Belthor Meets a Dog in a Cell

Belthor liked the quiet, morning hours far more than anyone gave him credit for. The tall, dark, and not-quite-visible-enough to be handsome elf had a reputation for being sketchy. He had more than earned it. But what people often forgot was that a dedicated individual could be just as sketchy before dawn as they could be at night. Moreso, even, because targets who had not quite shaken the specter of sleep were also the most vulnerable to thieves such as himself.

Plus, I’m unattended.

Ever since he had joined The Resistance, Irolt had been on his case to steal less. It hadn’t slowed him down much, but it was an annoyance. His friend’s morning trips across town to the post office offered him some respite. A daily chance at satiating his kleptomania without risk of being judged and lectured.

And on that particular day, he wouldn’t even have to go outside to do it.

He waited until he was sure that the half-dwarf was a safe distance down the road before quietly opening the trap door concealed in the forge. He climbed down the ladder positioned there, and headed toward the wall of lockers.

It will be nice to steal something just for myself.

It seemed like a lifetime ago when all of his thievery had been for himself exclusively. At least when they’d been stationed in Evermore Zazeezy had acknowledged (if not openly) that anything she asked him to bring her would also require a finder’s fee for him to pocket. Here, he was expected to be a better example for their largely fictional host of new recruits. He was only ever encouraged to use his particularly sneaky skill set when it could directly harm the Parliamentary. Belthor didn’t like them anymore than the next man, but he was going on ten years in his Resistance career and was still not entirely convinced he wanted to die overthrowing them. And he certainly didn’t believe they could win.

He was given a harsh reminder of this as he looked down the row of lockers, only two of which were taken. The numbers were simply against them. The Parliamentary had been in power for a long time, and they seemed to be getting more advanced by the day.

While it did not seem likely that they would overthrow the government, it did seem likely that the two new recruits would have some cool stuff for him to swipe.

He got the first one open without much difficulty, though he was a better pickpocket than a lockpick. What he found disappointed him greatly. There was an ugly sweatshirt, some sort of snack bar, and a pair of six-sided dice which he picked up to examine. He wondered what the story was behind them.

If someone were to empty Belthor’s bag, they would be met with a great many interesting tales, each one represented by a stolen item. There were his beautifully crafted silver daggers, old parchment scrolls with words long faded, a book with the same luck spell scribbled repeatedly in the margins, a golden amulet that he’d taken on his way to make the world a better place, and a pair of six sided dice that had just made their way from his hand to his personal inventory.

Of course, if someone were to actually touch Belthor’s things they would most likely find their own story about to be cut tragically short. He was an easy going sort of person, usually, but he was very protective of what mattered. And there was nothing in the world he treasured more than his things - even the worthless ones. Especially the worthless ones.

He closed the locker and moved toward the next one, but was interrupted by a loud sound just behind him.

“Borf!”

His right hand reached for his dagger as he spun toward the holding cells just opposite the lockers. Behind the bars was a large, fluffy, white dog. It stood on its hind legs to about Belthor’s own height, and was dressed in full adventuring gear. Sans pants.

“Hewwo?” It asked. Its big eyes were watering as it looked into his face.

Belthor was surprised that the dog was speaking to him, but he was not about to miss an opportunity to go through the bag of a prisoner. “Have you been arrested? Because I’m pretty sure you’re not supposed to have your personal items in the cell.”

“Have I been arrested?” The dog looked confused, and worried by the prospect. Belthor didn’t understand how it could be news to them.

“You’re in a cell,” he pointed out, trying not to let his eyes linger suspiciously on the bag.

The dog squinted at him, trying to determine if he were someone to be trusted. He wasn’t of course, but apparently he looked friendly enough. The bag was handed through the bars.

From the weight of it, Belthor could tell there wasn’t much of value inside. But he did a quick scan anyway.

Just in case.

“Hey!” Cried the dog when it saw him. “That’s my stuff!”

“I’m just checking for, you know.” He tried to come up with something. “For contraband.”

“Contrawhat?”

He had never actually met a dog furry in person before, but he began to suspect they may not be equipped much in terms of Common vocabulary. “Bad stuff,” he elaborated.

“Oh! But I don’t have any bad stuff. I’m a good guy.”

The dog seemed innocent and sincere enough in this declaration that Belthor could buy the truth of it. He had little enough morality to argue much either way. “Well, you’ve got me convinced.”

“I do?”

“Sure.”

“Then, can I come out now?”

He thought about it and realized he didn’t have an easy answer. “Well, I don’t know. Who arrested you?”

“No one arrested me.”

“So what are you doing in there?”

“I was just trying to join The Resistance.”

Oh boy.

The dog had said it in a tone of voice that implied it would answer questions, when in fact it did the opposite. They had been looking for new recruits, that much Belthor knew, but the whole situation struck him as a little too absurd. Truth be told, he wasn’t even sure what powers he had as second in command, whether it came with the authority to sign new people or release prisoners. Or sign up new prisoners.

“I’ll tell you what,” he said at long last. He finally recognized the situation to be over both his head and pay grade. “Why don’t I bring someone down here who can help you with that?”

“Thank you! Yes!” The dog wagged their tail in excitement.

And so with a sigh Belthor ascended the ladder to pass off the burden of yet another Resistance related responsibility.