Fantasy · Political Intrigue · Espionage
Brennan Cade writes fantasy fiction focused on political intrigue, espionage, and the consequences of quiet decisions. His work explores power, loyalty, and the costs paid far from the battlefield.
An early excerpt from a work in progress:
“Today is going to be a good day.” Kris thought to himself.
It had been months since the causeway into Liefdan had seen this much activity. News of Grendar’s capture the previous morning was as if a great weight had been lifted from the city’s shoulders. His marauders had made trade and travel in the region dangerous for several months. The usual influx of traveling merchants had dwindled to almost nothing. Few wanted to risk the open roads while the band of marauders roamed freely. Those who did so traveled with a complement of 50 or more armed guards, usually mercenaries, to deter the marauders. Unfortunately for Kris, those same armed guards provided too many sets of watchful eyes to risk lifting anything. Now that the roads were safe, commerce could resume.
It wasn’t that Kris disagreed with Grendar’s profession, as he himself was a thief. But Grendar’s lack of subtlety had been bad for business. Not to mention that killing had always seemed so distasteful to him. Something is to be said about a thief who can ply his craft while going wholly unnoticed. Slipping a purse off a merchant’s belt and walking away without conflict takes far more skill than simply beating someone to death and picking valuables off their corpse. Plus, Kris never felt as if he were doing much harm. He only took from those who could afford to lose a little, and he only took what he needed.
Stepping down from the abandoned, two-wheeled cart he had perched upon while eating his breakfast, an apple that he had nicked from a nearby produce stand, Kris strode into the stream of pedestrians making their way to Merchant Square to peddle their wares and barter for goods. The sun had barely risen and hadn’t yet crested the forty-foot-high walls surrounding the city. With some luck, he could find an easy mark who wasn’t fully awake or was distracted by the morning bustle.
Kris cut a striking figure among the early morning crowd. He was of medium height, but moved with the agile grace of a cat; his lean frame had been honed by years of darting through alleyways and slipping through crowds. His hair was a dark, tousled mop that fell just above his piercing green eyes. Eyes that missed nothing, constantly scanning for opportunities. His face was angular and handsome, marred only by a thin scar that ran from his left eyebrow to his cheek, a memento from a close call with a particularly irate merchant.
He donned a well-worn but sturdy leather vest over a simple tunic, his clothes chosen more for their practicality than their appearance. His boots, soft-soled and silent, were perfect for sneaking about. Around his waist, a belt with several small pouches hung, each containing the tools of his trade: lock picks, a slender dagger, and a few other items valuable to a thief. A dark cloak, patched and mended in places, was draped over his shoulders, providing both warmth and a means to blend into the shadows when needed.
The outer edges of Merchant Square were lined with hundreds of peddlers, some with carts or rolling stands, others simply carrying goods in a sack. The center of the square held the more established merchants with permanent kiosks. These were the mainstays of the square, including Williams’ produce, Goulde’s Butchery, and Thatcher’s Fish Market. Other vendors were offering these same items, but Williams’, Goulde’s, and Thatcher’s consistently carried the most product and sold the most significant quantities, earning them their place at the center of the square.
“You’re at it early.” An authoritative voice said.
Kris looked to his side to see a scowling city guard eying him from the raised walkway around the inner wall. He knew the man as John, one of the more agreeable guards. Liefdan’s guards tended to like Kris because he didn’t create problems for them. He was rarely caught in the act and never assaulted anyone. The guards knew what Kris did, but as long as he didn’t cause a scene, the guards wouldn’t have to chase him. It didn’t hurt that Kris would occasionally toss them a pilfered snack.
“I don’t want any trouble out of you today. It’s been a rough morning already.” John told Kris.
Kris gave John a brief smile and a wave, then continued to wind through the throng, heading to the square's northwest corner. From there, he could see the square’s north and west entrances. The north entrance led to the docks. Merchants passing through those gates carried imported goods, such as spices and fabrics, as well as local fish. It was a good place to lift coin as the ships' crews visited the market to resupply their stores and purchase valuables to import at their berth. The west entrance connected to Liefdan Road, the main gates of the city, and the farms that provided fresh produce and livestock, as well as tools and clothing from local craftsmen.
This morning, Kris was looking for a few necessities. The lack of trade in recent months made acquiring food and other provisions more difficult. For more than a week, he had relied on not much more than a stash of stale flatbread. A few ounces of meat was high on his list of priorities. He also needed a new knife; his old one had been sharpened so many times that the blade had worn almost entirely away. Knives were his tool of choice. He usually kept several but had lost one in a scuffle with a drunkard and broke another trying to pry open a crate on the docks. He would make do with just about any blade, but a small dagger would be his first choice so that he could resign his current knife to cooking.
Now, as he looked out through the crowd, Kris spotted a portly man making his way toward the center of the market from the north gate. He wore a green velvet coat over a white ruffled blouse, beige trousers, and high leather boots. The garb was worn in places and bore a few faint stains on the front, but it was evident that the man had done his best to keep the outfit clean. Kris took the man for a petty noble or possibly a merchant. Upon closer inspection, he noticed two small leather purses dangling by a leather thong on the man’s belt.
“He must be a noble. No merchant would be stupid enough to leave his purse hanging in plain sight. Not here.” Kris thought.