Liar’s Honor

Growing up it had been normal to travel from town to town with your father, to smile and repeat what he had told you to say. He was always so cheerful whenever he set up his stand at the market square, chatting with people and offering whatever he had pulled from his pack. Things you had never seen him buy or trade for.

You didn't really think much about it when you were little, because good sales meant the best meals and warm, soft beds in nice inns. If there wasn't a good selling-day, your father ate nothing and the two of you stayed in whatever cramped little room he could find.

As you got older, however, you started to understand what your father was. He stole things and sold them a town or two over, lying with great skill about the importance and worth of the items.

He truly had a silver tongue and could sell a simple wooden ring for the price of a copper one by making folks believe that it was a blessed ring. Mostly though, your father was good at selling dreams.

Many people wished for things to be easier, for success to find them quicker, for their fortune to grow by itself. Even the sceptics, deep down, wanted to find a blessing, a less perilous path in life.

Your family didn't hold even a smidgeon of magic, but you wondered if your father had lied about that as well, because even the most hard-hearted and clear-minded folks grew softer and more considering because of his words.

It didn't always mean that they fell for his schemes, but neither did they say anything, leaving with lingering glances cast to his wares.

Your father, once you started asking questions, demanding answers and explanations, started to teach you his trade. He taught you how to be nimble and quick, how to smile at people like they had just met their next best friend and could, therefor, trust you with their lives. How to talk so they felt flattered and emboldened and more careless.

He taught you how to haggle, how to always, always keep hold of your friendly veneer, no matter how much you wanted to smack someone upside the head when they were dead-set on shortchanging you. Just because the wares were stolen didn't mean that they had lost their original value, after all.

As you grew older, becoming as cunning and silver-tongued a thief as your father, you found another way to make money or to get commodities offered to you: impersonation.

What garb you couldn't steal you made yourself, so you could pretend to be a cleric of one of the large temples, or to pass as a traveling noble, and once or twice as a scholar on an important mission.

You were smart about your disguises, only pulling them out of your pack if it was necessary. There were few things that would see the hounds of the law nipping at your heels faster than pretending to be someone high and mighty for more than a night or two every couple of months. Well, that and stealing from the high and mighty.

You also got into increasingly more arguments with your father. You both knew that expensive things sold better, but that also meant those were harder to come by, that they were better watched.

You did not like robbing people who had little or who had just enough to live comfortably. You wanted to go after the rich, the greedy, the assholes who'd rather eat their gold than share it, who'd never look at the destitute with compassion but rather with disdain.

Who'd do anything they could to ensure no one else managed to climb the ranks to reach their kind of status, wealth and influence.

Your father was of the opinion, that, as long as it kept him fed and housed and clothed, anyone was fair game. The two of you argued so much one day, that you packed your things and left, marching out into the cold april air with all the indignant pride of someone who knew they were right.

But your father was an equally prideful man – the two of you shared many traits and yet, some days, you were as different as night and day – so he just let you go with a huff and a shouted, "We'll see how you'll do on your own!"

You did well on your own - after a rough, rocky start, truth be told. You managed to make some friends here and there – fair weather ones, but it was always good to know where you might find someone with arcane talents – and you robbed who you wanted. The rich, the greedy, the shitty.

The ones who thought that a title they had inherited meant it somehow made them better than anyone else. As if nothing but the luck of the draw stood between them and being literally anyone else in the world.

People were just people, after all. Messy and ugly and beautiful and determined, creative and stupid. Everyone was everything, sometimes even all at once.

You made good coin, good enough that you got a few more disguises, some forged paperwork and other credentials to be invited to places a gutter rat like you would never get to set foot into.

You left many a shindig with glittering jewels jingling in your pockets and more information that you could make use of. More marks to rob.

One other new disguise you had picked up was that of a hero. Heroes were loved, they were everyone's favorite friend and the most favored chew-toy of the nobles. Who didn't love a suicidal idiot they could toss at problems? Especially problems they had caused themselves.

You got good at swindling others by demanding to be paid up front, only to skip town – or ten towns, depending on the influence of the robbed rich guy – never to be seen again.

Right up until, as you left a hero guild hall, a squeaky call made you pause. Turning, your sword clinking against your armor with the movement and fancy cape swish-swashing about, you blinked in surprise. The being hurrying towards you looked like a bipedal, knee-high bat, dressed smartly and with a fluttery little cloak atop it's wings.

It was, without a doubt, the cutest little critter you had ever seen in your entire miscreant life. You had to viciously bite down on the urge to drop down on one knee and ask this bat about its entire life story.

"Good hero!" the bat called out and you immediately felt uncomfortable.

You weren't actually a hero, after all. The sword at your side was rusty because that was how you had stolen it and you never drew it. You were a swindler, after all and many a monster could not be reasoned with. Mostly because they were balls of rampant rage.

"Good day to you as well," you still greeted the little guy with all the respect and aplomb you could muster.

"Good hero," the bat gasped as it came to a stop near you, out of breath and fiddling with its wings as though nervous. "Please, may I entrust you with my contract?"

The little guy sounded rather desperate, you noticed, big eyes peering up at you in a way that made you want to cave immediately. You had been confronted with many big, cute eyes over the years, but never to that extend. It put even your own innocent-eyed performance severely to shame.

"There is a blackboard within the guild hall," you said, gesturing at the door. It was likely too big and heavy for the bat, so you offered, "Shall I let you in?"

The bat, which had started to pull out a little letter from it's pocket, faltered. It clutched the letter close and suddenly it's shoulders fell.

"No one takes it," it said quietly. "They just laugh, say it's not worth their time and the pay isn't enough to make up for the trouble." Its lips quivered and you immediately resolved to rob each and every asshole within that guild hall blind. "But we can't pay more." It held the letter out to you, eyes big and shiny and already braced for rejection. "Please, good hero, save us."

You weren't a hero. You didn't even know a whole lot about monsters – well, you knew about human monsters, but that hardly counted here. Your sword was rusty, your armor just for show and your fighting skills boiled down to running real fast and tossing the occasional, distracting object.

You had reached out and taken the little letter before you could think about it and the bat gasped, clasping it's wings close to its chest. "Truly?" it whispered. "You will help?"

"Sure," you croaked out, because apparently you were the biggest sucker who had ever lived. The bat squeaked the cutest little excite noise, flapping its wings.

"Oh, marvelous! Thank you! You truly are deserving of your title! Here, payment!" With those words it pulled out a little pouch and deposited it in your palm with a big, happy smile. "We are worth the trouble, I promise! Oh, I'll have to tell the others, thank you so much!"

With those words it rushed away and you were left behind with a cute little letter and a cute little pouch.

"Fuck," you whispered.

*.*.*

Of course, you could have gone into the guild hall of assholes to pay them in hard, cold gold to take care of the contract in your stead. ...but you really didn't want to give these guys anything at all.

And as luck would have it, you were currently rather far from any of your fair-weather friends, so asking them for aid was out of the question as well. Besides, none of them would willingly help you hunt down and kill monsters. They were about as skilled at fighting as you were.

Your lot was for talking and thieving, not for hacking and slaying.

You unfolded the letter once you had tucked yourself out of the way, holding the small page close to your face as you squinted to try and read the tiny handwriting. That was less cute, you had to admit.

Also, whoever had written the letter? Atrocious handwriting. It took you nearly half an hour to decipher enough to know that some kind of big, furred creature was threatening the woodland village the bat called home.

A number of houses had gotten crushed irreparably, though no one had died, luckily enough, and injuries had been light enough due to some quick thinking and fast reactions. But everyone who had lived there had to evacuate, escaping the area and they were since roughing it out near town. They missed their homes, understandably, and wanted to get their lives back.

The description of the creature left you stumped you had to admit. Though, then again, you knew precious little about monsters. With that thought you marched off to the local library, determined to arm yourself with knowledge, at the very least. Knowing your enemy was half the work as a thief, after all.

You ignored the admiring titters that followed you, the glances that rested on your shiny armor and your useless sword. Usually, you liked to take advantage of that attention if you were in a particularly mischievous mood – which you had been, before the unfairly adorable bat. Now, now you were in trouble.

Combing the library for two hours yielded no results. There were plenty of big, furred creatures and since that was all you had to go off, you had no way of narrowing down what you were dealing with. A werewolf? A gnoll? A shapeshifter? Who fucking knew, you certainly didn't.

Well, the only thing that was left was checking out the place of the crime and seeing the creature for yourself. From a safe distance, of course. If you could find out what you were dealing with, you could equip yourself better and figure out a way to deal with the threat.

So you followed the directions written on the letter and you left town, heading down the road. Finding the bat's village wasn't hard, thankfully, and you winced when you saw the state the many small, cute cottages were in.

Roofs were caved in, walls had crumbled and plenty were just rubble, as though something large had fallen onto it. But no creature could be seen. There were, however, strange, big footprints. Kind of like paw prints. You eyed them, rubbing your chin thoughtfully. As you crouched down to examine them closer, a shadow fell over you. You had just about a second to think, 'Oh-oh.'

The next moment a massive paw-hand gripped the back of your armor and you were unceremoniously yanked upright and off your feet in one go. Dangling in the air and unable to slip free because of the bloody, stupid armor that you wore, you wriggled around like a startled worm on a hook.

"What do we have here," something growled behind you. "A little hero, come to slay the big, bad wolf."

Oh great, a werewolf. Awesome. Totally something you had a chance against.

"Uh, good day," you said, putting on your brightest, warmest, friendliest smile as you were shifted around to come face to face with a creature of muscle and fur and far too many big teeth. "Are you, perchance, the one who destroyed the houses of the good folk living here?"

The werewolf's yellow eyes narrowed as they continued to hold you aloft and away from their body like a bag of rotten apples. "What's it to you?"

"They would like to come back home," you answered, gesturing around and, utterly desperate and outclassed, falling back to your thieving, lying persona. It was all you had, because if you drew that rusty sword at your hip, your only chance to win was if the werewolf laughed themself into an early grave.

The werewolf was silent for a long moment and then, for a brief moment, they glanced away, ears flattening a bit. And like a shark with blood in the water, you had found a chink in their armor. Exploiting weakness was what you were good at, after all. Excellent, really.

"Say, a distinguished gentlewolf like you surely would like a better place to stay than a too-small village." You gestured grandly, still hanging in the werewolf's grip because you had no idea how to wriggle out of this stupid armor with its many, stupid buckles.

The werewolf narrowed their eyes at you again. "Well, I rather like it here. I'm rather fond of the tiny cups."

You cast a pointed look at the too-small houses. "What about a properly sized bed then? I'm certain that we can come to an agreement about the cups." You offered your sweetest, warmest smile, the one that said I'm-trustworthy-I-promise. "Maybe you and the folk here can be neighbors."

The werewolf glared at you a moment longer, before they sighed explosively and growled, "Doesn't matter, I'm staying here." But for all that they had sounded rather impressively frightening, you did detect a note of grim regret.

"Well, as you can see, I am a sword for hire," you said, grandly gesturing at your useless sword. "So if there is anything troubling you, I sure can take care of it!"

The werewolf rolled their eyes. "I've never seen any of you hero types actually fucking with people in power, unless you were paid to or sent by someone else who's powerful. And I got no fucking coin on me."

At this, you brightened and considering how the werewolf paused, those sharp yellow eyes focusing fully on you, you had let your true smile slip. Pressing your fingertips together, you said with a confident little grin, "My good gentlewolf, I do believe I am exactly the person you're looking for."

*.*.*

The werewolf, did, indeed laugh themself silly as they examined your sword. "You were going to attack me with that?" they asked, full of incredulous mirth.

You huffed. "No, I was here to scout and figure out a solution that didn't involve fighting, because I can't fight. And would you look at that, I got exactly what I came for."

The werewolf tipped their head to the side. "You're a hero and you can't fight?"

Well, you were more a charlatan, thief, liar and overall deceiving little cunt and, until a couple of hours ago, you had thought rather highly of heroes, even if you occasionally misused their good name. But now? Well, you still had a whole guild to rob, so there was that.

You leaned forward, waving the topic aside, "Laugh it up all your want, but tell me about this lord of yours."

The lord was someone you had heard about in passing and you had wanted to rob him at his party in five days. The wolf told you that the man had recently declared that any and all magical and strange and unusual folk were to be hunted and prosecuted. Because not only was the man a real piece of shit, he wanted to have the magical folk hunted down for an eternal youth potion.

"That shit's real?" you couldn't help but ask and the werewolf shrugged their wide shoulders.

"Dunno, didn't stay to find out either. I grabbed some of my things and ran as far and fast as I could, collapsed here when I couldn't keep going. And, well, I hate to admit that when I got startled by nearby movement, I might have lashed out. I stayed afterwards because I have no idea where else to go." They wrinkled their snout. "I couldn't exactly talk to or apologize to the people here, since they had fled and hadn't returned since."

Or rather, they hadn't done more than peek tentatively down the trail and upon seeing the werewolf still present, had promptly scurried away again.

"Were they the ones who hired you? Have you met them?" the werewolf asked and you leaned forward with your most serious expression ever and the werewolf leaned in as well, ears perked and gaze focused.

"They are so cute," you answered with all the gravitas such information deserved and the wolf blinked, then laughed, belly-deep and near howling as they threw their head back.

"You know what, I think I like you," they said and you leaned back, rather satisfied that you had turned a potentially-deadly encounter into such a fruitful one.

Which wasn't the first time, you had talked down a couple of furious guards in the past. Not every heist went smoothly after all. In fact, most didn't, and you had gotten good at rolling with the punches.

"Give me, like, two weeks," you said and the werewolf stared at you, then at the rusty sword, then back at you and sighed.

"Well, I guess you're all I got," they said with doubt coloring their every word, before adding sarcastically, "Alright then, good hero, save me."

You bit down on the remark that you were no hero. You were someone heroes hunted on occasion. It was frightening whenever it happened – and a little flattering to see what your head was worth.

You got to your feet, bidding the wolf farewell as you returned to town, only remembering halfway there that you had left behind the rusty sword. Eh, it wasn't like you would have ever used it anyway and you could easily steal another one somewhere else.

Ridding yourself of your hero guise, you slipped into simple traveler clothing and hitched a ride to the lord's city. It took you less than a day to get a short-notice invite to a party the lord was hosting.

It wasn't anything you wouldn't have done anyway, only this time the goal wasn't to get your hands on his riches – though... well, if you saw something snaggable, you would totally grab it – but to see his evil plans shattered.

How you were going to do that was still a little bit up in the air, because your plan hinged on the hope that he would have some sort of blackmail lying around that you could use against him.

The party was as lavish and exciting as other ones hosted by nobility you had been to in the past months. There were flamboyantly dressed nobles, glittery, embroidered dresses with big, swishy skirts and shimmering dust carefully dabbed onto cheeks and eyelids.

You had, of course, made sure to fit in. It was easy enough to pose as some sort of countryside cousin and since you had your noble mannerisms down to a T, no one questioned your cover story.

It was just as easy to slip away from the party near midnight, after the nobles had gotten sufficiently drunk and were busy dancing, snogging in hallways or giggling as they lured each other into a tipsy, stumbling chase through the hedge maze.

No one looked at you twice, especially not the tired, bored guards, some of them with the faintest bit of haze in their eyes, like they too had grabbed a cup of wine or two from the passing servants. Or had emptied the abandoned cups that still had a swallow of wine in them. It wouldn't surprise you if they had.

Either way, it made your job downright laughably easy. With it being so late at night and many folks distracted or tired, you slipped away unnoticed, scouring the halls until you found the lord's study.

Rummaging through his things, you kept an eye out for any damning documents, secrets and other things. It didn't take you too long to find what you were looking for. And oh, a man that vile truly had so much delicious blackmail once you managed to find and lock-pick his hidden drawer.

From the looks of it, he was misusing a lot of money and, most importantly, swindling the king out of taxes owed. That, if nothing else, was going to have some severe consequences.

You pocketed the letters and documents and the little book where the lord had kept track of the payments he had embezzled. Patting around just in case you had missed anything, like folded little notes or slips of paper, you were surprised when you found a hidden bottom in the hidden drawer.

Huh, clever. Few would keep searching after finding what they wanted and you had to admit that you wouldn't have either if not to make extra sure you hadn't overlooked anything, since lives were on the line if you failed. After all, who expected a secret within a secret?

You found a key beneath the false bottom, along with a note with scrawled directions. Well then, it seemed your night was not over.

Following the directions on the folded bit of paper, you found a secret door that led beneath the lord's castle. There, you not only found a large, hidden treasury, but also a truly insidious plan that made what you had found upstairs look paltry in comparison.

The lord wanted to be king. He wanted ultimate and unlimited power and along with it, eternal life. No wonder he had gone berserk on the poor magical creatures of his lands.

Well, he likely would be hanged by the end of the month, so that problem would soon be solved.

You grabbed everything, all the plans and written details and – most importantly – the list of names of his co-conspirators, off the table and walls. You shoved it all into the magical bag you had stolen from a mage a year ago and that you had kept on your person ever since.

And then you went and emptied the storeroom of gold and gems and jewelry, gleefully and joyfully shoveling everything into the magic bag. By the time you were done, dawn was cresting and the party was sure to have winded down, so it wouldn't look strange if you were one of the last stragglers to leave.

You went back up the stairs and through the hidden door unhindered. You weren't surprised when you saw a couple of passed out nobles on your way out of the castle. They were draped across couches and some were talking with each other still, voices sleepy. The guards looked ready to hit the hay as well, gazes sliding away from you the moment they noticed you.

You were supposed to be here, after all, since you were a welcomed guest.

You left with a little spring in your step, the magical bag as light as ever at your side. You went to the local courier service and knocked on her door until she woke up, disgruntled and angry and blear-eyed. Her expression changed swiftly when you offered her a handful of gold so she'd arrange for you to have her fastest horses readied along the route to the king's city.

She sent out doves with little messages attached so the stables would be ready for you and then had a beautiful, sleek, chestnut brown horse saddled. The animal was very attentive and reacted to the faintest press of your heels and guiding of the reins right away.

You managed to reach the king's city in five days, compared to the ten it would have taken you on the back of a cart. You were granted audience once you handed over some evidence of the coupe you had uncovered.

You explained everything for the king, wearing the disguise of a servant, humbly explaining that you had overheard your lord's planning and hadn't been able to stand by idly.

The king was, understandably, enraged and immediately sent out his commander of the guards to arrest the lord. You, on the other hand, were given a reward of your choosing. When you requested that the hunt on the magical beings would be called off, he waved you off and said that it would not be tolerated and to choose something else. After a moment of hesitation, you requested someplace to call home.

You were given a deed to your own land, along with the permission to fell as many trees as you needed to build your new home. You might have had to bite back a very amused giggle when you gave your fake name: Vere Wolf.

With the deed in your pocket and the problem resolved, you headed back to the town where that adorable little bat had found you. You found the little one hovering nervously near the guild, looking concerned that it might have gotten ripped off.

It brightened when you explained the situation and you handed over both the deed – to give to the werewolf or to keep to themselves if the werewolf didn't want it – along with a bag of stolen gold from the lord that the bat struggled to carry.

"Good hero, you truly are marvelous!" they said and then swiftly scurried off.

You, in the meantime, were stuck with so much gold you genuinely had no idea what to do with it. You were still pondering on it as you spent the rest of the day robbing the heroes in the guild hall.

It was almost funny how inattentive they all were, feeling so safe in their large guild and surrounded by other skilled warriors. Still, the moment you were done, you scurried out of the guild like a rat on a sinking ship. You gave the stolen goods and money to any beggar you met and you dropped off a head-sized bag of gold at the local orphanage.

And then you booked it, leaving the town as the sun started to set.

You were looking for a spot to spend the night when a shadow fell over you and a familiar, massive hand pulled you off your feet.

"Now, is that any way to greet a friend?" you said with your most disarming smile, ignoring the way your heart beat nervously as you were turned to face the werewolf. You hadn't fucked up somewhere, had you?

The werewolf stared at you for a long moment and you saw the deed clutched in their free hand. The next moment you were set down and crushed into the biggest hug of your life. Then the werewolf started to cry.

"There, there," you said, awkwardly patting their ribs, which made them laugh.

"You really are the weirdest hero," they said as they pulled back. "But...thank you. I, uh, I actually talked with the little folk here and this is a lot of land you got us, so we're thinking of merging. Some of the other supernatural lot, and I, and them, we're gonna build something new together."

They would need more gold for that and since you had more than enough – a disgusting amount, really – you shoved a big bag of it at the werewolf, ignoring their protests.

"Thank you," they said, looking touched and a little lost, then they gave you a dry look. "Also, fuck you for the name on the deed."

You laughed and before you knew it, the werewolf convinced you to come back with them. Mostly by physically hauling you along, since other people wanted to say thank you as well.

You spent the evening sitting scrunched together in a small house, one of the last that were still standing, sipping from the cutest little cup and eating delicious, cute, little dishes.

The small folk were all terribly adorable and you were helpless to say no when they asked you to accompany them to their new home. A hero for the road would make it safer, after all, they reasoned.

The werewolf, sitting outside with children crawling all over them, just shot you a look. You knew they was holding back laughter again, likely remembering the horridly rusted sword as much as you did.

You slept outside, the werewolf snoring nearby and the next couple of days you helped the small folk pack. It was, in all honesty, the most mundane thing you had done in a while, aside from traveling.

The journey to the land you had been given – and subsequently given away again – didn't take too long and halfway there, other magical creatures showed up. A handful of palm-sized fairies, a witch and a stone troll, who looked like he had gotten attacked quite a lot recently.

"So, hero," the werewolf said as everyone got to work, rebuilding their lives. "Where are you headed next?"

You shrugged. "Wherever." You headed where you could find more marks and that was kind of your life. Wandering from place to place, stealing money and giving half of it away again to people who needed it.

"Well." The wolf shifted on their feet, before holding out a letter to you. "Maybe you can check out this place? Some folks there are in need of a savior and they get ignored by the resident hero guild as well."

Huh. You eyed the letter, which was addressed to the wolf from a friend, asking if they knew a hero who would be willing to help. The wolf held it out more insistently and with a sigh you took it. "Fine, but only if I have a moment," you said, before you added in a grumble, "We both know I'm no kind of hero."

"Eh," the werewolf said. "Agree to disagree."

You had no idea what to say, so you just cleared your throat and shoved another bag of gold at the werewolf, before you scurried away, ignoring their shouted protests.

Before anyone else could make you emotional, you left the beginning stages of a new home behind to keep traveling. And maybe you went to the village the letter hailed from, but if you did, it was no one's business but your own.

These people were in need of a hero, saying that they were haunted by some kind of specter. The ghost, as it turned out, was actually indeed a ghost and you nearly pissed yourself when you came face to face with it.

You managed to talk it into not killing you and instead revealing why it was here and not in the afterlife.

"Because someone killed me," the young man whispered, something like rage and grief in his faintly translucent face. Whatever color had been to him once, had gotten replaced by shades of wispy gray. "And now my family is all alone, my mother is sick and my sister is only little and my father died last year. They have no one else."

Well, that sucked. You managed to soothe the ghost by promising to investigate his murder. You started by talking to the family, which was still grieving and you left a bag of gold behind as you headed out to chat with the hunter who had found the murdered young man.

Your investigation brought you to the mayor's house a town over and breaking in was stupidly easy. He didn't even have a hound guarding his place.

You found the reason for the young man's death there. The mayor's daughter had loved the young man, very much so, and had refused to marry the rich, old merchant the mayor had made a deal with. A deal that would raise prices in his town beyond what the various guilds allowed and the merchant and he would share the extra spoils.

But since his daughter hadn't played along, he had decided to take matters into his own hands. Money really was the ruin of everything sooner or later.

With the evidence brought to the local judge, the mayor was soon prosecuted and you returned to the ghost to tell him the good news.

The ghost was less rage filled once his murderer got prosecuted, but he also didn't want to leave.

"Why not stay then?" you suggested. "Just, you know, don't hurt anyone."

The ghost tipped his head, thoughtful and a moment later, something shifted within his ghostly form, turning him from something dark and sinister into something brighter and downright soothing. The gray of his form turned into shades of soothing blue.

"Thank you, good hero," he said before drifting away to visit his family.

You left another bag of gold with them and on your way out of the village, the local priest caught up to you, to thank you for your help. For bringing peace and not destroying a soul they had all cared for.

"We can rebuild now," the priest said. "Heal wounds and take care of each other."

He seemed truly genuine, even to your scrutinizing eyes, so you left another bag of gold with him, making him promise that he'd use it for the good of the village.

And so you traveled on and on and before you knew it, more people sought you out, while you also started to look through the paperwork of the nobles you robbed. There were good nobles, of course, and you left stolen goods with them, along with a letter to use it for the good of their people.

But there were also a lot of bad, rich folk and those you robbed blind and exposed where and whenever possible.

It was... foolish, you had to admit, to get so involved, to risk your neck like this. To have your face seen over and over by powerful folk when you exposed their fellows. You used to slip by unnoticed before, but now people started to recognize you.

You, the 'Good Hero', as they called you.

And to your surprise, one day, the werewolf and ghost tracked you down. The werewolf had de-transformed, revealing that they were a stupidly beautiful elf and the ghost had learned to harness his powers.

"We want to travel with you and help you take care of the next monster," the wolf-elf said and smiled, looking even more gorgeous. "We heard you were rather busy recently, good hero."

You just sighed. "I'm no hero," you grumbled. "I steal and lie, besides, what makes you think that I'll go after another monster?"

The wolf-elf's smile turned into a wicked grin that was somehow utterly breathtaking and slid a letter across the table. You tried to resist, you genuinely did, but you glanced down a moment later, reading the few written lines quickly.

"A tyrant king," the ghost added, "cannot continue to exist in a world we're trying to make better."

You were no hero. You still didn't know how to fight, you had a bag full of disguises, you hadn't told people your real name in years and you still robbed others regularly. Sometimes just because they had been dicks to you or others around you.

You made the mistake of glancing up, the wolf-elf's grin widening and the ghost leaning in eagerly and you felt yourself cave, because you were the biggest sucker to ever walk this earth.

You still were no hero, you never would be but... well, perhaps you didn't have to be. Perhaps you could simply be a thief doing good. Yeah, you'd be that. Not a hero, but a honorable liar.

"Fine," you sighed. The wolf-elf laughed, sharp and gleeful, while the ghost whooped, throwing his blue arms up in victory. You had to hide a smile in the palm of your hand as you looked away, a warm, pleasant feeling gripping your chest.

You got up after a moment, adding, "Let's go rob a tyrant king to ruin."