And how would I do that? he muttered to himself. Enlist the guards?

Better to stick with the plan. Taking a bag from his shoulder, Renard opened it, trying to decide what would be the easiest to carry, and to dispose of. Coins, definitely. He knelt by the chests, scooping them into his sack the way a farmer might have gathered potatoes. He kept going, wanting to take as much as he could get away with, because a chance like this only came along once.

That was roughly when everything went wrong.

Renard heard the snick of locks being opened, but there was nowhere to hide in a room this size, and no time to get back out the window. He tied off the end of his sack of stolen coins, but by then, the door was already swinging open.

A pair of guards came in, accompanying a man who might have been a clerk of some kind. The guards took one look at him and reached for their swords, while the clerk opened his mouth and let out a cry that could probably be heard two villages away.

Thief!

With no time to run, Renard knew he had to go the other way. He barreled into the first of the guards, smashing him back into the door frame with his shoulder. The second had his sword out by now, but in such close quarters, there was no space to swing the weapon. Renard grabbed the guards arm and pinned it back as the man tried to find an angle to swing at him. He knew that at any moment, the second guard might be there at his back, ready to kill him. He did the only thing he could do in that moment: he drew his dagger and thrust up, around the side of the mans breastplate and into his lungs.

As the guard collapsed, Renard spun just in time to try to block the swing of a sword. He only partly managed it, and felt the blade cutting through the layers of his leathers, wounding the flesh beneath. Renard cut back, slicing across the mans throat. He paused, trying to make sense of the chaos, and then cursed himself for doing it. You couldnt make sense of chaos like this; you could only ride it and hope for the best.

He grabbed the sack hed filled, flung it over his shoulder, and leapt through the window hed come through. Renard rolled as he landed, but even so, it hurt, the clink of the coins against his ribs knocking the wind out of him. He forced himself to his feet, saw people staring, but he was already running.

A crossbow bolt flashed past him and he ducked instinctively, but what good was ducking when the bolt was already past? He wove as he ran, heading for the patch of wall hed come over.