The Prince of Thieves

The market was where he first got his start. Young Atlas had been living on the street since he could remember...he didn't know his last name, didn't have a need for one. He also couldn't tell you just who his parents were and he didn't really care. When begging didn't work, he turned to thieving and had soon become quite the accomplished pick-pocket.

But for the reward, it wasn't without perils. Many times when he first started he had been caught and nearly lost his life. But in the sprawling city of Solis there were always places to hide, and people willing to offer shelter from the guards...for a price. The years passed and he grew into a fit young man of six feet, with straw blond hair and eye's of light amber.

He had barely come into his sixteenth year when he came across another thief, a woman by the name of Ella. She took him under her wing, teaching him everything she hard learned in her twenty-some years. Two years passed, and Atlas remembered it as two of the happiest years of his life. Then, as suddenly as she came she was gone...

- - -

Amazons were not an uncommon sight. Their soldiers were well trained, disciplined and dedicated to the art of war. Any soldier who had fought them and survived would attest to that. It was also a well known fact that they would NOT be taken alive. They would sooner kill themselves then be captured...it was the way of things.

So, when one showed up for sale in the underworld it attracted some attention...as well as the attention of Atlas. Now, let it be said that his thieving was not motivated by greed, or compulsion. It was necessity that drove him to thievery. The need to survive. Though, just occasionally like ALL young men...he felt the need to show off.

This Amazon was a prize in herself. He knew that any man would pay a vast sum simply to boast that he owned an amazon woman. It was rareity that Atlas knew had attracted the attention of even the king, though he would no doubt deny it. "...Let me see if I understand this," drawls Vergil. "You are goint to...steal another person?"

"Exactly," responds Atlas, staring down at the crowded streets. A wry grin appears on his young face at the thought of that. "Tonight...the Prince of Thieves is going to steal from the king himself." Vergil crouches down and smiles.

"Well, I believe that's called kidnapping. Though, only YOU would think of doing something this foolish...and you are the only one who could pull it off. Perhaps that is why you are the Guild Master, eh, Prince?" He glances up at the blond and then sighs. "So how ARE you going to do it?"

"Now, that's a secret."

"Well, then, what are you going to do once you have her?" Atlas simply shrugs in response. "You don't know? It's not like you can sell her again."

"I calculate that once I do this, it will be the end of my stay in this city." He looks down both sides of the street. "I have a pair of horses waiting outside the city gates. Once we're free then I'll send her on her way." Vergil nodded. "Now...if you'll excuse me. I have some things to do." He turns and sprints across the roof-top, jumps the gap to the next building and dashes up a wall. He grasps the ledge hauls himself up and continues on his way.

Time passes, and soon dusk is upon the city. Atlas had visited every one of his contacts for information, and had located the his target. The slaver had gone to GREAT lengths to keep his identiy a secret. No doubt for fear of being attacked, or black-mailed into turning over the Amazon.

The Prince headed towards the man, with the crowd and the slaver paid him absolutely no mind. As he passed, with a steady hand and calm nerves born of years of practice, he relieved the man of his keys. The man paused several steps from Atlas and glanced back...before dismissing the whole thing and continuing on his way. The young thief smiled a bit to himself as he approached the slavers house.

He unlocked the door and entered, closing the door silently behind himself. Finding the man's safe was an easy task...cracking it took time however, more then Atlas cared to admit considering how good he was as such things. When the tumbles finally fell into place he opened the door and smiled as he beheld all the gold, and more importantly the location of the Amazon.

He KNEW that the slaver wouldn't keep her where he sold all the other's from, it was like keeping a diamond out in the open for all to see. It simply isn't a good idea if you want to keep it...

- - -

She was humiliated, disgraced. Before she had had a chance to end her life, she had been captured and restrained. Now she was going to sold into slavery. She had remained unspoiled for now, but that pride would be stripped from her when she was sold. Illia held her head in silence...no tears, simply acceptence. Tonight, she would be sold.

She had ceased struggling against her bonds, having nearly dislocated her shoulders from the position pinned to the wall. Her eye's opened slightly when she heard foot-steps on the cold stone floor. The person approached her cell and she heard the key in the lock. Steeling herself, Illia attempted to glare at whoever dared to come through the door, though the position prevented it.

The hinges loudly protested their use, and lack of oil as the heavy wooden and iron door swung open...but there was no one there. For several long, timeless moments there was no sound except for her not heavier breathing, and the thundering of her heart. When she started to relax, someone stepped in and her pulse lept.

From the awkward position she could only see the person's feet. He wore black boots, that were obviously knee high. There were several buckles running the side, and she assumed they went to the top of the leather. More then his foot-wear, she could not tell. "Are you the bastard who bought me?" she spat. "You dishonorible, cowardly, piece of shit!"

"Well, technically, I AM a bastard but I don't know about the other stuff," taunts the male. There's a sudden 'click' and she lurches forward, landing flat on her face. Her arms, which had been numb, began to tingle and prickle as the blood rushed back into the apendages. "And I'm not buying you...I'm stealing you."

"You're worse then those others, then!" He laughs and crouches down. The boots were knee high, and he wore black woolen trousers, with a leather belt with several pouches on it. His tunic was sleeveless, and near form fitting with a hood to hide his face. It split open into two halfs at the bottom, and hung open near the neck. He had two thick leather bracelets, one around each wrist and a silvery ring on his finger. The man grasped her arms and shackled them together. Illia was furious. Bad enough to be captured, then freed. Now he had bound her hands once more. "Damn you..."

"Well, I simply can't have you trying to kill me when I'm stealing you, can I?" He gave her a quick once over, quickly finding her arms to be useless. "I see your arms are still numb...how about your legs?"

"I refuse to assist you, you cur! Son of--" He placed a hand over her mouth and sighed heavily.

"Don't make me gag you. Because I will." He moved his hand and once more she began her insulting. True to his word, he gagged her with a bit of cloth and then lifted her, throwing her over his shoulder and exiting the cell. Illia would not deny she was happy to be free of that damned cell...however, as it stood she was prefer the waiting to this man.

"You!" called a voice from the end of the hall. He turned and Illia could only assume that it was the slaver. "Stop! Now!" The man turned and fled down the hall in the opposite direction. He was swift, carrying her without much strain up several sets of stairs. She could see that they were following after them, what she DIDN'T see was his escape route.

"I hope you can swim!" She glanced back at him in shock and then shut her eye's when he lept through a window, carrying her with him and three stories down to the canal below...

- - -

Atlas broke the surface of the water, dragging the kicking Amazon with him towards the bank. He pulled himself up and then her with him. The Prince threw her over his shoulder and took the stone steps up to the deserted street. She continued to struggle the entire time he carried her, though it didn't bother him in the least.

He had just stolen from the king himself, and it was everything it imagined it would be. The sense of accomplisment he felt was simply amazing. The blond carried her down several alley's, back streets and otherways ways known, used and maintained only by members of the Thieves Guild.

In no time at all they had arrived at the gates of the city. Leaving behind the walls, and buildings of the big city he looked around finding the horses waiting several yards away. "Good," he comments to himself. "Looks like you'll be going home after all." That immediately ceased her struggling. "Oh, NOW you stop fighting me."

He approaches the horses and sets her down by one, only to feel the pressing of a sword to his back. A heavy sigh escapes the Prince as he glances back at none other then Vergil. "Good evening, Atlas," comments the thief. "I will admit that I had my doubts. But as always you never fail to surprise me."

Several guards come rushing out of the city, swords drawn and lanterns lighting the way. "Exactly how much am I worth to the city guard?"

"A job as a captain of the guard, and enough for me to live in luxery until the end of my days." He reaches up and yanks his hood down. "Now remove your dagger." The guards surround them in a semi-circle, preparing to kill them if they resisted. Atlas chuckles and it slowly turns into full blown laughter, making all of them uneasy. Vergil knew just how slippery the Prince was. He was always one step ahead. "No matter what you do, the Thieves Guild is finished."

"The Guild will be empty when they reach it, Vergil."

"You're lying. I was careful, there's no way you could have known." Atlas smiles and turns to face the thief. "Step back, Prince..." The young glances away and then nods.

"Very well. I'll step back." He steps back two paces and a flaming arrow strikes the ground, seeing the oil soaked earth ablaze and seperating the two from guards. A small party of Amazon's on horse-back ride towards them. Vergil growls and turns away, running for the safety of the city, sounding the alarm the whole way.

Atlas turns and nearly throws the Amazonian into the saddle before mounting his own horse and riding away with the others. Whether it was wise or not remained to be seen...

- - -

The horses came to a stop near the edge of the forest and Illia took a deep breath. She had never imagined that she would be returning home in her life...but she was still in shackles. She turned her gaze to the young thief who had apparently contacted her sisters to save her. The leader of the platoon, a woman she recognized as Zestia manuvered her horse close to her to examine her.

"Did they hurt you?" she questions in her own language. "Did he hurt you?"

"I am unharmed," responds Illia. "And unspoiled. It would seem that I owe that to him and your arrival." Zestia nods in understanding and then grasps her sisters bonds.

"Do you have the key for these, thief?" Atlas tosses a key-ring to the woman in response. Several moments later, they click open and drop to the ground. Illia rubs her wrists and sighs happily.

"Good to free again." She glances in the direction of Atlas, staring at the city of Solis in the distance. Illia had only known him for a few hours, so she was unsure what drove her to ask, "Where will you go?"

"I have to go back," retorts Atlas. "I have to warn the Thieves Guild before the guard arrives..." She cocked her head slightly, a bit confused by his words. That simply didn't make sense.

"But you're a thief. Why risk your life for other thieves?"

"Wouldn't you risk your life for one of your sisters? More then that...it's a matter honor. The guard thinks that the I, the Prince of Thieves, am nothing but a push over. What better way to prove them wrong then by sneaking back into the city and stealing the crown right off of the kings head?"

"Are you mad?" questions Zestia. "It cannot be done."

"I freed your comrade, did I not?" He grins. "But your concern for me is flattering." The Amazon commander snorts in response and turns her horse away.

"Our business is concluded. What you do is none of my concern." He spurs his horse back towards the city and Illia watches him go in silence. "We should return home now."

"Y-Yes," agree's Illia. "That sounds agreeable..."

- - -

His heart was pounding in his chest as he stuffed all his papers, scrolls and plans into a bag. The Thieves Guild had been hit and they city guard was hunting down all those with connections to them...which included Kale. He had come to know the Guild Master, Atlas, some years ago when he had come to the inventor for the idea of a device to aid in escaping the guards. In exchange, he would recieve funding for whatever subject he sought to research, inventing being nothing but a mean's to fund that research.

He would not regret associating himself with that man, not in the least. Atlas was amusing and paid well for whatever time the man spared him. Thrusting the final paper into the bag he headed for the door. There was a figure standing in front of the half open door. The man in black shoved it closed slowly. "You're not leaving...are you?" questions the man, slowly brushing back his hood. Kale exhaled heavily, not realizing he had been holding his breath.

"Atlas," he comments. "The Thieves Guild was raided and the guards killed everyone. I thought you were dead."

"I almost was, Kale. The Prince of Thieves is going to pull off one more job...but I'll need your help. Then, you and I are going to make our escape, and head south to the city of Atlantis." The inventor shoved his glasses up the bridge of his nose and nodded in agreement. Kale knew that the Prince had the mean's and the skills to get them were from the city of Solis and safely to the busom of the Thieves Guild in the port town.

"What do you need, Prince?" A smile curved his lips and then died when someone pounded on the door. He pressed a finger to his lips and stepped back into the shadows moments before the door burst open at the shoulder of a burly guard, naked sword clutched in one hand and a lantern in the other. Two other guards followed him into the house and moments before he struck, Kale saw the light dance off the edge of the Prince's dagger.

In the blink of an eye he was on the man in the back of the line. He gripped him by the hair, yanked his head severly back and slashed his throat easily. His crimson blood spattering his scarf a darker shade of red then it already was. The other's turned at the gurgling and resulting thud, but Atlas was too fast for the next. He stabbed just under the sternum, at an upward angle and pierced his heart. With visious twist he shreaded the organ and send more blood spilling across the stone floor.

Gripping the man's shoulder her shoved him back into the final guard and sent the two toppling to the ground. The burly guard's face turned pale as a ghost as he stared up at his slain comrade and the Prince. The lantern had fallen from his grip and struck the ground, setting ablaze the papers that were so haphazardly tossed around the house in Kale's search for the most important documents.

"Let's go." The two fled the blaze in silence, Atlas cleaning the blade of his dagger on the side of his pants and tucking it away into boot with a bit of manuvering. "Before the night is out, we'll have our backs to this city, Kale. I promise..."

Hours passed and the city had calmed. But that was beyond his scope of hearing. The throne room was quiet now, too quiet for his taste. Atlas watched the throne in absolute silence from his perch at the window. It had taken the greasing of some palms, and the unfortunate loss of a few lives for him to get here but it was going to be his biggest score yet. But...it didn't seem right. Something was off. Hearing a sight shuffling he smiled a bit to himself and glanced in that direction.

'I see,' he muses to himself. 'They think to ambush me...well, I suppose I had best not keep them waiting any longer.' He grasped the curtain to his right, emblazoned with the kings crest, and slide down with ease. He dropped the final few feet silently and gazed around, quickly counting five members of the royal guard awaiting his arrival. He approached the throne, the crown sitting out for all to see.

He had serious doubts about it being the real thing. So, instead of picking it up...he very boldy had a seat in the throne, throwing a single leg over the arm and relaxing. "You can come out now, my royal subjects," he taunts in his impression of the king. "Hiding must be most taxing." They stepped out of their hiding places and the doors were thrown open for, to the great surprise of Atlas, the king to enter. "Well! What a surprise!"

He was NOT a benevolent man, but he had sense enough to run things in the kingdom well. He was short, not as tall or as deep in the chest as Atlas was but possessed a regal air, that he assumed must have been perfected over the years. "You're the street-rat that has my city in a stir," spits the king. "Not much to you, is there?"

"You're not very friendly, are you? That is fine with me. I, the Prince of Thieves, have come here to steal the very crown from your head, King."

"Prince?! I see only a gutter-snipe that was fortunate enough to evade the hangman's noose for some years! But that luck ends today, thief. Your arrogance will be the end of you." A smile curves his lips and he laughs.

"I see." He stood up slowly and then reached back into one of the many leather pouches on his belt, producing a small sphere much like a marble. "Catch." He lazily tossed it to the king who made no move to do so. The moment it touched the ground it exploded, producing a vision obscuring cloud of white smoke. Several cries for the protection of 'His Majesty' rose over the coughing.

Running foot-steps was another sound heard, though none of them could identify the person to whom they belonged to. The king fled down the hall, free of the smoke screen and glanced back in time for the Prince to sprint past, snatching the very crown from his balding head. He only noted a wry smile on his face as he fled into the depths of the castle, disappearing around a corner and down several halls.

Atlas could hear them following behind, their commander shouting orders all the way. He stopped in front of a heavy wooden door and shoved it open. "Gotta hide..."

- - -

Illia ran a stone over the edge of the sword in silence, honing it to an edge beyond the one the swordsmith had given it. "Something troubles you," speaks Zestia. "It is that thief, isn't it?" She looked up at the woman sitting across from her, the crackling and popping fire seperating them. "Did he do something to you?"

"Nothing of the sort," she replies. "He seemed honorible...or rather I should say, he seemed unknowing. I doubt that relationships between men and women were something he had time to study...if the stories hold true."

"Stories?"

"Just things I heard. The slavers were talking about him constantly." Zestia arched a brow in response. "What?"

"What was your impression of him?"

"Trustworthy...for an outsider." The commander shook her head immediately in response. "You don't believe me...I don't believe it, either. But that was my impression of that thief."

"To survive as we do, as free women, we must not trust outsiders. You know this better then I." She nodded in agreement, seeing some truth in Zestia words...and yet a part of her found that if ever there was an outsider to trust, it was that thief, Atlas. "But if you are so concerned with his well being...there may be a chance that he can be welcomed into our village. We do sometimes take older males in."