Despite all his own vast personal collection of artifacts, wealth, and power, both magical and political, Marast was somewhat unnerved as he walked into Thieves Council’s meeting chamber. It was nothing like where the Council in the Citadel met: the room was dimly lit with candles. The absence of windows gave the room a darker appearance, more suited for a bar than a place for people of immense power to conduct meetings.

A table sat in the middle of the room with about a dozen chairs. Some were filled, but not all. Five in total, which was both disappointing and irritating. He wanted to speak to the entirety of the Thieves Council and play them off each other. It was a task made more difficult with half of the usual ten missing.

Four of those who sat in the chairs were mostly known to Marast. They all wore clothes that regular citizens of Velaire would wear, making them unnoticeable if one were to sight them on the street. Irritating, but that was how thieves operated.

Of those of note was Caro on the far left, a tall but slim woman with pale blond hair. She had long, thin scars on both of her cheeks, most likely from duelling. She was one of probably the best duellist on the continent, let alone in Velaire. Hugo sat on the far right of the table, a blacksmith who purposefully sold mediocre work to hide his true level of craftsmanship. If you were to go to his forge and say the right code word in the right context, you could get much better armor and weapons made for you.

There were others that were important but ultimately of little consequence. It was the one sitting in the middle of the table with a light shroud covering their face that caught his attention. The person wore fine clothes, much too fine to be anything but nobility. It was incredibly intriguing, and Marast wanted to know who it was immediately. If this were someone with actual political power, it could potentially slow his plans. Not jeopardize them—it was much too late for that—but it could spell some trouble for him.

And that’s not counting the interfering Matthias. I will have to deal with him shortly.

The light chatter immediately silenced when Marast and Matthias stepped into the room properly. Marast smirked at them, looking over at his fellow Archmage to see his reaction.

Matthias had also stopped beside him and gave the place a once over. To Marast’s disappointment, he didn’t seem to care about the surroundings. Unlike most of his ilk, who wouldn’t be caught dead in anywhere but the more affluent parts of Velaire, Matthias didn’t seem to care. In fact, he seemed comfortable.

What have you been up to?

Dismissing the thought, Marast began walking towards the table, not caring if Matthias followed him. He sat down in a chair directly opposite of the shrouded individual. Matthias sat down next to him.

It was still dead silent. Marast could feel the judgment and scorn from the entire Thieves Council. Marast smiled. Good. Let them stew in their hatred. Even within their place of power, they are unable to harm or detain me.

“So,” Marast said. No one started or moved. His word fell into a disapproving silence that sought to dwarf it. He kept his voice as pleasant as possible. “This is not the entirety of the Thieves Council.”

“No, it is not,” the shrouded figure opposite said in a soft and melodic voice. There was a faint trace of an accent that Marast could not decipher either. Still, the voice made Marast raise an eyebrow. A woman? How interesting.

“And why is this?” Marast asked, keeping his voice pleasant. “I assure you that this is an important meeting.”

“As you know, this meeting was called together at relatively short notice,” the shrouded woman said. “Not everyone could come.”

“I find that unlikely, but as long as the Thieves Council is sufficiently represented, I suppose that’s fine,” Marast said, stamping down the traces of irritation that threatened to leak into his voice. Inwardly, he was irate. How dare they treat me without proper respect, Marast mentally fumed. They think that this is an unimportant meeting, a passing fancy of the Council to dabble in their affairs. They are fools for not treating with me properly.

“We wish to work with you,” Matthias said, causing the table’s collective attention to turn to him. Marast sent him a glowering look, but Matthias artfully ignored it. He’s supposed to let me speak, and now he’s speaking out of turn. What is he playing at?

“Work with us?” the woman said, a note of surprise entering her voice. It was the first time she sounded anything but carefully neutral. “The Council, work with the Thieves Council?”

“Yes,” Matthias confirmed with a nod. He settled back in his chair and crossed his arms, looking comfortable as if not stuck in a room surrounded by people who would happily murder him if they had the chance.

“Marast,” he said, nodding to Marast, “made the first overtures and later brought it to our attention. He was quite eloquent in arguing that as long as the Thieves Council will continue to exist and exert its influence on Velaire, there should be some sort of accord between our two Councils.”

There was a pause as everyone in the room digested Matthias’ speech.

“That is… surprising,” the woman said eventually. “There is a lot of bad blood between our two Councils. The fact that the Council is reaching out now is not something we expected.”

“That’s true,” Matthias said. “But as I said, Marast made some very eloquent points.”

“And what were these points?” the woman asked, turning her attention to Marast. Despite himself, Marast had to fight the urge to straighten in his chair. This woman had a presence to her. He didn’t think she was magical, but the way she carried herself and the way she spoke made it clear she was accustomed to issuing orders and seeing them obeyed.

And that accent… Marast thought. His thoughts died off as he gained an inkling as to who this woman could be.

“Who are you?” Marast demanded. “Everyone here has their faces uncovered. No one is hiding their identity except for you.”

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“If you don’t want to work with us, the door is right behind you,” Hugo said, his voice a low rumble. “I fail to see why we should ever work with the Council. They’ve hunted us like dogs for centuries, and now they suddenly want to work with us? I don’t trust them.”

No one echoed his words, but they might as well have as no one went to condemn him. Marast’s lip curled as his eyes flicked over to Hugo for a moment before dismissing him without a word. He returned his attention to the woman, who clearly was the one in charge.

“Who are you?” Marast asked again. “Reveal yourself. If there is to be any sort of trust between us, you must reveal your face.”

The woman nodded slowly, almost as if she was reluctant. “You are right,” she said. She raised a gloved hand to remove her shroud.

Marsat blinked when the shroud was lowered. The woman was young, in her mid-thirties. She had long dark hair, was beautiful, and had tanned skin that marked her from the far north. Most Northers stayed in their homeland or sailed the seas. Few were on the Continent, and the only one with any political power was King Darius’ wife.

“Queen Nevina?” Marast blurted, unable to stop himself. He looked over to Matthias, and the older man looked as shocked as he felt.

“Yes,” the Queen of Velaire said, smiling tightly. “How else should Velaire be ruled? Before I joined the Council it was rudderless, a ship in danger of running aground on the nearing shoreline. I’d much rather have a Thieves Guild that is as wise as it is circumspect.”

“Last I heard it, was King Darius, not Queen Nevina, that was the ruler of Velaire,” Matthias said. Marast smirked as he looked over and saw the older man’s face was reddening. “You overstep yourself, my queen.”

“Do not say that name here,” Queen Nevina rebuked sharply. “Even here, the walls have ears. “Call me Vienna instead.”

An anagram. How cute, Marast thought snidely. Does she think that this a game?

“Now,” the queen said, turning her attention back to Marast. “What does the Council want with the Thieves Guild and its Council?”

“We wish to improve the city,” Marast said. He ignored Hugo’s scoff. “The Watch is corrupt and doesn’t do its job. If someone or an object were needed to be found, it is the Thieves Guild that would be best suited for such a task.”

“You wish us to be your errand-boys,” Hugo said, sneering. “Why even bother coming here if that’s what you want?”

“That is merely an example,” Marast said through gritted teeth. He looked sideways to Matthias. He said nothing, seemingly content with Marast to argue with the Thieves Council himself. Good. Marast had come to this meeting to sow discord between the Thieves Guild and the Council, then raise tensions between them. Unfortunately, the Queen of Velaire’s presence changed everything. I must be cautious.

Hugo opened his mouth to argue further, but the queen raised her hand. Immediately, the blacksmith fell into an unwilling silence. “Your proposal intrigues me,” she said. “I agree that the Watch is corrupt and useless. My husband tries, but he is a warrior and lacks the patience to truly lead a city.”

As if everyone didn’t already know that. King Darius was commonly thought an idiot the world over. A charming idiot that could make pretty speeches to troops before he led them into battle, but not a political force that a complicated city like Velaire needed. It had long been thought that Queen Nevina had been the stabilizing power behind the throne. Now that it was confirmed, Marast knew he had to get rid of her. Darius would fall without her. Between them they had a young son—Prince Stephen—who was barely a man and took more after his idiot father than his cunning mother.

“The Council cannot be seen doing… certain things,” Marast said. Matthias stirred beside him to possibly protest, but Marast kept talking. He needed to have access to the Thieves Guild to tear it apart from the inside, and to do so, he had to be convincing. “Not necessarily what you’re all thinking of, but close. We all know that Seldalar despises us. We have our own network, but for the future of the Velaire, we must work together. We must pool together our resources.”

Hugo glared, but some of the table was nodding with Marast’s words. Nevina cocked her head, contemplating Marast’s words.

“I support this, Vienna,” Caro said, speaking up for the first time. Her voice was rough as if her throat was dry. “As much as I hate the Council, the mage has a point.”

Archmage, Marast internally seethed. He was about to speak again when Nevina stood.

“We will discuss this further later,” Nevina said. “I agree with Caro that your proposal has merit. We will meet within a week’s time. You will be told when to meet,” she said, her eyes flickering from Matthias to Marast. Nevina held his gaze. Marast felt pinned down, as if the Queen of Velaire was bisecting his brain and tearing it apart from the secrets that it contained.

She must die, Marast thought grimly. She is too capable, too powerful. I will not have her delaying my plans.

The rest of the Thieves Council stood, and Matthias and Marast joined them. “You will be escorted out,” Nevina said, waving an errant hand at them. “Farewell.”

“Farewell,” Marast and Matthias echoed. Marast turned and left immediately afterwards, knowing that would irk the Thieves Council. Technically, he should bow to the queen but considering where they were—in the heart of the Thieves Guild—it didn’t particularly matter whether he obeyed the common courtesies.

Matthias joined him, and together, they walked away in silence. They were escorted by four guards at the door, and they were led out into the streets of Velaire.

When they were suitably alone, Matthias turned to Marast.

“I don’t know what you’re doing,” Matthias said, “but I cannot disagree with your proposal. I know it is customary for those within the Citadel to plot and scheme, but you should watch yourself, Marast. Play with fire and, eventually, you will get burned.”

“I’ll keep that in mind,” Marast said, already plotting how he would kill Matthias too. Soon you’ll be dead, and I’ll have your position on the Council. “Thank you for your aid, Matthias.”

Matthias smirked, clearly reading through him. Marast was unnerved by how… intuitive Matthias was. This is not the Matthias I know. “I know you didn’t want me to come, but as the nominal leader of the Council, it is my duty,” Matthias said. “I must look out for those under my care.”

Marast bowed his head. “I understand,” he said. As if I needed protecting, you pompous fool, he mentally added.

“Good,” Matthias said, smiling and switching back to the affable fool with a swiftness that disturbed Marast. “Let’s go back to the Citadel, shall we? I’d rather not be out here too long after dark.”

Despite himself, Marast chuckled. “That’s probably a good idea,” he agreed. “Let’s head back.”