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@elisha-starquill This is a great idea! I had way more fun writing this prompt than I thought I would. (Probably because it struck me as being in a sort of Victorian/steampunk era, and I love writing that genre.) Reading over it again, I suspect I might have been influenced a little by the Mandalorian. 😛

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A thief finds a note in a wallet they just pickpocketed: Meet me at the clock tower at midnight. I have a job you might be interested in. Bring my wallet with you.

—

Maverick scowled. That old guy hadn’t looked very observant, but obviously he’d known he was being pickpocketed. He flipped through the contents of the wallet. Plenty of coin. The smart thing to do was keep it, but the whole situation intrigued him. What kind of person would let himself be robbed just to offer a job? And what kind of job would warrant such a thing?

Maverick smiled. He knew exactly what to do. At midnight, he was at the clock tower. He kept an eye out for the heavy, bespectacled old gentleman from before. He noticed a street urchin creeping up behind him, but chose to ignore the kid and hope he would go away.

Instead, the urchin tapped his shoulder. Maverick turned to face a person equal in height. The urchin wasn’t a child, but a young man about Maverick’s age. “Go away, beggar. I don’t have anything for you,” Maverick hissed, making a dismissive gesture.

In one swift movement, the boy had the point of a dagger pressed to Maverick’s throat. “I’m no beggar, and neither are you. You should learn not to underestimate me.”

Maverick smirked and pressed the knife he had in his sleeve against the beggar’s side. “Good advice.”

The boy froze for an instant, staring at Maverick. “You’re the one, then.” He stepped back, removing himself from the zone of danger. “Your reputation precedes you. Quickblade, they call you. My boss wanted me to make sure we’d found the right one.”

The old fellow from the market stepped out of the shadows. His spectacles were gone, and so was his rotund belly. A disguise. He stood tall and grim, and suddenly Maverick knew who he was. “General Soldair. What can I do for you, sir?”

“You’re the Quickblade. The best thief in all Aurantis. You stole the Tavian Manuscripts and fled to the Eastern Vale when they put a price on your head. Twelve orbs, dead or alive. Now you’ve been reduced to a petty pickpocket.”

Maverick bristled. “I’m biding my time. With the war brewing, they’ll soon have more to think about than catching the ‘best thief in all Aurantis.’ I ask again, what do you want from me?”

General Soldair smiled. “Just a small favor. You know the little princess of Aurantis, I’m sure. When her father is killed in battle, she will ascend the throne.”

“Yes…” Maverick frowned. How did Soldair know the king would be killed?

“The king is sending her away from the fighting…somewhere safe. We need you to find out where that is.”

“I’m a thief, not a spy.”

“Oh, but your skills will be needed. Once you find her, you’ll need to spirit her away. Don’t worry, we’ll cover your tracks. The king won’t know she’s gone until it’s too late.”

Maverick’s head spun. This dastardly plot, if it came to pass, would plunge Aurantis into chaos. “I’m not in the habit of stealing children,” was all he replied.

Soldair’s silver eyes glinted. “I understand that. Just know that you will receive compensation for your services once your task is complete.”

Maverick’s gold sense awoke, and he eyed Soldair with interest. “How much?”

“Twelve orbs, exactly what the king offers for your capture.”

The irony of it almost make Maverick chuckle. “I see. Gold orbs?”

“Gold,” Soldair assured him.

He was silent for a moment. This was much too easy. “Will I have to kill her?”

“No. You are many things, Maverick, but you are not a murderer. I would be a fool to ask you to do that. Just deliver her into our hands and ask no more questions.”

Maverick stiffened again at the mention of his name. He hadn’t used it in so long. Everyone who had known that Maverick was the Quickblade was gone forever. Even Maverick himself had almost forgotten that part of his identity. He wasn’t the little Maverick who had played hide-n-seek in his grandparents’ big, brick house with the blue slate roof. How did this man know him?

Maverick’s gaze drifted from Soldair to the beggar. “I suppose I would be a fool to decline your offer.”

The young man’s dagger flipped up again, and he looked to Soldair.

“I know you aren’t a fool, Maverick,” the general said, though his voice held a hint of menace.

A suspicion arose. The good general must have been an old friend of his grandfather’s. They were around the same age, and had been on the same side of the conflict between the Techs and the king. “I am no fool, General Soldair. I will accept your terms. What are my instructions?”

Soldair smiled, and the look on his face was one that made Maverick shudder. This plan of his had been long in the making, and he would let no one, not even the best thief in Aurantis, sabotage it.