Kadoc watched as the snow fell slowly around him, forming small piles that extended all throughout the city of Earldorf. Even though it was cold, Kadoc enjoyed being by himself on the roof of the shop, no matter what the weather felt like. The roof tiles beneath Kadoc’s feet were slick with frost, but he barely noticed. He crouched near the edge, his breath visible in the frigid air, watching the world below. The market, usually chock full of people, was subdued by the snowfall. People moved briskly, bundled in cloaks and scarves, their words muffled by the soft blanket of white.

From his vantage point, Kadoc could see the sprawling streets of Earldorf stretching into the horizon. Smoke curled lazily from chimneys, the scent of burning wood faint even from his perch. He liked it up here—above the bustle, where the noise softened and he could think without distraction. Down below was a different world: crowded, loud, and impatient. Up here, it was just him and the quiet rhythm of falling snow.

A faint smile played on his lips as he pulled his knees closer to his chest. His fingers were numb, but the cold didn’t bother him. It never did, not really. It was the solitude he craved—the feeling of being untouchable, even if just for a while.

His gaze drifted to the market square where merchants huddled near their stalls, trying to protect their wares from the cold. The sight was almost amusing—grown men and women shivering and stomping their feet while calling out half-heartedly to potential customers. A boy about his age darted between them, snatching a loaf of bread from an unwatched basket. Kadoc’s eyes narrowed as the boy disappeared into the shadows of an alley, moving quickly enough that no one seemed to notice.

For a moment, Kadoc considered climbing down, joining the fray, or even following the thief. But instead, he stayed where he was, letting the snow settle on his shoulders. There was something peaceful about watching the city from above—a world that moved on, oblivious to him, as though he didn’t exist.

Just as he took a deep breath, feeling the cold air enter his lungs, Theodore’s mop of blond hair appeared first, tousled and dusted with snowflakes from the storm. His face followed, flushed from the cold, his cheeks pink and his breath escaping in quick puffs. He squinted against the wind as he pulled himself up fully, bracing a hand on the frame of the hatch.

“There you are,” Theodore said, his voice muffled by the scarf wrapped tightly around his neck. “I’ve been looking for you everywhere.”

Kadoc didn’t respond immediately. He shifted slightly, making room for Theodore to sit beside him, though his gaze remained fixed on the market below. After a moment, he muttered, “Didn’t think anyone would come up here.”

Theodore shrugged, lowering himself onto the roof with a soft grunt. He brushed snow off his knees and shot Kadoc a sideways glance. “Well, you’re not exactly hard to find. If you’re not on the roof, you’re usually in trouble.”

A deep silence filled the roof as Kadoc looked to Theodore, the latter remaining dead silent as he looked out at the city below. Eventually, he broke the silence, his voice light but firm. “The boss wants to see you inside.”

Kadoc stiffened slightly, his gaze flicking down to the snow-covered streets below. He didn’t say anything for a moment, the words settling like another layer of frost in the air. Finally, he exhaled through his nose, his breath forming a small cloud in the cold.

“Of course he does,” Kadoc muttered under his breath, though not loud enough for Theodore to hear clearly. He stretched his legs out stiffly, brushing off the light dusting of snow that had settled on his trousers.

Theodore waited, arms crossed, an amused but knowing look on his face. “I told him you’d be up here,” he added with a grin. “Didn’t take much guesswork.”

Kadoc shot him a sidelong glance, the faintest flicker of annoyance in his eyes, but he said nothing. Instead, he rose to his feet, his movements deliberate as he brushed off the snow that clung stubbornly to his shoulders. The cold bit harder now that he was standing, the wind cutting through his thin tunic and boots.

With a silent nod to Theodore, Kadoc made his way to the open hatch. He descended with practiced ease, his feet finding the ladder rungs out of habit more than effort. The familiar scent of wood, oil, and the faint mustiness of the shop greeted him as he climbed down into the store below.

The warm air was a sharp contrast to the chill outside, but it didn’t ease the knot of reluctance in Kadoc’s chest. He could already hear faint footsteps and the low hum of voices—customers, workers, and, undoubtedly, the boss waiting somewhere in the back. Kadoc sighed quietly to himself, steeling his nerves as he stepped off the ladder and into the storeroom.

Adjusting the hem of his tunic, Kadoc squared his shoulders and walked deeper into the shop. The store was a labyrinth of shelves and crates, stacked high with goods that seemed to come from every corner of the known world. Worn rugs from distant deserts lay beneath jars of exotic spices. Shelves groaned under the weight of tools, bolts of fabric, and an assortment of trinkets that ranged from finely crafted to barely functional. A glass display case showcased delicate jewelry and small, glittering stones that could have been precious—or merely convincing fakes. The air carried a mix of scents—old wood, leather, dried herbs, and the faint metallic tang of oil used to polish the tools and weapons on display.

Kadoc weaved through the narrow aisles with ease, ducking past a customer inspecting a brass telescope and sidestepping a barrel of pickled fish that reeked even through its sealed lid. Despite the store’s outward appearance of clutter, every inch of it served a purpose. It wasn’t just a shop; it was a carefully curated front, designed to draw in noblemen and beggars alike while masking the far darker business that ran beneath the surface.

At the very back of the store, separated by a heavy curtain, was the boss’s domain. Kadoc pushed the curtain aside, revealing a dimly lit room furnished with far more luxury than the storefront would suggest. The walls were lined with dark wood paneling, and the air here was warmer, thick with the scent of spiced wine and the faint musk of sweat. A fireplace crackled in the corner, its warmth casting long shadows across the fur-lined chair that dominated the center of the room.

Seated in the chair was the boss, a mountain of a man whose bulk spilled over the edges of his seat. His double chin quivered as he sipped from a goblet, his small, calculating eyes flicking up as Kadoc entered. Despite his weight, he exuded an unsettling presence—a mix of false joviality and underlying menace. He wore a robe that looked humble enough, but the fine embroidery on the cuffs betrayed its expense. Rings adorned his stubby fingers, each one glinting in the firelight.

“Well, if it isn’t my favorite little entrepreneur,” the boss said, his voice smooth and honeyed, though the sneer tugging at his lips gave away his true nature. “Kadoc, my boy. Come in, come in. I trust you’ve been keeping yourself busy?”

Kadoc’s jaw tightened, but he forced himself to nod. “Yes, sir.”

The boss leaned forward slightly, resting his elbows on his knees. The chair creaked in protest under his bulk. “Good, good. You know I don’t like to waste time.” His tone darkened ever so slightly, the warmth draining from his expression like a candle snuffed out. “I have a task for you. One that requires… discretion.”

Kadoc suppressed a sigh, his hands balling into fists at his sides. He knew what “discretion” meant. It meant sneaking, stealing, and doing the things that lined the boss’s pockets while leaving him to take all the risk. The man called it “indentured labor,” a polite term for what was little more than slavery. Kadoc had stopped questioning it long ago. Questioning the boss only led to bruises—or worse.

The boss smiled, his teeth yellowed and sharp like a predator’s. “Don’t look so grim, boy. Do this well, and you’ll have earned your keep for another week.”

Kadoc nodded again, keeping his face neutral, though the cold fire of resentment burned in his chest.

The boss shifted in his chair, the movement causing the fabric beneath him to creak ominously. He reached for a small ledger on the side table, flipping through the pages with thick fingers. Kadoc stood still, his eyes fixed on a spot just over the man’s shoulder, willing himself to appear disinterested, unbothered. Experience had taught him that showing fear or hesitation only made things worse.

“Ah, here we are,” the boss said, tapping the page with one pudgy finger. “There’s a shipment arriving tonight. Small, but valuable. The kind of goods that don’t need to sit in the open market, if you understand my meaning.”

Kadoc didn’t respond, knowing the man didn’t expect one. He was just setting the stage, as he always did, for the instructions to follow.

The boss leaned back again, folding his hands over his rounded stomach. “A certain client is very interested in acquiring a piece of that shipment. You’ll be heading down to the docks to… retrieve it. Quietly.”

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Kadoc’s chest tightened. The docks were dangerous, even more so under the cover of night. The city’s guards were known to patrol there, and if they caught him, they wouldn’t bother asking questions before hauling him to the nearest cell—or worse.

“What am I looking for?” Kadoc asked, keeping his tone even. It was better to get straight to the point than show any reluctance.

“A small box,” the boss said, holding up his hands to indicate its size. “Marked with a blue seal. You’ll know it when you see it. It’s being transported by a group who’d rather not pay the proper fees to move their merchandise through my city.” His lips twisted into a grin. “Consider it… a tax collection.”

Kadoc’s stomach churned, but he nodded. “And what happens if someone’s guarding it?”

The boss’s smile faded, replaced by a hard glint in his eyes. “Then you do what you have to do, boy. You’re not a stranger to getting your hands dirty, are you?” His voice was soft, almost sweet, but it carried the weight of a threat Kadoc didn’t need spelled out.

“No, sir,” Kadoc said quietly.

“Good. I knew you wouldn’t disappoint me,” the boss said, his tone returning to its sickly warmth. He reached into a drawer and pulled out a small, worn pouch, tossing it to Kadoc. “Here’s a little incentive. Bring back the box, and there’ll be more where that came from.”

Kadoc caught the pouch, the weight of the coins inside heavier than he expected. It was more than he usually saw for a job like this. He glanced up at the boss, who watched him with a calculating expression, as though gauging how much resistance he’d face if Kadoc chose to defy him. But Kadoc didn’t resist. He never did. Instead, he tucked the pouch into his belt and turned toward the curtain, the boss’s voice calling after him as he left.

“Don’t forget, boy. You’re mine until your debt is paid.”

The words hit like a hammer, though Kadoc didn’t flinch. He stepped out into the storeroom, his jaw tight and his fists clenched at his sides. For all the boss’s talk of debt, Kadoc knew the truth—there was no paying it off. Not unless he found a way to break free.

***

The sun had long since dipped below the horizon, leaving the city cloaked in shadow. The docks were quieter now, the usual bustle of merchants and sailors replaced by the occasional creak of ships and the faint lapping of water against the wooden piers. Lanterns swung gently in the cold breeze, their dim light casting long, wavering shadows across the crates and barrels stacked along the docks.

Kadoc crouched behind a stack of rotting crates, his breath misting in the cold night air. His heart pounded in his chest as he scanned the area. The ship he was looking for was moored farther down the pier, a squat vessel with peeling paint and a sagging mast. Beside it, a group of men unloaded cargo by torchlight, their gruff voices carrying in the stillness.

He tightened the scarf around his neck and adjusted the dark cloak he’d borrowed—more for camouflage than warmth. The docks were dangerous at the best of times, but sneaking around at night made them even worse. One wrong step, one slip of his footing, and the guards or the dockworkers would spot him. And Kadoc knew the boss wasn’t the kind of man to bail out a caught thief.

He waited until the workers were distracted, grumbling about the weight of a particularly large crate, before darting forward. He moved like a shadow, sticking to the edges where the light from the torches didn’t quite reach. The wooden planks creaked faintly beneath his weight, and he froze, holding his breath as one of the workers glanced around suspiciously.

When no alarm was raised, he pressed on, creeping closer to the stack of crates marked with blue seals near the base of the gangplank. His fingers brushed against the dagger tucked into his belt, a tool he carried more for show than use—though he’d learned it was better to look dangerous than helpless.

The box he needed wasn’t large, just as the boss had described. Kadoc spotted it quickly, its blue seal catching the faint glimmer of torchlight. He crouched low, inching forward until his fingers closed around the rough wooden edges of the box. It was heavier than it looked, and for a moment, he struggled to lift it without making noise.

“Hey! You hear that?” one of the workers barked suddenly, his voice sharp.

Kadoc’s stomach twisted. He froze, clutching the box against his chest as the workers turned toward his direction. One of them grabbed a torch and started walking toward the crates, his boots thudding against the dock with each step.

Kadoc’s mind raced. He couldn’t run—the sound would give him away—but staying hidden much longer wasn’t an option either. His eyes darted around, searching desperately for an escape route.

Then he saw it—a gap between the crates and the edge of the pier. It was narrow, but it might be enough. Holding his breath, Kadoc slid sideways into the shadows, pressing himself flat against the cold wood as the worker’s torchlight swept over the area.

“Must’ve been the wind,” the man muttered after a tense moment, turning back toward his companions.

Kadoc didn’t wait to breathe a sigh of relief. The moment the man was gone, he slipped out of his hiding spot, clutching the box tightly, and crept back toward the shadows. His pulse pounded in his ears as he moved quickly and silently away from the ship, his prize in hand.

By the time he reached the outskirts of the docks, his legs burned, and his arms ached from carrying the weight. But he didn’t slow down. Not until he was far enough from the ship, from the workers, and from anyone who might follow.

Only then did he stop, pressing himself against a cold stone wall in a darkened alley. He glanced down at the box, its seal still intact, and exhaled shakily. For now, he’d succeeded—but the night wasn’t over yet. Now came the harder part: delivering it to the boss.

***

Kadoc kept to the shadows as he made his way back through the city, the box tucked tightly under one arm. The streets were quieter now, the late hour driving most people indoors. Only the occasional patrol of city guards or the faint murmur of voices from a tavern broke the silence. He stayed close to the walls, his steps careful and deliberate to avoid drawing attention.

Kadoc’s fingers tightened around the box, his pace slowing as he passed through a dimly lit alley. The shadows pressed in, and for a moment, the thought took root, growing stronger. He could disappear into the night. The boss wouldn’t notice until morning, and by then, Kadoc could be long gone. It would be risky, sure—but wasn’t his life already a gamble every day?

But then the image of the boss’s face flashed in his mind, the sharp glint of his small eyes, the way his voice could cut like a knife when displeased. The man had connections everywhere. Kadoc had heard the stories—what happened to those boys who tried to cross him. They were almost always unrecognizable when found in the ditches.

He shook his head sharply, dispelling the thought as quickly as it had come. He couldn’t afford to dream like that. Not now. Not yet.

Rounding a corner, the familiar sight of the shop came into view. Its crooked sign swayed gently in the breeze, the faint light from within casting long shadows across the cobbled street. Kadoc hesitated for a moment, his gaze lingering on the door. Every time he walked through it, he felt like he was stepping deeper into a trap—one he might never escape.

He shook off the thought and slipped through the side entrance, closing the door quietly behind him. The warmth of the shop’s interior hit him immediately, along with the mingling scents of wood, leather, and the faint metallic tang of goods freshly polished for display. The shelves and counters loomed like sentinels in the dim light, their contents casting odd, distorted shapes on the walls.

Kadoc moved quickly toward the back of the shop, his footsteps muffled against the worn wooden floor. The curtain leading to the boss’s quarters was drawn, the faint flicker of firelight visible through its edges. He stopped just short of it, steeling himself before stepping through.

The boss was exactly where Kadoc had left him, sprawled in his fur-lined chair with a goblet in one hand. His small, sharp eyes flicked up as Kadoc entered, a slow smile spreading across his face.

“Well, well,” the boss drawled, setting his goblet down on the table beside him. “You’re back. And in one piece, no less. I take it, you have something for me?”

Kadoc approached the desk, setting the box down carefully. He straightened, his hands slipping into his pockets as he stepped back, keeping his expression neutral. “It’s all there,” he said simply.

The boss leaned forward, his rings glinting in the firelight as he turned the box over in his hands. He studied the blue seal for a moment before nodding in satisfaction. “Good work, boy. Very good work.”

Kadoc said nothing, his eyes fixed on a knot in the wooden floor. He felt the boss’s gaze linger on him, sharp and assessing, but he didn’t meet it. Finally, the man leaned back in his chair, the box now sitting on his lap.

“You’ve earned yourself a bit of rest,” the boss said, his tone laced with mock generosity. “Take the night off. But don’t get too comfortable. There’s always more to do.”

***

The slums were eerily quiet at this hour, the kind of silence that pressed down on Kadoc like a weight. The narrow alleys twisted and turned like veins, lined with crumbling shacks and piles of refuse. The air was damp and heavy, carrying the faint stench of decay. Kadoc walked with his head down, his arms wrapped around himself to block out the cold. His boots scuffed against the uneven ground, but he made no effort to soften his steps. No one here paid attention to the sound of footsteps—not unless they were running.

The faint glow of a lantern outside one of the shacks marked his destination. His home wasn’t much—just a patchwork of wood and scrap metal held together by desperation—but it was shelter. He ducked through the low doorway, closing it behind him as the chill followed him inside.

The interior was as silent as the streets outside. Kadoc stood in the small entryway, his eyes adjusting to the dim light. The single room he used as a kitchen and sitting area was sparse, with little more than a rickety table and a few mismatched stools. A faint draft slipped through the gaps in the walls, carrying the scent of damp earth and mildew.

He stepped lightly to the door at the back of the shack, pausing for a moment before pushing it open. The room beyond was dim, lit only by the moonlight filtering through a small, cracked window. His mother lay on the bed, her frail form barely visible beneath a pile of worn blankets.

Kadoc’s chest tightened as he noticed the dark stain on the floor beside her—a puddle of the thick black liquid she had been vomiting for months. The sight wasn’t new, but it didn’t sting any less. Her shallow, uneven breaths were the only sound in the room.

Stepping closer, Kadoc crouched by the bed, his movements careful and quiet. He reached out, his hand brushing against her forehead. Her skin was clammy and far too hot, a fever that had refused to break no matter how much medicine he’d managed to buy.

He stayed there for a moment, watching her sleep. Her face was gaunt, her cheeks hollowed by months of illness, but there was still a faint hint of the woman he remembered—strong, kind, and fierce despite the hardship's life had thrown at them. Now, she was little more than a shadow of that person, her strength sapped by the relentless progression of the disease.

“I’m trying,” Kadoc whispered, his voice barely audible. “I’ll get more medicine. I promise.”

He leaned down, pressing a soft kiss to her temple. She stirred faintly, a weak groan escaping her lips, but she didn’t wake. Kadoc adjusted the blankets around her before rising to his feet, careful not to make a sound as he stepped back toward the door.

His own room was little more than a closet at the edge of the shack, a tiny space with walls patched together from scrap wood and cloth. In the corner sat a small pile of straw, his makeshift bed. Kadoc slumped down onto it, letting out a long breath. The day’s weight bore down on him—the boss, the docks, the box, and now his mother’s worsening condition.

He lay back, staring at the cracked ceiling as the cold seeped into his bones. No matter how much he stole, no matter how hard he worked, it was never enough. But that didn’t stop him from trying. It couldn’t.

As exhaustion tugged at him, Kadoc closed his eyes, the faint sound of his mother’s labored breathing echoing in his ears. For now, at least, the world outside was silent. But he knew it wouldn’t stay that way for long.