Scoundrel
_ Hey guys! I'm writing this story for a publication opportunity that I've come across. Now of course, it's not certain that I'll get it, but I'm still planning to try. The concept was to write a story that was related to the word 'scoundrel' in some way, and so I decided to write a fantasy about an ottery thief in a city called Arborlon! So go ahead and tell me what you think! If you can offer feedback, that's highly appreciated! I want this to be as good as it can possibly be. Anyway, thank you for reading, and I hope you enjoy the beginning of the story _
_ PS: This obviously isn't the entire story xD Just the beginning part that I have done _
PSS: I put this under all ages because I barely described the blood and stuff, so that's that xD
A glimpse of shadows flickering in the night. The faint sound of pawsteps in the darkness of an alleyway. These were the only things that anyone had ever seen of him. Who was 'him', one may ask. Well...that would be a good question. No one really knew who he was. They simply referred to him as the 'Shadow Thief' after his ability to fade into the shadows without a trace. He had eluded authorities for years with not even a clue as to who he was or how he escaped the way he did.
The thief in question was certainly happy with that kind of anonymity. Information was a valuable thing, and in his line of work, it was particularly dangerous.
"I swear Oliver, you're going to get yourself arrested and killed one of these days!"
The otter had just returned to his hideout after a particularly close encounter with the guards, and naturally, he had to tell his friend Damian every single detail.
"Oh come now Damian," Oliver replied casually, chuckling. "I've been at this for a little bit. If I weren't good enough to remain out of the guards' filthy paws, then I'd have been caught already!"
Damian was a red scaled lizard who served as a healer and advisor for Oliver. The two had met a few years before in the bowels of the city, and they had quickly become close friends afterwards.
"I know, but even so!" Replied Damian. "I just worry alright? You can only get lucky so many times before your luck runs out! You may have gotten away today, but tomorrow, you could get caught and killed, and then who would help the underlings?"
Oliver just shrugged. He had heard this lecture before. "Listen, just let me be good at what I do! I haven't given you a reason to doubt me, have I?"
Damian shifted uncomfortably. "W-Well no...but..." The lizard finally sighed, leaning against a wall. "I just don't want to lose you, alright? The underlings need the Shadow Thief. /I/ need the Shadow Thief, alright?" His eyes stared at the black furred otter pleadingly. "Please just tell me you'll be more careful, okay? That's all I'm asking."
Oliver stopped then. He had been putting his goods on the bookshelf where he kept most of the things he had stolen before he distributed them out in the alleys. Slowly, the otter turned, and he walked across the room to give Damian a gentle hug. There was a silence that spanned several seconds. Finally, Damian just sighed. "Oliver, you're all I've got in this world..." He said softly, pressing against the otter's body tightly, as though Oliver might dissipate any moment. "I-...I can't imagine what I'd do if I lost you." The lizard's voice was very obviously on the verge of cracking. He was doing his best not to get overly emotional, but it was a subject he hated thinking about. "Th-The thought of you going out there every day...a-and the thought that you might not return every day...I try not to let it get to me..." Damian managed a breathy chuckle at that point. "B-But I only have so much willpower in me, and it gets harder and harder each time you come back injured."
Oliver was silent for what felt like minutes on end. Finally, he had to make sure his own voice would be stable before speaking. "I understand my friend," He replied gently, wrapping his muscular arms around Damian's more slender, scaled frame. "But...you know I can't stop doing this. Everything I do is for the underlings, if I don't help them, then who will?" It was a point that was brought up quite often between the two.
Damian slowly nodded, struggling to keep tears back. "I-..I understand that Oliver." The lizard managed to choke the words out. "J-Just please promise me something...a-alright?"
Oliver instantly nodded gently against Damian's shoulder. "Anything, Damian." He replied evenly.
"P-Promise me that you won't go out there one day, a-and then never come back," came the distressingly desperate plea. "I can't lose you too, alright?"
There was an even longer silence after that. Finally, Oliver stepped back from the hug, placing one paw on Damian's shoulder and the other at the lizard's chin, forcing him to look at the otter. "Damian, I promise you that no one is getting ahold of me while I'm out there, alright? I promise you that I'll still be here tomorrow, and I promise that I'll be here next month." He was lying straight out his teeth of course. He couldn't promise any of that in reality. His line of work was dangerous in Arbolon, and considering his present notoriety, he was only in that much more danger.
Damian seemed to be comforted by the words though, and he nodded again, wiping his eyes with an arm and forcing a smile. "Good, then let's go bring the underlings some gifts then, hmm?" Obviously, the lizard was making an attempt to lighten the mood.
Evidently, the attempt worked, because Oliver couldn't keep himself from smiling in return. "Let's do that then," he replied in agreement.
The land of Coventry was a large one, divided into kingdoms, or cities that had lords over each one. The kingdom of Arborlon was a wealthy city; the wealthiest in the land as a matter of fact. It was the home of the High King; the most powerful man in the land. Some revered him as a god, and it was considered an honor to lay eyes upon him. However, the wealth of the 'King's city' came at a good deal of cost. The city was hellbent on working and productivity. If one could not 'pull their own weight' or do anything to contribute, they were considered underlings; those who had no home and, often times, no family to go to. Many of the underlings died after only weeks on the street. They would never be able to afford food or medicine needed for the diseases that often proved to be lethal.
Oliver had grown up as an underling, never having anything to call his own save his family.
Or rather, he had his family until tragedy struck.
"Please spare change or food! Please! We have a child! Please save our child!" A parade was going on at the time. The High King's parade no less. Line after unrelenting line of guards marched along, dressed in full armor and armed to the teeth in traditional parade style. In the middle of the army of guards that was marching through the city, a rather large litter was carried by a team of six horses on their shoulders. Behind the litter was a rather powerful man as well; the captain of the guard. As the name implied, he controlled the guards within the city, and served as one of the personal escorts to the king in public appearances.
"Please help our child! Please! Any food or coin!" The pleading came from two otters kneeling by the road, holding their dirty, black furred paws out for any bit of charity that might go their way. As fate would have it, there were no sympathetic ears that day. By the otters stood a rather small otter child, also colored a solid black color and covered in dirt. His innocent blue eyes stared up at the guards that he saw passing by, and at all the bystanders. He couldn't exactly speak loud enough for anyone to hear him, so he stayed quiet, not quite understanding what was going on, and deciding in his simple child mind that he wouldn't understand an answer if he were able to ask.
The parade progressed on, and finally, the litter that held the prestigious High King came by the spot where the small otter family was, and the pleading grew all the louder. Some of the bystanders would give the adults dirty looks, but that was the extent of what they received from civilians. However, the captain of the guard had rather keen ears, something that was rather common to canines like him, and so he looked towards the disturbance coming over the excited ramblings of the crowd. Finally, he spotted the disturbance: two filthy otter underlings and a brat of a son to boot. The captain chuckled to himself, reaching for his sword hilt as he began to veer towards the side. This wouldn't be the first time he did this, and it wouldn't be the first time he'd enjoy it either.
The last thing Oliver saw of his parents was them reaching towards the approaching captain, pleading pitifully. What happened next was locked in Oliver's brain for the rest of his life, however.
The slither of steel rang in his ears, and he heard a loud crunch that seemed to vibrate in his chest even as his father's own chest was pierced straight through the middle, sending blood through the air. The adult otter went rigid for a moment, then went limp, falling off of the captain's sword. Moments later, another crunch sounded, and blood splattered Oliver's fur as his mother fell the ground in the same limp way as his father.
The child was stunned for a moment, and then the reality of what he had just witnessed hit him, and he let out a loud cry of despair, collapsing on his father's limp body and beginning to cry. Above him, the captain snickered at the crying otter child. With a swift motion, the canine sheathed his sword, and promptly threw a kick to Oliver's side. Considering the child's size, it wasn't unusual that he left the ground for a few moments before hitting the brick again with a loud wheeze of pain. Slowly, the otter tried to sit up with his feeble arms, only to be confronted by the captain towering over him. The last thing Oliver remembered was a foot filling his vision before everything went black.