A teenager was walking down a crowded street. He had dark brown hair and eyes, pale skin, and cheap looking clothes. He stood at five foot eight inches and had a thin body with small, albeit noticeable muscles.
As he walked, he kept bumping into people. Trying to be fast and get by quickly, he rushed through the crowd. It seemed today was going to be another clean break, but as he was about to start his next route; he heard his que to leave. The low drumming turned frantic as people realized they were missing their wallets.
Not being able to hold the tension any longer, he dipped into an alleyway as soon as he got out of the shopping district. But he made sure to rein in his excitement for his haul until he got to a safe place. A lesson he had to learn the hard way an embarrassing amount of times.
Winding through the convoluted streets, making sure to take one of the hardest paths, he made it to his hideout. The cellar of an abandoned bakery near the outside edge of the lower-middle class district.
Climbing down the trash shoot built towards the back of the building, he made his way inside. He had barricaded the main doors months ago, just in case. After checking the inside of the room to ensure no one had gotten inside while he was gone, he finally decided to take out his prize.
He started pulling wallets out of every part of his body. His sleeves, his pants, even his socks.
"Sixteen, not bad, but the amount doesn't really matter; just what's inside." Thinking out loud, he started flipping through the wallets to see how much he got. Twenty-six silver crowns and fifty-two bronze. Not the worst haul he's ever had but far from the best.
"Hahhh, why don't those uppity rich bastards keep more money on them anymore? I used to get this much when I was still a little kid. Now I need to steal from damn near everyone I see just to make ends meet."
As he talked, he started organizing his money, all the silver, and most of the bronze, crowns to the left. And the remaining bronze crowns to the right
He then started to scrutinize the wallets, checking the craftsmanship and quality of materials. Anything beyond a certain standard he put into the pile with silver crowns and anything below was put in its own pile.
Feeling comfortable with the denominations, he put the leftmost pile into a bag that was already half full and set it aside. And hid the pile of bronze crowns in his room.
Checking his pocket watch, he saw that it was almost six p.m., time to meet with his handler. He grabbed the bag and climbed out.
As he went to meet with his handler, he made sure to take the long way around. He couldn't risk letting the Stonewright gang find his house again.
After wondering for a bit, he made his way into a small pub on the outskirts of the lower middle class district. It was surprisingly clean for its location, but anyone who knew why would rather eat on the streets than get tied up with the local gangs.
Looking around, he saw his handler. A tall, robust, middle-aged man with brown hair and a receding hairline. If someone didn't know any better, they could easily mistake them for a father son duo having dinner together.
After sitting down, he set his bag underneath the table and grabbed the empty one that was already there.
"How much did you make?" The man asked in a cheerful tone.
"Seventy-six plus goods." Was the response.
"That barely covers interest; you know that, right? If you don't start bringing in actual money, you'll be doing this for the rest of your life? Or worse, end up like me and join them."
"Sigh, I have a job for you, or more accurately, 'we' have a suggestion."
With a small nod, the teenager asked him to keep speaking.
"As a border city, tensions always run a little high. Big guards, bigger walls, but as our relationship with our neighbors has gone a little sour, it seems to have been too much for the Nobles."
"Our guys have spotted them packing up and getting ready to flee. Entire caravans of them. Which means one thing; easy pickings."
"We'll give you locations and times. All you have to do is get in and get out with as much as you can. Easy, right?"
"We won't force you to do anything, but just remember; if you ever want to be free, this might be your only chance."
Standing up with the full bag in his hand, he said, "If you decide to listen to reason and join, we'll drop the info at the regular spot."
"Oh and Grimm, please, do stay and enjoy the meal. I ordered some food on impulse, but I don't have any time to enjoy it."
Walking past the waiter, taking his food to Grimm, the man left the pub.
The teenager, named Grimm, ate his meal slowly. He wasn't privileged enough to turn down favors; no matter who they came from. Plus, it's not every day you get to eat dinner in this area. Might as well savor it.
After finishing his meal and thanking his server, he grabbed the empty bag and left for his bed. Figuring a good night's rest might give him some clarity on what he should do next.
…
Waking up the next morning, only one thing became clear. "I really need the money."
Climbing off his cot, he made his way outside. On his way through the wooden buildings toward the drop-off point, Grimm steeled his will. The Stonewright's never do anything that does not profit them. So this sudden "opportunity" was screaming danger.
Reaching his destination, a dingy dive bar, he went inside. When the bartender saw him, they didn't even blink before handing him a thick piece of rag paper folded in on itself. "Hank wants it done tonight." They said before going back to work.
Slinking out, Grimm went to the alleyway around the corner before unfolding the paper. He couldn't read, but neither could most commoners, so it was a simple drawing using landmarks and the noble houses sigil to tell him where he needed to go.
He couldn't remember the name, but he knew that this family rose to power for being influential merchants in the jewelry trade. With a new goal in mind, he got to work. From finding his target to scoping out an escape route.
…
Hiding around the corner, Grimm watched the covered carts get loaded up. Subconsciously placing values on them based on what was loaded in. Most were filled with wooden crates and art pieces.
Except for one. From start to finish, the only things that entered or left that carriage were small intricate boxes and a ton of guards. As he watched, he counted and timed the guards to see how many there were at a time.
"Only every other guard checks inside the carriage. The rest just stand watch. If I slip in right after they step out, I should have enough me to grab everything I can and run."
Creeping through the shadows, he inched forward until he was within sprinting distance of the cart. Just before the guard stepped out from the curtain covering the back of the cart; Grimm made his move.
Charging forward, he stopped just to the left of the cart's back entrance. When he watched this guard, they would always raise the curtain with their right hand and step down to the left, rounding the corner. And just as he predicted, they did it again.
As soon as the guard rounded the corner, Grimm slipped through the curtain. Quickly, he started checking the jewelry boxes. Most were already wrapped in thick linen and packed into crates. Realizing he didn't have enough time to quietly unpackage them, he ran to the front of the cart where he saw a chest.
Dropping to his knees, he pulled out two strips of metal from his pocket and got to work on the lock. Within seconds, he could hear a light click as the bottom metal piece rotated, and he pulled it open.
Carefully lifting the lid he saw inside the chest. It was empty. Or at least that's what he would have thought if the bottom of the chest wasn't clearly set higher than it should be. Maybe if there was something inside, it might not have been so obvious, but either way, it obviously had a false bottom.
Without thinking, he dug his fingers into the bottom of the chest and ripped it up, revealing a small metal box, barely the size of his fist. Hearing movement from outside, he picked up the box and immediately dropped it because of its surprising weight.
Hearing the movement from outside become hurried, he picked the box back up and bolted. Bursting through the curtain covering the entrance he took off running right past the guard that was about to open the curtain.
Running faster than he ever had before, Grimm weaved through the back alleys and gutters of the city until the sounds of shouting and heavy footsteps fell away.
After once again confirming that he wasn't being tailed, Grimm made his way back home. Climbing up the grey brick wall across from the bakery, he crossed the empty street and went inside. Far more tired than he originally planned, he didn't have enough energy left to run around.
Dropping down the trash shoot, he laid his arms across his bed and rested his eyes. "It feels like I've been awake for days. And all I got for it was this." He said, moving the metal box around in his hands.
"Well, only one thing left to do." he said as he inspected the box. It was a dull iron color with deep gouges all around its outside. In an impressive, albeit ugly, pattern. A single seam ran along its center held together by a rubbery, tar like substance.
Grabbing a chipped bronze coin from under his cot, he scraped along the seam to try and split it. With a sudden swish of a vacuum being unsealed, a tiny hole was created on the seam.
After making the hole a little bigger, he pried the box open. Revealing a single blue crystal. It was roughly the size of a finger, jagged and uncut. It almost looked like it was broken off of a bigger chunk. But more than anything, its neon blue glow was what drew Grimm's attention. A glow so bright it almost looked like the air itself was changing colors.
Entranced Grimm slowly reached down until his finger barely grazed the crystal. With just a touch, the crystal suddenly shattered as a cloud of blue glow flooded into his finger. Started by the sudden change Grimm fell onto his back, trying to get up he was hit by a sudden pain making his body cramp up; dropping back to the floor.
Wave after wave of pain hit him until it happened so frequently it never really stopped. It felt like his blood was boiling, and his brain was on fire. His thrashing around was only stopped by the cramps so powerful they locked his body in place. Feeling pain worse than he could have ever imagined, Grimm's mind faded away.