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I learned two things today.
Mid-afternoon is not a good time to steal from a high-roller auction.
When the road stops, start climbing, there’s usually more treasure to behold.
It was a fucking thrill. Darting between carts, leaping over hay and chickens, sliding between bodies in a crowd like a fish swimming upstream for its life. Challenging and beautiful.
That sensation of thoughts firing and fleeting fast as one path closed and another opened, especially with guards nipping at my heels. A great thief is one that goes completely unnoticed, but today I’m settling for the kind that gets noticed but not caught.
“Stop them!” They cried out, I could practically feel their breath on my neck, but no one did anything for free in Novigrad. Maybe that’s why I like it here so much. So many deep pockets to pick, so many eyes looking the other way. There was shit to shovel of course, but what city didn’t have that. Though I suppose if I were running through the streets of Toussaint I wouldn’t also be traipsing around pyres of burnt mages.
Finally I caught a break. As I sprinted between buildings through an open archway a horse and carriage pulled in behind me, covering my exit. I could hear the clang of armor as they skidded to a halt. as they flew through an archway by the skin of their teeth, blocking the guards to their chagrin. Now was not the time to pause for a breather though, not with such a boon as this. I turned on on the spot and darted back the other way, through an alley near the archway, hoping it was enough to trick them all and throw them off my scent. Sweet Melitele don’t show them my path.
“That way!”
Fuck.
My lungs began to burn and the excitement I once felt for the chase had begun to slip out my body leaving an icy tightness to my joints. I can’t keep this up much longer, unless I know how to run on water and want to try skipping lackadaisically across the Pontar.
Praying it could handle my weight, I threw myself into the climb, stepping heavier than I would have liked but enough to propel myself vertically. I reached the first balcony, but the windows were closed and I didn’t dare stop to check the locks. Whatever wrapped lavishly around the lattice was sharp and thorned, and it cut through my hands as I climbed it and used it as leverage to jump to the next balcony. Ignoring the stinging in my palms I raced up another lattice to a second floor. Further from me was an open window, and before I could delight in the sight I heard the guards clinking towards me, could hear the spit flying from their curses and huffed breaths.
Stepping lightly I slithered to the window and slid inside, hiding below the sill, my fingers touching the wood just out of sight. I listened intently, but beyond the silence of the space I was in, I heard only their admonishment for my ghost as they continued onward and away. With a huge sigh of relief and a proud chuckle all tension left my shoulders and I fell back against the adjacent wall, clutching my heavy bag full of treasures. Could this be enough to finally leave?
A throat cleared, cutting through the peaceful pause and my eyes flew open in horror to see a man, naked--presumably--in a tub of water looking uncomfortable, irritated and disapproving.
Not just any man, no the golden eyes and white hair were painfully unmistakable to a thief who adored stories just as much as treasure. He was the famed White Wolf, Butcher of Blaviken, the Geralt of Rivia.
Before I could utter a word against the rising fear in my throat, a melodic voice filled the void. On the footsteps of a much smaller man, I heard, “For the love of Freya, you could at least give me a ‘hmm’ in response, if stringing a sentence together is so hard for you--what, what are we looking a-aaaat OH MY GODS. “ Of course it would have to be none other than the boisterous sidekick Dandelion.
My eyes were locked with Geralt, like two hunters descending low to the ground, ready to pounce, our bodies resonated with equal tension. But you see, I’m clothed and dry and much smaller than He. The thrill of the chase iced my blood and I leapt to my feet, barreling straight into Dandelion. Though I was quick, I didn’t miss Geralt lunging for the sword in its sheath against the side of the basin, or miss the sound of sloshing water as he undoubtedly leapt from it’s depths. He wouldn’t dare chase me nude would he? For a moment I wished to slow down and call his bluff, but my feet were too concerned with flight.
I made it down the hall and through the tavern below, out the building and around the corner before I stopped to catch my breath and listen. He was a Witcher, and if the stories were true then he could smell my scent for miles, stalk me with the silence of a tomb, rend me as simply as plucking the head off a blowball. It might be the most thrilling chase of all, I could be the one to best a Witcher, the fastest thief with the quickest hands. Maybe Dandelion would sing of me instead, ballads of my greatest heists, of my…
It had been long enough hadn’t it? Only a few seconds and yet… I couldn’t hear any clinking of armor through the walls of the building, no yelps in the tavern as a large brick citadel of a man ran through with 2 blades strapped to his broad back, his beautiful white locks still tousled and wet-- focus .
Why wasn’t he following?
I learned my third lesson of the day, as I realized my body felt lighter than it should have been. Make sure you don’t leave your bag of treasures behind when fleeing the scene.
“FUCK.” Guess I’d be paying Geralt another visit after all.