Corvin sat on a small stool at the far end of the street overlooking the Bailiff’s Tower. The early morning hours found him quietly painting the tower’s likeness and the evening hours found him scarcely moved. The painting was not to a professional standard, in fact one could be forgiven for not identifying the subject as a tower at all, but Corvin saved his professional standards for more lucrative hobbies. Painting merely offered a sort of meditation, and the opportunity to observe. In this case, the opportunity to examine the locked and boarded windows of the tower in addition to the heavier guard presence. Rumors whispered the Bailiff’s Tower recently suffered an intrusion, though to what end the rumors widely varied, and the bailiff himself lost a hand to the thief.
Corvin knew they were not merely rumors. He further knew the thief went missing shortly afterward and a second visit to the bailiff’s office would be required. What he did not know was how in the world someone would manage the job while keeping their head out of a noose.
A stir of motion caught the rat catcher’s attention; a woman screeching, men shouting, a bustle of people torn between investigating the ruckus and pretending disinterest. Corvin’s brush hung limp at his side, colored droplets slipping into a water bucket, as he tried to catch a glimpse from shifting gaps in the crowd. Suddenly, the crowd birthed a man running as if Death were nipping at his heels. In one hand a leather purse, while the other clutched a necklace of glinting pearls which grotesquely contrasted with the grime of the man’s fingers. Those who did not move from his path found themselves shoved to the ground. Corvin found himself included as the cutpurse cast a glance over his shoulder and slammed into the easel, knocking both painting and painter to the ground. The canvas lay in a small puddle from the night’s rain, now nothing more than a large mud stain, while Corvin struck the cobblestone and the overturned water bucket soaked him with brackish remnants of artistry.
The man never stopped nor looked back before vanishing around the corner with an awkward gate and gasping breath. Corvin looked down at his ruined clothes, wrinkled his nose at the smell. In the wake of the cutpurse, Corvin could see a small glimmering of white beside a wooden crate. After shaking himself as best he could, he hurried along the thief’s path. He stopped only long enough to pick up the small pearl, divorced from its necklace, and already noticed a second further along.
Bosco felt his heart hammering against his chest. Stealing the purse was considerably more easy than he anticipated, but escaping the fear of consequences proved far more difficult than escaping the guards. His ragged shoes barely touched the street while he ran, taking care to detour, back-track, and hide in order to evade the men chasing him. Such a theft in broad daylight was foolish, but Bosco was not so foolish as to go directly to the home he so desperately craved at that moment. He could not shake the feeling of a fox running for its den with the hounds baying just out of sight. Eventually, sweat-stained and exhausted, Bosco knocked on the aged wooden door while his other hand steadied him against the wall.
Estee’s face barely cleared the door before the heavy purse was held out to her like a newborn babe. Confusion briefly flashed across her eyes, lost in bloodshot veins and sunken bags, followed by realization. “Oh, thank you! This will feed us for months!” She held the purse tightly, coins bulging between the gaps of her thin fingers. “Maybe years! But”, she paused as she noticed the pearl necklace hanging from Bosco’s grip like a dead salamander, “Where did you get all this money?” “It’s the backpay I told you I was owed, Estee.” His eyes looked elsewhere than her questioning gaze. “It’s what they owed me.” “And the necklace?”, she pressed. “The… oh! Yes, of course. I saw it on the way home and used a bit of the money to buy it for you.” Bosco looked behind her at the children playing on the hard, dirt floor. “You do so much for your babies, Estee. You should let people do things for you now and then.”
She did not press further, despite the obviously broken nature of the necklace and the glaring gaps of missing pearls. Some truths are too difficult for even the strongest of women. She merely took the necklace, hesitantly, as if it would come to life and bite her. The moment abruptly ended as a forceful hand shoved Bosco through the door, tumbling amidst the dirt, while Estee struggled to steady the both of them. The purse fell to the ground, erupting in silver and gold coins. The children squealed and chased the pretty toys.
When Estee and Bosco looked back toward the door, now closed, their hearts caught in their throat. A bare-chested stranger joined them.
“Apologies for the intrusion”, Corvin said with a flourished bow, “However, the situation necessitated haste.”
“Who are you? What do you want?”, Estee asked as she moved closer to her children. Bosco looked like he carried the weight of the world on his shoulders. “Who I am isn’t as important as who I could be. As for what I want…”, he paused to consider in the manner of characters granted wishes in fancy tales of genies. “I could go for a BLT right about now. A boar, lettuce, and tomato sandwich? When you get the boar before it’s too old and gamey, fry it crispy with some black peppercorn, lettuce and tomato fresh out of the garden.” He kissed his fingertips. “Delicious. You wouldn’t happen to have one, would you? No? What about you?” He glanced to Bosco who merely shook his head. “I didn’t think so. My luck doesn’t usually run that well. Still, a man can dream.” Corvin’s eyes lingered on the stricken man. “The more pertinent question here is what do you want?” Bosco felt the finger pointed at him, but busied himself dusting off his pants. “I don’t know what you mean.” “Stockades? Gallows? Headsman? Not a lot of options for a thief snatching noble purses in broad daylight, so I figure you must have a deathwish.”
The necklace slipped from Estee’s fingers, and the wind left her sails. Bosco’s shoulders sank. The children played marbles with loose pearls.
“Oh. She didn’t know.” Corvin frowned as he looked between them. “Then I’ll have to make a second apology. To my credit, though, she seems like a sharp lady. I’m sure she would have figured it out, if she hadn’t already.”
“How did you find me?”, Bosco asked as he used a nearby chair to stand. He cast a look toward Estee, but she did not return it. At her feet, small droplets fell from her cheek and moistened the floor.
“Wasn’t hard. You left a pretty expensive trail behind you.” Corvin dipped into his pocket and held out an assortment of loose pearls. “They stick out like a sore thumb in this part of town. Lucky for you, I picked them up along the way. Also, you’re welcome.” One of the children, a brown-haired girl, glanced in the rat catcher’s direction. “How come you’re not wearing a shirt?” “Well, I was, until somebody plowed into me and knocked me into all my paints and brushes. Since I didn’t want to leave two convenient trails for folks to follow, I tossed it on a rooftop on my way here.” Corvin’s eyes shifted. “Which you are also welcome for.”
Estee sniffed, and dragged her forearm across her nose before dabbing her face with one of the few clean spots left on her dress. “Are you a guard? Is that why you’re here? If you’re going to arrest us then do it and have done, but please not in front of my children. If looking into the eyes of hungry children and wanting to feed them is a crime, then I’ll proudly wear my noose along with any other good mother in this city.”
Corvin looked as if he’d been struck. “A guard? Now, that’s just harsh. Here I am trying to do a good deed and you’re insulting me. I’d like to think I come across as, at the very least, a little bit competent. No, I’m no guard nor am I in the business of hanging mothers or anyone else. Usually I’m not in the business of trying to help oatmeal-brained thieves either. I’ll confess I was planning on taking some of that coin off your friend there to purchase more paints and a new shirt, so I followed him. But then I came down with a bad case of conscience, which brings me here.” He motioned around the small home with a wave of his hand.
“You were going to rob me?”, Bosco asked with a hint of anger. “Oh, now suddenly thievery is bad? There’s more than one starving family in Stormwind, you know. Besides, I wasn’t going to ‘rob’ you, per se.” Corvin made quotations with his fingers. “More like insist on a charitable donation in the name of the arts. I’m no thief, obviously. I’m just a humble rat catcher.” The brown-haired girl giggled. “You catch humble rats?” Corvin smiled. “I like her. She’s quick. Takes after her mother, I’d wager.” He leaned close to Bosco and stage-whispered. “I can see why you lost your good senses.” Bosco’s cheeks flushed red but said nothing in defense beyond, “I just wanted to help.”
“If you’re not a guard, and you’re not here to arrest us, what are you here for?” Estee finished retrieving the loose pearls and coins from small, grasping hands. The children fussed. “As I said, to help you.” Corvin picked up a loose gold coin and turned it facing outward. “Do you know what that is?” “It looks like a rose.” “It is, indeed, a rose. More accurately, it is the crest of the Thorn family who, like all the noble families, stamp their gold to ensure merchants can trust the coin and to make life difficult for cutpurses who try to spend it. There’s not a stall-merchant in this city who wouldn’t recognize it. Worse, almost as many would be happy to let the Thorns know where their missing coin went for a promised reward. You could maybe find an unscrupulous sort who’d take the coin, but they’d be just as likely to…”, Corvin glanced at the children and caught himself. He drug a finger across his neck. “And make off with the money themselves.”
“So the money’s worthless? I st… I did all that for nothing?”
“In its current form, yes. However, I just so happen to know a guy who knows a guy. Well, he’s a dwarf. One of those Blackrock types. He works in the Dwarven District and I know he has a talent for smelting unusable coin down and reforming it into something less suspicious. You can approach him and he’ll help you out for a fee–probably around 20%. Don’t try to feed him a sob story though or he’ll charge you 30. He’s not the empathetic type, but he is professional.” Corvin sifted through his pockets and produced a crude disc of Dark Iron, and flicked it to Bosco with a thumb. “Show him this so he’ll know what you need. I wouldn’t take it for a week or two, though. Folks are going to be hunting you like you’re the last virgin on Azeroth.” Estee made a face. “Or, um, the last piece of candy? You get the idea.”
Estee offered a sidelong glance. “You seem to know a lot for a guy who catches rats.” Unoffended, Corvin replied, “The first step to catching a rat is to be smarter than the rat. Plus, I have a lot of downtime I use for reading. Anyway, the gold is not your only concern. The second problem you have is when people notice you’re suddenly much better off than you were before this happened. Nothing keeps the stockades full like a nosy neighbor. Fortunately for you, I have a friend in Redridge who owes me a big favor. A big enough favor that they’d be willing to play host to a long-lost cousin’s family for a while until things die down.” “And you’re doing this out of the goodness of your own heart, is that it?” “You wound me, ma’am”, Corvin clutched his breast, “But, you’re not entirely wrong. I’m spending a pretty big favor for you so, in return, I’d like to ask a favor from each of you.”
Favors ranked highly in Corvin’s world as currency. Universal in its usage, payable regardless of the heft of one’s purse, and oft times more valuable than a wagon full of silver. His mentor, Haunt, drilled that into his head many nights during his apprenticeship. ‘When you’re sitting in a jail cell, all the coin in the world won’t help you where a guard in your debt might just see you free’, he’d say. Of course, the part Haunt didn’t mention was how favors aren’t quite as handy for paying for rent and food.
“What kind of favor?”, Bosco and Estee asked in unison and shared a nervous laugh. “I don’t know. I’m not going to ask for it now, but one day I may come to you asking. Whatever it is I need, whatever you may be doing at the time, I ask that you help me without question nor excuse. I know it all sounds rather ominous, but I assure you I’m a simple man of simple needs. Since I can never know what sort of trouble the future may be bring, I must, sadly, be vague. But, if you’re willing to accept, I think we can help each other. And who knows, maybe I’ll never need a favor and you won’t have to worry. There’s plenty of uncalled debts floating around the world.”
“That’s it?” “Well, If you’re feeling like you’re getting away too cleanly, I could use a new shirt.”
Hours later, Corvin left them to plan their futures while he tried to adjust to the tightness of the shirt Estee offered. In his breast pocket were the remains of the lady’s necklace; a gold chain with broken links and an assortment of pearls like a snake resting atop a nest. Estee, it seemed, could forgive Bosco for his good, if poorly considered, intentions but did not want that sort of reminder to plague her nights. It worked out just as well for the rat catcher–he’d kept a few of the pearls he’d picked up from the street to help cover a few days’ rent and maybe a cold meal. Jewelry, especially disassembled jewelry, offered less problems than stamped coin.
After all, good deeds were nice for the heart but an empty stomach could keep a man awake at night just as easily as an unsatisfied conscience. It was rare when Corvin managed to ease the pain of both. Maybe he’d even get a BLT.