. No matter how often you repeat the plan to yourself, the probability of us succeeding remains the same. In fact, you endanger yourselves by stressing.”

Ren waved a casual hand before continuing. “When the time comes, the anxiety you felt hours before won’t hold any impact other than the constant worry nagging at the back of your minds. Trust me. I’ve been through this a million times and each time it's the same. Put aside your fears for a few hours and focus on the present. You’ll be grateful you did when the time comes.”

Kai and the prince stared at him wordlessly. Ren shrugged before turning to the door right as Rieka bustled in, four mugs of ale in hand. Unlike before, a grin was wide on her face and Ren suspected she had already drained one mug.

“Finally. Refreshments,” Ren said with a grin. He hopped off the windowsill to grab one of the mugs from Rieka. Prancing back to his perch, he drained half the mug, smacking his lips. Both Kai and the prince declined the offered mugs, claiming they needed a clear mind for the heist hours ahead.

“Sorry for you,” Ren said, shrugging. “But more for me, I guess.”

“More for us,” Rieka amended, a mug gripped in both hands.

Ren lifted his mug towards Rieka with a grin. “To a long life without running,” he said, winking. Rieka’s half-grin fell at his words. Ren knocked back the rest of the mug, setting it beside him to focus on his second. Rieka looked down into her ale, then glanced up to meet his eyes. She nodded once before finishing hers as well.

...

Within the next hour, Ren was lounging on the floor, his back slumped against the wall.

“If you weren’t so damned small that first time I saw you, I would’ve beaten the shit out of you for stealing my money,” Rieka said from her slouched position beside him.

Ren chuckled, waving a hand. The ale was long gone, swimming through their systems. Kai and the prince had gone to their own room, avoiding the chaos that ensued Ren and Rieka’s drinking. “You wouldn’t have had to beat me up. I was scared shitless the minute you stuck out your hand for the pouch of coin.”

“Oh, was that where the smell was coming from?” Rieka retorted.

Ren shoved a hand at her shoulder. “I wouldn’t know. You were covered in so much blood and sweat I couldn’t smell anything else.”

Rieka grinned at the memory. “Too bad it wasn’t your blood.”

“So, what will you do with your pot of gold? Stop fighting?” Ren leaned his head back against the wall, the ceiling spinning.

Rieka shrugged, her shoulder brushing against his own. “Don’t know. I can’t imagine not fighting.”

“With all that gold, who will there be to fight?” Ren asked, flourishing a hand. “Who knows. Maybe you’ll have to fight me when I come to steal all your coin.”

Instead of scowling, Rieka chuckled. Ren glanced to find her head turned towards him. “Would you still steal if you had all that gold?”

Ren hadn’t thought of that. He had been rich before the king’s proposal, but never as rich as the sum he had been offered. Stealing was Ren’s lifestyle. It had become a comfort, in ways. Perhaps Rieka’s fighting was no different.

“If I stopped stealing, then I would never get souvenirs like this,” Ren joked, pulling a wooden beaded anklet from his pocket.

Rieka’s eyes widened, her hand darting to her bare ankle. “How did you get that?” she demanded.

Ren tossed it to her, leaning his head back to once again stare at the ceiling. “You all underestimate just how good of a thief I am.”

“Such humility,” Rieka muttered.

“We have that in common,” Ren said, turning his head to wink at her.

The door to their room flung open and the prince and Kai bustled in. Kai tossed a chunk of bread at both Ren and Rieka. Ren managed to catch it before his face was peppered in crumbs. They both turned outraged eyes to Kai, but his jaw was set. “Sober up. The sun will set soon.”

Ren groaned, throwing his head back. “Oh, come on! You just interrupted a very heartfelt moment!”

Kai ignored him, crossing his arms over his chest. He glanced pointedly to the bread.

“Fine,” Ren muttered, shoving a bite into his mouth. The crust was brittle and entirely unappetizing.

“If you wanted us to sober up, you should’ve brought better food,” Rieka commented around a mouthful. Kai cringed at her manners. Or rather lack thereof.

“We should go over the plan once more,” the prince said, his voice gentle but firm.

Ren groaned again. “We’ve been over this. Lose the stress. Here, on the count of three, let’s shake that stress from your little body. One, two three.” Ren flapped his arms around and hollered boisterously. When he stilled, he found everyone staring at him. “You were supposed to join.”

Kai turned away and focused on the prince. “The plan is secure. All we have to do now is wait.”

“And sober up,” Rieka grumbled, tearing off another chunk of bread viciously.

“We are going to do great. Who’s with me?” Ren said, grinning at them. He lifted his fist in triumph. Rieka snorted, but Kai and the prince only stared blankly. “Yay, team,” Ren muttered, lifting his fist once more before it fell back into his lap.

...