Soulweaver 58: A Game of Cat and Mouse (Patreon)

The huge man disappeared around the house, and I followed, entering into its spacious open garden. The size of the manor meant I had plenty of places to hide and watch him, and it also hid him from anyone who might witness him in the act.

Not that he’d be seen. Even though the manors lacked fences between their yards and their neighbors’, there wasn’t a soul out at this hour.

So, Mr. Criminal Henchman, how are you going to play this?

This guy had to get his paper into the house, but breaking a lock or a window would be an obvious sign that someone had been there. That might not be enough for the authorities to realize the nature of his crime, but it’d definitely be suspicious. 

I heard Aerion talking to the guards out front, but it was a big house. It’d take them a minute to make it back here, where I was. I only hoped the locks stymied the Boonworthy just long enough.

The best option for the Boonworthy would be to enter without breaking anything. Maybe picking the lock, or…

I saw the man reach for the doorknob, and I panicked. What if we’d gotten this all wrong? What if he had a key to the building? It’d be nearly impossible to incriminate him if he entered normally…

But then, Tarquin hadn’t given Aerion a key to the stamp factory. Why would he—

The man gave up on the knob, and brought out some kind of thin, flat sheet. I wasn’t able to tell exactly what it was, but he slipped it into the jamb of the door.

He didn’t have a key, after all. I grinned. I heard the guards, but so did the Boonworthy.

My grin faded when the door popped open without any resistance at all. 

Fuck.

It was a latch lock. I’d done the same on my own door when I’d gotten locked out once. I’d have thought a fancy manor like this would at least had a deadbolt.

After a panicked glance in the direction of the guards, the man slipped into the house and shut the door behind him.

I cursed in my head and ran up to the door. I reached for the knob, and forced myself to turn it gently, in case the man was still nearby.

Locked. 

This was bad. I waited this long before confronting him because merely tresspassing likely wasn’t grounds for strip-searching the guy. I had to wait until he committed  the crime of breaking and entering before confronting him—ideally with the authorities behind my back—but I had to get to him before he dropped off the letter. 

It was a big house, and he could hide it anywhere. Since Tarquin had given Aerion orders to steal something of value, it stood to believe he’d given the same instructions to this guy. If the Boonworthy stole something, he’d come across as just an ordinary burgler, and since neither Aerion nor I knew what the Boonworthy’s evidence looked like, we’d be screwed once he’d planted it.

“Aerion, hurry!” I shouted.

I wallowed for a moment. I could hear the footsteps pick up speed, but they were too late.

Confronting the Boonworthy alone wasn’t something I wanted, but I’d have to risk it.

I hefted my poleax and swung the hammer end into the door, forcing it open.

I rushed in. Stealth was no longer a priority. Yes, it was dangerous, but it was a calculated risk. If this worked, we stood to gain much. I just had to find the Boonworthy and ensure he didn’t drop his evidence. Just had to occupy him until backup arrived. At the very least, I could do that.

— — 

He was gone by the time I entered, so I ran down the hall, kicking up noise. The home was every bit as opulent as its size suggested, but it was dark. Either unoccupied, or its residents were fast asleep.

The only light was the ambient night light that filtered through the windows—not even enough to walk around with, let alone fight.

Unfortunately, my poleaxe wasn’t designed for close-quarters fighting, and especially not for fighting in the dark. The pike and ax on the end required the right distance and the right aim. The halls were wider than most, but I’d be at a disadvantage with that weapon.

Which was exactly why I’d Initialized my mace. I set my poleax down and withdrew the mace from my inventory.

The noises I made had the desired effect. I heard panicked footsteps rush out of a nearby room… Running right into me.

Instinct kicked in, and I swung the mace, forcing the man to block. If he had a weapon, it was stowed, but I doubt he did. Isolde said he fought with his hands. And hands never fared well against a heavy metal ball with vicious spikes sticking out of it.

My weapon ripped into his forearms, despite my utter lack of proper form. Despite the fact that I could hardly see him. I pressed the attack, keeping him on the defensive, forcing him on the back.

My onslaught ended when my stamina ran out. After a half-dozen swings, his arms were badly cut and pierced, but the rest of his body was unharmed.

My strikes finally slowed, and the man took advantage of the opening.

The punch came so fast, my brain didn’t even register what had happened until I was sent flying.

That wasn’t figurative, or an exaggeration. The overwhelming force behind his punch blew me off my feet, sending me launching several feet into the air to land on my back.

My stainless steel cuirass might have prevented my chest from caving in, but it did nothing to dissipate the impact of the absurd blow. 

It was, in every sense of the word, superhuman. If this was the strength of a D Rank Boonworthy, I didn’t even want to imagine what Blessed were like.

These were the thoughts that flitted through my mind in the split-second before I slammed into the wall, suffocating as the air was knocked out of my lungs for a second time in as many seconds.

I writhed on the ground, desperately trying to regain control.

By the time I managed to suck in a full breath of air, he’d disappeared.

“Fuck!” I jumped to my feet, picked up my mace, and ran after him. If he escaped, or if he’d already dropped the note…

I rounded a dark hall and just barely caught sight of a dark silhouette before it disappeared. 

He was heading for the back door. I gave chase. 

I needn’t have worried. Because when I rounded the last corner, I saw not one, but four figures, illuminated by the light of storm lanterns.

Tarquin’s agent, Aerion, and behind her, two of the city guard. They wore cloth gambeson armor and had their shortswords drawn. One guy’s hand crackled with magical lightning.

The Boonworthy jolted to a halt and turned.

Only to see my mace, ready to take him on.

“Halt!” one of the guards said. “You have been caught breaking and entering. In the name of the law, throw down your weapons and get on your knees. Resistance will be met with deadly force.”

The man stared at me, his rugged face looking like he was contemplating the best way to pulverize my face.

“I’d listen to them, if I were you,” I said. “Best that you come clean. Especially with that… sensitive document you’re carrying.”

The huge man’s eyes went wide, and his face paled.

“How do you—”

“On your knees!” the guard barked. “I won’t ask again.”

The man made no motion to comply, but I could see it on his face. The fight was out of him. He was done.

He slowly turned and brought his arms up to his head, before falling to his knees.

“Search him! And you! You’re with the boy?”

I nodded, lowering my mace. “I saw him break in. I didn’t want to let him get away.”

“Well, you’ve done us a service, lad,” one of the guards, a short, stocky fellow said. “Breaking into a neighborhood like this? Ill-advised, no matter who you are. He’ll be spending a nice, long time in the jail.”

“Actually,”  I said. “I don’t think he’s just your average burglar.”

“Hmm? What do you mean?”

And now it was time for my gamble. I could only hope this worked. 

I looked down at the kneeling man. “If you’re going to come clean, now’s your chance.” 

Turning to the guards, I asked, “If he admits to his crimes here, will he get a lighter sentence?”

The taller guard shrugged. “Can’t promise anything, but it’ll certainly be noted on the record.”

I guess that was good enough for Tarquin’s agent.

“I don’t know nuthin about anythin’, alright? I was just paid to deliver some piece of paper here. Doesn’t even make any sense. Just gibberish.”

“Can we see it?” I asked.

The man reached into his pocket and threw it at the guards’ feet. It seemed like my gamble had paid off. If he’d already dropped off the letter, he could’ve just said I was crazy and allowed them to search him.

Then I’d look like a liar, and the case against him would be nowhere near as severe.

I didn’t think that would happen, though. Incriminating evidence—if that was what this was—couldn’t just be left lying around. It’d have to be put in a place that was both hidden, yet obvious enough to be found.

And now, I was almost certain as to whom this house belonged.

One of the guards worked to bind the criminal’s hands and feet with rope while the other read the note.

Both Aerion and I kept our weapons trained on the guy, in case he pulled anything. He didn’t. It seemed he understood how fucked he truly was. This might not have been the modern world, but I guess even here, it was all over if the authorities got to you. Maybe unless you were rich. Or extremely powerful. So, maybe not that different, after all.

“Hmm. Seems to be in a cipher,” he said, handing the note to Aerion.

“It does appear to be gibberish,” she said, before absentmindedly handing it to me. 

“Mmm. Ah, yes. Very gibberish,” I said, handing it back to Aerion with narrowed eyes.

She realized her mistake, her eyes widening. She mouthed an ‘Oops’ before handing the note back to the guards.

“Would you mind coming back with us to the precinct?” The shorter guard asked. “You did us a big help here, but we’ll be wanting to get your testimony. Might find someone who can decipher this, as well.”

Aerion and I exchanged glances and nodded.

“Lead the way!”

— — 

The testimony process was a lot shorter and sweeter than I’d feared. I thought we’d be there the whole night, but a summary from myself and Aerion and we were cleared to leave by the precinct’s guard captain. It seemed the guildmaster was being held at the castle’s jail while the investigation was underway. His house was to be searched first thing in the morning, in fact. Tarquin must have known that. Which was probably why he chose this timing.

We didn’t leave, of course. Someone at the precinct recognized the cipher as one that the Blacksmith Guild used, and when we learned that the manor belonged to the Guildmaster of the Blacksmith’s Guild, we were definitely not leaving until we saw this through.

A higher-up from the guild showed up a half hour later, looking bedraggled and none too happy to be awoken in the middle of the night, and I honestly couldn’t blame him.

But as he worked through the cipher, scribbling the translated words on a fresh sheet of paper, his expression transformed to confusion, and then of shock.

And he was certainly not the only one.

“Oh. Oh gods!”