Mess Made on the Baroness' Bed, The

As soon as I was up, ready and adjusted to my hangover the next morning, I left my lodgings without breakfast (being unable to afford such an indulgence) and returned to the same tavern I had imparted my patronage to the evening previous. Truth be told, I was half-expecting for nobody to show face for me, but lo and behold, as sure as she had said, Min was already present and sitting on the same stool as before, already imbibing in a mug of ale at this early hour.

"Yer late!" The goblin said upon noticing my entrance, even though she only provided a vague time of day for when our discussion was to take place. Still though, she did not hold it against me and I soon joined her, and with my head far clearer than it had been when we last met, we commenced our conference in earnest, and she was even kind enough to treat me to a small meal to provide some energy to my thinking functions. For much of the day thereafter, we dedicated ourselves entirely towards formulating our strategy, although I left most of the technicalities to Min's expertise, however, I was responsible for anything to do with local knowledge and the general layout of the land, including the location of the Baroness' residence, which was a stately manor situated roughly a kilometre from the outskirts of Forgdan and atop the brow of a hill overlooking the town.

We actually did scout the house out early in order to case the joint from afar, concealing ourselves in a nearby thicket about half a mile from the house upon a neighbouring, higher prominence while Min closely observed and carefully noted the patrol routes of its guards made within its fenced grounds through a spyglass from the vantage point of a tree branch in order to help give us an idea on what their routines might be by the time we put our design into action.

Once we returned to town, we scraped for any information we could about the Baroness' habits and the house itself that might give us even the smallest of edges during our raid, and although we only found little of use, it proved to be invaluable. We had the very good fortune for coming into contact with an old man who claimed to be a retired gardener who worked for old Baron Hearmin, and after loosening his lips with one of Min's gold coins, revealed that he recalled one of the iron bars in the fence's south side being very loose during his time working there, so much so that it could easily be removed from its place and allow somebody of my size to slip through with some squeezing, although he admitted he was unsure whether it had been fixed in the time since he worked there. We also asked him if he might know where we would find the Baroness' bedroom inside the house itself, which he believed to be on the second floor and looking out onto the same side as that loose bar, though as he had very little business to do inside its walls, he admitted he could not say for certain.

We also met with an informant I was acquainted with who made it his business to know other people's business (though I never could quite tell what his sources were), and after a small fee, tipped us off that the Baroness was due to attend a gala the next night at a minor aristocrat's abode some distance from Forgdan, and as was her paranoid habit, would be travelling with an entourage of her private protector there and back again, meaning less security would be watching over her estate. Although this revelation was a little short notice, we decided that the Baroness' absence would be the best opportunity we were likely to see in the near future and aimed to set things in motion by then. Afterwards, we drew up a very rough blueprint of the manor with its interior based on what we had gleaned and reviewed our operation step by step, assuming everything would go according to plan. We also gathered any supplies and equipment we thought would be likely needed for the job before turning ourselves in for the night to ensure we got sufficient rest for carrying it out.

II

Although I went to bed feeling confident about our enterprise, I woke up the next day with an acute nervousness, knowing that in just a few hours time, I would be attempting to burgle a nobleperson's home; the biggest hit of my whole pilfering career, and those nerves only intensified as time ticked closer, imagining all the things that could lead to a worst-case scenario. Min, on the other hand, was as calm and collected as could be, or at least she did a much better job hiding her apprehensions. Still though, it seemed my amateur's unease did not go unnoticed by the redhead, and throughout the day she helped try and shake off my pessimism by practising the fundamentals of thievery and teaching me one or two tips that I had not even considered until then, yet wondered how I managed for so long without them, as well as running through our procedures until I had them memorised and brainstorming contingencies for every possible scenario we could conceive should anything unexpected crop up. In addition, to help keep me in good humour, she also periodically shared a number of anecdotes relating to her past capers and misadventures, most I found amusing, although a couple left me speechless by their ribald content: the sort of accounts I would personally never think of openly sharing with anybody I was not extremely close to, but goblins did seem to be typically outspoken when it came to such matters compared to us generally reserved humans, and the stories seemed to do their trick regardless so much so that when the appointed moment finally came for when we were to set out for the manor, I felt as though I had known the non-human all my life.

However, my nerves were not still not quite fully absent by this time, and even though I knew it was not too late to back out, so much expenditure had gone into our scheme already, I felt obligated to see it through to the end. We had donned black, body-length (relative to our respective heights) cloaks, and carried our paraphernalia and swag bags to the same thicket as where we had conducted our reconnoitre. There, we patiently waited and took turns to keep a lookout for any sign of the Baroness' departure, not having to cool our heels for too long before I spied an ornate, horse-drawn carriage - the likes of which only a peer of the realm could afford - rolling out from the main gate before travelling down the road at a moderate speed.

I distinctly remember it was during the summer when this heist was carried out, as it was still plenty bright out even at this hour, therefore we decided to delay our operation until the sun had fully set and night had firmly settled, when the only light nearby was that which came from within and around the manor. We made our first move by circling the estate's perimeter by a wide berth until we faced its south side, and after waiting for a lantern-carrying sentry to lazily pass by and turn a corner, we started systematically checking every single rail in the fence, myself starting at one end and Min the other, both of us giving each bar a firm pull to see what might give way. We came close to meeting in the middle by the time we found the outlying rod, relieved that the former gardener was not having us on or that it had been repaired since his retirement.

Gently, we jostled the loose bar from its place and set it to one side, taking care to avoid making too much noise. We then slipped through the opening this created in the barrier, and despite her smaller frame, Min had more difficulty doing so than I thanks to her more voluptuous assets, leaving me to wonder how she could have become an apparently expert infiltrator when burdened by body parts of her proportions, though it only took some additional wiggling for her to slink through. We then stole our way through the servant's entrance after peeking through an adjacent window to confirm none were in the kitchen right on the other side of the door, which was locked, but the setback was made trivial by Min's prowess at picking the keyhole.

Once indoors, we started slinking our way through the plush carpeted corridors warmly lit with candles mounted in golden holders affixed to the walls between every varnished oak-panelled door (of which there were numerous) before climbing up a grand staircase to the second floor. Even from just walking its hallways I was able to tell I had never before been in an abode of such splendour, and found it surreal to be passing through such opulence that was a stone's throw away from the squalid streets of Forgdan, where even bread to eat and coal to warm ourselves were fast becoming precious commodities. I fancied that if even a portion of what was splurged on the extravagances of this house was redistributed back among the people of the city, its streets would become a lost less unwelcoming to walk overnight, with my resentment for the Baroness only being further fueled the longer I dwelt on the concept.

For the moment being, however, I kept my emotions in check, though lifted any small trinkets and ornaments that looked to be of worth and were not fixed down to supplement the other loot we were primarily aiming to purloin. It did take a bit of searching (our basic sketch of the floorplan leaving a lot to be desired), but we eventually did arrive at what we believed to be our goal at the end of one corridor, past a door with a knob of polished bronze, which came into a large bedroom that we could only conclude where the Baroness' own private chambers: the very closest thing she had to an inner sanctum that we were aware of. It was in that same moment when we realised that security seemed to have been extremely lax within the manor's interior compared to its exterior even taking into consideration the reduced manpower, as we only did have to avoid one or two scullery maids and a head butler before getting this far, both of us voicing the opinion that we had grossly overplanned for this job. Honestly, in that moment, it felt as though the only thing that had prevented me from making an attempt to plunder the Baroness' place until now was how daunting such a large building owned by a person in such power as she felt to tackle. A swell of confidence overcame me after I spent so long fretting over what had turned out to be such a trifle, so much so that I believed there was nothing I could not have handled, although I still had a job to complete then and there regardless.

I remember standing in the doorframe amazed by the appearance of this single room which alone was larger than the entirety of my own apartment at the time, and maybe even of dimensions slightly greater than the largest room of my current home. The chamber was dominated by a four poster bed big enough to comfortably accommodate three people at a time, its frame constructed of intricately woodworked mahogany with its namesake four posts stylised to resemble four grotesques - each equally as ugly as the others, although with unique appearances - holding aloft the canopy and looking inwards - leaving me to wonder how anybody could sleep soundly while such crooked visages leered in at them (although I suppose the same question could be made how I was able to maintain my mood for what followed on that bed not long after our entry) - with red curtains of velvet embroidered with intricate, swirling patterns in yellow hanging from the railing.

Other items that stick out in my memory include a rug fashioned from the skin of an exotic white bear sprawled on the floor, double doors of paned glass leading out onto a balustraded balcony, and a lifelike portrait of the Baroness' own countenance (credit to the artist for doing an excellent job in capturing the contemptible sneer in the curl of that greedy cow's lip) which vainly hung just beside a trifold, arch-shaped mirror of polished silver set in an ebony frame encrusted with rubies upon a rosewood dressing table. We closed the door behind us and lit a lustrous Eastern-style oil lamp on the side table after drawing the window curtains so the light would not be noticeable to those outside before we set to work, and not dallying to be too tidy about it: pulling drawers completely from their slots to more easily rifle through them without replacing them, and chucking anything onto the floor that we deemed would not fetch a price worth using up valuable space in our sacks to take all the way back to town.

I've come to learn in this line of work that there is a lot one can tell about a person by sifting through their possessions. For example, we discovered that the Baroness seemed to have an obsession with collecting taxidermied weasels and stoats of all things, having an entire bookcase dedicated to the display of the preserved carcasses of the mustelids ranging from coats of all colours, of all sizes and of various stages of being moth-eaten. While I am not particularly fond of what I considered to be little more than pests, I still could not help but feel somewhat sorry for the little blighters having their hides ultimately ending up as part of such a callous woman's personal exhibition.

We also came across a journal, at first believing it to be a diary of some sort, but flipping through its pages only revealed a record dating back to over a decade ago which meticulously documented the number of nose hairs the Baroness plucked every Thursday at quarter past seven without fail, as well as the individual length of each down to the precise millimetre that was then calculated into a mean average. While I do think everybody - despots and all - are entitled to their own harmless hobbies - eccentric or otherwise - we decided we would not be enlightened any by further reading these logs and gingerly closed to the cover.

Lastly, stashed away in a chest that was further hidden within a wardrobe, we stumbled upon a pile of Studs Triweeklies: a magazine (that I'm uncertain still even gets published) primarily popular for its columns, interviews, serials and pin-ups all concerning the core theme of handsome hunks intended for those attracted to them. Let me make it explicit I am not its target demographic, although Min helped herself to an issue from this stock, remarking it was missing from her own collection. The chest also contained an implement made from a smooth material and with a distinctly phallic shape which I will leave the reader to deduce its purpose from its presence alongside the racy periodicals and which the redhead remarked was of too cheap a make to be worth reselling.

On the topic of racy subjects, Min even happened across at least one complete set of lingerie in a drawer: bustier, briefs, stockings and garterbelt in all, each woven from soft-looking and slightly transparent lace dyed purple into uniform floral motifs. Their discovery led the goblin to comment that the - in her words - 'old bag' (the Baroness was thirty-five at that time) might not have been as big of a stick-in-the-mud as she initially thought whilst holding the knickers out and unfurled in front of her by the corners of its waistband, which in turn made me feel slightly flushed seeing such a saucy article presented so candidly towards me, and my face only reddened the more when Min bundled it into a ball before tossing it to me. I caught the panties purely by reflex - and in truth was not sure how exactly I should have felt holding the unmentionables of a woman who I so despised - as the redhead went on to explain how I could probably pawn undergarments as fine as those for a fair few bob, or that she could get me in touch with some acquainted perverts of hers who would willingly pay an even prettier penny for a noblewoman's used skivvies! Min even made mention how she was tempted to keep the lingerie for her personal use, though relinquished them on the grounds that the seat on the panties and the cups on the bra appeared far too small to fit her comfortably.

Oddities aside, we plundered the room for everything it was worth, stuffing our burlaps close to bursting with the amount of jewellery, fine fabrics, loose coins and any other rarities we knew would be valuable in the hands of the right dealers. Even though what we pilfered was probably only a mere dint in Baroness' ill-gotten fortunes, I personally would have been satisfied with what we had obtained in a heist this straightforward, knowing their appropriation would have dealt a blow to her ego and indicated clear enough that even she was not wholly untouchable. Any sensible housebreaker would have declared it a success and left things then and there, but just as we were about to swiftly depart before being discovered, Min paused to take another survey around the luxurious - albeit now ransacked - bedroom.

"Min? What's the hold up?" I asked her, anxious to leave knowing every second longer we spent within the manor meant another second we risked being rumbled. "We've done what we came to do. Let's get outta here while the going's good!"

"Yeah, I get that, but listen...we're talkin' 'bout th' bint who took everythin' not jus' from you, but from all yer mates an' family an' neighbours too! Are ya really gonna be satisfied lettin' her off wi' jus' pocketin' a few bits an' bobs that she's jes' gonna buy replacements for 'fore long anyway, an' a messy room she's only gonna get some other poor sod t' tidy up? We need t' be sendin' a stronger message here, one that'll stick wi' her all her days."

She did make a fair point. After all, it was unlikely that we - or anybody else for that matter - would ever find themselves able to walk so easily into Baroness Hearmin's bedchambers ever again after tonight, as she would inevitable tighten her security after learning there were people out there bold enough to attempt anything against somebody of her standing. I conceded that as I was there as a form of retaliation to her rule, we probably should make the absolute most of the opportunity while we could, with Min's immediate suggestion being to smash the ornate mirror which was too cumbersome for us to carry save for the gemstones we pried from its frame, although I pointed out the sound from the shatter would no doubt draw anybody in this half of the mansion to investigate.

Instead, a more silent form of vandalism was opted by way of dipping her fingers into an inkpot on a writing desk and smearing the wallpaper with the message 'MIN WUZ HEER' in that exact spelling, in block capitals and in a slipshod script, which was followed up with using that same ink to deface the portrait, ruined in a matter of seconds after no doubt taking hours upon hours to painstakingly complete by the non-human's additions of a curly moustache, pointed beard, an eyepatch and exaggerated eyebrows resembling fuzzy caterpillars to the Baroness' likeness. My only corroboration in this particular mischief was raising the goblin up by her underarms so she could reach the necessary altitude to work her embellishments, and after setting her back down, she tipped out what remained in the inkpot onto the bearskin rug in the crude shape of a penis, having just enough of the black liquid left over to detail a urethra, glans and some wiry hairs on its base. I chose not to directly take part in this myself, wishing to remain as incognito as I could, but I respected Min's sheer audacity in leaving a signature all the same.

I assumed Min had been satisfied by her handiwork hitherto, and I knew that I would be hair-tearingly livid if I had personally come home to find myself not only robbed, but my walls and floor graffitied so rudely and maliciously, and probably swear undying revenge on the crooks that were responsible, however, it seemed the goblin's demand for hooligan hijinks were still not yet assuaged, for I could see her searching for something else that could be tarnish, with her sights soon setting upon the deluxe canopied bed. For those of you already familiar with any variant of this tale, you can likely tell what was to follow next, and have probably been anticipating it too.