The Red Mage and the Thief

The Emberlight Covenant

The city of Jeuno rose from the cliffs like a dream of white stone, its spires tipped in banners that swayed in the salt wind. Bridges as narrow as a dagger’s edge arched over the chasms between towers and the streets hummed with the life of a hundred nations. Traders hawking wares from desert caravans and smiths hammering sparks into fresh-forged steel; wandering minstrels singing in tongues from the farthest reaches of Vana’diel.

ThatLittleWitch stood at the eastern gate, her crimson coat brushing the tops of her boots with the brim of her feathered hat shadowing her eyes from the morning glare. The polished hilt of her rapier caught the light with each step as she crossed the square toward the Adventurers’ Guild.

The Guild board was crowded with knights in dented plate, monks in sun-bleached robes, bards with lutes strapped to their backs all vying for the day’s contracts. She had made a quiet name for herself since arriving in Jeuno, a Red Mage with a little bit of black magic who could cut with steel or spell with equal precision; but who preferred the company of her own thoughts to the tavern’s noise.

Her eyes scanned the contracts. “Escort through the Pashhow Marshlands.” “Extermination of a rampaging sand worm.” “Retrieval of relic armor from Valkurm’s sunken halls.” She reached for the last…the pay was good and the work suited her.

A shadow fell across the parchment.

“Ohh that’s a dangerous one,” a voice said.

She turned. Leaning casually against the board was a man dressed head to toe in supple black leathers, his hood thrown back to reveal a crooked grin. Two slender daggers hung from his hips, and she could see the faint bulge of concealed throwing knives across his chest. The name stitched in silver thread across his guild sash read SneakyLittleBastard.

“That’s quite the name,” she said.

“And yours is a riddle?” he replied, tilting his head at the red braid trailing over her shoulder. “A witch who carries a duelist’s blade?”

“A mage needn’t be chained to a tower,” she said, letting a smile flicker across her lips.

His grin widened. “Fair enough. Care to share the contract?” She paused in thought but figured “why not”.

By noon they had signed their names together.

The First Hunt

The sunken halls beneath Valkurm were a place of whispers and rot. Water dripped from stone arches crusted in salt and the air stank of rusted iron and dead kelp. The Sea Lord’s guards who were once proud soldiers are now shambled as scaled husks with eyes clouded with the pall of undeath; they moved as if born to the same rhythm.

“That alcove,” she murmured, nodding toward a crumbled arch.

He slipped inside like smoke, vanishing from sight. A moment later, one of the guards jerked backward, a dagger’s hilt protruding from its neck. She stepped forward, rapier flashing in a lunge, and the creature crumpled before it could raise its rust-pitted spear.

“Two more, spears,” he said, voice low.

“Flanking left. On your mark.” She whispered

“Now.”

By the time they emerged into the salt-lit air, their boots were soaked, their gloves spattered with ichor. The Guild’s seal of completion shone bright on their mission scrolls with all of the gill they could spend effortlessly.

Comrades by Choice

In the weeks that followed, they crossed paths again and again; and sometimes by chance and becoming more often by arrangement.

They tackled the Labyrinth of Onzozo, where cyclopean beasts roamed cavern halls lit only by the faint glow of fungus. They braved the Buburimu Peninsula at night, the grasslands alive with the hiss of wyverns. They defended a caravan through the Kuftal Tunnel against waves of bandits, her magic flaring in the dark as his daggers struck unseen.

Between them, there was little talk. No drunken confessions in taverns, no boasts traded over tankards. Their bond was measured in efficiency, in trust without ornament.

The Knight in the Shadows

She began to notice another presence.

On the far ridge during a raid, a figure in blackened plate watched them strangely shorter than what their armor would declare yet still broad-shouldered and his helm crowned with a dragon’s crest. His name carved in the air above him was Surge.

He was known sometimes he fought with his brothers a powerful healer with a golden aura and white robes that held the name Aelric Luminar sewn with what looks like real gold and a sassy Mythra wearing very little to the imagination for tempted onlookers hung across the fur loin cloth stood the name Kivra Moonwhisker; always storming fortresses for the glory. Other times he lingered at the periphery, not joining her battles, only observing.

Once in the Jeuno square, he approached her. “You’ll run with him again?” His voice was like cold iron. “It’s the most efficient pairing for this mission.” She unwillingly answered. “Efficiency isn’t everything.” He turned and walked away without waiting for a reply.

The thief said nothing, but she caught the sharp glance he cast toward Surge’s retreating back.

Fractures

The air shifted after that. Surge began sending her summons mid-mission demanding she leave her current contract to join him and his brothers; sometimes she would rush a mission to join them but some of the battles they endured were too risky for her skill level. Some aggro can be a bit too much and she knew the difference. It was different with SneakyLittleBastard, she could trust them. However when she would decline he appeared in person; in a dungeon’s shadowed arch, on a cliff above a battlefield…always watching.

One evening, while they rested in Jeuno, the thief asked offhand, almost idly if she traveled with a bonded companion. She answered truthfully yes, a knight, though their paths seldom crossed.

It was nothing. Or so she thought.

The Binding

The next night, Surge intercepted her before she could leave the city gates.

“I want you bound to me,” he said.

Her brow furrowed. “Bound?”

“A union under Guild law. In name and right. So no other may claim you.”

She hesitated. The words were not a question; they were a pronouncement. Around them, adventurers passed, glancing curiously.

“This is sudden,” she said carefully.

“Not sudden. Necessary.” His gauntleted hand extended toward her.

She thought of the thief’s quiet nods, the unspoken language of their missions. She thought of Surge’s long silences until now. She replied in silence and turned to tend to some crafting.

The Silence

The Guilded Brothers deemed a dragon worth their attention and gill. Surge charged ahead, ignoring her strategies and letting enemies swarm without coordination; leaving her vulnerable. She begins casting protection spells on herself and heal; which only ever angers a beast. She could die out here and she knew that. She brought it to his attention and when she suggested a different approach, his voice was a wall “You follow my lead now!”

She would return to the boards looking for a safe journey to grow her gill but the thief was gone his name absent from the guild boards she checked in idle moments. Rumor placed him in far-off lands.

And yet, she felt watched. Not by him. By the one who now claimed her name in silence.

Farewell

The last time she saw the thief; it was in passing in Jeuno’s bustling square.

He was fresh from some distant quest, a faint scar new along his jaw. Their eyes met across the crowd. For a heartbeat, the city noise faded.

He nodded once. Then he was gone, swallowed by the market’s press.

She adjusted her hat and walked toward the gate, the sea wind carrying the scent of rain.

The rain creates a meditative rhythm to her mind; it seems to calm her. But she’s sitting at my computer with the glow of the monitor lighting her face. Every few seconds she presses the keys with these quick, sharp movements; who is she talking to?

On-screen, her little mage dressed in ridiculous red and yet again she is running beside some idiot thief with the name “SneakyLittleBastard.”

Real mature.

I know exactly what’s going on here. People don’t “accidentally” play together this much. This isn’t just some random teammate.

I’ve told her before I don’t like her spending so much time on there, especially with strangers. I’m the one paying for this apartment, for the internet. If she’s going to sit there all night, it should be with me not some guy in a game.

And now she’s laughing. Not out loud, just this little snort under her breath like whatever he typed was clever.

I can feel my jaw tightening.

Felipe and Ronan already think she’s better than she is. They’ve bought into her whole innocent routine. But I know better. They think she’s just this sweet, helpless little thing tagging along. But I know the truth. I know how she gets when she wants attention…how she’ll find it wherever she can. She doesn’t need anyone; she already has me.

So I make my move. I tell her right then, while she’s still in the middle of her mission again; “We should get married in the game!” She looks up surprised and types “AFK” to her friend. “Married?” She says confusedly. “Yes”. She squints like it is a difficult question; she knows what the correct answer is. Her body is tense like she’s anticipating my next move but she doesn’t know anything; she’s never been smart enough to know my next move. She carefully asks “why?”. Is she playing with me? Is this just a game? I have had to already correct her before I dont want to have to do this again; at least not with Franklin downstairs. I don’t feel like my brother’s mouth about what not to do. I lean in carefully to ask her to elaborate on her why.

She gives me a smile that I deserve and asks “Do you want to get married in real life?” Real life. God, no. In the game. Make it official. Let everyone see she’s taken.

She hesitates. I can see it. In the game, our avatars stand together in some fancy hall. Lights and flowers rain down. People in the chat type “Congratulations!” while SneakyLittleBastard watches. Now anyone who sees her in that game will see my name next to hers. Like it should be.

I’ve been watching this for weeks. The little mission schedules. The way she hurries to log on like she’s got somewhere important to be. Like she’s meeting someone. I invited her to join this game for my brother. She wasn’t supposed to have friends. I didn’t expect her to make friends. I didn’t expect her to be good at it; so why is she?

I asked her about him She’ll tell you it’s “just a game. I don’t even have a headset; that could be a girl for all I know”; like it’s not personal. But she forgets that I see everything. I play the same game right next to her on my laptop so I can see everything she is doing. I hear the way she exhales when she’s waiting for him to show up. I watch her shoulders drop the second his character appears on screen; it has to be a man on that end who else would have that much interest in her. That’s not how she acts when she’s with me; she’s always tense.

I’ve already told her I don’t like her messing around online; especially not with strangers. I’m the one paying for this place, the connection, the food she eats while she sits there staring at pixels. If she’s going to be online, it should be with me. Not… whoever that is.

I let her run with it for a while. I wanted to see how far she’d take it. How much she’d try to get away with.

I tell her again “We should get married in the game.” It’s a brand. She pauses. Just a blink. Then she says “You haven’t answered my question, do you want to marry me in real life?” “No why would I?”; she says she’s fond of honesty. She pauses with a sunken impression in her eyes.

I tell myself it’s only fair. I’m just making sure things don’t get… misunderstood. People misinterpret things all the time. She might not have even realized she was giving him the wrong idea.

But now? Now it’s clear.

And if she doesn’t log in with me? If she decides she’s “too busy” for our joint missions? Well, the account’s on my subscription anyway. I can always make sure she’s got other things to do.

I’m not the bad guy here. I’m protecting what’s mine.

I lean against the doorway watching her log out for the night. She doesn’t even look at me.

That’s fine. She’ll come around.

They always do.