Confrontation
Lion's Arch market. Wares of all shapes and sizes for the buying and the selling; high prices and low. Here were food stands, there were weapons dealers, tailors, armour suppliers; specialists in goods of all sorts and qualities.
One such stall carried a range of jewellery; earrings, necklaces, bracelets and brooches. They were middle-market goods, not of a quality to attract the more discerning buyers, but not gold-painted copper, either. A young woman loitered by the stall, dressed in clothes of worn but serviceable quality. She eyed the goods, longing in her gaze, as though she dreamed one day of owning something of this sort. The stall-holder watched her suspiciously for a moment, then turned to deal with a customer interested in a selection of bangles.
She seized her chance, an arm darting out to snatch one of the necklaces nearest the stall's edge.
“Stop, thief!” the stall-holder bellowed, reaching out in vain to catch her as she bolted away. The small crowd nearest the stall stopped and stared after her.
She didn't look back, just ran, tucking the necklace into her shirt as she went; ducking and weaving amongst the thick crowds. Easy pickings, she thought, slowing, then spotted the Lionguard behind her.
“Shit!” she muttered, and picked up her pace again, pushing past those who wouldn't get out of her way, and jumping over obstacles which might slow the armoured guard down.
The crowds were even thicker by the docks, and she was slowed somewhat, taking only the slightest shred of comfort in the fact that her pursuer would be more than hampered too. Reaching up, she pulled the leather thong out of her hair, letting it fall to her shoulders and change her silhouette as she ran, slowing slightly to shake her hair out of the loose bun it had been held in.
Past the memorial and along the quayside; now she could double back towards the market and pick another target. She shook her head again to let her reddish-brown hair fall more naturally and help disguise her face. Then she straightened, smoothing her shirt and checking that the necklace was safely stowed in the same movement. She melted between a few more people, blending back into the rest of the crowd. Right, now for the next-
A gloved hand clamped down on her arm and pulled her back, its owner breathing heavily. She looked round to see a short, stocky woman wearing armour but no helmet, her rich brown skin glistening with sweat.
“Why, hello there Allyn,” the Lionguard said, smiling cheerfully. “What say you give that old trinket back and we can get on our merry old ways?”
Allyn started, too shocked to speak for a moment, then replied: “Miri? You're not seriously asking that, are you? To me? We're friends, Balthazar damn it!”
“Aye, so I'm asking you as a friend to give it back now, and consider this a warning. Don't
make me take it Allyn.”
Allyn snorted. “Miri, it's no good. I know you.”
The Lionguard sighed. “I had hoped it wouldn't come to this, you know,” she said, her voice wistful. She reached into her belt and pulled out a set of shackles, deftly jerking Allyn's arm behind her back to immobilise her.
“But... Miri... Miranee! What are you doing?” Allyn shrieked, ignoring the stares of those around them.
Miranee fastened her other hand, and spun her around, reaching into the neck of Allyn's shirt to fish out the necklace.
“I'm doing my job, Allyn.” Miranee said quietly. “As I told you all I would. I help my friends, but...” She paused a moment, and her wistful, almost friendly gaze hardened. “I have my limits.”
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