Catch a Thief

His promotion and future waited on one problem that had to be resolved. Marcus Finch walked through the courtyard and placed arrangements of shrubs and flowers. The cool morning breeze blew against his face and the heat under his collar denied him comfort. Lord Chumley’s squire escorted him. Beads of sweat formed on his brow the closer he stepped toward Lord’s Chumley’s workshop.

The squire opened the door and pointed inside. Marcus took one step inside the workshop. Fine crafted wood figurines painted and placed on shelves, as if it were a grand collection of trophies, decorated the walls. The figurines looked like a mix of humans, elves, dwarves and Halflings. In the center of it all, Lord Chumley worked on something as if Marcus didn’t even existed.

He hesitated and choked on a breath of air. Should he have gone in further or waited? He nudged his head to the left and then back to the right. He widen his eyes and proceeded further. Where was it? Was it watching him? He be damned if taken by surprise again.

A black blur of movement filled his peripheral vision and ravage snaps of savagery flooded his ears. He shifted backward and his shoulders tightened. The room spun around and impact embraced his body. He shook his head as if it should chased out the fuzzy vision. He drew his sword and pointed it in different directions. “Get back. Stay away. Don’t come any closer.”

It barked like a surge of rage and revealed its row of teeth like sharp daggers pointed at him.

He dropped his sword and clenched his hands together into a ball. No doubt, he hated the dog.

Lordly Chumley stood up behind his workstation. “Now. Now. Butch. You mustn’t be rude to our guest.”

Butch’s ears perked up and moved toward Lord Chumley. It turned around a few times, whimpered and sat on its hindquarters.

He took his sword and stood up. Should he sheathed his sword or kept it at the ready? He stared at Butch as if the dog were the only thing in the workshop.

Butch stared back and growled.

“Do you know how I can tell when a man has failed?”

He directed his attention toward Lord Chumley and sheathed his sword. He swallowed a hard lump. “No. No I don’t.” Had he made too many mistakes? Would his future have ended today?

Lord Chumley picked up a pointed metallic-wood tool and pointed the tool at Butch. “It’s easy. Butch tells me.”

He glanced back at Butch. An animal had never talked to him.

Butch growled.

“She senses your fear.”

Butch snapped a bark and yawned. Slobber dripped, like ooze, from its mouth. Saliva puddles formed on ground and its paws smeared the ooze into slime over the floor. Butch barked again.

Lord Chumley pointed the tool toward Marcus. “What is this? The third time the Halfling got away?”

“I’m sorry my Lord. I-”

“I gave you men, weapons and many resources.”

He stared as if he could see through and past Lord Chumley. He opened his mouth and nothing came out.

“Answer me.”

“I don’t know. She’s fast. She cuts my men to ribbons. Infects them with toxins. She-“

“Yes. And why is that, Marcus?”

He touched and rubbed his head. He ran his fingers between his hair. “I don’t know my Lord.”

“It’s because you don’t act. Instead you react.”

Lord Chumley picked up a block of wood from his workstation. He held it up. “Do you see this fine block of wood?”

“Yes, My Lord”

“You have to approach your task as if it were a project. Every project requires specific tools. Tools are very important, Marcus.” Lord Chumley held up the tool and the block together. “If I were to use the wrong tool on the wood, what would happen to the wood?”

He shook his head.

Lord Chumley tossed the block of wood toward him. ”Look at it, Marcus.”

He caught it. He held it up and twisted the block around. He scratched his head like digging for an answer. He narrowed his eyes. What he is supposed to see about a plain block of wood?

“You have no idea?”

“I don’t know my Lord.”

“The wood becomes useless, Marcus. Useless items are discarded. Catching the Halfling is your project, Marcus.” Lord Chumley picked up a different piece of wood and held it up.
“Do you see the similarities between this wood and all the finished works around you?”

Marcus studied the wood. Obviously Lord Chumley held chiseled wood with unrefined features, unlike the others on the shelves.

“Yes my Lord.” No doubt Lord Chumley held the Halfling, who bested him three times.

“Do you really?”

Of course he didn’t see the similarities.

“I use the right tools, Marcus. I am almost finished with this project. When it is finished you had better have the Halfling in your custody, otherwise I will discard my work. Do we have an understanding?”

“Yes, Yes My Lord. She won’t get away this time. I have a plan.” If only, he had a plan.

“Good. Put my wood back on my workstation and get out of my sight.”