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He arrested a thief!
The Sky One "Hogfather" adaptation was quite fun. Not enough Death, but there can never be enough Death, and his face could have been a little more expressive, but hey, the Darth Vader impression was awesome. I was sold as soon as I saw (the tiny, goddamnit!!) bits with Death of Rats. Because they were perfect.
This is me spending too much time with contemplating the awesome potential of Vimes and Vetinari. Wrapped in a neat Gundam Package. :P
No one knew were lord Maxwell really came from. Rumour had it, he’d turned up on the steps of the Assassin’s Guild one day, aged fifteen going on forty eight, and stayed. Very few Guild members remembered how and why exactly that happened. Or that is happened at all, for that matter. No one seemed to notice his presence whilst he was there. There were no records of his attendance or results, save for the discreetly elegant diploma, which pronounced him a first class gentleman. Great many Guild officials were, according to gossip, completely taken aback by the slender young man who’d stepped onto the stage during the final ceremony and accepted the paper.
The Maxwells used to be a prominent family, so much so, in fact, that they occupied a significant percentage of most heraldry books. You could tell they’d been true aristocracy by the way their name had rarely, if ever, appeared in historical records, except for the aforementioned heraldry books. At the moment the reason for their invisibility was that they were no longer there. Duo Maxwell, the Patrician of Ankh Morpork, appeared to be the last of the line. Appeared to be, because before he turned up, the death of lady Helena was considered the fall of the final leaf of the extensive family tree, exactly a century ago.
Commander of the City Watch, (unfortunately) lord Heero Yuy found the whole business of his lordship being unnoticed spectacularly unbelievable. There was nothing about Maxwell that was unnoticeable, starting with the impossible braid and finishing at the eyes. He shuddered. The eyes were a story of their own, one he felt most reluctant to contemplate these days. Whenever he tried, he would invariably end up staring into a glass of universal remedy for all ailments, overactive brain cells in particular.
Commander Yuy was a perfect cop, in general conscience. People marvelled at his ability to set aside his private life and concentrate on the case, and indeed, that was his greatest asset. The reason he was able to set his life aside so completely, was because he didn’t have any.
And there was his lordship, casually resting his chin on his folded hands. “I understand there was some trouble with the Thieves’ Guild.”
“Sir.”
“An official complaint has been filed. Apparently, a member of the Watch, and trust me when I say it took me several readings to fully comprehend the matter, has arrested a thief.”
“Sir.”
“Not just any thief, but the head of the Guild himself. I hear lord G was quite displeased.”
“We are short on funding, sir, the state of our cells leaves something to be desired.”
“You understand I see a substantial problem here. The arresting officer is new in town, I hear.”
“Captain Winner is a fine policeman, sir.”
“Captain Winner.” Heero could see the mental notes take shape in the sharp eyes. “Well, I trust your judgement, Commander. If you’ve made him a captain already, he must be a man of fine qualities.”
“Captain Winner is a respected member of the Royal Ramtop Hiking Police, sir.”
“I see.” Heero felt a growl building up in his throat. Maxwell had a way of staring that unnerved trolls and when a slender man manages to unnerve what is in essence a walking rock merely by looking, it is probably best to keep one’s distance.
“I have explained the matters to Captain Winner personally, sir.”
“Lord G is a respected member of community, Commander.” Because being in a possession of a fortune not all of which was stolen (so the rumours went) counted towards respect, obviously.
Heero made a point of keeping up with the rumours. He had learned, during the course of his more interesting investigations, never to underestimate the observation powers of little old ladies with time on their hands and tongues. Sometimes, the rumours were useful. Sometimes they required much filtering. Like the one about Maxwell being seen in the Guild of Thieves, in his teens.
Listening to gossip, however, was dangerous, at best. He’d heard the testimony of the old clown who’d claimed the Patrician was one of his students, and it didn’t make much sense. Mostly because he tended to stop talking every two sentences to look behind himself with care that indicated he was fully expecting something horrible to be standing there. He wouldn’t continue until he was standing in the corner of the room with his back pressed into the wall as far as it would go, with all the doors bolted shut. That, and he tended to scream hysterically whenever the word “cake” was mentioned.
“Yessir. I’ll make sure the Captain understands that arresting thieves is against the law.” He would have missed the subtle curve of the Patrician’s lips, if he hadn’t happened to look the man in the face just then. He caught himself two seconds later and returned his gaze to the neutral spot above and to the left of the Supreme Ruler’s head.
“Lord G used rather strong language in his complaint,” Maxwell said. He was once again studying the letter on his desk.
“The arrest was not entirely… private.” And trolls were subtle creatures, Heero added mentally. The crowd has gathered five minutes after his lordship was arrested and only dissipated when the rain became to insistent to ignore.
“I’m sorry I missed it.”
Had he been walking, Heero would have tripped. “Sir?”
“I didn’t say anything of interest, commander.” The twinkle in his eyes said something altogether different. “Speaking of which. I didn’t see you at the social gathering yesterday.”
“Duty, sir.” Heero stared at the wall, unblinking.
“I see. I suppose those swords wouldn’t polish themselves, now would they.” Again with the tripping of the standing man. Heero chanced a glance at his superior. Oh gods, that was a mistake. His mouth was now resting against his forefingers, lower lip pushed down ever so slightly. The wall, the wall. Think of the wall.
“Social functions aren’t in my job descriptions, sir.”
“Of course. I imagine the presence of the Commander of the Watch wouldn’t be entirely welcome at a social gathering.”
“Yessir.” Blessed relief. Heero exhaled inaudibly. He hated the pompous bastards that made up the higher classes of the City. Out of the corner of his eye he noticed Maxwell watching him, an unreadable smile on his lips. “Is that all, sir?”
“I imagine, however, that the presence of the only heir of his lordship Odin Lowe would be- I daresay the word ‘expected’ covers it quite nicely.”
Damn him to hell.
“Sir.”
Maxwell got up. “Incidentally, I have an invitation for you right here.” He was holding a posh-looking piece of paper. “Tonight Lady Peacecraft is holding a ball. I expect to see you there.”
Curses. Heero took the invitation and held it up as if was a particularly interesting species of a poisonous centipede. He looked inside.
“Sir.”
“Is there a problem?”
“No problem, sir.” A brief pause. “My name doesn’t appear to be written in Lady Peacecraft’s handwriting, sir.”
“A lady of her standing would undoubtedly hire a scribe to do the writing for her,” Maxwell replied, watching Heero carefully.
“Should I look into possible forgery, sir?” he asked, examining the pink card.
“If you deem it necessary, by all means. Please do make sure to stop by the post office, I’d like to have a word with Master Chang. An extraordinary amount of letters seem to be lost en route to your office.”
Touché.
Outside the door, Captain Winner was waiting anxiously. “How did it go?” he asked, but Heero just stormed past him, fitting the helmet on his head. Damn the bastard, damn him to hell. Less than two months of Patricianing and Maxwell knew most of his tricks.
He had a feeling policing under his thumb will be … interesting.
This is me spending too much time with contemplating the awesome potential of Vimes and Vetinari. Wrapped in a neat Gundam Package. :P
No one knew were lord Maxwell really came from. Rumour had it, he’d turned up on the steps of the Assassin’s Guild one day, aged fifteen going on forty eight, and stayed. Very few Guild members remembered how and why exactly that happened. Or that is happened at all, for that matter. No one seemed to notice his presence whilst he was there. There were no records of his attendance or results, save for the discreetly elegant diploma, which pronounced him a first class gentleman. Great many Guild officials were, according to gossip, completely taken aback by the slender young man who’d stepped onto the stage during the final ceremony and accepted the paper.
The Maxwells used to be a prominent family, so much so, in fact, that they occupied a significant percentage of most heraldry books. You could tell they’d been true aristocracy by the way their name had rarely, if ever, appeared in historical records, except for the aforementioned heraldry books. At the moment the reason for their invisibility was that they were no longer there. Duo Maxwell, the Patrician of Ankh Morpork, appeared to be the last of the line. Appeared to be, because before he turned up, the death of lady Helena was considered the fall of the final leaf of the extensive family tree, exactly a century ago.
Commander of the City Watch, (unfortunately) lord Heero Yuy found the whole business of his lordship being unnoticed spectacularly unbelievable. There was nothing about Maxwell that was unnoticeable, starting with the impossible braid and finishing at the eyes. He shuddered. The eyes were a story of their own, one he felt most reluctant to contemplate these days. Whenever he tried, he would invariably end up staring into a glass of universal remedy for all ailments, overactive brain cells in particular.
Commander Yuy was a perfect cop, in general conscience. People marvelled at his ability to set aside his private life and concentrate on the case, and indeed, that was his greatest asset. The reason he was able to set his life aside so completely, was because he didn’t have any.
And there was his lordship, casually resting his chin on his folded hands. “I understand there was some trouble with the Thieves’ Guild.”
“Sir.”
“An official complaint has been filed. Apparently, a member of the Watch, and trust me when I say it took me several readings to fully comprehend the matter, has arrested a thief.”
“Sir.”
“Not just any thief, but the head of the Guild himself. I hear lord G was quite displeased.”
“We are short on funding, sir, the state of our cells leaves something to be desired.”
“You understand I see a substantial problem here. The arresting officer is new in town, I hear.”
“Captain Winner is a fine policeman, sir.”
“Captain Winner.” Heero could see the mental notes take shape in the sharp eyes. “Well, I trust your judgement, Commander. If you’ve made him a captain already, he must be a man of fine qualities.”
“Captain Winner is a respected member of the Royal Ramtop Hiking Police, sir.”
“I see.” Heero felt a growl building up in his throat. Maxwell had a way of staring that unnerved trolls and when a slender man manages to unnerve what is in essence a walking rock merely by looking, it is probably best to keep one’s distance.
“I have explained the matters to Captain Winner personally, sir.”
“Lord G is a respected member of community, Commander.” Because being in a possession of a fortune not all of which was stolen (so the rumours went) counted towards respect, obviously.
Heero made a point of keeping up with the rumours. He had learned, during the course of his more interesting investigations, never to underestimate the observation powers of little old ladies with time on their hands and tongues. Sometimes, the rumours were useful. Sometimes they required much filtering. Like the one about Maxwell being seen in the Guild of Thieves, in his teens.
Listening to gossip, however, was dangerous, at best. He’d heard the testimony of the old clown who’d claimed the Patrician was one of his students, and it didn’t make much sense. Mostly because he tended to stop talking every two sentences to look behind himself with care that indicated he was fully expecting something horrible to be standing there. He wouldn’t continue until he was standing in the corner of the room with his back pressed into the wall as far as it would go, with all the doors bolted shut. That, and he tended to scream hysterically whenever the word “cake” was mentioned.
“Yessir. I’ll make sure the Captain understands that arresting thieves is against the law.” He would have missed the subtle curve of the Patrician’s lips, if he hadn’t happened to look the man in the face just then. He caught himself two seconds later and returned his gaze to the neutral spot above and to the left of the Supreme Ruler’s head.
“Lord G used rather strong language in his complaint,” Maxwell said. He was once again studying the letter on his desk.
“The arrest was not entirely… private.” And trolls were subtle creatures, Heero added mentally. The crowd has gathered five minutes after his lordship was arrested and only dissipated when the rain became to insistent to ignore.
“I’m sorry I missed it.”
Had he been walking, Heero would have tripped. “Sir?”
“I didn’t say anything of interest, commander.” The twinkle in his eyes said something altogether different. “Speaking of which. I didn’t see you at the social gathering yesterday.”
“Duty, sir.” Heero stared at the wall, unblinking.
“I see. I suppose those swords wouldn’t polish themselves, now would they.” Again with the tripping of the standing man. Heero chanced a glance at his superior. Oh gods, that was a mistake. His mouth was now resting against his forefingers, lower lip pushed down ever so slightly. The wall, the wall. Think of the wall.
“Social functions aren’t in my job descriptions, sir.”
“Of course. I imagine the presence of the Commander of the Watch wouldn’t be entirely welcome at a social gathering.”
“Yessir.” Blessed relief. Heero exhaled inaudibly. He hated the pompous bastards that made up the higher classes of the City. Out of the corner of his eye he noticed Maxwell watching him, an unreadable smile on his lips. “Is that all, sir?”
“I imagine, however, that the presence of the only heir of his lordship Odin Lowe would be- I daresay the word ‘expected’ covers it quite nicely.”
Damn him to hell.
“Sir.”
Maxwell got up. “Incidentally, I have an invitation for you right here.” He was holding a posh-looking piece of paper. “Tonight Lady Peacecraft is holding a ball. I expect to see you there.”
Curses. Heero took the invitation and held it up as if was a particularly interesting species of a poisonous centipede. He looked inside.
“Sir.”
“Is there a problem?”
“No problem, sir.” A brief pause. “My name doesn’t appear to be written in Lady Peacecraft’s handwriting, sir.”
“A lady of her standing would undoubtedly hire a scribe to do the writing for her,” Maxwell replied, watching Heero carefully.
“Should I look into possible forgery, sir?” he asked, examining the pink card.
“If you deem it necessary, by all means. Please do make sure to stop by the post office, I’d like to have a word with Master Chang. An extraordinary amount of letters seem to be lost en route to your office.”
Touché.
Outside the door, Captain Winner was waiting anxiously. “How did it go?” he asked, but Heero just stormed past him, fitting the helmet on his head. Damn the bastard, damn him to hell. Less than two months of Patricianing and Maxwell knew most of his tricks.
He had a feeling policing under his thumb will be … interesting.