The Shady Adventures of Fabian

Chapter 8

After several minutes and taking various twists and turns, Fabian judged that he had managed to shake his pursuer, at least for the moment. He decided it might be a wise idea to skip town. It would be a shame to leave behind all of his winnings from the card game, but things were getting a little too hot around here. Besides, he reasoned that a master thief like himself should be able to find some more loot to steal shortly.

The more immediate problem was finding clothes and a weapon. He surely wasn't going to hit the road in an old woman's nightgown and he needed protection in case he encountered any monsters out in the wilderness. He soon found a nice pair of britches and a cloth shirt hanging off a laundry line in somebody's back yard. He pilfered them quickly and hopped over the fence into an alleyway.

The blind beggar he had encountered earlier was sleeping behind a pile of rubbish. Despite being covered in dirty rags, he appeared to be sporting a decent pair of leather boots. Fabian peeled them off and put them on his bare feet. They were a little too big, but they would do for now. He also found a small rusty dagger in the beggar's belt, which he took along with the belt. For good measure he stole the rest of the shillings out of the beggar's tin cup and set on his way. "Talk about robbing him blind," he chuckled to himself.

He poked his head out of the alleyway and looked both directions down the main street. Balooga the Mighty didn't appear to be anywhere in sight, so he quickly and quietly made his way to the town's front gate. It was closed and locked for the night, but Fabian climbed over it deftly and dropped to the ground outside the town wall.

He was congratulating himself on a well executed escape when he was suddenly shoved violently from behind. He fell head over heels and then rolled over onto his back whereupon he discovered a large pike was being pressed against his throat. "You, sir, are under arrest."

"What for?" Fabian asked.

"You know what for. I've got you now, Patrice. There's no escaping this time."

"Patrice?" Fabian said. "Gordon? Is that you?"

"Yes, I am known as Gordon the Guard, foul rogue. And from now on I shall be known as Gordon, capturer of the dread king of the pirates Patrice!"

"Oh, for crying out loud," Fabian said. "We just went through this a few hours ago. I'm Fabian, remember? Famed hero and adventurer?"

"You're sure you're not the evil pirate king Patrice?" Gordon asked.

"I'm sure," Fabian said. "See? No eyepatch. No hook hand. No peg-leg. No pet parrots. I don't even sprinkle my speech with 'Arrr Matey's' or anything. I'm most definitely not a pirate."

"Gosh, I could have sworn you were him. Well, I'm terribly sorry about that, sir. I'll let you be on your way then."

"Thank you," Fabian said as he stood up and straightened his collar. "Say, you wouldn't happen to know where the next closest village or town is, would you?"

"The city of Braithvale lies but a two days journey east of here," Gordon said.

"Two days east, huh? All right, I think I can handle that."

"Beware of pirates," Gordon called out after him.

*

It was a chilly night and Fabian became acutely aware that he no longer had a cloak. Even a ripped one would be better than nothing at the moment. The rumbling in his belly also alerted him to the fact that he had managed to leave town without any rations and he was getting pretty hungry already. That two days journey to the next town was starting to sound much longer than it had initially.