The interior of the building was a stark contrast to the rough exterior of the camp. The side that served as the leader’s office was surprisingly clean, furnished, and even decorated with various trophies. On the other side, the space was cluttered with stolen goods. Boxes of different sizes were stacked haphazardly, some pried open to reveal a variety of items—silk cloth, jewelry, food, mana stones, ores, and other raw materials that Bones couldn’t immediately identify.
The leader, a huge burly man with slicked-back hair and a full beard, sat behind a sturdy wooden desk placed in the center of the room. His sharp eyes tracked Bones as he entered, sizing him up. Flanking the leader on both sides were two brigands, each equipped with a longsword and a shield slung over their backs. The tension in the room was palpable, but Bones maintained his composure, taking in the scene without saying a word.
His gaze drifted to the walls, where racks full of weapons were displayed. Using Identify, he quickly assessed them:
Steel longsword
Steel longsword
Steel mace
Steel shield
.
.
.
Each weapon was crafted from steel, decent but of average quality. They were the kind of armaments you'd expect from a bandit group—functional, reliable, but nothing extraordinary.
The bandit who had escorted Bones was briefing the leader on what had happened outside.
"—re you talking about? Two are dead, and John is heavily injured? Idiots!" the leader bellowed, his voice thick with frustration. He then turned his attention to Bones, his eyes narrowing. "Who are you?"
Bones shifted his focus from the weapons and met the leader's gaze. "Name’s Jones. I was just passing by when I came across an overturned wagon, dead bodies, and two figures running off in a hurry."
The leader leaned forward, scrutinizing Bones. "Who were these two figures?"
Bones kept his story vague. "Couldn’t say for sure. They were hooded, dressed in black. Looked like they were in a rush—took something from the carriage before bolting. By the time I checked the scene, most were dead, but one was still barely breathing."
The leader, Iam Broke, scrutinized Bones as he stood from behind his desk and approached, his eyes narrowing with skepticism. The seconds of silence between them seemed to stretch, tension thick in the air. When he finally spoke, his tone was laced with suspicion. "While I do believe your story—for now—why would you go out of your way to save one of us? I'm sure you're not stupid; you must have figured out who we are."
Bones remained calm, knowing the situation could turn dangerous quickly depending on his response. But he wasn’t worried. He had already identified the leader and assessed the situation.
Iam Broke, level 51 Brigand Cutthroat Captain
Bones gave a slight nod before responding, "Allow me to explain…" He spoke with measured confidence, telling the leader that he was in a similar line of work and was actually on his way to the Remore Kingdom in search of new business opportunities. Bones pointed out that he recognized the tattoo on the man he saved as the mark of the Thief's Guild, which naturally compelled him to offer assistance. This explanation seemed to resonate with Iam, though the leader's gaze remained cautious.
"So, you're in the business, are you?" Iam asked, his tone slightly less hostile but still guarded. "Are you a member of the Guild too?"
Bones shook his head. "No, I’m not a member—yet," he admitted, noticing the brief flash of disappointment in Iam's eyes. "But I’ve done a few break-and-entry jobs in Hagos," he added quickly, hoping to salvage the leader's interest. "I’ve got a knack for getting into places I'm not supposed to be."
Iam’s mood seemed to lighten somewhat at this admission. He stroked his beard thoughtfully, then gave Bones a once-over. "Say, if you’ve got the lockpicking skill, I might have that business opportunity you’ve been looking for. I need someone who can crack an advanced lock now that John is… indisposed."
Bones raised an eyebrow, feigning interest. "An advanced lock, you say?”
This bandit den had a few members capable of picking locks, but none except John were skilled enough to handle advanced locks.
Bones shook his head and replied regretfully that he didn't possess lock picking skills, but he did have something of use. He reached into his jacket, rummaged through the "inside pockets," and pulled out a bone key. Iam glanced at the key, puzzled, and then his eyes widened as he Identified it and burst into a loud guffaw.
"A Skeleton Key? You have a Skeleton Key?" he repeated in disbelief.
"An Incomplete Skeleton Key," Bones quickly corrected, but confirmed that the key could open advanced locks. Iam's pleased expression grew as he considered the implications but wondered how Bones had come by it.
"I made the key using Bone Shaping. My former group needed to open an advanced lock..."
"I see. Bone Shaping? What an unusual ability," Iam commented, though Bones noticed a gleam in his eyes. The leader seemed tempted to claim the key for himself but realized that to use it, he would need Bone Shaping. “Nevertheless, as long as you can open the lock, you’re in!” he declared and escorted Bones out.
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"Graham, good news! Jones here will join us in the robbery instead of John. Show him his accommodations!"
Graham, the bandit from before, looked slightly puzzled but sheathed his weapon and motioned for Bones to follow.
Bones, still processing the situation, followed Graham silently.
Iam, the oversized gorilla planned to have Graham kill Bones if he hadn't provided something useful. In the end, Iam didn’t even ask if Bones wanted to join the robbery. No matter—the situation had worked out well for Bones.
"Say, Graham, do you happen to have the cream John used to disguise his face?" Bones finally asked. This was the whole reason he had gone through the trouble of infiltrating the camp.
"Hm? Ah, that cream. John’s the only one who uses the concealing ointment and is a member of the Thief’s Guild."
So it's called a concealing ointment.
"I see. Could I visit John to see if he has any left? I think I might be interested in joining the Thief’s Guild."
"Right… John is out of commission—he won’t be waking up anytime soon. You’ll find shops selling the ointment if you visit the Guild. Good luck with that," Graham replied indifferently.
Bones' accommodation was a sparse tent on the far side of the camp, enclosed by other tents and a wooden fence that left no room for escape. Not that Bones had any plans to flee. The heist he was coerced into participating in was set for two days hence. Bones attempted to extract more details about the heist from Graham—such as the target, the number of guards, and other specifics—but Graham was either exceptionally tight-lipped or simply indifferent, providing no useful information.
After Graham left, cautioning Bones not to wander around, Bones took the advice to heart. He remained in his tent until evening when a brigand came to invite him to dinner with the leader.
Thinking on his feet, Bones wrapped a white piece of fabric around his head, leaving only a slit for his mouth. Previously, he had worn a hood, scarf, and goggles, and removing them during dinner would have aroused suspicion. Iam, the leader, was not impressed by Bones’ appearance.
"Again, my apologies for the appearance. I don't mean to hide, but my face was scarred and disfigured to the point that even a healing potion couldn't restore it," Bones explained. Iam’s face twisted in disgust for a moment, but he eventually exhaled and showed a measure of sympathy. Nonetheless, he made it clear that Bones would not be invited to dinner again.
Bones excused himself to his tent after a brief meal and left Iam alone in his office.
knock knock
A brigand from earlier entered.
"Boss, about the new guy—he seems off no matter how you look at him! Do you really plan to keep him around?"
"Of course not, Reggie. I’ll dispose of him as soon as he opens that lock. The amount of nonsense he's spouting—whether or not his story about Marv and Leo is true, which I'm starting to doubt—I don’t like Jones’ attitude."
Reggie nodded and said he would have guards patrol around the tent and report any suspicious behavior. Iam nodded in agreement and poured them both a drink from a bottle he took from the drawer.
Bones didn’t linger in his tent long that night. Trusting in his ability to move undetected, he donned a full black outfit and slipped out, crawling under the sidewall of his tent with ease. The camp, resembling a sprawling military installation, was quiet and dark. Bones kept close to the fence, moving silently as most of the bandits were deep in slumber.
Earlier in the day, Bones had noticed cart tracks leading to the far side of the camp. The patrols were lax; he even saw one guard strolling around with a mug in hand. With the guards’ attention distracted, Bones reached the far side within twenty minutes and spotted a single guard stationed at the entrance to a tunnel beneath the hill.
The tunnel’s entrance was well-lit, making stealth challenging. Bones decided to use soul magic. He established a Soul Link with the guard, sensing his boredom, and then applied pressure with Soul Gaze. The guard, leaning wearily against the tunnel wall, slumped to the ground and passed out. Bones experienced an unusual backlash, a grip on his soul that left him momentarily nauseated. After recovering, he ventured into the tunnel.
The underground passage opened into a spacious chamber that Bones soon realized was the heart of the bandits' true operations. The gang's activities extended beyond mere robbery and murder. Dozens of figures were seated on the ground, meticulously grinding crystals of various sizes into a fine powder. This powder was then transported via an automated conveyor system to an adjacent enclosed area, where alchemical processes transformed it into a drug. The entire subterranean space beneath the hill functioned as a drug processing and manufacturing facility. At the far end of the chamber was another enclosed area that resembled an office, flanked by cages holding humans and elves shackled to the stone walls, their conditions varying from bad to worse.
Slavers, too? Bones thought.
Realizing the facility was heavily guarded, Bones retreated and returned to his tent. Early the next morning, he saw the guard who had been posted at the tunnel entrance. The man was whipped and left in a pool of blood in front of the mess hall. The brutal punishment seemed to be a common occurrence, as the others reacted with indifference.
"His punishment was well-deserved. Don't give it a second thought, Jones," said Reggie, the brigand.
"Not really the sight I'd want to see in front of the mess hall, Mr..." Bones replied.
"Reggie. The leader would like to have a word with you," Reggie said.
Bones nodded and followed Reggie to Iam's office. Inside, Iam was studying schematics spread out on his desk. When Bones entered, Iam motioned him over and indicated the schematics of a lock. Bones was unfamiliar with the specifics, as Iam had misunderstood his knowledge based on the Skeleton Key. Iam went over the intricate details of the lock mechanism with expertise, while Bones occasionally nodded, feigning understanding.
When Iam finally finished, he shared a crucial detail about the heist’s target.
“The target is a wealthy merchant named Horace, a high-ranking member of the Merchant Guild. The item we’re after is in the chest you saw in the schematics. According to our informant, Horace keeps it with him at all times, and we need to get our hands on it—no matter what!”
“If the chest is always with him, it must be small enough to carry. What’s inside it?” Bones asked, intrigued by the chest’s significance.
“The chest is indeed small, and its contents are on a need-to-know basis—which you don’t need to know!” Iam replied curtly.
“The merchant has left the city with twenty of his personal guards and ten hired adventurers. We move at dawn tomorrow and will set up an ambush at either Shimmering Bluff or Hilshall Ravine, depending on which route Horace takes.”
Bones noted the unfamiliar names and the mention of hired adventurers. “It sounds like our target is heavily guarded. How do you plan to deal with—”
“You don’t need to worry about the escort or the merchant,” Iam cut him off, then offered a vague explanation.
“Most of us were adventurers once, so we know how to handle them. It was a tough job with little pay, so we switched to robbing and stealing. Turns out, that didn’t pay much either!” He finished with a chuckle.
“I suppose not,” Bones muttered under his breath, thinking about the bandits’ other illicit activities. It was clear that judgment wasn’t his place, but the bandit leader’s hypocrisy irked him.
“What I’m saying is, when the time comes, you just focus on opening that lock. You can open it, right?” Iam asked, glancing at the schematics before turning his gaze back to Bones.
Now he asks if I can open the lock? I assumed that was a given with the Skeleton Key I brought.
“Of course I can open the lock!” Bones responded confidently, though a sliver of doubt lingered in his mind.