The Jewel Hoarder

There weren’t always dragons in the Valley. Only a few centuries ago, every mapmaker decided “Here there be dragons”, and no one knew quite why—least of all those living in the Valley of Jewels.

The place now called the Valley of Dragons.

The truth is a bit more complicated than a little squiggle with wings inked onto parchment. I’ve seen plenty of monsters big and small, and none of them were a dragon. Not in the mythical sense. But the mapmakers aren’t wrong. They just used a plural when they should’ve said “Here there be one huge, slippery, sneaky asshole of a dragon”, and then renamed us Dragon Valley.

The singular dragon is a big enough problem, making my job a thousand times harder than it should be. I’m a thief, like my parents and their parents before me—-except for grandpa who was a locksmith. Grandma kept cracking his locks, he kept making them harder, and eventually my mom came into being. This place used to be called the Valley of Jewels for a reason, so valuable things to steal are never in short supply. The governor-king and the people who own the mines all shuffle their wealth between vaults, museums, temples, and government buildings for the masses to fawn over.

Thieving isn’t much, and it sure isn’t honest work—but it puts food on the table most of the time. And it’s a hell of a lot more honest than how the previous owners made their money.

My personal issues with the dragon began a decade ago. It was my first real job, a simple heist from the Museum of Prosperity of a gorgeous uncut ruby that would’ve paid for at least six months of good meals.

I’d spent hours casing the building, marking blind spots and guard rotations and defenses around the stone. I’d purchased my first glass cutter and an amulet that was supposed to let me notice and bypass any magical protections. My own coin had greased the palms of a few key people who agreed to look the other way. It was two days before the gem was scheduled to be moved, when the guards were tired of watching it but not amped up by the impending move.

I was ready.

I stole through the lengthening shadows to the window I’d chosen just under the roof level. The new glass cutter did its job to perfection, and soon enough I was reaching my hand through to flip the latch. Another moment later and I was crouched just inside the window, hidden from view by the sill. Everyone inside was where they were meant to be—two guards at the doors to the main chamber, and another two at the offshoot doors. In the distance, barely visible, was the door that led to my prize.

It was unguarded; I’d paid good money for the guard to take a quick break right around this time.

The museum’s interior architecture was a thief’s dream, all deep window sills and expansive latticework. The guards, lost in their conversations, didn’t even have a reason to look up as I moved to a beam just above the door I needed to go through. My landing was soft and the door made no noise as I slipped through. This was the moment, the culmination of all my training and research and planning. I’d get the ruby and go out the same way I came in. Easy money.

Except my amulet wasn’t buzzing as it should’ve been in the presence of protective spellcraft. When I looked at the pedestal, the only thing upon it was a pile of glass shards—shattered, just like my dreams for an easy job.

A whisper of movement from the end of the room spurred me to duck to a shadowed corner, and I spied a cloaked figure at the back of the room. I slid along the wall towards the thief, who was rummaging through another display at the far end. Distracted. Their pack was heavy across their back, the top unclasped; I could pickpocket the gem and be out before they realized it. No one was going to steal the ruby before me. Not if I could help it.

I was only a few steps away when a tile beneath my feet betrayed me. The mortar on one side gave way, and my weight shifted it against the rest of the tiles. The scraping sound was inaudible over the clinking of gems in the thief’s hands. My barely muttered curse, however, was just loud enough—the figure straightened, ear turned towards me.

The next few moments were a blur: I jumped forward, they jumped to the side and whipped around. Something slipped behind my foot, tugged, and dumped me on the ground. I caught the hem of their cloak in one hand, but they were able to rip it away with one harsh jerk. Then they were off, shooting to the door with nothing in their way and a bag full of treasure.

As I shifted to watch them, they turned their head for just a moment to look back at me. What little light existed in the room flickered across their face. I thought, for a moment, that I caught the gleam of scales across their skin. Their grin seemed sharper than any human’s would be.

“Have to be quicker than that, little thief,” they whispered across the room, voice low and husky. Then they hefted their treasure-filled bag and slid through the door.

I allowed myself a few moments to lay there slack-jawed, but only a few. Based on how quickly they moved, there was no chance of me catching them, even if they hadn’t had a few seconds’ head start. So I did the only thing I could do: hope I’d interrupted them early enough to gather a few gems.

The only thing left was a single, tiny emerald. It paid for a week of food. Hardly the months of warm meals that ruby would’ve gotten me.

That was my first real job.

At my second, the maybe-dragon left behind a single ancient coin—and that time I didn’t even see them.

At my third, I know for a fact they waited until I made it into the vault before they made their exit.

Now, a decade later, nearly all of my 87 jobs have been ruined by that asshole. They always leave just one small piece for me to pick up. A taunt. Every job is harder and harder to pull off. Bribes are more expensive. Traps and enchantments are more deadly and prevalent. All I hear about is the Jewel Hoarder who’s making a fool out of our governor-king. The Jewel Hoarder who steals every single piece of treasure in a location without being seen or heard.

The Jewel Hoarder who’s making it impossible to earn a living as a simple thief.

But I’m going to have the last laugh. Because I’m going to steal back every last bit of treasure they’ve taken from me, right from their hoard.

Just as soon as I find it.