What Little Remains Of Terpsichore Ironheart

"Well, you're certainly nice and inconspicuous," the Thieves' Guild enforcer said acidly as we walked into the red warehouse at 5th and Tira, right before the clock struck noon. "At least you had the good sense to leave the Paladins out of this."

"The Paladins would be for your protection, not mine," I said, folding up my motorcycle storage cloth before stowing it in its designated pocket- there were ways to nest pocket dimensions inside each other, and I even knew some of them, but they were all difficult, and I hadn't really bothered with it for this. "Now, where's the King of Thieves? He and I have business to get to."

We were inside the warehouse's receiving area, which had been walled off from the rest of the warehouse floor, with no visible doors, and only one hallway leading back into gloomy shadows. Here to greet us were a pair of Thieves' Guild Enforcers- as well-dressed as men could be without looking out-of-place in a warehouse, with conspicuously cheap suits befitting the sorts of men who did clerical work in these buildings.

I stifled a chuckle at the fact the lights weren't on in here. Thieves had a reputation for keeping their territory poorly-lit, to spook everyone else, but if that was what they were going to try on an elf, then they were too stupid to be worth taking seriously; everyone knows elves can see in the dark. Not to the same extent as dwarves and goblins, sure, but definitely better than humans can- in fact, humans had the most uniquely pathetic night vision out of the common bipedal peoples of the world.

"Right this way, sir," the other Thieves' Guild enforcer said, in an inappropriately refined voice. "I'm afraid your friends will have to wait outside."

"Yeah, yeah, whatever," I said, idly noting that the interior wall didn't look like it was made of brick, and could probably be punched through if I was willing to really put my back into it.

"Your coat, too," the first enforcer said, holding out an expectant hand.

"...I've got stuff in my pockets, so I'm handing it off to someone who won't rifle through it at earliest convenience," I said dryly, slipping my coat off my shoulders and passing it to Talia- who did not need her hands free in order to fight, considering she was a spellcaster. "There. Unarmed. Happy? Where's the boss-man?"

"Right through here, sir," the second enforcer said, as I followed him down the hall. The gloom deepened further, until I was pretty confident a human wouldn't be able to see in the dark. However... I didn't get to grow up among humans without learning something about their stupid gods, and one of the things I knew was that the most common gift Fingers gave to his thieves was the ability to see in the dark like dwarves can. "Through the curtain."

I grunted as I passed him, ignoring how the door closed right behind me and left me with only one way forward: through the curtain on the other side of this impromptu pseudo-closet.

It was bright in here, and while that likely would have dazzled a human for a moment, an elf like me was more-or-less unfazed. What did faze me, however, was the sheer glittering, opulent wealth on display inside this warehouse. All sorts of ostentatious objets d'art, from every corner of the world, and if I had to guess, each and every one of them had been stolen. The centerpiece, I knew for a fact, certainly was. There was no other earthly explanation for how the King of Thieves had come into the possession of that statue, that funerary effigy, the carefully-carved stone that represented in its totality what little remains of Terpsichore Ironheart.

And beside the statue stood a man who could only be the King of Thieves.

"She truly was a beauty," he remarked, examining Terpsichore's effigy, his chin in his hands. He was a wisp of a man, barely an inch taller than Talia, and so otherwise nondescript and indistinct that he could blend into any crowd. "Small wonder you'd want it back. Hello, Joseph."

"Thief," I said, folding my arms.

"If you must have a name for me besides 'The King of Thieves,' you can call me Butterfly," he said, turning away from Terpsichore's effigy to regard me. "Or... for you? I'll even let you call me Maxwell. Maxwell Tenpenny."

"I'm sure telling me your real name is a big deal among thieves, but I'm a normal person," I said dryly. "Now, I was promised ten million dollars in cash up-front?"

"That you were, that you were," Maxwell said, turning and reaching behind the statue, before picking up and pulling out... a briefcase. A fancy briefcase, made of polished aluminum, but still, a briefcase. "Now, pardon the question, but with elves, I find it pays to clarify- you are familiar with the concept of paper money, correct?"

"It's been around for longer than I have," I said dryly. "I've never known a world without paper money. Now, I'll admit I don't handle that much paper money, but I understand that you simply can't hand me a briefcase containing ten million dollars in coinage."

"Just so," Maxwell said, before opening up the briefcase in my direction so I could see it. "This, right here, is one hundred standard bundles of one hundred standard bills, printed by the Merchant's Guild themselves, with each bill being worth a full one thousand dollars. I trust you can do the math to tell you that adds up to ten million dollars?"

"I'm a wizard," I said, yanking the briefcase out of his hands with a quick spell, and catching it in my own. I thumbed through the bills for a brief second just to catch any obvious chicanery, but... well, if it turns out he did cheat me, oh well. I only needed the statue. "Now, the statue as well?" I snapped the briefcase closed, and cast a variant of the teleportation spell Mom had taught me- rather than teleporting a marked object to my location, I teleported an object in my hands to a marked location, in my house. Unfortunately, it wouldn't work on anything alive, and especially not on me, but... well. I was still learning. I'd figure it out eventually.

"I must say, you are being awfully brusque with me," Maxwell said, even as he threw an enchanted dropcloth over the statue, before bundling that up and tossing it to me. I teleported it back home too, to land on top of the briefcase. "What have I ever done to earn such hostility from you, Mr. Ironheart?"

"Well, there's the part where you used catspaws to steal the funerary effigy of my grandma just so you could twist my arm until I agreed to whatever it is you wanted from me," I said dryly. "But there's also the part where you, Maxwell Tenpenny, King of Thieves, are the High Priest of a god that gleefully partook in the slaughter of my people and the plundering of my lands. That's kind of the downside of being the King of Thieves, y'know? Nobody with morals likes or respects you. Everyone thinks you're the Asshole In Chief of a notably vicious criminal cartel, because that's what you are. Why exactly are you surprised that I look at you with the sort of disgusted contempt normally reserved for things I scrape off my boots?"

"...Well, for one, it's usually dwarves who go on a tirade about the evils of thieves," Maxwell said. "At least, that's how it goes in the stories. But we're not in a story, are we? Not unless you're a Bard and didn't tell me?"

"Yeah, I don't care," I said. "Just spit it out, Max. What do you want from me?"

"A conversation, first and foremost," Maxwell said. "Come now, my boy. You're an elf, aren't you? Lacking the patience of even a human is simply embarrassing."

"Maxwell, I have things to do," I said, stepping forward. "Get to the point, now."

Maxwell sighed wearily. "You want to be the first Elven Mage-Knight in three centuries, don't you?"

I flinched, just a bit. How did he-

"It's not that hard to figure out," Maxwell continued. "Talia talks, and talks a lot. I hear it's quite frustrating for her, actually."

"You're in your forties, aren't you?" I asked. "Isn't it just a little beneath you to be paying attention to the sex gossip of teenage girls?"

"Ah, but as the King of Thieves, nothing is beneath me," Maxwell said, grinning. "There's no such thing as... how do you say it, again? Hhhhonorrr, among thieves." He grinned wider, waiting expectantly, than frowned. "That was funnier in my head. Do you at least get it? That I was trying to imply that honor was such an alien concept to me that I didn't even know how to pronounce the word?"

"Truly, I weep for you," I said dryly. "Now if you've got something actionable to say?"

"I want to live forever-"

"Even after that joke flopped? Usually that makes people say they wish they were dead."

"Do you or do you not want to get out of here faster?" Maxwell demanded, his grin finally gone. Looks like it was his turn to lose his patience. Yeah, now you know how I feel, motherfucker. "Then stop interrupting me, you little shit. I want to live forever, and you are the material component of a ritual that'll make that happen."

I reached for my knife, realizing halfway that the guards had taken my coat before I went in. It was stupid instinct, anyhow; I knew how to call my weapons to my hands, now, and when I was actually ready to turn this into a fight, then I'd call my weapons.

"Oh, it's not blood magic," Maxwell continued, well aware I'd just reached for a weapon. "It's a divine ritual, handed down to me by the God of Thieves himself."

"Something tells me I'm still not gonna like this," I said, starting to pace around him in a circle, looking for a way out.

"I assure you, you'll enjoy what comes next," Maxwell said. "After all, I didn't steal this reliquary for no reason." In his hand, he held a glass tube with iron caps at each end, one end having an eyelet for a chain to fit through. Inside the tube was a small, crudely-shaped clay figurine; a not-very-true-to-life sculpture of a woman.

"Oh no," I whispered.

"Once I've metaphorically stolen your hopes and dreams for the future, I can use the magical principle of Unequal Exchange to literally steal your lifespan," Maxwell added. "So, little Joseph, how much are you willing to give to get back your family's legacy?"

I called my weapon to my hand, along with my duster, which hung from my shoulders as though I'd never taken it off.

"I'll pay in blood, you son of a bitch."