Thief of Time

Images whirled through her mind, each of them superimposed memories of doing the same action a hundred times over. Stepping through shadows, picking locks, breaking glass, picking pockets…

Groaning lightly, Dia raised her head as the flood of memories ended. The green moonlight that had illuminated the world last night had been replaced by the sun’s faint golden glow; the ten minutes of excruciating pain she’d felt had actually lasted far, far longer in reality.

“Good morning, dearie.”

“How long did I take this time?” Dia asked.

“Ten or eleven hours,” Pheles replied, before breaking into a cackle. “Not bad, though. A thief’s experience of over a thousand hours in his trade, distilled to ten hours for you. You’re more talented than your brain made me think.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?

“That you’re lucky that you have quite a bit of natural talent, missy.” Pheles made some nauseating noise with her throat, and then spat a glob of red and green spittle out of the window. “But you are a mana-user, after all.”

Dia didn’t know what to say to that, so she made do by getting up from the mattress slowly. Now that the sun was up, it was clear that the mattress — heck, even the cloth she was sitting on — was dirtier than anything she’d ever seen before, but for some reason, she now no longer felt distaste.

It’s probably the effect of those potions, but I must say that it’s really amazing, if it can actually alter my disposition towards certain things. Looking around the shop, Dia stretched a few times in a bid to alleviate the strain her muscles felt.

“Staying for breakfast?” Pheles asked.

“Thank you, but I must really be going,” Dia replied.

“Very well. Before you go, though, you should change out of your clothes. I’ve also prepared a set of equipment for a bounty hunter and a thief; if you ever need a resupply, just head over to your local Profiteer for help.” Hobbling over to the rickety table they had dinner on last night, the old woman produced a slab of some green mouldy thing and bit down on it.

“Didn’t I just pay you some platinum?” Dia asked, picking up a drab tunic and a pair of black trousers. “Why are you still eating things like these? Get something better!”

“It’s just some food,” Pheles replied. “And there’s no food that sells my favourite mould on demand. Thank you for caring about me though, dearie. There’s a changing room over there, by the way.”

Dia nodded and headed over. It didn’t take long for her to change out of her frilly dress, and after removing all the useless accessories in her hair, she stepped out of the changing room. Thankfully, the clothes that the old woman was selling dirt-free, which was an adjective she literally couldn’t apply anywhere else.

Tying her shoulder-length hair up into a bun, Dia briefly debated on whether she should cut it, before deciding not to.

“Hmm, a bun…well, let’s stick some needles in it,” said the old crone. “In case you need smaller implements and you’re unarmed. Your black hair is quite reflective, which is good…by the way, how do you wash your hair?”

Dia looked at the old woman, whose hair was grey and aging, and repressed the urge to slap her forehead. “I use the higher-end shampoos from Lumi. They should have some for grey and silver hair too.”

Pheles grunted. Gesturing at a small backpack on the table, she said, “This here contains both the standard kits for bounty hunters and thieves. Take a look at the instruction manuals and their storage locations, and then ask me if you have any questions.”

Tossing two books at Dia, the old crone grabbed a walking stick and yelled, “I’m coming!”

“Customer?”

“They like to come at this time,” Pheles replied. “If they come at night, it’s because they ran out of body bags.”

What am I supposed to say to that? Shivering slightly at the implications behind the old woman’s words, Dia grabbed the first booklet and ran through it. She could recognise every tool the booklet introduced, as well as understand when and how to use them. Leafing through the booklet quickly, the princess couldn’t help but lament that this Experiential Potion would have saved her from undue amounts of studying and practicing the fine arts.

Picking up the second booklet, which was for thieves’ equipment and tools, Dia thumbed through it rapidly.

“Once you’re familiar with the tools of the trade,” she spoke out loud, “you can consider creating your own layout. A cloak with loops and pockets will be far better than a beginner’s backpack.”

Somehow, Dia’s intuition was telling her that this portion was particularly important, but she couldn’t pin down the reason yet. After racking her brains for a few more minutes, Dia gave up. Stuffing both booklets into her pockets, she lifted her backpack up experimentally.

“Not that heavy…”

“Do come again, dearie!”

A few seconds later, Pheles pushed her way through some clothes, her rheumy eyes on Dia. “Mm. Looks good on you. Now you look like you’re actually qualified to even chase a master thief.”

“Do you have any tips?” Dia asked.

“Big customer asks me for tips.” Pheles snorted. “Consider it service. You may have the senses of an intermediate thief and an experienced bounty hunter, but remember to let your body get used to them. Don’t be in a situation where the mind says yes, but the body says no. Most people die two seconds after they meet such a situation.”

Dia shivered.

“Scared already?”

“…Yes,” Dia admitted.

“Good. Better to be scared than to be confident. Feeling scared? Run away. It’s okay. Number two cause of death for professionals: they don’t obey their instincts.” Pheles cackled. “Then they die. Or they are crippled. Some of them make their way here and sell their experience for silvers.”

“Sell their—?!”

“Experiential Potion needs memories. They’re the core ingredient. They sell to me their memories for thirty silver, and then I create potions that sell for two platinum. That’s why I’m a Profiteer.” A withered claw shot out and held Dia’s hand, and her skin crawled.

“Last tip, I guess. You chase after a master thief. But you don’t have experience on that level. Be very careful. What you know, the thief surely knows. But what the thief knows, you might not know.” She nodded her head twice, seemingly to herself, before lowering her volume. “Master thieves are very weird. Don’t get on their wrong side.”

Dia gulped. For a moment, she wondered if she was doing the right thing after all, but a second later, her reason told her that there wasn’t a choice to begin with. Capturing the scapegoat would help her cause, or failing that, not getting caught until the scapegoat was would have to suffice.

After all, the Inquisitors’ Chambers would ferret out the truth. And with it, the truth that Dia wasn’t involved in Ruler Umbra’s murder.

“Oh?” Pheles grinned. “You have found a new path.”

“All thanks to your warning,” Dia said.

“So polite. One last tip then, just for you. Follow the nobles. But don’t let nobles follow you. Much easier.” She placed both hands onto the table, and a screech followed as she balled them into fists. “Today, spellhounds unit came into town. Follow them, and you’ll eventually find out where the thief is.”

Spellhounds…Dia nodded. “Thank you.”

“See you around then, dearie. Keep an eye on those dogs.” Cackling, Pheles gestured Dia to follow, leading her out from the storefront. “Be careful. You are a pretty girl. And men are creatures, animals. Stab their lower bits if they lose control.”

Cackling, she shooed Dia away, entering the shophouse a moment later.

The ex-princess took a deep breath, fixed the nameless…boutique into her memory, and then headed off into the small town. The presence of spellhounds here could only mean that her target did indeed drop by this town of Pletsville, although the presence of fifty-over men and women tied up against sticks had definitely muddied the waters.

Why were they being punished by the soldiers?

Dia didn’t know, but she wanted to find out. After all, this looked like a case of repression by local authorities; the stories she liked to read as a child all had things like this. Now that she had the chance to experience such storylines first hand, Dia wasn’t going to give it up that easily.

Going over directly wasn’t going to help, though.

Let’s see…bounty hunters and inns go together like the Moons and cats.

It didn’t take long for her to locate an inn. Or rather, the only inn in Pletsville. For some reason, Pletsville’s inn had been turned into a tourist attraction, with almost every signpost in the area including a mention of the inn. Dia didn’t know what the lord of this town was up to, but since it had such power, it was probably an inn with some backing.

“Hmm…it’s another nameless inn. I had a feeling that was the case, but is it really alright to not have names and signboards for the shops here?” Dia muttered, looking at the place. The first floor of the inn was, as usual, a dining area. There were a bunch of people inside, each of them radiating the subtle might that only mana-users had.

All of them were one-fold mana-users, each of them extraordinary in their own right. Steeling her nerves, Dia walked right inside, making a beeline for the counter. Eyes fell on her as she entered, only to turn away a moment later in what looked like seeming indifference.

An old man bowed as she approached. “How may I help you, esteemed lady?”

“Some orange juice,” Dia said. “And maybe some news?”

“Coming up right. Please, have a seat here.”

“Thank you.”