“There he is! Thief! Guards, seize him!” Viscountess Griselda shouted, pointing directly at me from her seat in her gilded carriage. 

 

I didn't even try to refute her claims. The evidence of my guilt was clear as I held the Viscountess's stolen jewelry in my hands. Before the guards of the Divine Watchmen had a chance to apprehend me, I turned tail and dashed through the bustling marketplace, hoping to lose them in the crowd. 

 

The guards chased after me, plowing through innocent shoppers in pursuit of me. 

 

I rounded the corner into one of the back alleys. I should have no trouble outmaneuvering them because their heavy metal armor slowed them down substantially. Just as I thought I was in the clear, I reached a dead end. My path to freedom was obstructed by a towering stone wall at least ten feet high. 

 

“He went that way! We’ve got him cornered now!” one of the watchmen barked. 

 

I stuffed the jewels in my pockets. I was trapped with nowhere to run. My only choice was to go over. With the guards closing in, I knew I needed to act quickly. My hands and feet found purchase in small crevices and rough patches of the wall, and I made my way up with purpose and determination. I effortlessly scaled the wall and landed safely on my feet on the other side. 

 

I took a moment to revel in my successful escape, but my victory was short-lived as I felt ropes tighten around my wrists.

 

“Nice try, Street Trash. Did you think you could evade the Divine Watchmen for long?” The guard laughed as he fastened the ropes so tightly, it felt like my circulation was being cut off. His smile widened as I winced. He took a twisted pleasure in my pain. 

 

Dammit! I’d walked directly into their trap! The watchmen were getting smarter. This marked trouble for me.

 

I’ve had a lifetime of run-ins with Rookmoore’s moral police. The Divine Watchmen and I had been playing the little game of cat and mouse for as long as I could remember. Ever since my parents abandoned me when I was a boy, I’ve been swiping jewelry and coin purses to sustain myself. I’ve never learned how to do honest work, and I have no intentions of starting now. Stealing suits me just fine. Every day was exactly the same: I steal something, the watchmen chase me, and I usually get away, but on days like today, they drag me off to the local jail where I promptly break out, and then we repeat the whole thing again the next day. It’s exhausting, but it’s better than being a beggar. 

 

The guard nudged me forward. “Hurry up! We don’t have all day!” He dragged me down the city streets, pulling me by the ropes like a calf being led to the butcher’s shop. 

 

Instead of taking our usual route to jail, he led me to the center of the city of Rookmoore. “Where are we going? The prison is the other way.”

 

“Oh, we’re not taking you to prison today.”

 

A growing dread rose inside me, but I tried to act unbothered. “So, where are you taking me?” 

 

The new chancellor is demanding to meet with every person arrested today,” the watchman explained.  

 

“New Chancellor? What happened to Chancellor Fergus?”

 

“He decided to retire early. He bought a nice house by the seaside. Don’t worry, he left Rookmoore in good hands.”

 

A sense of uneasiness passed through me at his proclamation. It was unheard of for high-ranking officials to meet with lowly criminals. They would never get off their high horses and stoop to the level of associating with crooks. I found this whole situation deeply troubling, but I stood tall and refused to let it show.

 

We turned a corner, and Rookmoore Municipal Hall came into view. It was a large circular building meticulously carved from white marble. The hall has stood proudly in the very center of Rookmoore ever since the city was constructed five thousand years ago. This place served as the hub for all political affairs in the city. It was also home to all the city’s records and historical documents. Politicians, historians, and scholars from all over the world travel to see this place. I’ve lived in Rookmoore my entire life, but I’ve never dared to step foot inside the hall. People like me weren’t welcome in places like this. 

 

The guard dragged me up the stone stairs, yanking on the ropes with every step. My wrists chaffed with every pull, and I prayed that my hands would never feel this uncomfortable again. 

 

After climbing what felt like a nearly infinite number of stairs, the watchman escorted me into the building.

 

Many people bustled throughout the corridors, but no one dared to speak a single word. Several civil servants, academics, and courtiers shot me pitying glances as the watchman led me down the corridor. One girl appeared so distraught, it looked as though she might burst into tears at any moment. That’s when I knew something truly horrid awaited me at the end of the corridor. 

 

The security guards held open the heavy oak doors as I was ushered inside. I expected this room to be some kind of dungeon; instead, I stepped into a grand library. The library was unlike anything I’d ever seen before. Bookshelves lined every inch of the walls, each one towering towards a ceiling so high it seemed to disappear into the heavens. I could see records, maps, and manuscripts scattered around the room, and at the center stood a large Angel Oak tree. Its branches reached outward as if trying to touch the books. I have heard countless stories about the grandeur of this library's world-renowned oak tree. Many poets have written sonnets praising its majesty. Standing in front of it now, I felt underwhelmed. It certainly was pretty; there was no denying that, but having a tree indoors felt awfully frivolous. They grew outside for a reason. I pitied the poor maid who’ll have to sweep up all the leaves when autumn comes. I took in a deep breath, expecting to smell dust and old parchment. Instead, the scent of something rusty hung in the air. It was reminiscent of the smell of old copper coins. 

 

The watchman escorted me through the library, solemnly guiding me through the aisles of books. Eventually, he stopped at the center of the library and gestured toward an elegant man standing before a grand wooden desk. The man was flipping through piles of scrolls, illuminated by flickering oil lamps. The watchman fell to his knees and bowed deeply, and after an uncertain moment, he forced me down to the ground beside him. 

 

He looked up from his scroll and gave a nod of approval. “Good work, officer. You’ve done this city a great service by taking a criminal off the streets.” I gazed up at the man, carefully assessing who I was up against. He was a tall, slender man with waist-length grey hair. Despite this, he had a youthful face. He couldn’t be a day over thirty. He wore clothing made from the finest imported silk. His trousers alone cost more money than I’ve had collectively throughout my entire life. If my hands weren’t tied, I might try to steal them off him. The gilded badge on his chest marked him as a Chancellor. I’ve never seen someone this young in such a high-ranking position. I couldn’t help but wonder what he had to do to get here. 

 

"Thank you, Chancellor Ciarán. Your approval means the world to me,” the watchman said.

 

The Chancellor carefully appraised me, his lips puckering in contempt. “What was this one arrested for?”   

 

“He was caught red-handed stealing jewelry from Viscountess Griselda,” the watchman said. 

 

Chancellor Ciarán rolled his eyes. “Yet another petty thief. Typical. This damn city is infested with them,” he grumbled, before turning his attention to me. “What is your name?” 

 

I spat on his boots. I had no reverence for The Divine Watchmen or the officials who commanded them. They look down on us from their ivory towers, having never struggled a day in their lives, yet they get to lecture us about what is fair, moral, and just. They knew nothing of the lives of the poor and desperate, yet they got to pass judgment on all of us. 

 

He raised his hand and delivered a harsh slap across my face with lightning-fast speed. Yet, his voice remained eerily calm as he spoke. “Your superior has asked you a question. What is your name, boy?” 

 

“Westley.” I whimpered, my face stinging from the blow. 

 

“Was that so hard?” 

 

I shot him a menacing look, but Chancellor Ciarán remained unperturbed.

 

“Do you have a last name, Westley?”

 

I shook my head. “No. I have no kin or creed to speak of. I’m just Westley.” 

 

The Chancellor curled his lips downward in mock pity. “How sad.” He flipped through a crate full of written records and pulled out a file with my name on it. He studied it carefully, reading every word before addressing me again. “You have quite the criminal record, Westley. Several convictions of pickpocketing, shoplifting, burglary, breaking and entering, fraud, resisting arrest, and escaping from prison. All starting at the age of seven. Impressive.” He placed the file back in the crate and turned to face me, his eyes glistening with amusement. “Tell me, Westley, are you sorry for your crimes?”

 

I narrowed my eyes at him. “Why should I be sorry? I did what I had to do to survive.”

 

Chancellor Ciarán chuckled. “Survive? You mean to say that you had no other options? No other paths to take in life? Did you even try to make an honest living before turning to a life of crime?”

 

I shrugged, not wanting to give him the satisfaction of a response. 

 

“I see,” Chancellor Ciarán said, his expression turning serious. “Look here, Westley. Do you see this angel oak in the center of the library? Isn’t it magnificent? There are less than five like it in the entire world. Did you know that?”

 

I remained unimpressed. 

 

He continued. “The city is just like this spectacular feat of nature. It is beautiful, ancient, and resilient. This mighty tree has survived many hardships. Sometimes the branches become diseased, and the oak suffers. Crime is a virus that has been slowly killing this city for decades. The Divine Watchmen have been far too merciful to degenerates such as yourself, giving you nothing more than a night in a jail cell and a slap on the wrist. It’s time for some real change. When a branch becomes ill, it must be pruned from the tree. Likewise, deviance must be pruned from society.”

 

The watchman glanced back and forth between the Chancellor and me. “I would never question your brilliant leadership, but doesn’t this seem like you’re being a little harsh, Chancellor? He’s still a boy. He’s yet to learn right from wrong.” 

 

I don’t know exactly when I was born, but based on my estimates, I was around twenty-one years old. However, I looked much younger than my years. I had a young complexion, complete with oversized green eyes that made me look like a sad kitten. I had lush auburn curls that resembled the texture of lamb’s wool, and much to my chagrin, I’d never been able to grow any kind of facial hair. I remained short and slim from a childhood of malnutrition. However, I was grateful for being small. It made it easy for me to weasel into tight places during burglaries. I had no idea what my punishment would be, but I hoped my youthful appearance could convince Chancellor Ciarán to have mercy on me. 

 

“I show no mercy to the unrepentant. He’s had ample opportunity to turn his life around, yet he chooses thievery. This type of deviance must be pruned for the betterment of society.” Chancellor Ciarán waltzed over to a rack of gardening tools and picked up a large saw meant for removing stubborn branches. “It seems only fitting that since he uses his hands to steal, his hand should be cut off as punishment.”  

 

All the breath fled my lungs and I couldn’t stop my body from trembling. The hot rush of tears dripped down my face as I tried to tear myself free from the ropes. “No, please! Don’t do this! I’m sorry! I’ll find honest work! I’ll never steal again, I promise!” 

 

To my surprise, the watchman stood between me and Chancellor Ciarán, guarding me from his wrath. “No, this is wrong. I won’t let you do this! How are we any better than our enemies if we treat others this way? This isn’t peacekeeping; this is cruelty!” 

 

I expected Chancellor Ciarán to scream and reprimand the watchman for his insubordination. Instead, he remained eerily calm as he spoke. “Tell me, Officer. Are you a father?”

 

“I am,” he confirmed.

 

“If we allow this man to walk free and continue his crime spree, what kind of message does that send to the children of tomorrow? When criminals face no repercussions, it sends the message that this sort of behavior is acceptable. By allowing the wicked to go unpunished, you are making the world unsafe for them. I know my methods may seem barbaric, but this is the key to forging a greater society.”

 

Something shifted in the watchman’s demeanor, and he glanced back at me with a look of resignation. “You’re right, Chancellor Ciarán. Some people need to learn lessons the hard way.” 

 

“No!” I sobbed. ”Please, don’t do this. I’ll do anything. I’ll leave the city. I’ll never come back. Just don’t cut off my hand, please.”

 

The watchman restrained me as I desperately tried to break free. He didn’t waver for even a moment. He remained as solid and unmoving as the great tree, despite my kicking and writhing. “I’m sorry, child, but this is for your own good. It’s better if you don’t struggle. It will all be over soon.”

 

I ignored him and thrashed even harder, elbowing the watchman in the gut repeatedly, but my blows didn’t even make him flinch. 

 

Chancellor Ciarán cut the ropes, then wrenched my right hand forward and cuffed it to the table, restricting my movement. 

 

 I tried to bite him in a feral attempt to defend myself.  

 

Chancellor Ciarán wrapped a hand around my throat and whispered in my ear, his voice laced with venom. “If you don’t stop struggling, I’ll cut off both your hands.” 

 

I released a long breath and let go of my white-knuckled grip on the hope I had been clinging to. I had fought with all that I had, but it was not enough. My defeat settled in, heavy and cold. “Please, I’m sorry,” I sobbed, my voice cracking as I made one last, desperate plea.

 

“It’s too late for apologies,” Chancellor Ciarán said, and there was nothing I could do but scream as I watched the saw tear through my flesh and bone, severing my hand from my body.

 

…

 

Everything was a blur in the aftermath of my arrest and subsequent amputation. I remember the watchman wrapping what remained of my wrist in an old rag in an attempt to hold back the bleeding. Cleaners quickly entered the room, carrying buckets and mops. They silently wiped the library floor, getting rid of my blood before the Chancellor's meeting. 

 

The watchman said nothing as he escorted me outside, but he did place a comforting hand on my shoulder. I think I was still sobbing, but I don’t remember. I remember seeing a boy several years younger than me being hauled up the stairs in handcuffs. I prayed his fate was more merciful than mine. 

 

Afterward, I had nowhere to go, so I found a cold street corner to sleep on as I awaited my death. I couldn’t afford to hire a healer, so my only choice was to slowly bleed out on the cobblestones. I stayed there for several minutes. I could tell my presence was making the townsfolk uncomfortable, but I couldn't be bothered to care. Some passersby shot me pitying looks, while others sneered at me with disdain. Some chose to ignore me entirely, stepping over my crumpled form like I didn’t exist to them. None of them stopped to help me.  My vision began to haze, and I felt myself slipping away. I embraced my end with open arms. It's not like I had anything to live for anyway. My whole life had been nothing but a never-ending fight for survival, with no love or warmth to comfort me. Without a hand, I’m not even sure if I could steal anymore. I looked forward to death, maybe then I could finally find peace. 

 

Before I had the chance to pass away, my death was rudely interrupted by a man shaking my shoulders. “Come on, boy. Wake up.”

 

I grumbled and opened my eyes. My vision was too blurred for me to make out any of his features. 

 

I could hear the man’s gentle smile in his voice as he spoke. “You’re finally awake! I was worried we lost you there for a moment. It looks like you’ve had a rough day. Don’t worry, my wife, Saoirse, is a healer. Her magic can patch you right up. I’m going to take you to her, okay?”

 

“No, leave me to die,” I whined. 

 

The man hoisted me over his shoulder and carried me down the street. “Not today, lad. You’ve still got much to live for.” 

 

I groaned, but I was too weak to protest. 

As the man carried me, I couldn't help but wonder who he was. His voice was kind, and his words were comforting, but I had learned not to trust anyone. People always had an ulterior motive. I tried to lift my head to get a better look at him, but the pain in my wrist was too much to bear, and I let out a cry of agony.

"Easy now," the man said, adjusting his hold on me. "We'll be there soon."

Soon, the smell of salt water and fish permeated the air. We were near the harbor, I realized. But before I had a chance to question him further, the man turned down a narrow alleyway, and I felt him walk down a set of stairs.

 

He performed a long and elaborate knock on a wooden door, and I heard the hinges squeak as the door opened.  “Hello, Darling. I’m home early, and I hope you don’t mind that I brought home a stray,” the man said, stepping inside the humble abode. He set me down on a cot on the edge of the room.

 

Saoirse, the man's wife, rushed over to me and carefully examined the sight of my grotesque amputation. “Oh, the poor thing. What happened to him?" she said, her voice filled with concern. 

 

“I don’t know,” the man replied. “I found him like this.”

 

Saoirse's hands were gentle as she unwrapped my wound. "He’s lost a lot of blood, but luckily it isn’t infected. If I can close the wound, he has a decent chance at survival.” Her fingertips glowed with golden healing magic, as she turned to address me. “I’m going to try my best to heal you, but I haven’t sealed an amputation in many years, so my skills are a bit rusty. I promise I’ll do everything in my power to make you well again.” 

 

“Do your worst,” I murmured, not particularly caring if I lived or died. 

 

Saoirse took a deep breath and closed her eyes, focusing her magic on my severed wrist. I felt a warmth spread through my body. Slowly, the pain began to fade, and I felt my flesh regrow, encapsulating the bone. I felt an almost otherworldly sense of calm as her magic coursed through me. I felt myself drifting off to sleep as she stitched me back together. 

 

Before I was able to fully doze off I was startled by the sound of Saoirse’s excited clapping. “Not bad if I do say so myself. You’re all set, Dearie. Why don’t you take a look and tell me how it feels?” 

 

The last thing I wanted to do was look at my residual limb. I knew seeing it for the first time would make it real in my mind, and I wanted to live in delusion for a little longer. I let out a mournful sigh, knowing I had to come to terms with my grievous loss. I hesitantly peered down at my nub, assessing the damage. Saoirse did a lovely job; the wound was fully closed, and there was no noticeable scarring. Her work was so tidy, It looked as though I’d been born this way. I moved my fingers, or where my fingers should have been, and felt a ghostly echo of sensation. It was a strange and surreal experience that I wasn't sure I was ready to deal with yet.

 

Saoirse smiled at me expectantly. “So, does it feel alright?” My vision had finally cleared enough for me to make out her face. She was a fair-skinned middle-aged lady with soft blonde hair that glimmered like strands of pale sunlight. She had an expressive face, marked with smile lines from a lifetime of joy. 

 

“It feels different,” I said, at a loss for words. 

 

Saoirse wrapped a comforting arm around me. “I know it will take a lot of getting used to, but Brennan and I will take care of you until you do." 

I didn't know why, but something about her kind words broke through my tough exterior. Tears welled up in my eyes, and I felt them spill down my cheeks. so stoic for so long, trying to survive in a world that didn't care about me. Saoirse's words were like a warm embrace that I had been craving for far too long, and I couldn't hold back my emotions any longer.

The man sat on the floor beside my cot and wrapped me in a ferocious bear hug. “You're safe here, lad. I won’t let anyone harm you ever again.”

 

I sobbed into his shirt, smearing my snot all over him, but he didn’t seem to mind. Once I’d let all my emotions out, we broke apart, and I finally got to get a good look at him. He was a large man, husky yet strong. He had a pale rectangular face, complete with a long, majestic beard, that I was deeply envious of. His hair was a color halfway between copper and gold. Upon further inspection, I noticed his left leg was a wooden prosthetic. Something about him seemed familiar, but it took me a moment to place. When I realized who I was talking to, my jaw dropped. “You’re Brennan Mercer!” I exclaimed. 

 

He arched an eyebrow. “Oh, you’ve heard of me?”

 

“Who hasn’t? Your wanted poster is plastered everywhere.” Brennan Mercer had the highest bounty of any thief in Rookmoore’s history. The Divine Watchmen were offering half a dragon’s hoard for his capture. With that kind of money, I could retire from thievery altogether. I’d never have to lift a finger for the rest of my days. Maybe I could even afford a pair of Chancellor Ciarán’s fancy pants. He was a living legend! I couldn’t help but gush. “You’re the king of the thieves' guild! You practically rule this city! Every well-respected thief in the city submits to your command.” 

 

“I see myself as more of a democratically elected leader, but you’re not wrong. I am in charge of the thieves' guild.”

 

I couldn’t believe my luck. I’d been trying to weasel my way into the guild for years. Acquiring guild membership required the approval of Brennan Mercer, and gaining his favor required a showstopping heist. I hoped stealing the viscountess’s jewels would at least grab their attention, but that job didn’t go as planned. I’ve looked up to Brennan ever since I became a thief. A self-inflicted cringe washed over me as I realized what had just happened. I’d just met my idol, and I cried like a baby and got snot all over his shirt. Talk about a great first impression. I’ll probably be blacklisted from the guild after this. “I’m sorry about all this,” I croaked, gesturing at his tear-soaked shirt. 

 

Brennan chuckled a deep, throaty sound that rumbled through the small lair. “Don’t worry about it, lad. We all have moments of weakness. Crying doesn’t make you any less of a man.”

 

I nodded, feeling grateful for his understanding. “Thank you,” I said, wiping my nose with the back of my hand. “I’m just glad to be safe now. I don’t know how to repay you.”

 

Brennan leaned back against the wall, his wooden leg making a soft thud as it hit the stone. “You can start by telling me what happened to you.”

 

I took a deep breath, steeling myself for the retelling of my traumatizing experience. “I was in the city square, looking for some pockets to pick, when Viscountess Griselda’s carriage broke down. Her lovely jewels were just sparkling around her neck. They were practically begging me to steal them. So, I ran up and swiped them while she was distracted.”

 

“Stealing from a viscountess? That’s a bold move. I like it!” Brennan remarked. “What happened next?” 

 

“I didn’t get away with it. There were about thirty watchmen patrolling the streets, and they cornered me.”

 

“Thirty watchmen! That’s insanity!” Brennan exclaimed. “This is the work of that new chancellor. I don’t know much about him, but he has been ramping up security in this city to an absurd degree. I’ve had to completely avoid parts of the city because he’s made it far too risky for me to be in public.”

“Chancellor Ciarán,” I said through clenched teeth. The mere thought of him made my blood boil. 

 

Brennan arched an eyebrow. “Oh, you know him? I’ve sent some spies out, but no one’s been able to retrieve reliable intel on him. Anything you can tell us would be a great service.”

 

“I’ve had this displeasure of making his acquaintance. He’s the one who did this.” I said, gesturing toward my missing hand. 

 

Saoirse, who had been silent throughout this conversation, couldn’t help but gasp. “The chancellor chopped your hand off?”

 

I gave a solemn nod. “He thought it was a fitting punishment. Missing a hand makes it a lot harder to steal. I think he was trying to make an example out of me. He wants others to see me and think twice before breaking the law.”

Saoirse stepped forward and placed a gentle hand on my shoulder. “I’m so sorry that happened to you. No one should have to go through something like that.”

Brennan’s face heated with righteous anger. “That’s barbaric! No one deserves that kind of punishment over a handful of stolen jewels! Mark my words, boy. I’ll ensure he’s brought to justice for this.” He held out a hand for me to shake, which I gladly accepted with my remaining one. 

 

Nothing could erase the pain of losing my hand or undo the injustice that had been done against me, but I’d finally found something to live for. I vowed to make Chancellor Ciarán’s life a living hell. I would strip him of everything he ever loved and ensure that he suffers just as I’ve suffered under the leadership of the Divine Watchman. I will not kill him because that’s far too easy. When I set his world on fire, I want to be sure he’s there to watch it burn.  

 

…

Brennan and Saoirse were kind enough to let me stay in their guest bedroom as I got back on my feet. I’d been living on the streets so long I’d forgotten what it felt like to sleep in a warm bed. It felt wrong somehow. It was almost too soft, like sleeping on a cloud made of cotton. Sometimes I felt like I was sinking into the mattress and that it was going to devour me whole. I wasn’t cut out for such finery.

With my dominant hand now severed from my body, everything became a challenge. Saoirse was eager to rush to my aid whenever I struggled with a task, but Brennan preached self-reliance. 

“Leave him be, Saoirse. He needs to learn to do things for himself,” Brennan said one evening at the dinner table as I struggled to cut a piece of meat.

“The poor boy has been at it for ten minutes. How long are we supposed to let him go on like this?” Saoirse said, her gaze full of concern. 

“As long as it takes,” Brennan replied. “The only way for him to stop being helpless is for him to adapt and overcome.

I both respected and loathed him at that moment. As I glanced at his wooden leg, I realized that he had a lot more experience than me when it came to missing a limb. He was the expert, so I should heed his advice. 

… 

 

After living with Brennan and Soairse for two weeks, Brennan decided that it was time to introduce me to the guild.  

 

Brennan shook me awake in the middle of the night. “Get up, lad. There’s somewhere I want to show you. 

 

I rubbed the sleep from my eyes and followed him. As he led me through the winding streets, I finally mustered the courage to ask a question that had been plaguing me since we first met. “I always wanted to know. If it’s not too forward, do you mind telling me what happened to your leg?”

 

I was viciously attacked by a family of bears! They nearly mauled me to death, I tell ya!” 

 

My face contorted in a mixture of shock, disbelief, and profound terror at his proclamation. “How’d you make it out alive?”

 

Brennan couldn’t help but laugh when he saw the look of horror on my face. “Relax, I’m just joking. This is just how I was born. Listen well, boy. We can’t always control the circumstances of our lives, and it can be hard to thrive in a world that wasn’t built with us in mind. It’s how we choose to face these obstacles that defines who we are.”

 

I nodded, carefully pondering his advice.

 

Our journey came to an end at Rookmoore Cemetery. Brennan ushered me into the mausoleum. He fiddled with a stone dial on the wall for several minutes, then a secret door opened up, and a hidden staircase revealed itself. Brennan lit a torch and stepped down into the pitch-black tunnel. He waved for me to follow, and despite my initial trepidation, I followed him.

 

The air was thick with the scent of wet stone and moss. As my eyes adjusted to the flickering torchlight, I saw that the space was vast and sprawling, with tunnels branching off in multiple directions.  

 

Brennan led the way, his torch casting eerie shadows on the walls. The maze-like passages were filled with winding tunnels and rooms with stone coffins lining the walls. My eyes lit up in wonder as I scanned my surroundings. “Are we in the catacombs?” 

 

Brennan shot me a sly grin and nodded. 

 

“I thought people weren’t allowed down here,“ I said. 

 

Brennan winked. “We’re not, but we wouldn’t be outlaws if we did what we’re told.” 

 

“I mean, I thought it was unsafe for people to go down here. Aren’t there alligators down here?”

 

Brennan laughed. “No, that was a lie made up by the Divine Watchmen to stop people from trespassing.”

 

“So, are you really going to make me an official member of the thieves' guild?” I’ve never had a place where I belonged, and my insides bubbled with hope at the thought of finding a home amongst the guild. 

 

“Woah, slow down there, lad. This is far from official. You’ve still got to earn your place amongst our ranks.”

 

As we walked deeper into the catacombs, the air grew colder and the torches became fewer. I could hear the faint sound of whispers and laughter echoing off the damp walls.

 

“Do you hear that?” I asked Brennan, my heart beating faster with excitement.

 

He nodded. “That’s our hideaway.” 

 

We arrived at a large room that had been hollowed out of the stone. The room was dimly lit by candles, and a group of people were gathered around a wooden table, chatting and laughing. The drinks were flowing, and the atmosphere was lively.

 

They all gave Brennan a nod of acknowledgment as he entered, signaling their respect for him before continuing their conversation. 

 

Brennan wrapped an arm around my shoulder and said, “Attention everyone! This here is Westley, and I’m thinking about recruiting him to join the guild, but he's going to need to prove himself first.”

 

The room fell silent as everyone turned to look at me. I could feel their eyes on me, sizing me up and assessing whether I had what it took to become one of them. I stood up straight, trying to project confidence even though my heart was racing with nerves.

 

Finally, one of the thieves spoke up. “Geez Brennan. Where’d you find this tyke? Are you recruiting thieves directly out of the womb now? How old is this kid? He doesn’t even look old enough to shave.” 

 

I gritted my teeth at the thief's teasing, feeling the flush of embarrassment creeping up my neck. It wasn't my fault that I couldn't grow a proper beard. Neither my age nor my inability to grow facial hair hindered my talent for stealing. If they gave me a fair chance, they would all see that I’m a bloody good thief! At least, I used to be. I hadn’t stolen a single coin since losing my hand, and quite frankly, I’m unsure if I still have what it takes. However, I didn’t let that sense of doubt show on my expression; I would never let the guild see me falter. 

 

Brennan tightened his grip on my shoulder. "Don't let his looks fool you. Westley's got potential. He's already shown he's got the guts to sneak into the catacombs with me."

 

“So, Westley, what skills do you have?” asked a woman with piercing brown eyes.

 

“I’m a skilled lock picker, quick on my feet, I’m decent at pickpocketing, and I have a sharp eye for valuables,” I replied.

 

I caught several thieves rolling their eyes. 

 

The same thief who had mocked me earlier spoke up again. “We’re the bloody thieves’ guild, for God’s sake! Every one of us can do those things. What special skills do you bring to the table?” 

 

I opened my mouth to argue, but no words came out because I didn’t have any. He was right about me. I was way out of my depth alongside this crew. 

 

Brennan must have sensed my unease because he spoke up for me. "Westley may not have the flashiest skills, but he's got something even better: determination. He's been through a lot and has come out on top. He's got a fire in him that won't let him give up. Trust me, that's just what our guild needs right now. So, if no one objects, I’d like to start training Westley to become one of us.”

There was a moment of silence as everyone considered Brennan's proposal. I waited for one of them to comment on my missing hand and list it as a reason that I was unfit, but none did. 

Then the woman with the piercing brown eyes spoke up. "I trust Brennan's judgment; if he thinks Westley has what it takes, then I'm willing to give him a chance." 

Everyone else nodded in agreement, and I let out a sigh of relief. 

Brennan gave me a warm smile. “It looks like you're in.”

…

Over the next couple of days, I began to assimilate into the ranks of the thieves' guild. Everyone called me Rookie, and they treated me more like an errand boy than a member of the team. The senior members had me sweeping the floors and washing their dishes, as well as pilfering ale from the local brewery whenever they desired it. I never once complained because I was desperate to earn their approval.  

One day, they approached me, offering me a job. They tasked me with stealing a mythical object of immense power called the invisible sword. I had never heard of such a thing, but I eagerly accepted the job, hoping it could win me their favor. Per their instruction, I broke into the local museum and scoured it for the relic. I searched for nearly the entire night before I realized I had been pranked. There was no invisible sword. They were trying to make a fool out of me and it worked. Do these arseholes know what will happen if I get arrested again? I could’ve lost my remaining hand because of their foolish antics! 

The only part of my days I enjoyed was training with Brennan. My dreams of being Brennan Mercer's protégé had fueled my ambition since childhood, and now that I finally had the chance to learn from him. I only wish he had the opportunity to see me when I was at my best. These days, I feel like a husk of my former self. Brennan was a master of his craft, and he had a way of making even the most complex techniques seem simple. He showed me how to pick locks with just one hand and how to move through crowds without being detected. I soaked up his teachings like a sponge, determined to become the best thief the guild had ever seen. I wanted to become someone Brennan could be proud of because he was the first person who had ever believed in me. 

My admiration for Brennan was abundant, but I couldn’t help but envy him as well. After all, he had everything I ever wanted. He was a king in his own right. He was the most daring and capable thief in the city. The Divine Watchman feared him. He was beloved and respected by the thieves' guild. He had a beautiful wife who adored him, as well as a vault of stolen riches that would make a baron jealous. To top it all off, he had the most glorious facial hair the world had ever seen. How could I not desire that for myself? 

I met Brennan on the training grounds for our scheduled stealth training. When I got there, Brennan informed me that we’d be deviating from our usual regiment tonight. He led me into the armory. We walked past racks fully stocked with daggers, swords, and crossbows. Against the back wall stood a glass case containing two iron axes, ornately engraved with intricate designs. Unlike the other weapons, these were safely stored behind lock and key. 

Brennan's eyes gleamed with a mischievous glint, and he handed me a set of lock picks. “Alright, boy. Steal ‘em for me.”

I smirked and knelt, so I was at eye level with the keyhole. 

My fingers moved quickly and deftly over the picks, and I soon felt the satisfying click of the lock opening. I pushed open the glass case and took the two axes. They felt heavy and sturdy in my hands, and the intricate designs on their handles seemed to

glow in the dim light. My heart raced with excitement over the successful heist.

“Good job, boy. You’ve already improved so much,” Brennan said, patting me on the back.

I beamed with pride. For the first time since I joined the guild, I felt like I had accomplished something somewhat notable. 

Brennan smiled down at the axes with pride. “These are a souvenir from my first major heist. I plucked them from the manor of a wealthy warlord in Ashenfell. They’ve served me well over the years.”

I viewed my reflection in the flawless metal. “They’re incredible,” I whispered, in awe of their magnificence. 

“I’d like to train you to wield one,” Brennan said.  

I felt a shiver shoot down my spine at the thought of wielding such a powerful weapon. The iron axes were unlike anything I had ever held before, and I knew that to wield them properly would take time and practice. But with Brennan as my guide, I was determined to learn.

We returned to the training room, where I now stood face-to-face with the old scarecrow the guild used to practice their attacks. Sometimes I like to pretend that it’s Chancellor Ciarán, and I practice beating it to death with a stick. It was surprisingly therapeutic.

“Do you have any experience wielding axes?” 

 

I shook my head.  “I prefer knives; they’re more discreet, easier to smuggle.”

Brennan nodded his head in understanding. "Knives have their uses, but axes have a certain power to them. They can end a fight with just one swing, if used correctly. It is important to have a variety of weapons in your arsenal."

I raised my arm and tried to swing at the scarecrow, but the axe was much heavier than I was expecting, and I missed my target by a long shot. I wasn’t strong like Brennan. My twig-like biceps weren’t cut out for wielding a weapon this heavy.

Don’t worry, Westley,” Brennan said, placing a reassuring hand on my shoulder. “Strength isn’t everything when it comes to wielding an axe. It’s all about technique and precision.”

He demonstrated by taking one of the axes and approaching the scarecrow. With a flick of his wrist, Brennan struck the wooden target. 

I took a step back and copied Brennan’s movements. I imagined that the scarecrow was Chancellor Ciarán, and I pictured all the suffering I wanted to inflict on him. I swung the axe, fueled with anger and hatred towards the man who had stolen my hand from me. The axe connected with the scarecrow, sending wood splinters flying in all directions. I didn’t stop there.  I swung my axe over and over, brutally massacring the poor scarecrow, screaming all the while. 

As I finally stopped my violent onslaught, Brennan looked at me with concern etched into his features. ”I’m worried about you, Westley. This kind of behavior isn’t healthy.”

“What are you talking about? I just got into the zone and played a little too rough, that’s all.”

Brennan shook his head disapprovingly. “You can’t fool me, boy. I see the thirst for revenge in your eyes. Listen to me. Allowing hatred to fester will poison your soul.” 

I rolled my eyes, utterly disinterested in his self-righteous lecture. “Why do you care about my soul? Last time I checked, you were a thief, not a clergyman.” 

“I understand how you’re feeling. When I was a young man, I wanted nothing more than to get even with those who’d wronged me, but it wasn’t worth it. Violence isn’t the way. I know it's tempting, but vengeance starts a vicious cycle that can be impossible to break.”

I dropped my ax in indignation, sending it clattering to the ground. “What do you suggest I do? Forgive and forget? I can’t forget, Brennan. He gave me a permanent reminder of what he did when he chopped off my hand.”

Brennan sighed deeply before responding, “I’m not saying you should forgive or forget, Westley. I’m saying you should channel your anger productively. Become stronger, faster, and more skilled with your remaining hand. Show Chancellor Ciarán that he couldn’t keep you down and that you’re still a force to be reckoned with. Use your anger as fuel to become the best version of yourself. Living well is the best revenge.” 

I picked up my axe and turned away from him. "Thanks for the advice, Brennan, but I'll never stop hating him for what he’s done. I stormed out of the room, not wanting to hear any more of Brennan's idealistic nonsense. 

…

I kept to myself for the next couple of weeks. Brennan kept trying to talk me out of my revenge quest, but I wouldn’t hear it. Brennan couldn’t understand what I was going through, not truly. We could relate on some level with our shared experience of living without a limb, but he was born this way. He couldn’t comprehend what it was like to live your entire life with two hands and then have one stolen from you. I’d tried many replacements, ranging from hooks to wooden replicas, but nothing could ever compare to a real hand. Brennan can forgive and forget all he wants to, but I’ll never let this go.

Feeling no desire to be scolded by Brennan tonight, I decided to patrol the streets for some easy wallets to snatch. As I turned a corner near the docks, I witnessed an altercation between a member of the Divine Watchmen and a girl no older than ten. I soundlessly slipped into the shadows to listen in on their exchange.

 

The watchman squeezed the girl’s wrist tightly. “You’re coming with me!” 

 

“But I didn’t do anything wrong!” the girl protested, trying to yank her hand free.

 

“Nice try, thief! I see that stolen bracelet around your wrist!”

“It’s not stolen! I promise! It was a present from my mum!” the girl insisted. 

 

“Stop lying! Street trash like you could never afford something so nice. Chancellor Ciarán will have your tongue for lying to a watchman.” 

 

Before I had time to process what I was doing, I stepped out of the shadows, twirling my ax in my hand. “Unhand her!” 

 

The watchman startled at my sudden appearance, his grip on the girl loosening. The girl stumbled backward, almost tripping over her own feet. I stepped closer to the watchman, tightening my grip on my axe. 

"What do you think you're doing, watchman?" I growled. "Leave the poor child alone!"

He sneered at me. “This is watchman business. It has nothing to do with the likes of you. I suggest you move along before I arrest you for interfering.”

 

“Your business became my business the minute you decided to harass an innocent girl.” 

 

The watchman’s eyes narrowed in anger as he drew his sword. “You’ll regret this, boy. I am authorized to use force if necessary. You’re nothing but a one-handed vagrant. You don’t stand a chance against a chief officer of the Divine Watchmen.”

 

I merely chuckled, relishing in the fight to come. “You’ll need more than a sword to take me down. I’m deceptively tough.” 

 

The watchman lunged at me, his sword aimed straight for my chest. I easily dodged his attack, my ax coming down hard on his blade, sending it flying out of his hand. He stumbled backward, his face twisted in shock.

 

I advanced on him, my ax held high. “You’re not so tough without your sword, are you?”

 

The watchman stared at me with a mixture of fear and fury, before lunging at me once again. I sidestepped his attack and swung my ax at his side, leaving a deep gash in his armor. He screamed in pain, stumbling to the ground. I took advantage of my newfound opening and pierced him through the heart.

 

The watchman let out one last cry of pain before taking his last breath. 

 

I felt a rush of twisted satisfaction flow through me at the sight of his lifeless body. My heart was still pounding, and I could feel the adrenaline coursing through my veins. I waited to feel some kind of guilt, grief, or horror for taking another man’s life, but it never came. On the contrary, I felt more alive than I ever have. I wasn’t sorry. He was going to harm a child, so I stopped him. Rookmoore is better off without men like him patrolling the streets. 

 

“Is he dead?” the girl asked, stepping out of the darkness and inching toward us. I’d almost forgotten that she was still standing there. She most likely witnessed the entire incident. The poor girl was probably traumatized for life. 

 

“No, he’s not dead. He’s just sleeping,” I lied, trying to spare her any further distress. 

 

“It doesn’t look like he’s breathing.” 

 

“It just looks like he’s dead because he’s so sleepy.” I hoisted the watchman’s corpse over my shoulder and tossed him over the stone ledge and into the sea. “He’s going for a swim now. The chilling water is sure to jolt him awake. You don’t need to worry about him.” I scanned my surroundings for any other evidence. A spattering of his blood still clung to the cobblestone. It was far too risky to try to clean it, so I opted to ignore it. 

 

The girl stared at me in disbelief but didn't say anything. I couldn't blame her for being shocked. I had just killed a man in front of her, no matter how justified it was. I didn't want to stick around and explain myself, so I decided to change the subject. “Do you need someone to walk you home?”

 

The girl hesitated for a moment before nodding silently. I could see the fear in her eyes as I approached her, but I kept a safe distance, not wanting to scare her any more than she already was. I followed her lead to the artisan’s district, protectively shadowing her at every turn. I flashed my bloody axe at anyone who stared in our direction, daring them to try me. I’d already killed one man; what’s a couple more? 

 

As we walked, I took a moment to subtly appraise the girl’s bracelet. Although it resembled the real thing from a distance, this was no doubt made of fool’s gold. That watchman was going to turn this poor child over to Chancellor Ciarán to be butchered over a piece of worthless costume jewelry.

 

Luckily, we made it to the girl’s residence without any further conflict. She squeaked out a quiet “Thank you,” before retreating into her home. 

I stood outside her door for a few moments, peering around the dimly lit alley to ensure no one was lurking, before turning away. As I made my way back to Brennan’s home, my thoughts wandered. I had just killed a man in cold blood and felt no remorse. Was that who I was now? A ruthless killer? Once upon a time, the thought of taking the life of another human being would have repulsed me, but I am not the same naive boy I used to be. Chancellor Ciarán made sure of that. Despite Brennan’s foolishly optimistic platitudes about rising above your enemies, I now knew that violence was the only path to justice. 

 

…. 

 

A few days later, Brennan assembled the entire thieves' guild for an urgent meeting. He stood tall in front of the bar and raised his voice so everyone could hear. “Listen up folks! I’ve received word from one of our spies that a group of ambassadors from Ashenfell are coming to Rookmoore in a week’s time. They are planning to meet with Chancellor Ciarán to discuss allying with our kingdom in the war. This provides us with a window of opportunity to rid ourselves of that no-good chancellor once and for all.”

 

I perked up at the mention of harming Chancellor Ciarán. Brennan had successfully captured my full attention, urging me to keep listening.

 

“The ambassadors will want assurance that Rookmoore is in good financial standing and has desirable resources to contribute to the war effort. To satisfy their concerns, Chancellor Ciarán will give them a tour of the city’s vault, hidden beneath municipal hall. Our plan is to ransack the vault before they arrive. This will cause Ashenfell to question the competency of Chancellor Ciarán and The Divine Watchmen.  Once the king learns that the chancellor’s failure to protect the vault from petty thieves cost him the alliance, Chancellor Ciarán will certainly be stripped of his title. This will destroy his reputation and ensure that he’ll never hold political power again.” 

 

I leaned back in my chair, considering Brennan’s plan. As much as I relished the thought of seeing Chancellor Ciarán dethroned, it wasn’t good enough for me. I needed him to truly suffer. As I pondered it, I realized that perhaps I could use this heist to exact some real revenge on Ciarán. 

 

“This task won’t be easy, so I’ll need my best thieves on deck,” Brennan said. “I need Axford and Wilson to knock out any guards patrolling the building. Beardsley, Murphy, and O’Brien will help me crack the safe. I’ll need everyone else to grab as much loot as you can carry. Westley, you’re on lookout duty.” 

 

Everyone eagerly accepted their duties and filed out of the hideaway, leaving just me and Brennan alone at one of the tables. 

 

Once everyone was out of earshot, Brennan let out a weary sigh and slumped in his chair. He unfastened his wooden leg and winced as he massaged his thigh.  

 

“Are you okay? I asked. 

 

“I’m alright, lad. A storm is brewing, and the change in the air always makes the old stump ache. Don’t worry about me.” 

 

I nodded in understanding. I was hurting too, but I would never let anyone see my pain. Brennan was placing his trust in me by showing his vulnerability.

 

After a couple of moments of silence, Brennan said, “I know what you’re planning. I see the glint of trouble in your eyes.”

 

I fought to keep my expression neutral in the face of his accusation. “I have no idea what you’re talking about,” I lied. 

 

“You can’t fool me, boy. It’s just like I told you before, there was a time when I was exactly like you. I know how you’re feeling, but I need you to promise me that you won’t let your grudge against Chancellor Ciarán ruin our mission. I’m counting on you to do what is right.”

 

I took a deep breath and looked Brennan directly in the eyes when I said. “I’ll promise to do what needs to be done.”

 

…  

 

The evening before our grand heist, I tossed and turned in my bed, the light of the moon throwing dark shadows on the walls as I lay there sleepless. My heart felt like an anchor, dragged down by two opposing forces, threatening to tear it apart. 

 

I considered what would happen if I followed orders and gave up on my quest for vengeance. If the job went well, this could propel me into becoming a full-fledged member of the guild. Maybe someday I could become Brennan’s right-hand man and the next leader when he retires.

 

If I went through with my revenge, I’d be betraying the guild and possibly putting them in harm’s way. I spent the night tossing and turning, my resolve being pulled in two different directions. Was my quest for revenge really worth losing the trust I had gained? Then again, it’s not like anyone in the guild other than Brennan gave a rat’s ass about me. However, just the thought of disappointing him made my heart shatter. 

 

As much as I loathed it, buried somewhere deep within my soul resided the lonely orphan boy who wanted nothing more than a father’s approval. I fought to rid myself of those childish desires. Brennan wasn’t my father. He was a colleague and nothing more. 

 

My wrist throbbed with phantom pain. I gently caressed the stump where my hand once was, and my heart burned with righteous conviction. I knew what I had to do. 

 

…..

 

The next evening, I met with Brennan and the rest of the team at our designated rendezvous point outside of Rookmoore Municipal Hall. It was well past midnight, meaning the hall was closed off to visitors. 

 

Our master locksmith stepped up to the door. He produced a set of tools from his toolkit and quickly manipulated the lock. With a click, he pulled the door open and gestured for us to enter.

 

We’d reviewed our plan countless times, and everyone knew their roles by heart. Before we split up to handle our individual tasks, Brennan patted me on the shoulder and whispered, “I’m proud of you, lad.” 

 

My stomach tied itself into knots as I was overwhelmed with guilt. I refused to meet his gaze as I muttered, “Thank you, sir.” 

 

I watched as the group dispersed, each member heading to their designated location. I twirled my axe in my hand and whispered, “I’m sorry, Brennan.”  Once everyone was out of eye-shot, I abandoned my post and rushed towards the library. I knew that was Chancellor Ciarán's favorite spot because he refused to leave it, even when he was dismembering prisoners. 

 

My steps were silent as I navigated my way through the dark corridors of the municipal hall. The only sound was the faint rustling of my cloak as I moved. My heart was pounding in my chest as I approached the library door. I stopped just outside, listening for any signs of life inside.

 

There was no sound. I pushed the door open slowly, wincing at the creaking sound it made. My eyes quickly adjusted to the dimly lit room, and I spotted Chancellor Ciarán sitting in a plush armchair surrounded by piles of books. As I crept inside, the hinges squeaked again.

 

Chancellor Ciarán dropped his book and jumped to his feet. “Who goes there? Show yourself!” 

 

I slunk into the shadows, determined not to be seen. As the Chancellor cautiously searched the room, I could feel my pulse quickening. I was playing a dangerous game, but I couldn't turn back now. I had to finish what I started. I waited until the Chancellor's back was turned before making my move. With a swift and silent step, I moved towards him.

 

Before I had the chance to grab him, he turned around, spotting me.  His eyes widened in surprise, and he took a step back. “Westley?”

 

My voice took on a deep, unfamiliar quality as I reveled in the sight of him cowering before me. “Oh, you remember me? Good. Hurting you would be a lot less fun if you forgot about me.” 

 

“So, you're here for revenge, I take it? Nice try, but my watchman will be here in an instant to defend me.” Chancellor Ciarán stood tall, trying to act tough, but I noticed the way he trembled, ever so slightly. “Guards! Help! There’s an intruder!” he cried like the coward he was. 

 

Little did he know, anyone who was supposed to be protecting him right now was likely unconscious right now. Either way, I chose to take a little safety precaution.  I spotted an unanchored bookshelf beside the door, filled with massive tomes on the top shelf and lighter volumes on the bottom. The top-heavy structure looked as though it was ready to topple over at any moment. Perfect! I summoned all the strength I could muster and pushed the bookcase over, barricading the door. Now, back to business. 

 

He took up a defensive posture and retreated several steps backward. “Don’t come any closer! If you lay a finger on me, I’ll put your head on the chopping block instead of your hand.”

 

I smirked. “Oh yeah, you and what army? Face it, Chancellor. You’re nothing without your lackeys behind you. I could snap your neck right here and now, and everyone would be none the wiser.”

 

I saw him glance toward the window, before trying to dash to it. 

 

The Chancellor was much slower and weaker than I was, so I had no trouble tackling him to the ground and physically restraining him. 

 

I wrestled him off the ground and dragged him to the center of the room. “You really thought you could get away, huh? That’s pathetic. You can never escape justice. I’ll chase you down to the ends of the earth if I have to.”

 

“This isn’t you. You’re just a lowly pickpocket. You're not a killer. You don’t have it in you,” Chancellor Ciarán said, his voice trembling with every syllable. 

 

“You don’t know what I’m capable of!” I growled. Although it was a struggle to accomplish one-handed, I managed to bind him to a table. 

 

Chancellor Ciarán's face was a mask of terror as he struggled against the restraints. I could see the fear in his eyes, and I felt a rush of adrenaline coursing through my veins. The power I held over him was intoxicating, and I savored every moment of it.

 

I approached the angel oak tree in the heart of the library. I reached out to touch one of its delicate leaves. “Do you see this angel oak, Chancellor? It truly is a lovely tree, isn't it? It’s really grown on me recently.”

 

Chancellor Ciarán did not dignify me with a response. He simply glared up at me through a veil of silver hair. 

 

“I once heard someone compare this tree to our beloved city,” I began. “and they suggested that we must prune away the diseased branches if we want it to survive. Chancellor, you and your utterly useless watchmen are the very rot creeping through our veins. Your punishments are cruel, and the treatment of your citizens is barbaric!” I rolled up my sleeve revealing my residual limb. “You’re a monster, Ciarán.”

 

I watched as the fear in his expression morphed into rage. “Would you like for me to get on my hands and knees and beg for your forgiveness? I won’t apologize for what I’ve done. Every decision I have made has been for the good of this city!”

 

A wicked grin spread across my lips. “I’m glad you’re not sorry, because I show no mercy to the unrepentant. Besides, I think it’s much too late for apologies, don’t you?” I raised the axe Brennan had given to me, and with one swift motion, I sliced his hand clean off.