Ten Arrows

Prologue

I've come to the conclusion that what I'm doing is very, very weird.

I'm not talking about being a Thief-Lord, or being responsible for territory in the city of Harael. For the most part, that's pretty straightforward management stuff - providing protection, collecting rent, managing debts, giving tenants helpful reminders when debts become due, stealing what I'm owed if a debt remains unpaid for too long, things like that. It can be interesting, even fun at times, but it can be boring as well. If done properly it can even be extremely lucrative, as I've learned recently. However, it is rarely ever what might be considered 'weird'.

And I'm not talking about how hard I push myself either, or the inventive burglaries I perpetrate upon neighboring Lords for the sake of my reputation. Thievery is simply the way things are done in Harael - our own special brand of politics, law, order, and justice all wrapped up in one. Of course, that by itself could be considered weird if you were from someplace that didn't acknowledge Thieves Rule, or if you'd never heard of a benevolent kleptocracy before. Even so, what I'm doing wouldn't be any more weird than any of the other Lords who govern this city. In fact, if there were a Haraelian Lord who wasn't a burglar, or pickpocket, or semi-respectable thief of some other variety, well, people might think them a little odd.

I'm not even talking about journal writing, something required of all Lords upon reaching their thirtieth year. That's barely weird at all. It's the law, in fact, something I figure was introduced long ago to encourage literacy among the nobility, or possibly to preserve information about our history. I'm still not exactly sure why it's an actual law - nobody's ever come by Tucat Keep to confirm there's a completed journal with the name 'Vincent Tucat' on the spine. For all I know, nobody ever will.

And while I'm perhaps overdoing it a little, this being my third journal in just over a year, I wouldn't go so far as to say that my frantic writing pace is 'weird' either, nor is my particular style of journal keeping. True, most Lords don't write anecdotal journals like I do, storytelling and whatnot, but that's not what I'm talking about when I use the word 'weird'.

What I'm talking about is this - what I'm doing right now. This prologue-ish narrative . . . thing.

It's weird.

I'm not sure why I do it, actually. Dad didn't do it. Dad started by jumping right into the story, grabbing you by the collar and yanking you in, usually right when he was in the middle of doing something exciting. You opened the first page, you read the first sentence or so, and an eye-blink later, you discovered that a few hours had whizzed by.

How I seem to start is with this odd bit at the front of the book that isn't storytelling at all. It's sort of an 'oh-look-I'm-talking-directly-to-you' diary kind of thing, one that doesn't even really seem to accomplish much. Who am I even talking to, anyway?

There has to be a reason for it though, doesn't there? I mean, I've done it twice already, and from the looks of it I'll be doing it a third time, despite all the reasons not to do it at all.

It's self-indulgent for one thing. For another, it's kind of irresponsible storytelling. I mean, think about it - I could be completely ruining this tale for you right at this very moment, simply by causing you to realize that I'm alive and well and writing all about it. If there are dangerous, scary bits, maybe you're not going to be as concerned. Obviously I live through it, right? I mean, really . . . what a giveaway.

So why do I do it? What reason could I possibly have? What purpose does it serve?

See? It's weird.

Perhaps I now consider it tradition. It's how I started my first journal, back when I hadn't really known what I was doing. Maybe I still don't really know what I'm doing, come to think of it. The last several paragraphs would seem to support that conclusion.