Wulfbert the Handsome doesn’t get angry. He gets even.
Well, no. First he gets mad. And then he gets even.
All in all, though, he has been in a better mood lately.
Working out his recent frustrations on training dummies he made out of wood and straw then drew the faces of the Lyte Brigade and their raccoon friend on has been doing wonders for his temper.
And his biceps.
And, of course, his sister is clever. Even after being forced to drop her backpack with most of their loot, she still managed to get away with the various valuable bits she was able to tuck into her pockets.
Which means that the sting of having to retreat from six punk kids and a raccoon is somewhat lessened by the fact that the two siblings still managed to get a payday for themselves.
So, the way he sees it, his run-in with the Lyte Brigade wasn’t a loss. It will no doubt go down in the records of his bandit career as a decisive tie.
As Wulfbert continues to hack away at the Nolan dummy, he decides that, for the first time in a long while, he may actually be in a good mood.
The prospect of revenge is a great medicine for wounded pride.
Hmm, he realises. I should write that down. That sounds like something from one of Wulfhild’s books.
Although there isn’t much of his Nolan dummy left but splinters and spilled straw, Wulfbert nevertheless concludes with a stiff kick to send the dummy tumbling end-over-end across the field into the dirt. Just like he will, hopefully sooner than later, do to the real dummy he used as his inspiration for this dummy.
“Hey, Wulfbert!” he hears his sister call.
He plants his sword to the ground and walks over to his sister.
“I think I’ve found a lead for us,” she tells him, gesturing for him to follow her into the middle-of-nowhere inn they’ve been laying low in since their fight with the Lyte Brigade.
Wulfhild leads him to a table to sit across from a stranger in a baggy cloak with the hood pulled up over his face, though the gleam of his smile is visible even through the shadows of his hood.
“I understand I have the honour to meet two of the finest criminals in Realmgard,” the stranger says graciously. “Truly, a pleasure to meet with such talented like-minded individuals.”
Wulfbert does appreciate the flattery — well, he supposes it’s not flattery if it’s true — but he figures it will help his mystique to just brush it off.
“Wulfhild says you might have a lead for us. Start talking,” Wulfbert bids.
“That I do. Are you, my friend, perhaps interested in a heist?” the stranger asks.
Wulfbert scoffs. “Who do you think you’re talking to?” he asks. “I’m the fiercest and best-looking bandit in not just all Realmgard, but the whole wide world of Terrace! I’m always interested in a heist.”
“Oh, no doubt,” the stranger says. “And that’s precisely why I decided to come calling. I’m sure we could work wonders with your fierceness, your sister’s intellect, and my, well, skillset.”
“And what skillset is that? Just who are you?” Wulfbert asks.
The stranger pulls back his hood, revealing a broad grin and pointed Elven ears.
“Well, I’ve got a handful of identities to work with — helps keep the heat down,” he explains. “But I think you’d know me best as Felix the Basilisk.”
“The Felix the Basilisk?” Wulfbert asks. “Impressive.”
“Ah,” Felix says. “Then you know exactly what my skillset is. Of course you do, I’m the uncanniest thief in all Realmgard.”
He raises his hand apologetically.
“Alas, what I have in mind isn’t a one-man job. Even when that one man is me.”
“Oh?” Wulfhild asks, leaning over her brother’s shoulder. “What job is that?”
Felix’s grin gets even wider. He reaches into his cloak and unfolds a printed poster featuring a huge, glittering jewel.
“Let me tell you what’s waiting for us in Porthaven.”
Stayed tuned for further adventures featuring the Lyte Brigade.
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