ripe for the picking. There’s no security in any of these buildings, and with my experience, I can rip this joint off without breaking a sweat. Maybe I won’t need to sell my watch after all.
The buildings of the town were built with a combination of shaped stones and wood. The windows were not made of glass and if the store had been open, he could have jumped through them. Large, heavy wooden doors had been lowered over the top of the openings to cover the holes, and iron hasps were used to hold them closed. The roofs were covered with a unique style of wooden shingles which appeared to lock together, but without climbing up, he would not be able to tell how. There were no streetlights or electricity, and many of the town’s children were lighting torches placed in various locations since the sun and the freaky-looking purple and orange moons were about to set. The roads were made of cobblestone and had been well-maintained to keep vegetation from growing between them.
This standard of living was far beneath George’s personal requirements. How could these people live like this? It doesn’t look like there’s electricity, and I doubt there’s hot water. He grinned. I wonder where they take a dump.
Chimneys ... hmpf. I bet there’s not a heater inside any of these places. George chuckled. It’s like I’ve gone back in time. This place is kind of barbaric. Maybe I’ll even run into a few genuine barbarians one of these days.
When the right moment arrived, George circled to the back of the mercantile within the shadows cast by torchlight and prepared to enter. As it turned out, he did not have to use the iron bar. The door was not secured. When he tugged at the lock, it popped open. He slipped inside with a smirk and shut the door behind him. You’ve got to be kidding me. These people are idiots. Holy freaking hell, it’s dark in here.
George activated the light on his watch to get an idea of his surroundings. He crept through the darkness and stood in front of what he thought to be the store owner’s cash drawer. The thief popped it open, triggered the light on his Rolex again and then looked inside. He saw nothing. Nothing, that is, except a small piece of twine that most anyone else would have ignored. Taking a closer look, he reached in and tugged. The false bottom of the drawer lifted. Beneath was a stash of coins. Bingo! My lucky day.
It was dark, but from what he could see, the coins looked as if they were made of various metals. On further inspection, he noticed there were words engraved on each. They had unique shapes and sizes, and they varied in weight.
Their size and shape must have something to do with their value. Oh, well, looks like I’m gonna have to take them all. What a bunch of suckers. Who would leave something like this unsecured? Good for me, I think. You’re the man, George. You’re the man.
Cleaning the store owner out, he took one Jervaise, seven Owain and over 50 Helmep, and then put them into a small, leather pouch that he grabbed off one of the shelves. He removed his old clothes and put on some tan leathers. After fumbling around, he found a pair of wool socks. Boots were next. He found a pair that looked to be his size and tried them on. A perfect fit. How can people wear this crap? I hate leather. I’m going to need to find something better when I can.
Seeing the backpacks near the rear door, he headed for them and dumped the contents of Jason’s pack inside one. Next, he balled up his old clothes and shoved them in. Before throwing it across his shoulder, he stuffed one of his old socks inside the smaller pouch he had filled with the coins and then placed it inside the wadded-up clothes. That should keep them from rattling.
George reached for a belt that was hanging from a row of nails on the back wall. He was about to put it on when he heard two voices. His heart raced as he tiptoed to the far side of the door and put his back against the wall. He could smell smoke. The men were nearby, and their tobacco carried with it a powerful aroma and an even better high as it made its way to his nose through the