A Story of Kyle Reigns

Kyle stalked through the hall. Water dripped down from the loose cobblestone ceiling. He shouldered his way past a shadowy figure draped in loose fitting trousers and tunic, complete with a cowl to mask his face. The figure grunted, slid aside and Kyle continued down the corridor. He couldn’t ever figure out why someone as powerful as Joyce always insisted on keeping such hideouts. Kyle was fairly certain more than his ramshackle guild knew about the place. There had to be more secure locales to be stationed.

He moved to the door past a t-intersection lit by a gloworb nestled in the ceiling. He knocked once and pushed the door open without waiting for a response from the other side. Sable materialized at his side, closing the rickety, wooden slat door behind him. He cast a glance at her and walked into the anteroom. He stopped to look at another three doors before him. Each had a gloworb above it, the left hand two were red, the right hand was green.

“Which one is he behind?” he snapped at Sable as she sidled up next to him. He didn’t look her way, but could hear the soft creaks of her leather armor as she stood next to him. Was likely something alluring… formfitting… He glanced her direction and wasn’t disappointed. The half-elf was dressed in tight leather armor, dyed a charcoal grey, with dark adamantium studs. It was cut to display her supple assets, and likely relied on magic to protect her more vital bits as it showed off ample amounts of her thoroughly tanned skin and luscious cleavage.

“Why do yuh need’a know, darlin’ li’l rooster?”  Sable cooed. She sidled half  a step closer to Kyle. She pushed her arms behind her, stretching and presenting her cleavage at the same time.

“Ah need a job. Somethin’ different from th’norm.” Kyle pulled his gaze away from her chest, and locked it ahead. From the corner of his vision he could see her smile.

“I’ve gotta job for you,” she purred. Kyle could swear that the ‘half’ part of her half-elven lineage was cat rather than human. “One far more pleasurable than whatever he might be able to give you –“ he felt her hand brush his and then his upper thigh… through his leathers “— and remind you there’re more women in this world than the hulking she-bitch you moan and piss about.”

“Yer not half the woman she is,” Kyle snapped, and slapped her hand away.

“I think that’s the point, darlin’,” Sable cooed in response. Her fingers brushed his hand again, but that was the extent of it. “But if you’re not wanting that…” she let the words hang in the air between them.

“Screw you, Sable.”

“Gladly.” She flashed him a beaming smile.

“Which door?” Kyle knew that walking through the wrong would just loop him back to the entrance of the room and lock him into a maze of picking doors until he ended up randomly picking the right one that would dump him back into the tunnel. Stupid illusion traps. He drew a breath and looked at Sable again. His gaze flickered between the tops of her breasts and her face. She smiled sweetly at him, likely fully aware of the effect the armor’s design was having on him. She, thankfully, kept her hands to herself for the moment.

“Mmm, why so harsh, you luscious piece—“ she cut off at a glare from Kyle. “Right hand side with the green light. Thought it might be less conspicuous.”

Kyle brushed past her and to the door. He was aware of her near silent footfalls trailing after him. If he had to peg someone for being Joyce’s right hand (wo)man, it’d be Sable. Her following him was no surprise. He twisted the knob and stepped into a circular room crafted from most covered stone and lit with gloworbs. Plain, white gloworbs that threw hard shadows anywhere something obstructed the light. Such as much of the throne that set in the middle of the room atop a small dais. Joyce figured himself to be some sort of royalty (which, technically he was), a bandit king. He liked to play the part, and was lounging in the throne, one leg draped over the arm of the massive, gilded chair. It was a little out of place in the dingy, damp room.

“I’m terribly surprised to see you here, Kyle,” Joyce said. He didn’t sound surprised. “I didn’t summon you as I figured you would be wanting to patch things up with your missus.”

“Yer brother kicked me out fer the couple weeks. I need a—“

“Oh? Jace’s back in town?” While the question was posed with an air of surprise, it lacked the appropriate inflection to convince Kyle that this was new news to Joyce. If Kyle had to guess, the ‘bandit king’ before him knew well before Jace landed in Bragnog. “What a delight. The whole family together again. But, I ponder, by what authority did he remove you from your home?”

“Force o’might,” Kyle muttered. It had been more force of will than might, Jace hadn’t laid a finger on him, but it had felt rightly mighty when Kyle’d stood before the young Lord Windstrom.

“Oh, oh my. And here I didn’t think my brother had such force within him. But… this sounds a personal dispute between you two and Miss Havelock.” Joyce sat up and leaned forward. The gesture finally brought his face out of the shadows cast by the throne. Where Jace was golden haired, Joyce’s was pitch black, when Jace’s face was broad and strong, Joyce’s was narrow and devious. The brothers shared opposite builds as well, Joyce being tall and narrow, slender and wiry, the type of person capable of quickly snatching a purse or scaling a wall like a spider. Jace was broad and muscular, bulky even, though every inch of his girth was muscle and he wore it well.

“I didn’t come here tuh have yuh broker any sorta deal or outcome or whatever,” Kyle grumbled. “Tha’s mah problem. Not yer’s.”

Joyce leaned forward, resting his elbows on the armrests of the throne and steepling his fingers before his face. He let out a low ‘hmm…’ to Kyle’s statement, but nothing else.

“Do yuh gotta any jobs yuh be needin’ done?” Kyle blurted out. He suddenly felt very uncomfortable under the steely gaze of Joyce. It was sort of like waking a dragon and asking for its golden coin for the pleasure of having woken it.

“I have something I could use you for,” Joyce said after an insurmountable amount of time. He smiled, though it never quite reached his eyes, and leaned back into the shadows of the throne. “Dangerous though. You’d needa be on you’re A-game for it. Are you sure you’d be up for such a thing? Won’t be distracted?”

“I can focus.” Kyle shifted on his feet. He wanted a distraction from the storm that was his relationship with the testy barbarian; something else to focus on. “What is it yuh need me for.”

“It will take a couple weeks to prepare for… it is rather important you succeed,” Joyce said.

“What is it you want me to do? I was hoping for somethin’ more immediate…”

“Beggars can hardly be choosers, my dear Kyle.” Joyce’s voice dripped with venom. A venom that Kyle ignored. “I want you to take something from the Royal Palace. If you’re feeling antsy, go and scope out the outside of the place. I will call for you when it’s time to actually do the job.”

“The Royale Palace…” Kyle shivered. He’d never even really dreamt of pulling a heist anywhere near this scale. He shook his head. He opened his mouth to say more, but Joyce cut him off.

“Take it or leave it, Kyle. Do your own scouting of the palace if you like, but don’t come back to me before I send for you,” Joyce said. “Are we at an understanding? Can I trust you to perform this most important job? To be discreet until I call on you?”

Kyle stared at the shadows where Joyce’s voice emanated from. He wanted something immediate, but… the thought of stealing something from the Royale Palace at all was causing a distraction for him. He could see the grand halls already. He’d been there once, for his sentencing and trial near on two years prior, and knew the vague layout… He could spend a couple weeks learning the ins and outs…

“Sure, count me in. I want to hear what you want.”

“That, my dear boy,” Sable cooed from his elbow. “Will be revealed at the next visit.”

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~ by kulvar on December 30, 2011.