The mess hall hummed with the soft drone of voices and the rhythmic clatter of utensils against tin bowls.

Soren sat motionless, staring into his porridge. His hand moved on instinct, lifting the spoon from bowl to mouth, the motions empty and automatic.

Across the table, Alaric cradled a mug of tea, the steam curling lazily upward.

Soren shifted in his seat, his body protesting with every movement.

His muscles throbbed from the night’s chase, and the stitches on his arm tugged with each flex.

“I hear you two caused quite a stir at the museum last night.”

Soren’s head snapped up to find Raz sitting beside them, his scarred face unreadable. Alaric choked on his tea, spluttering as he set the mug down.

“How did you—” Soren began, but Raz held up a hand.

“The Guild has eyes and ears everywhere, initiate. Now, tell me what happened.”

Soren leaned forward. “We made it inside without a hitch. The lock was tricky, but nothing I couldn’t handle.”

Raz’s eyebrow arched. “And once you were in?”

“The museum was different at night,” Alaric said, his eyes distant. “All those statues watching us. Gave me the creeps.”

“I see. And what happened next?”

Soren took a sip of his apple juice. “We found the weapons exhibit fine. The dagger was there.”

“But?”

“But there were guards. Two of them, stationed right by the entrance. We hadn’t anticipated that.”

Alaric nodded. “We thought we’d have more time between patrols. It threw off our whole plan.”

“So what did you do?” Raz asked.

“I created a distraction,” Alaric said. “Knocked over some pottery in the next room. It worked—both guards went to investigate.”

Soren’s face tightened. “But that’s where it all went wrong. The lock on the case was unlike anything I’d ever seen before. By the time I’d figured it out—”

“The guards came back,” Raz said.

Alaric’s hand clenched into a fist. “Not just the guards. They had dogs with them. We barely made it out of there.”

“We had to run,” Soren said. “Across the rooftops, just like you taught us. It was the only way to lose them.”

Raz leaned back, his fingers steepled. “And the dagger?”

Soren’s shoulders slumped. “We failed.”

A heavy silence fell over the table. Raz’s gaze moved between them, his expression unreadable. “Tell me, what do you think went wrong?”

Soren and Alaric exchanged a glance.

“We underestimated the security,” Soren said. “The night guards, the dogs especially. We should have been better prepared.”

Alaric nodded. “And that lock. We spent too much time on it. If we’d been faster—”

“If, if, if,” Raz cut in, his voice sharp. “The world of ‘if’ is a dangerous place for a contractor. You deal in certainties, in absolutes. Anything less gets you killed.” He raised a finger. “But you’re not entirely wrong. You missed crucial details in your planning. Night security is always different from day. You should have known that.”

Soren felt a flush of heat creep up his neck. “We’ll do better next time.”

Alaric nodded. “Yeah. Maybe if we neutralise the dogs first—”

Raz held up a hand, silencing him. “There won’t be a next time. Not at the museum, at least. After a breach like that, security will be tighter than ever. You’d be walking into a trap.”

Alaric’s face fell. “So what do we do now? We still need that ravenglass.”

“Indeed you do. But perhaps it’s time to consider alternative sources.”

Alaric frowned. “Where else could we look?”

Raz’s gaze shifted between them. “That’s for you to figure out, initiates. Tell me, where else might one find such a rare material?”

“Well, there are noble houses with private collections,” Soren said. “And auctions sometimes deal in rare artifacts.”

Raz nodded. “Good. The auction listings might be a promising lead. Remember, information is often your most valuable tool.”

With that, Raz stood.

As his footsteps faded, Alaric leaned in close. “So, we’re really not going back to the museum?”

Soren shook his head. “Raz is right. It would be suicide to try again so soon. We need to find another way.” He pushed his cold porridge aside, leaning in closer to Alaric. “Alright, let’s think this through. Where else might we find ravenglass in this city?”

Alaric drummed his fingers on the table. “What about temples? I’ve heard some religious artifacts are made from rare materials.”

“That’s not a bad idea. The Temple of the Nameless Four might have something. They’re known for their ancient relics.”

“True, but breaking into a temple?” Alaric winced. “That feels like asking for trouble.”

Soren’s brow furrowed. “You’re right. We need somewhere less…sacred. What about antique shops?”

Alaric pushed out his bottom lip and began to nod. “That could work. Less security, and they might have smaller pieces we could snag easily.”

“And even if they don’t have any ravenglass, the shopkeepers might know something about where to find it.”

“Good thinking. We could ask about auctions too.”

“Auctions could be our best bet for finding a larger piece. But we’d need to figure out how to get in.”

Alaric leaned back, crossing his arms. “So, where do we start? Antique shops, or try to track down an auction?”

Soren stood up. “Antique shops. We can gather information, maybe find out about upcoming auctions. Two birds, one stone.”

The sea air clung to Soren’s skin as he and Alaric moved through Welttor’s antique district.

The tang of salt mixed with the faint scent of aged wood and stone.

Morning light softened the hard lines of the narrow streets, casting a golden hue over weathered storefronts and wrought-iron signs.

The first shop’s window display caught Soren’s eye—intricate clocks, faded maps, and relics that whispered of ages long past.

He paused, pressing up against the glass. “Look at that clock. The detail on those hands is incredible.”

Alaric grunted, his gaze fixed ahead. “We’re not here to admire clocks, Sor. Focus.”

Soren nodded, pushing down his curiosity as they entered the shop. The scent of old wood and paper enveloped him. Shelves crammed with curiosities lined the walls, each item meticulously arranged.

An older man with sharp eyes and a warm smile greeted them from behind the counter. “Welcome, gentlemen. Anything in particular you’re looking for today?”

Soren opened his mouth to speak, but Alaric beat him to it. “We’re interested in rare materials. Specifically, ravenglass. You wouldn’t happen to have any for sale, would you?”

The shopkeeper’s eyebrows rose. “Ravenglass? That’s not something you hear about every day. What’s your interest in it, if you don’t mind me asking?”

If you stumble upon this narrative on Amazon, be aware that it has been stolen from Royal Road. Please report it.

“Academic research,” Soren said. “We’re studying ancient weaponry and their materials.”

“I see. There is a marvellous example in the museum’s collection.”

“We’re aware. But we’re trying to source some of our own, doesn’t even have to be a weapon. Perhaps you can help us?”

As Alaric continued to question the shopkeeper, Soren found his attention wandering. His fingers trailed over the surface of an ancient book, its leather binding cracked with age. Next to it stood a gilded frame housing a portrait of a stern-faced nobleman.

Each object seemed to hold a story, and Soren felt a fascination he hadn’t experienced since his days as a sculptor’s apprentice.

“Where did this old compass come from?”

The shopkeeper’s face lit up. “Ah, that’s a fascinating piece. It belonged to a sea captain who claimed to have sailed to the edge of the world. Of course, we know that’s impossible, but the stories he told…”

Soren leaned in. “What kind of stories?”

“Sor…”

Soren waved Alaric off.

“Well, this captain, he spoke of waters blacker than the darkest night, where stars reflected so perfectly you couldn’t tell sky from sea.”

“That’s incredible. How did he navigate?”

“Ah, that’s where this compass came in. You see, it’s not just any compass. The needle, it’s said to be forged from a fallen star.”

Alaric cleared his throat, shifting his weight from one foot to the other. “Sor, we really should—”

Soren flashed him a glare before turning back to the shopkeeper. “A fallen star? How is that possible?”

“The captain claimed he found it on an uncharted island, guarded by creatures with the heads of birds and bodies of lions.”

“Sor.” Alaric placed a hand on Soren’s shoulder, trying to turn him away from the counter.

Soren shrugged him off. “What happened to the creatures? Did he fight them?”

Alaric let out a sigh, crossing his arms and leaning against a nearby shelf. A small porcelain figurine wobbled, and he scrambled to steady it, muttering curses under his breath.

“Oh no, he didn’t fight them. He sang to them! An old sea shanty his grandmother taught him, if you can believe it. The creatures were so moved, they—”

“Alright, that’s enough,” Alaric cut in, stepping between Soren and the shopkeeper. “We appreciate the story, but we’re on a bit of a tight schedule here, and this ravenglass isn’t going to find itself.”

Soren blinked. “Right, yes. The ravenglass.”

The shopkeeper’s smile faded. “Ah, yes. As I was telling your friend here, ravenglass is quite rare. I’m afraid I don’t have any in stock. Grey’s might have some, but between you and me I believe many of his items to be forgeries.”

Soren found his eyes wandering to the compass once more. “How did you come across this collection?”

“I’ve travelled far and wide in my day, made connections with collectors from all corners of the world. Every item here has its own journey, its own story to tell.”

“I’d love to do something like this one day. I’m an artist by trade, but this is…this is fascinating.”

“You know, the auction circuit in this city is where the real treasures change hands. I’ve seen items there that would make your head spin.”

Soren nodded. “That must be incredible. How does one get involved in something like that?”

Alaric cleared his throat. “Speaking of auctions, we heard there might be some ravenglass available through those channels. Any truth to that?”

“It’s possible. There’s an auction house on Blackwater Street, run by a fellow named Finch. If anyone in Welttor deals in ravenglass, it’ll be him.”

Alaric nodded. “Finch, you say? And these auctions, how often do they happen?”

“Oh, every fortnight or so. Though they are by invitation only.”

Soren opened his mouth to ask more, but Alaric cut in. “And how might one go about getting such an invitation?”

The shopkeeper chuckled. “That, my young friend, is the tricky part. Finch is most particular about his clientele. But for the right price, anything’s possible in this city.”

“I see.” Alaric rubbed his chin. “And this Finch, what’s he like? Any quirks or preferences we should know about?”

“Finch is a collector himself, you know. Has a weakness for rare coins. If you were to come across something interesting in that line…” He trailed off.

Alaric’s lips curved into a small smile. “Thank you, sir. You’ve been most helpful.”

As Alaric turned away, Soren found himself torn. Part of him knew they should leave, focus on their mission. But the shopkeeper’s stories had awakened a curiosity he couldn’t shake.

“Before we go,” Soren said. “I have to ask—what’s the most fascinating item you’ve ever come across in your years of collecting?”

Before the shopkeeper could speak, Alaric grabbed Soren’s arm, steering him towards the door.

“Thank you for your time,” Alaric called over his shoulder. “We’ll be sure to check out that auction house.”

The bell above the door jingled as they stepped back onto the street.

After walking ten or so paces, Alaric rounded on him. “What in the void was that about?”

Soren flinched. “What do you mean?”

“You completely forgot why we were there!”

Soren ran a hand through his hair. “I’m sorry, I just…I got carried away. Did you hear those stories? Every item in there had a history, a connection to the past. It’s fascinating.”

“Fascinating isn’t going to get us that ravenglass.” Alaric glowered at him. “We have a job to do, remember?”

Soren nodded. “You’re right. I’m sorry. It won’t happen again.”

“See that it doesn’t. We’re never going to find this stuff if every time you see a pretty watch you start asking stupid questions about sailors and sea monsters.”

“It was a compass.”

“Compass. Watch. It doesn’t matter. It’s a distraction.”

“But we got a useful lead with the auction.”

“No thanks to you though.”

Soren breathed a long sigh. “So, where to next?”

“Let’s see what we can find out about this Grey bloke. If he deals in ravenglass, he might be a good place to start. We can always check out the auction stuff later if that doesn’t pan out.”

Soren frowned. “Grey’s?”

“Your new best friend mentioned he sometimes has some.”

“Did he?”

“Yes.” Alaric shook his head. “What’s got into you, Sor? It’s like your mind’s not with us.”

“I’m sorry. I was just taken in by that place. I don’t know what it was…I could see myself doing that you know. Dealing in antiques, source rare artifacts, finding out about their histories.”

Alaric sniffed. “Good luck with that. We’re already committed to another path.”

Soren glanced back at the shop and nodded. “You’re right…but it would make for a great cover, wouldn’t it? Who would suspect an antiques dealer?”

Alaric shrugged. “Maybe you could do both. Dare to dream, Soren. Dare to dream. Maybe you could do flower arranging on the side.”

Soren rolled his eyes. “I’m serious. I can see it now.”

“Come on. Let’s keep moving. Let’s find this Grey’s place. But this time, try to stay focused on what we’re doing.”

“I will.” Soren dipped his head. “Sorry.”

Soren and Alaric made their way deeper into the antiques district, the streets narrowed, the buildings pressing in on either side.

Soren’s gaze wandered from storefront to storefront. “Look at that old telescope. Imagine the stars it must have seen.”

“Focus, Sor. We’re looking for Grey’s, remember?”

“I know, I know. But just imagine what our shop could look like. We could have a section for nautical instruments, another for ancient texts…”

Alaric shot forward, clamping around a boy’s wrist. "Not so fast."

The boy let out a yelp, struggling as Alaric pried Soren’s coin purse from his grasp and shoved it back into Soren’s hands. “This little rat nearly ran off with your coin while you were lost in your grand plans.”

Before the boy could wrench free, Alaric’s fist snapped forward, connecting with his jaw.

The thief staggered, eyes watering, before spinning on his heel and bolting into a nearby alley.

Soren shook his head. “He was just a kid.”

“Yeah, a kid who would’ve left you penniless,” Alaric snapped. “This is exactly why you need to stay focused. This city isn’t some quaint curiosity shop, Sor. It’s dangerous.”

As they continued their search for Grey’s, Soren couldn’t help but think about the boy. “The Guild should consider recruiting kids like that. Take them off the street at a young age. They already have many of the skills we’re learning—sneaking, survival, quick hands...”

Alaric snorted. “Right, because a scruffy street kid would blend in perfectly at a noble’s ball. Can you imagine?”

Soren chuckled. “Fair point. I suppose there’s more to our training than just picking pockets.”

“Exactly. Now, can we please focus on finding— wait, is that it?”

Soren followed Alaric’s gaze to a shop at the end of the street. A faded sign hung above the door, the words “Grey’s Curios and Antiquities” barely visible beneath years of grime. “That’s got to be it.”

Alaric reached for the handle, then paused, fixing Soren with a stern look. “Remember, we’re here for information about ravenglass. Try not to get distracted by every shiny object you see, alright?”

Soren nodded, steeling himself. “I won’t.”

A bell chimed as they entered. Glass cases lined the walls, their contents glinting in the harsh light of gas lamps. The air was thick with the acrid smell of metal polish.

A tall, thin man emerged from a back room, his eyes sharp behind wire-rimmed spectacles. “Can I help you?”

Soren stepped forward. “We’re looking for some ravenglass. We were told you might be able to help.”

The man’s eyebrows rose. “Ravenglass? That’s not a common request. What’s your interest in it?”

“Academic,” Alaric said. “We’re researching ancient…erm, stuff.”

The shopkeeper nodded, his gaze flicking between them. “I see. Well, you’ve come to the right place. I do have some experience with ravenglass, though I’m afraid I don’t have any in stock at the moment.”

“Oh,” Alaric said. “You sure? Nothing lying about in a back room, or anything?”

“We don’t need much,” Soren said. “Just enough to—”

“Enough for our research,” Alaric cut in.

The shopkeeper spread his hands. “I’m sorry.”

“But you’ve dealt with it before?” Soren asked. “What can you tell us about it?”

“It’s a fascinating material. Harder than steel, yet no heavier than glass. It has some unusual properties that make it highly sought after by certain collectors.”

“What kind of properties?”

“There are myths and rumours. All of it nonsense, I am sure.”

“What about the collectors?” Alaric asked. Where might we find them?”

The shopkeeper’s lips curled into a smile. “That, I’m afraid, is privileged information. Let’s just say that there are some collectors willing to pay a high price for pure ravenglass.”

“Is there any way we could acquire a sample?” Soren asked. “For our research, of course.”

“It’s not that simple, I’m afraid. Ravenglass is incredibly rare. When pieces do come on the market, they’re usually snapped up quickly by private collectors.”

“But surely there must be some way,” Soren said. “We’d be willing to pay handsomely for even a small amount.”

“Well, there might be something. I’ve heard rumours of a private auction taking place on the overmorrow. Very exclusive, very hush-hush. Word is that a significant piece of ravenglass will be up for sale.”

“This would be one of Finch’s auctions?” Alaric asked.

The shopkeeper nodded. “Indeed. It seems you’re already in the know.”

“In the know, yes. But—”

“But you seek an invitation?”

Alaric sighed. “Yup.”

“That’s the tricky part. Those invitations are not easy to come by. But…” he paused, his gaze fixing on Alaric. “For the right price, I might be able to arrange something.”

“And what would the right price be?”

The shopkeeper smiled. “Oh, let’s say five-hundred krones to arrange it and another five-hundred for the invitation.”

Soren’s eyes widened. “A thousand krones? Just to get in?”

“That is the price.”

“And a fair price it is,” Alaric said. “We’ll need to discuss this and get back to you. Day after tomorrow you say?”

“Indeed.” The shopkeeper pulled a card from his pocket. “You have until close of business tomorrow to decide. After that, I can’t guarantee I’ll be able to help you.”

They left the shop, Soren’s mind whirling with possibilities.

“What do you think? Can we trust him?”

Alaric shrugged. “Hard to say. But it’s the best lead we’ve got so far. We’ll need to figure out how to get the money for those invitations, though.”

Soren shook his head. “Or, we pay a visit to the auction house ourselves.”