The early morning sun cast long shadows across Welttor’s docks as Soren and Alaric stood in a narrow alleyway with Raz.

The air hummed with the aromas of saltwater and fish, mingling with the scents of spices from far-off lands.

Sailors hauled cargo, traders haggled over prices, and street vendors called out their wares in singsong voices.

Raz swept his gaze over the crowded streets before settling on his two initiates. “Today’s lesson, is about the art of subtlety.”

Alaric raised an eyebrow. “Subtle assassins? And here I thought we were learning to charge in, swords swinging.”

Raz’s glare silenced him. “Your wit may serve you well in some situations, Alaric, but not here. Subtlety is the very essence of our craft.”

Soren nodded. “It’s about blending in, right? Becoming part of the background?”

“Partly. But true subtlety goes beyond mere appearance. It’s about behaviour, awareness, the ability to move through a crowd without leaving so much as a ripple in your wake.” He gestured to the throng of people before them. “Observe how they move, how they interact. Each person here has a purpose, a destination. To blend in, you must appear to have the same.”

Alaric scratched his chin. “So, we’re learning the subtle art of subtlety?”

Raz’s eyes narrowed, and Alaric’s smirk faded. “This is no laughing matter. The skills you learn today could mean the difference between success and failure, between life and death.”

Soren and Alaric exchanged a glance.

“Your task is simple. Make your way to the end of the central pier without drawing attention to yourselves.”

Soren opened his mouth to ask a question, but Raz had melted into the crowd.

Alaric shrugged a shoulder. “I guess that’s our cue.”

Soren took a deep breath, surveying the drift of people before them. “Right. Subtle. We can do subtle.”

Sweat beaded on his brow as he stepped from the alleyway. He hunched his shoulders, trying to make himself as small as possible.

Rough stone scraped against his back as he pressed himself against the nearest building, inching along the wall. His eyes darted from person to person, searching for any sign that he’d been noticed.

A gap opened in the flow of pedestrians, and Soren darted forward, slipping behind a stack of crates.

From his new vantage point, Soren spotted Alaric struggling to navigate the crowd. Alaric tried to weave between two merchants deep in conversation, but his elbow caught the sleeve of one, nearly upending the man’s basket of fish.

The merchant shot him a glare before turning back to his companion.

Soren waited for a group of dockworkers to pass, then darted to Alaric’s side, pulling him into a doorway.

“This isn’t working,” Alaric said. “I feel like every eye is on us.”

Soren scanned the crowd. An old woman selling cockles narrowed her eyes at him. “You’re right. We need to—”

His words were cut short as a burly man shouldered past them, nearly knocking Soren off his feet. He stumbled, grabbing Alaric’s arm to steady himself.

Soren’s cheeks burned. So much for being subtle. He could almost feel Raz’s disappointment radiating through the crowd.

His mind raced. There had to be a better way to blend in, to become part of the background. But what?

“Come on.” He straightened up, trying to adopt a more natural posture. “Let’s try something different.”

Alaric cocked an eyebrow. “You don’t say.”

Soren glanced back at his friend, realising how conspicuous they must look—two young men skulking along the walls, trying to avoid contact with anyone. “We’re going about this all wrong. We need to blend in, not hide.”

Soren carried on, adjusting his pace, and trying to match the flow of the crowd towards the pier.

A group of street performers had set up near a busy intersection, juggling flaming torches and performing acrobatic feats. A crowd gathered to watch, creating a bottleneck that forced Soren and Alaric to push their way through.

Bodies pressed against him from all sides.

“This is ridiculous,” Alaric said. “How are we supposed to be subtle when we can barely move?”

“Patience. Remember what Raz said about having a purpose? Let’s try to look like we belong here.”

Soren pushed on, adopting the purposeful stride of a man with somewhere to be.

“You there!” a man called, his arms laden with strings of colourful beads. “Fine gentlemen like yourselves surely need some jewellery for your ladies, eh? Best prices in all of Welttor!”

Soren tried to wave him off, but the vendor thrust a handful of beads towards them, nearly hitting Soren in the face.

“Come now, don’t be shy! These will make your sweethearts swoon!”

“No, thank you.” Soren stepped back, trying to avoid the vendor, but his heel caught on an uneven cobblestone. He stumbled, his flailing hand striking the vendor’s outstretched arm.

Hundreds of colourful beads clattered to the ground, bouncing, and skittering in all directions.

“I’m so sorry!” Soren dropped to his knees and scrambled to gather the scattered beads. “Please, let me help.”

As he lunged for a string of red beads, he knocked into a woman carrying a basket of bread. She yelped, nearly losing her grip on her wares.

“Watch it, you clumsy oaf!”

Soren mumbled another apology

Laughter rippled through the gathered spectators.

Alaric crouched beside him, trying to help gather the beads. He managed to scoop up a handful, only to have them slip through his fingers and scatter once more.

A fresh wave of laughter erupted from the crowd.

“Do you have any idea how long it takes to string these?” The vendor asked. “Weeks of work, ruined!”

As Soren continued to gather the beads, he caught sight of Raz standing at the edge of the crowd, arms folded.

When Soren glanced up again, Raz was gone.

How could he ever hope to become an effective assassin if he couldn’t even navigate a simple dockside market without causing a scene?

Soren’s cheeks burned as he handed over a fistful of coins to the bead seller.

He kept his eyes downcast, unable to meet the amused gazes of the onlookers. “We should keep moving.”

Soren pushed his way through the crowd, his ears ringing with the echoes of laughter. He could feel eyes following them as they retreated, and it took all he had not to break into a run.

As they put distance between themselves and the bead vendor, Soren’s mind raced. How could he have bungled things so badly? Every move he’d made had only drawn more attention.

“Well,” Alaric said as they turned onto a less crowded street, “I think it’s safe to say we’ve failed spectacularly.”

Soren nodded. “Raz is going to be furious. We couldn’t have drawn more attention to ourselves if we’d tried.”

The crowds thinned as they neared the waterfront, the cries of seagulls growing louder. The salty tang of the sea filled Soren’s nostrils.

As they reached the edge of the docks, Soren’s eyes were drawn to a familiar silhouette in the harbour. His breath caught in his throat. “Look.”

Alaric followed his gaze, his face paling as he spotted the ship where they had undergone the Threshing. “What’s it doing here?”

Soren shook his head, unable to tear his eyes away from the ship. “I don’t know. You don’t think…” He couldn’t finish the thought.

“They wouldn’t do that again, would they?” Alaric’s hands began to shake. A sheen of sweat glistened on his brow. “I don’t think I can go through that again.”

Soren wanted to reassure him, but the words stuck in his throat. The truth was, he didn’t know. The Guild had already proven itself capable of unimaginable cruelty. Who was to say they wouldn’t subject them to another Threshing?

“We’re initiates now,” Soren said. “We’ve already proven ourselves. There’s no need for another Threshing.”

But even as he said it, doubt gnawed at him.

What if their failure today had disappointed Raz so much that he’d decided they needed to be tested again?

What if all their training up to this point had just been preparation for an even more brutal trial?

Alaric’s breathing had grown rapid and shallow, his eyes fixed on the ship.

“Hey.” Soren placed a hand on Alaric’s arm. “Look at me. We’re completely fine. We’re not on that ship. We’re here, on solid ground.”

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Alaric blinked, seeming to come back to himself a little. He nodded, though his eyes kept darting back to the ship.

“Come on.” Soren steered Alaric towards the central pier. “Let’s finish what we came here to do. We can worry about that later.”

As they walked along the pier, the ship loomed in his peripheral vision, a dark reminder of what they’d endured—and what they might face again.

They reached the end of the pier without incident, but any sense of accomplishment was overshadowed by the uncertainty churning in Soren’s gut.

He found himself scanning the crowds, searching for Raz’s familiar figure, dreading what their instructor might say.

“Now what?” Alaric asked.

Soren shook his head. “I don’t know. We wait, I guess. And hope that ship isn’t here for us.”

Alaric shuddered. “I can’t go through that again. I can’t…”

“Me neither.” He glanced at the ship and then searched around for signs of Raz. “I wonder where he is?”

Alaric shrugged, leaning against a mooring post. “Maybe he’s giving us time to reflect on our failures.”

“You know.” Soren tore his gaze away from the ship. “I think we might have been approaching this all wrong.”

Alaric raised an eyebrow. “How do you mean?”

“Well, think about it. We were so focused on trying to be invisible that we ended up sticking out like sore thumbs. Real subtlety isn’t about hiding—it’s about fitting in.”

Alaric nodded. “I see what you’re getting at. If we’d just acted normal, no one would have given us a second glance.”

“Exactly. Instead, we were so tense and hyperaware that we drew attention to ourselves.”

As they continued to dissect their mistakes, Soren felt a presence behind him. He turned to find Raz standing there, his expression unreadable.

“Well? What have you learned?”

Soren took a deep breath. “That true subtlety isn’t about skulking in shadows or trying to be invisible. It’s about understanding your environment and adapting to it.”

Alaric nodded. “We should have been focusing on blending in, not hiding. Acting natural instead of…well, acting like we were trying not to be noticed.”

Raz looked between them. “Go on.”

Soren glanced down at his feet. “We probably would have attracted less attention if we’d separated and taken different routes.”

“Very good. You may have failed in the execution, but you’ve grasped the underlying principles. That’s a start.”

Soren and Alaric exchanged a glance.

“However.” Raz’s voice hardened. “Understanding is only the first step. You must learn to apply these lessons instinctively, without thought. Until then, you are not ready for field work.”

Soren nodded. “We understand. We’ll do better next time.”

“See that you do.”

Soren’s gaze drifted back to the ship. Taking a deep breath, he turned to Raz. “Why is that ship here?”

Raz’s expression remained neutral. “The Guild has many operations, Soren. Not all of them concern you.”

“Is there to be another Threshing?”

Raz’s eyes narrowed, but he nodded. “Indeed. The Guild is always seeking new talent.”

Soren swallowed hard. “Will we…will we have to take part again?”

Raz laughed. “You’ve already proven yourselves, have you not?”

“That’s not an answer. Please, just tell us clearly.”

Raz studied him for a moment. “The Threshing is for recruits. You are initiates now.”

Relief flooded through Soren, but he’d learned not to take anything at face value with the Guild.

“I’m glad to see you being more assertive, Soren,” Raz said. “It’s how to get what you want in this life.”

Something clicked in Soren’s mind. He took a deep breath, steeling himself. “In that case, I want to know who hired you to kill my father.”

“You’re asking the wrong questions, Soren.” He turned to leave.

“No!” Soren moved to block his path. “I will find out. One way or another.”

Raz’s eyes flashed. “Take care, initiate. Making enemies of the Guild would be unwise.”

Alaric stepped forward, placing a hand on Soren’s shoulder. “Let it go, Sor.” He turned to Raz. “What’s next for us, then?”

Raz’s posture relaxed. “Return to the Vault. I’ve set out some texts on infiltration you should study.”

Before either of them could argue, Raz melted into the crowd, leaving Soren and Alaric alone on the pier.

Soren clenched his fists.

“Come on,” Alaric said. “We’d better get back to the Vault.”

Soren scanned the yellowed pages of the ancient tome before him.

The Vault’s musty air filled his nostrils as he leaned in closer.

“Listen to this.” He glanced at Alaric across the table. “‘The key to successful infiltration lies not in stealth alone, but in the art of belonging. An infiltrator must become so seamlessly integrated into their environment that their presence raises no suspicion.’”

Alaric nodded, his own book open before him. “Makes sense. Like what Raz was trying to teach us at the docks.”

“It’s about understanding the rhythm of a place, the way people move and interact.”

“Here’s something interesting.” Alaric tapped his page. “It says that one of the best covers for infiltration is to take on the role of a servant, or worker. People tend to overlook those they consider beneath them.”

Soren pushed out his bottom lip. “I can see that. No one pays attention to the person cleaning the floors or serving the food. You could gather all sorts of information that way.” He set down his quill with a sigh.

“What is it?”

Soren ran a hand through his hair. “It’s my father. I need to know…”

Alaric closed his book. “I’ve been thinking about that. What if…what if he was telling the truth when he said you were asking the wrong question?”

Soren frowned. “What do you mean?”

“Well, we’ve been assuming all along that Raz was hired to kill your father. But what if it wasn’t like that at all? What if there wasn’t a contract in the usual sense?”

Soren had been so fixated on finding out who had hired Raz that he hadn’t considered other possibilities. “Go on.”

Alaric leaned in. “What if your father somehow angered the Guild? Maybe it wasn’t a contract at all, but some kind of… I don’t know, retribution?”

Soren shook his head. “But what would a fisherman have to do with the Guild? It doesn’t make sense.”

“I know, I know.” Alaric held up his hands. “But maybe it’s not what we’ve been thinking all this time. Maybe there’s more to the story than we realise.”

“What if…what if it has something to do with Master Kurgan?”

“Sor, we’ve been over this. It wasn’t him you saw.”

“But I know it was. What if he’s somehow involved in all this?”

Alaric leaned back. “Do you really believe Kurgan would hire an assassin to kill your father? Think about it, Sor. Does that make any sense at all?”

Soren opened his mouth to argue, but the words died on his lips. When he put it like that, it did sound far-fetched.

“Look, we’ve both been through a lot. The Threshing...it messed with our heads in ways we probably don’t even fully understand yet. Isn’t it possible that when you thought you saw Kurgan, you were still dazed from everything that had happened?”

Soren wanted to deny it, to insist that he knew what he’d seen. Had Kurgan really been at the Guild, or was it just his mind playing tricks on him?

A shadow fell across their table. Soren looked up to see Raz standing over them.

“I trust you’re finding the texts enlightening?”

Soren closed the book in front of him.. “Yes, very much so. There’s a lot to take in.”

Raz nodded. “Good. Understanding these principles will be crucial for your future assignments.” He paused, his gaze lingering on Soren. “Remember, a contractor’s mind must be as sharp as their blade. Don’t let yourself become distracted by…irrelevant matters.”

The warning in Raz’s tone was clear. Goosebumps ran across his arms, but he forced himself to meet Raz’s eyes. “Of course. We’re here to learn, after all.”

“Indeed you are.” Raz’s lips curved into a smile that didn’t reach his eyes. “But remember, practical application is just as important as theoretical knowledge.”

“I understand.”

“Speaking of which.” Raz raised a finger and moved deeper into the Vault, returning a few moments later with a sack.

He set the sack on the table with a metallic clank and loosened the drawstring, revealing dozens of locks of various sizes and designs. “Lockpicking is an essential skill for any contractor. It can mean the difference between success and failure on a mission.”

The locks ranged from simple padlocks to complex mechanisms with multiple cylinders.

Raz selected a basic padlock and held it up. “We’ll start with something simple. The key to lockpicking is understanding how locks work.” He produced a set of slender tools from his pocket. “These are your picks and tension wrench. The tension wrench applies pressure to turn the lock cylinder, while the pick manipulates the pins inside.”

Soren watched intently as Raz demonstrated.

“First, insert the tension wrench into the keyway and apply light pressure. This simulates turning a key. Now, take your pick and feel for the pins inside. Each pin needs to be lifted to the correct height for the lock to open.”

With deft movements, Raz manipulated the lock.

Something clicked and the shackle popped open.

“Your turn.” Raz handed each of them a lock and a set of tools.

Soren took the lock and inserted the tension wrench, trying to replicate Raz’s movements.

“Gently,” Raz said. “Too much pressure will bind the pins.”

Soren inserted the pick and probed inside the lock, but couldn’t differentiate between the pins and the lock’s internal mechanism. “I can’t feel anything.”

“It takes time to develop the necessary touch. Try closing your eyes and focusing solely on the sensations in your fingertips.”

With his eyes closed, Soren found he could better concentrate on the subtle feedback from the pick, the slight give as it encountered a pin.

“That’s it. Now, apply gentle upward pressure until you feel the pin set.”

Soren lifted the pin.

A faint click came as it set into place.

“Good. Now find the next pin.”

Beside him, Alaric grunted in frustration. “I think I’m just jamming everything up.”

“Relax your grip. Let the pick do the work. You’re not forcing the lock open; you’re finessing it.”

Soren continued working on his lock, finding and setting each pin in turn.

Just as he thought he had them all, the tension wrench slipped, and he felt the pins drop back into place. “Damn it.”

“That’s normal,” Raz said. “The cylinder can spring back if you lose tension. Start again.”

Soren repositioned the tension wrench and began once more. This time, he maintained steady pressure as he worked the pins.

Something clicked and the lock opened.

“I did it!”

“Well done. Now try it again, faster this time.”

As Soren reset his lock, Alaric let out a triumphant whoop. “Got it!”

“Excellent,” Raz said. “Both of you seem to have a natural aptitude for this. Let’s move on to something more challenging.” He selected two more locks. “These have security pins. They’re designed to give a false set, tricking you into thinking you’ve opened the lock when you haven’t.”

Soren took the new lock and began working on it. “I think I’ve got it.” But when he tried to turn the cylinder, it remained closed.

“You’ve hit a false set,” Raz said. “One or more of the pins are caught on a lip. You need to apply slightly more pressure and finesse them into place.”

Soren frowned as he adjusted his technique. He could feel how some pins seemed to catch as he lifted them.

With careful manoeuvring, he managed to coax each pin into its proper position.

The lock sprang open.

“You’re picking this up quickly.”

“Ha! ‘Picking.’ I get it.”

Raz glared at Alaric. “I did not make a joke.”

Alaric smirked. “Still funny though.”

Soren shook his head. “It’s not that funny.”

They continued working on the locks for a while, Soren’s confidence growing with each syccess.

Alaric muttered curses to himself. “I can’t tell if I’m hitting security pins, or just messing it up.”

“Here.” Raz moved to Alaric’s side. “Feel how the pin seems to stick slightly? That’s the security pin catching. You need to apply just a bit more pressure, then ease off as you set it.”

Under Raz’s guidance, Alaric soon had his lock open as well.

Over the next hour or so, Raz introduced them to increasingly complex locks. There were locks with multiple cylinders, locks with rotating discs instead of pins, and even a few with magnetic mechanisms.

Soren found himself engrossed in the challenge. Each new lock was a puzzle to solve, requiring a combination of touch, hearing, and intuition. He discovered he had a knack for visualising their internal workings.

Alaric, while not quite as quick as Soren, showed steady improvement. His large hands, which had initially seemed ill-suited to the delicate work, proved dexterous once he got the hang of it.

“Remember,” Raz said as they worked. “In the field, you’ll often be picking locks under pressure. Practice until you can do this without looking, in any conditions.”

As the lesson drew to a close, Raz presented them with one final lock. “This one combines several different mechanisms. It will test everything you’ve learned today.”

Soren examined the lock, noting its unusual weight and the complexity of its keyway. He began working on it, quickly realising that this was unlike anything he’d encountered before.

Just when he thought he had one section solved, another would reset.

Beside him, Alaric grumbled under his breath as he grappled with his own lock.

After nearly twenty minutes of intense concentration, Soren felt a final click.

The lock opened in his hands.

“Impressive,” Raz said. “You have a real talent for this, Soren.”

A few minutes later, Alaric’s lock opened as well. He wiped sweat from his brow. “That was a beast.”

“You both did well,” Raz said. “With practice, you’ll only get better.” He began packing away the locks and tools. “How are you feeling? Your injuries from the Threshing—are they healing properly?”

Soren rotated his shoulder, testing it. “Much better. I barely notice it now.”

“Same here,” Alaric said. “Think I’m back to full strength.”

Raz nodded. “Good. We’ll be resuming your physical training soon. It’s crucial that you maintain peak condition. For now, though, you should rest. You’ve done well today, but don’t let it go to your heads. There’s still much for you to learn. That amount of time to pick a lock would be unacceptable in the field.”

As Raz turned to leave, Soren cleared his throat. “Thank you for the lesson. It was enlightening.”

Raz paused, studying Soren. “Just remember, the skills we teach you here are tools. How you use them…that’s up to you.” He turned and disappeared into the stacks.

Soren and Alaric sat in silence for a moment.

“Thank for the lesson?” Alaric cocked a half smile. “You’re so wonderful, Raz.”

“It doesn’t hurt to keep on Raz’s good side.”

“Nah, you meant that. You’re loving this, aren’t you?”

Soren shrugged. “Think what you want.”