Crow stood up with Penelope as Kip walked over to talk to her. He noticed that the girl was more open and relaxed around the knight. Her expression was calm and she held herself in a casual manner that was different than how she had appeared when he had first seen her the day before. It seemed like the two women had gotten fairly close during the short period of time they had spent together. He shifted his weight, wondering if they mentioned him at all. They had talked about Hartley yesterday, but did his name ever come up too? He wondered what they would have said if it did.

After a short while, Hartley announced that he and Kip would accompany Crow and Penelope to the town line. Crow nodded in response, “Only if you promise you won’t get too attached and try to keep us here.” He moved over to his bed to collect his things, putting on his boots and shouldering his bag.

“Don’t worry about that,” Hartley smirked. “I’ll be glad to see the last of your smug face.”

“Aw, come now,” Crow pouted in mock disappointment. “After everything we’ve been through, you’re not going to miss me?”

“Not even a little bit,” Hartley laughed as the older thief punched him in the arm.

“Liar,” Crow scoffed. He adjusted the straps of his pack so they fell more comfortably across his shoulders. “Anyway, we should get going.” He stepped over to the door and held it open for the others to step through first.

On the way out of the inn, Hartley fell into step beside him, “So, you’re still going through with stealing… whatever it is you’re stealing from the king?”

“We don’t have a choice,” Crow shrugged. “Trust me, I’d like to just forget about this and go home, but unfortunately, there’s too much at stake.” His eyes wandered to Penelope, who was walking just ahead of him with Kip.

Hartley followed his gaze, “Is it really worth risking your life though?”

“For her, it is,” Crow sighed.

“I see,” Hartley chewed on his lip thoughtfully. “I can’t say I don’t understand, but… what is it you’re going to steal, exactly? Why is it so important?”

Crow hesitated, debating whether or not to tell the boy the truth. He didn’t like the idea of more people knowing what they were planning to do, but Hartley had earned some of his trust during their time together. Besides, he seemed more concerned about Crow’s wellbeing than about the item to be stolen. Surely there was no harm in answering the question.

“I was commissioned by the king of Brerra to steal the Younisian king’s staff,” Crow said at last.

“His [i]staff[/i]?” Hartley gawked at him. “You can’t be serious. Tell me that’s a joke. It’s a joke, right?”

“Unfortunately, no,” Crow shook his head. “Why? What’s so concerning about it?”

“You know the legend, right?”

“Yeah, something about divine right and godly smiting. I’m familiar.”

“Alright, well answer me this: Do you know what happened to the last man who tried to take the king’s staff?”

“I wasn’t aware anyone had tried before,” Crow knit his brow. “I thought the rumors were just to keep thieves away.”

“No,” Hartley shook his head vigorously. “Five years ago, one of the palace servants tried to take the staff. He had been drinking with some friends who dared him to steal it and bring it back to them. He managed to get into the king’s chambers, but as soon as he laid one finger on the staff, his heart stopped and he fell, dead, to the ground.”

“Are you sure he didn’t just pass out from drunkenness?” Crow asked.

“The court physician declared him dead. The incident reaffirmed our belief that only the rightful king can touch the staff and live.”

“Lovely,” Crow muttered.

“Whatever the reason your king had for sending you to steal the staff, it isn’t worth it,” Hartley went on. “It’s impossible to steal something you can’t touch.”

“I’ll figure it out.”

“You’ll die!” Hartley flinched at the intensity of his own voice. He glanced at the others and went on in a softer tone. “I’m begging you to reconsider, Crow. The palace is already extremely secure and, even if you somehow manage to get in, the king is protected by the gods. On top of all that, the staff is cursed to strike down any man who lays a hand upon it. You can’t succeed.”

“I guess that just means I’ll have to be extra careful,” Crow said stubbornly. He slowed to a stop and rested a hand on the boy’s shoulder. “Look, kid. I appreciate the concern, but I can’t back out now. I made a promise to her.” His eyes wandered to Penelope once again before returning to Hartley’s worried face. “Besides, you’re looking at the most talented thief in all of Brerra,” he smirked confidently. “If anyone can find a way to trick the gods and take that holy walking stick, it’s me.”

“How can you be so sure?” Hartley shook his head despondently. “No one else has ever been able to come close to stealing the staff. What makes you think you’ll be the one to do it?”

“Because I have to,” Crow answered simply. “I can’t just sit around worrying about all of the odds stacked against me. One way or another, I’m going to keep my promise to Penelope. I gave her my word.”

“Great,” Hartley sighed. “You almost have me believing you.” He began to keep walking again. “Well, for your sake, I hope you’re right.”

“Me too,” Crow said under his breath, following after the boy. In truth, he wasn’t nearly as confident as he sounded. The fact that another man had actually died after touching the staff left a stone in the pit of his stomach. It was beginning to sound like this was a suicidal mission after all. [i]I have to find a way,[/i] he thought firmly. It didn’t matter how many others had failed before him. He was going to do it for Penelope, and he wasn’t going to let one goddess stand in his way.

He looked up and saw a sign on a house with an eye painted on it. Standing up slightly straighter, he stared back at it with new resolve. [i]I hope you’re watching, Aeklora,[/i] he challenged. [i]Because I’m the thief that’s going to steal that damn staff of yours.[/i]