Blood Roses

Chapter Two, part One: Mirza

Mirza jumped off his horse onto the cold morning mud. He loved wet mornings like this, when the fog covers the sun that has started peaking over the horizon, when everything is just grey and brown. He tied up the horse to a lamp post and turned back to look at Akzelle, who was still shifting around on his stead looking at Mirza warily.

"I don't think we should do this," grumbled Akzelle, his grey eyes scanning over the two story half-timbered house. He always was so bitter except, of course, when he was with the little blonde. Even Mirza, ever the romantic, couldn't stand the two in the same room. Akzelle was much better company when he didn't talk.

"What do you mean, it's a perfect day to steal something" Mirza replied jovially, stretching in preparation.

"You think every day is a good day to steal something" Akzelle shifted on his saddle, he could never seem to get comfortable on horses even when the horse wasn't even moving.

"Well, that's because I do this, basically, every day," he countered, smiling brightly as he started to stretch his other arm out. "You don't become infamous from sitting on your ass like a miserable lap dog."

Akzelle still squirmed around on his saddle like a slimy little 6 foot tall trout trying to escape a fisherman's hands "They're on vacation" he shook his head in disgrace, brown knuckles tightening around the horse's reins.

"I don't understand why you're so wary, no one is home," he said, keeping his voice as comforting and smooth as possible without sounding like he was baby-ing him. "Besides, you aren't even doing anything, you just have to wait outside."

"I know I just," Akzelle stared at the house, "I... nevermind"

Mirza took no caution in Akzelle's uneasiness for it was just his usual mood. Grey and constantly on the verge of vomiting. He simply saluted Akzelle as he slipped into the thin alley between the estate and its neighbour.

The estate in particular belongs to Levin Fischer. Mr.Fischer is a moderately well respected fish trader who lives on the west side of Karrion, where all the other want-to-be aristocrats live. Close enough to Korvis to feel important, far away enough that you aren't really important. He has amassed a small fortune in which he uses to spoil his son and daughter. Mirza reached the depressing rose trellis that framed the dining room window and started to carefully pull away the dead roses, he had plenty of time. Other than him constantly smelling of vile fish and his habits to over indulge his two children Mr.Fischer doesn't seem at all interesting to the normal eye.

Mirza finished clearing the dead rose and climbed the trellis, when he nearly reached the roof above the dining room he lifted his foot and the part of the lattice his other foot was on snapped. His foot fell from beneath him as he gripped to the trellis tighter, trying to find another place on the lattice. His foot landed on the lattice as a wave of relief fell over him. He came over to the window, white paint chipping, the Fischer family's estate was relatively luxurious but old and seemed to have been built with haste and quite cheaply. You see for the past 4 or so winters Mr.Fischer has been transferring money to a blacksmith from Bakven to fix the lock on his front door, Mirza knew it was very likely that if the brass lock was turning brittle in the bitter Krow winter so are the window latches. But wouldn't they notice the window latch was broken, possibly, but even if they did, why would they spend the extra coin to fix it? Karrion was a safe city, what lunatic is going to climb to the second floor to break into a fish merchant's house?

This Lunatic.

Mirza looked down from the small landing on top of the roof, the lattice was obviously snapped where he'd almost fallen. Mirza turned and placed his hands on the window, palms on the glass, and pulled it open. After some struggle and appropriate shaking, he heard a faint clink of metal hitting wood and the window opened. Mirza Slid inside the house, and untangled himself from the thick rose wool curtains. A quick glance around the gaudy interior and anyone could tell this was Mr.Fischer's daughters room; spoiled by her parents young Angelina Fischer had built quite the reputation for being a spoiled brat who can't handle rejection, and has been a large source of gossip since her debut. Her room suited her garishness consummately, the walls where this horrific pink that could make any person vomit if they stared at it for to long.

Luckly for Mirza he only needed to stay in there for how long it took him to walk from the window to her chamber's door. The hallway was still a flashy mess, but in comparison to Ms.Fischer's room it looked tame, what is with the lower upper class and their obsession with tackiness. Mirza turned a right to a set of doors and pushed them open. Mr. Fischer's bed chamber.

The room was surprisingly dull, grey-ish green walls with small leafs decorating the edges. Mirza scanned the room before his eyes landed on the dark-oak bureaucrat nestled against the wall. He carefully walked to the bureaucrat and began searching the doors. He was searching for a blue box. Mirza shut the first drawer and moved over to the next, scanning through the multitude of depressingly dark dress shirts. Nothing.

Mirza started the next drawer with more haste, not caring to re-fold the clothes he left in disarray. Did Mr.Fischer bring it with him? No, that's improbable, he couldn't risk losing it overseas in Livhi.

He was holding back every urge to panic when he shut the final drawer. Where is it? He turned to the bed and pulled back the blankets, nothing. He lifted up the pillows just to be met by nothing.

"I really didn't want it to come to this," Mirza murmured to himself as he pushed off the blanket and pillows and started to lift the mattress.

"What are you doing, loitering about?" A muffled voice from outside the house. Mirza's heart thumped in his chest, that certainly couldn't be good. Mirza has known Akzelle for two years, and in that time he's learned one key thing about the sad trout:

He can't act.

Lie, yes. But pretending not to be an exiled Vkyuli, or at least not entirely suspicious, was not a strong suit of his.

"I, I'm not... I just thought to enjoy the view?" Mirza could barely hear Akzelle's excuse as finished thrusting the mattress off of the bed, he needed to hurry.

Mirza scanned the bed frame looking for something suspicious, something that didn't belong.

"Why do you have two horses with you?" the voice questioned Akzelle outside.

There.

A small, conspicuous, divet in the wooden bed frame. Mirza pulled back on the divet and revealed a small compartment. Layed nested inside the compartment was the blue box. Mirza snatched it and started for the door. In a normal situation he would put the bedding back, but he couldn't risk Akzelle for that long.  

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Authors note:

Had to split this one up into to part cuz she a long girl.