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+ T** he Dragoness and Her Rogue - Part One ***+*

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Fourteen out of the twenty-four years of his overall life, "Adam To'Keaton" had been making a living surviving in the shadows. Since the age of ten, he had forever prided himself on being a master at subtle activities including thieving, lock picking, eavesdropping, information gathering along with much, much more. As he had grown up in his mountainous home city of Serkwesh, especially since he'd just pulled off the feat of stealing even the master jewel off of the very head of closely guarded "Governor D'bain's" king bed, his skills had become something close to legendary amongst his fellow man.

What was known most about Adam, however, wasn't his feats. Rather, he was famous for his methods of stealing as well as whom he targeted to steal from; the wealthiest around.

Indeed, for the last few years of his shadowy career, rather than being like all the other rogues in history, young To'Keaton had only stolen riches from the rich classes of the city. Riches he'd not kept for himself but had given to those who were like how he'd been when only a child; the poor souls in the slums who were in need of money so that they could at least eat, drink and just stay alive altogether.

Without a doubt nowadays, to nobles and the homeless alike, Adam was something else entirely. To the frustrated upper classmen he'd ever robbed from without being caught, he was a menace who needed to be thrown into the dungeons. To the gossiping common folk, however, he was a celebrated icon who did not ever keep his treasure for himself but rather used it for the greater good. And due to his generosity, due to his various daring feats where others would have failed, he today was a figure with a thousand tales revolving around him.

Truly, who knew the truth about he who was the master thief of thieves? Simply put, no one did. All that there was to his often spoken name were only simple rumors, fantastic fables as well as very unbelievable yet believable myths.

As some said about him never being caught by the city guards, Adam was apparently a phantom that could be seen only when under the full moon's light. That or he was a ghost of the nether realm, out for revenge against the rich who had let him starve in the street during a most wicked winter. What most folk wanted to see him as, though, was a justice seeking guardian angel of the heavens who had valiantly taken on the task of humbling the Serkwesh nobles, impressing the commoners as well as giving hope to the less fortunate.

One way or the other, there was only person who knew Adam To'Keaton better than anyone else; himself.

Yes, only he himself could answer the questions of who he truly was, where he lived, how he thieved so well, whether he was mortal or immortal, whether he was a deity or a man. And in the end, he was simply a mortal man blessed with the best streak of luck. He was who, despite his hard childhood, had grown up with a good heart that now benefitted many a needy person. Today, during the early afternoon of this autumn day, he was currently the young man sitting at one of the many tables enjoying a small drink of cider in the local, bustling "Fickleton" bar located in downtown.

If there was at least one thing true about the rumors that swirled around Adam, it was that he was indeed a gorgeous being of a man. With dirty brown hair cut short, having eyes the color of the ocean blue, with his smooth yet sharp expression cleanly shaved of any kind of fuzz, he most definitely looked the charming part of a master thief. When having interacted with women in the past, his described handsomeness along with charming personality had saved him many a time from being found out while on a job. Sometimes, thanks to his dashing good looks, he'd even gained help from the said women; persuadable daughters of wealthy yet corrupted merchants, jealous sisters of corrupted brothers, depressed wives of snobbish royals.

And as if he were not good looking enough, thanks to the many previous years of him mastering his sneaky trade, young To'Keaton was toned in body, mind along with soul these days. Not only that, his apparel all but perfected his role as a thief. Mind, even though he'd stolen enough riches to buy him a private island somewhere, he dressed like no monarch. Rather, he wore the same humble thing he'd worn since he had begun thieving when ten; a simple set of leather boots, black pants, a white tunic, a brown jerkin all covered up with a dusty, grey cloak.

Mind, this was no ordinary cloak that the master thief wore on his shoulders. It was the cloak that'd been his blanket when younger and not so well off. It was the cloak that he'd used to ward off the winter cold during his time trying to survive in the slums. It was the cloak that'd saved his life... and no reminded him why he had taken on the job of thieving.

Truth be told, with the October weather turning every leaf upon every tree the shade of the rainbow outside, Adam's career of working in the shadows had somewhat slowed down. That was due to the fact that he, for the most part, didn't have many more challenges to try to take on anymore. Sure, don't get him wrong, he was more than happy to help the poor in his city of Serkwesh. He didn't intend to stop aiding them anytime soon. Yet, being one of his guilty secrets, he also liked having a bit of a challenge during his missions. Honestly, the bigger the challenge, the better the rewards!

And now that he'd done the impossible by having recently stolen the crown jewel off of now flustered Governor D'bain's king bed... well, there just wasn't much for excitement for the thinking master thief anymore these days. He'd done the impossible too many times it seemed. Now he was, well, lacking in challenges.

Women these days, the furry and the human, who always proved to be interested in his title, not him, could only do so much to arouse the attention of Adam too. After so many failed relationships during his sneaky past, he was tired of dealing with maidens coming to him not for anything special but to have the bragging rights to tell their girlfriends later on that they'd spent a day or two "supposedly" claiming the heart of Serkwesh's champion.

Plus, women were so loud when they talked about anything excited. Especially the vixens, even though they looked so quiet if not sleek. Ugh. Having practically screamed to the heavens that they'd had him to themselves for a day, it was some small wonder that they hadn't blown Adam's cover to the city guards in downtown already.

Either way, sipping at his drink in the Fickleton's back seats with an easy going heart, listening to the rather talented doe mistress - a pleasant female in her early twenties with a slender frame, brown pelt, a small set of brown antler stubs jutting from her fire read hair that went well with her green eyes and greener dress - on the stage over yonder lovingly sing about some lost love, the master thief of Serkwesh set his booted feet up onto his table with naught much of a care in his mind. Today, gods willing, he was going to take a break from everything. He was going to take a break from the thieving, the spying, the good work, just everything.

And what harm was there in him doing that? Why couldn't he take a day or so off from being the city's undercover champion? Even though it was rewarding in many ways, all of that always being the hero was tiring. Besides, he had enough riches to keep his fellow man content for another month or two. Yeah, this seemed right. He deserved a little vacation to loosen up, clear his mind along with enjoy his cider drink in hand.

So, for now, young To'Keaton deserved some rest. He deserved some time to think on what he wanted to do next in the future... which was abruptly presented to him when, out of nowhere, a shady looking older figure dressed in a hooded robe took the seat opposite of Serkwesh's champion.

And as for Serkwesh's champion's reaction to this abrupt intrusion, before anything could be said or perhaps realized, he'd drawn his hidden dagger from out of his left boot on the tabletop as well as had it pressed against his strange visitor's right hip under the table where no one else could see form any direction nor angle.

"This table is taken, stranger." Adam said not nastily but coolly, keeping a cool smile on his face while he prodded his robed fellow underneath the table at dagger point, "You'd best move along and find another seat before you end up slipping off your chair and cutting yourself somehow."

"I don't intend to fall off of this chair and cut myself in the slightest bit, friend. Unless you plan to do that to me which would be unnecessary and quite against your reputation, you know." The robed, hooded stranger - a goat perhaps, there was a small if not white goatee to be seen beneath the hood now - chuckled in a rather relaxed if not attractive voice, "I know that you don't harm innocents, master thief. The way I heard it from one of my friends, you especially don't harm innocents who have good information for you. _Profitable_information, I should add."

This quick exchange of words struck Adam's curiosity almost instantly. In turn, cautiously, he pulled back his dagger from the person before him so that he could sit down properly. After having been in the thieving business for fourteen years, Adam was somewhat used to this; this strange, variety of fellows popping up out of nowhere throughout Serkwesh with requests that usually ended up being rather interesting.

How these oddballs found the master thief had never been his business. Of course, like present, he handled each transaction with utmost care lest he wanted to be ambushed by guards any second. It had went that way sometimes. Guards had ambushed Adam when they'd thought he had had his guard lowered. However, with him obviously still free and not rotting in the dungeons, their plots to capture him hadn't worked.

And as for this currently robed stranger before young To'Keaton, he didn't look too shady. Not like some of the customers who'd come to Adam in the past, anyway.

Still, what did this guy want to ask the master thief about? What could be a challenge for the champion of Serkwesh anymore? Hadn't he done all of the impossible already? Hadn't he done everything that could present him with a good enough trial to overcome? Well, there was only way to find out for sure if there was nothing else interesting for him to try to accomplish these days, wasn't there? And that was to listen to what this robed figure, this goat it seemed, had to say.

As for the robed newcomer that'd just sat done across from Serkwesh's champion thief, he pulled back his hood to show his true identity. Indeed, as the thief had guessed from the start, the fellow turned out to be an older, white haired, thinly furred goat with a thin yet evident goatee hanging down from his fuzzy chin, a narrow nose and eyes as icy blue as a winter's frigid sky. Judging by his looks, by his posture, this goat of sorts was evidently noble born. Thus, being such a rich person of note, perhaps he had an influential rival who needed to be taught a lesson? Or maybe he needed something rather valuable taken and held for safekeeping?

Hmph, the petty squabbles of rich people. They were annoying. Yet, they were what had lined Adam's pockets with gold for s many years.

Either way, with a glint in his eyes, with a grin on his good looking face, the older man acted as if he'd met Adam before sometime in the past. Indeed, with a laugh, spreading his arms to both sides happily, with a white toothed smile, the stranger greeted eagerly, "Master Thief Adam Keaton. It's good to finally meet you. I am Henrick Loranke."

There was a pause of silence where Adam stared at the hand being held out to him by his newest customer. Then the master thief tried to say politely while not shaking his fellow's hand, "Er, I'm sorry but... I don't know any Henricks, stranger. I especially don't know anyone by the name of Henrick Loranke."

"No, you wouldn't know me, friend. In fact, you don't know a lot of the people who know you these days." The older man, Henrick Loranke, chuckled while leaning back in his chair, "And for the most part, I don't know you. I know only what every else knows; your name, your feats, your legacy. But I do not know you as a person. Perhaps that is for the best, eh?"

"Perhaps." Was Adam's response, staying defensive about the conversation at staying alert for any city guards maybe lying in wait for a signal to ambush him, "Either way, you only need to know my legacy, Henrick. Not my name. It is my feats that have kept me in business. It is my accomplishments that are what brought you here to me today, no?"

"Yes, that's right."

"Then get on with it." Serkwesh's master thief stated, sipping his cider calmly, "What have you come to me for? Speak or leave."

"I would speak, er, not leave." Henrick said, looking a little confused at Adam's swift use of words, "I have a proposition for someone of your talents-"

"You and every other noble in this city." Adam cut in, laughing to himself, "Are you here asking me to steal something from a rival or former partner or guild? If so, I'm not interested. I've retired."

"You've RETIRED?!" Henrick practically yelled not in anger but in sheer disbelief, jumping out his seat with a clatter, "You can't! How could you do that to this city? The people here need you!"

After the shouting from the robed royal, eyes turned towards the corner where Adam was doing business. When the master thief simply smiled along with waved at everyone looking at him curiously, they soon went back to talking, gambling and just plain enjoying themselves.

"I've retired momentarily. I'll be back in the game soon enough." Adam snarled back, shaken by his contact's sheer volume but somewhat intrigued at seeing how his news of retirement had caused Henrick concern not for himself but for the city, "Silence yourself. No more yelling, you fool. Now sit down before more eyes turn in our direction!"

"Alas, my apologies. Still, do not talk about retiring, sir. Your work is a grand thing. It has brought much happiness to the people within and outside of this city." Henrick said, looking relieved.

"And you care about that, eh? You care about how my work brings happiness to everyone in this citadel?" Serkwesh's champion wondered back, finding himself becoming ever more intrigued with his newest customer's attitude towards him, "I take it that you're a nobleman, Henrick. Don't you know that I steal from your types?"

"Indeed. For my own reasons, I do know that. However, I am safe from being targeted by you."

"Oh? How do you figure that?"

"Well, you steal from the men who prey upon the weak. You take their corrupted wealth - wealth that they stole from the pockets of good working folk - and give it back to those who deserved it in the first place." Henrick explained, smiling an admiring smile to the master thief, "And as for me, as for why I am wealthy, I am the right hand of the cathedral."

"Wait..." Adam cut in next, catching on to suddenly who he was possibly speaking with, "You're the right hand of the cathedral? You mean to tell me... that you're Father Henrick Loranke?"

"Yes. That's right."

Suddenly, with this newfound fact before him, Adam realized that he actually did know of a Henrick Loranke. He was an extremely popular political figure in the city who was more than generous to the poor, who stood against the corrupted ways of the wealthy in the rich district. And here that celebrated brother of the cathedral was in Fickleton, seated opposite of the now bemused master thief who was trying to take it all in.

"Believe it or not, master thief, you and I are in the same business. We have been for quite a time. You take the wealth of nobles no one likes and innocent me uses the funds you send to the church to feed the starving, to cure the sick and give water to the dried mouths." Brother Henrick said, smiling wider, "Ahem, now, if you would listen, about my request for your services... No, this is not a job that has anything to with the likes of corrupted men or rivals of mine. I do not partake in such ill practices as blackmailing. My request, er, has to do with stealing from another species entirely."

This immediately caught Adam's attention. The job he was being offered by this holy man wasn't about stealing from humanity... but from another race? What race?

"Go on." Adam encouraged coolly, listening closely if not respectfully now to the high ranking priest of Serkwesh, "What, uh, species would I be stealing from?"

"Ah, then I have your interest? You would hear my request? You would hear me out?"

"Let's say I'm interested at the moment and you're losing my interest with pointless questions. Make your request or leave me to my drink, holy one." Stated jokingly.

"Alright, alright." Brother Henrick chuckled back, actually relieved to see that he was getting along quite well with Serkwesh's champion, "Well, you see, something was stolen from me last week. It was a priceless artifact of my family's, a painting of the sun goddess, Apallene, dating back to the first age of our world."

"And who - no - what took this painting of yours?"

"A... dragon."

In turn to these words, nothing was said for a time by either Serkwesh's master thief or priest. Throughout the bar, there were cheers from everyone as the mistress on stage took her leave after having sung her last, heart breaking melody. Then, leaning forward so he could be heard over the noise, Adam hissed at his customer.

"I'm sorry... did you just say dragon?" He questioned sternly, feeling like he hadn't heard right, "If it was a dragon that stole your picture, it would have crashed through half of Serkwesh not for your picture but for the city's main bank vault!"

"Look, I know this sounds crazy but hear me out." Henrick instantly pleaded, "By the goddess, I swear to you, master thief, that it was a dragon of some kind that took my family's artifact. There were... claw marks on the floor, embers on the curtains, smoke hanging from the ceiling. And then there was this resting on the tabletop in my living room."

Henrick next produced something that made disbelieving Adam begin to believe the tale he was being told. The priest held out to the master thief something that could have been mistaken for a ruby had it not been paper thin, hard as steel, sharp as a dagger and as big as an eagle's feather. This curious, red object was a tell-tale sign of a dragon alright.

For it was unmistakably a dragon scale that Henrick showed to Adam at the moment who, trying to keep himself calm, brushed back his dirty brown hair, sipped his drink... and could not help feeling excited for the first time in a long while.

It seemed this holy man of the church had a good enough mission for young To'Keaton to accept, after all. Truly, Serkwesh's champion never had had the chance of looting from a dragon's hoard before. Not until now, anyway. And by the gods, where most men wouldn't have dared go through with a accepting the contract at hand, Adam wasn't about to let this chance escape him. Not for anything!

Thus, with a twinkle in his eye, with a small smile on his face, the master thief took the dragon scale from Henrick, turned it in his hands and then said confidently, "Let's say you had my attention at the mention of a request, Brother Henrick. Now, at the mention of dragon plundering... you have my services."