On that night, Alfred nervously peeked out the third floor window of his master’s home. He wasn’t nervous about the theft or the betrayal of the household he had worked for the last two decades. No, he was nervous that roguish Puck would not show up. From his vantage, he could see the courtyard and this side of the main gate, but not the road beyond.
Puck, meanwhile, arrived to the address he had written on his arm precisely...five minutes late. Whatever, 11 pm was just a number, and he worked best under pressure anyway. He tried to rub off the mark on his arm, and grew a bit frustrated when it took a few tries….
“You there! Move along.” Puck looked up to see two men in Duke Cantwell’s colors with sheathed rapiers looking directly at him. Puck cursed under his breath as he turned to look behind him: the shadow of the building behind him had receded, he was out in the open lit by moonlight. His frustration lasted just a minute before his grimace melted into a smug grin.
“Gentlemen!” Puck turned around and spread his arms wide as he took a few prancing steps forward. “I'm an aspiring magician and I'm trying to spread tales of my skill throughout the town. Allow me a short moment of you time that I may entertain you with some slight of hand!"
The two guards looked at Puck blankly, then looked at eachother blankly, then looked at Puck again, blankly. The young man felt he could not hold his exaggerated smile much longer, and his twirling hands drifted a just a little closer to his belt. But then the guards both shrugged, and stepped forward, each with that determined look that a man gets when he firmly believes than he won’t be fooled no matter what this magician pulls.
"What an honor it is to have your attention gentlemen, " Puck produced a deck of cards from his cloak instead of blades from his belt. "Now I want each of you to take a card." They did so, but not before studying the back of the cards that Puck held out intently. Puck hid his eye roll with a flamboyant nod. "Excellent! Show each other your cards, and then very carefully place them on the ground by your feet. Face down, please!" The two guards were intrigued, they hadn’t seen this one before. Puck was relieved, this hadn’t worked before. There was a flash and a puff of smoke as Puck threw a pellet of gas in front of their noses while covering his own. They both gave out a cough, and then toppled over asleep.
From his window Albert had seen the flash, and then saw the third guard exit the gate house and start to open the man door. “What is that fool boy up to?” he muttered as the guard opened the door. Then he gasped: the man dropped, and there seemed to be a knife in his neck. Puck walked through the door, glanced around. Albert waved frantically and Puck looked his way. Albert mouthed and signaled a vulgar question: Puck shrugged and gave him the finger. “Well I never!” Albert said out loud, and clasped his mouth too late. Puck set his arms on his hips as if to say, “well who’s off script now?” Albert started to wordlessly argue, but then he heard some movement that gave him pause. He was in the hallway outside his own quarters, which bordered the Duke’s, and the Duke’s bodyguard had roused himself. Kent was a tall mean man who was an excellent shot. Albert turned to wave a warning to Puck below, but he was already gone. Albert hurried back to his room and closed the door just as Kent entered the hallway. Albert had to strain with his ear against his door just to barely hear Kent’s footsteps. The big man was near silent without even trying but Albert could tell when he had passed. Quickly he turned to the door from his room to his master’s and slipped into the lord’s chambers. The key, the special, rumored-to-be-magic key the Duke kept near him at all times, and when he slept it was placed in his nightstand drawer. As Albert closed the door from his room to the duke’s, it let out a sharp squeak. Albert drew his breathe sharply, and he could sense Kent just as sharply turning and trotting up the hall.
In the three hundredths of a second Albert had before Kent returned, Albert went from trying to jump out the window, to hiding in the closet, to trying to jump into bed with the sleeping duke, all to explain his sudden presence in the lords quarters. Suddenly he remembered: he was a butler!
The old soldier Kent opened the door from the hallway and leaned in. He swept the room efficiently, and met the gave of Mr. Goodesworth as he stood behind the couch holding some of the duke’s fine blouses. Albert nodded and Kent returned the courtesy as he left the room again.
Albert exhaled deeply and softly tossed aside the shirt. He moved to the nightstand, and fished out his key. It was dark, and he did not hold it straight as he slid it into the lock, and the metal on metal scratch woke the Duke.
“Albert, what is this?” Lord Cantwell was not quite awake, but as Puck would say, he had “made” Albert.
Albert grabbed a pillow.
The Duke’s struggle knocked over the unlit whale-oil lamp, which summoned Kent, who struck at Albert, who wondered where Puck was.
Puck was in the basement admiring the Duke’s safe. It was a work of art, and Puck had to admit despite his prior boasting that he could never crack it without the key. Where was the key? Where was that stuffy old butler? Puck sighed and figured he had better go looking. He wandered noiselessly down the halls until he found the Duke’s room.
He entered and beheld a mess. The Duke stood on his bed raining curses down on his manservant who lay on his back attempting to defend against Kent’s rapier with one over large bed pillow. It was quite the scene, but Puck had little time to savor it. He threw quickly one after another two long knives at Kent’s broad back.
The knives stuck with a thunk, and kent stood tall and turned slowly. Puck let out a wordless curse as he realized his knives were stopped by Kent’s thick leather. Kent switched his rapier to his left and drew a pistol with his right.
“Oh good, Puck, you can explain-” was all Albert could get out before Kent fired his first pistol while Puck doved forward and the Duke fell on his bed. As quick as the first shot had been loosed, the second pistol was out, and Puck for a split second locked eyes with the man who was to end him. Albert cried out and kicked at Kent’s legs from behind and below while Puck dove again this time with hands outstretched and hand-claws at Kent’s chest. The shot went wide and Puck drove his wrist spikes into Kent.
It was an ignominious end for the killer who had perhaps grown soft in his latest assignment, but the Duke wasted no breathe on Kent’s eulogy. He continued to yell down condemnation on Albert with all the eloquence of a member of parliament apparently unaware of the young assassin.
“Oh shut up,” Albert said as he completed his aim with the lord’s pillow.
It was then Puck and Albert realized the whale-oil had caught fire.
Albert managed to get the key, Puck managed to get them to the vault, and they managed to get the crown jewels of the rival city away just as the Cantwell’s estate collapsed in flames.
“Well,” Albert was blackened, his suit burnt and torn, and far to much out of breathe, “I suppose…” He didn’t really know what he supposed.
“These are tasty, definitely worth the risk,” Puck was completely unaffected by the soot and ash, his outfit was as clean as it was this morning. He twirled the jewels in his fingers. “Say, Bert, what do you know about the layout of the neighbor’s mansion?”
Albert began to roll his eyes until he had a sly thought. “Quite a bit, actually.”
