Lucky Larry Lewis woke up with a dirty mop on his head.

“Ugh,” I groaned, pushing the mop away and sitting up. The floor beneath me was cold and unforgiving, but at least I had a roof over my head.

The mop closet was dark, but a sliver of light from the hallway crept in under the door, signaling the start of a new day. I stood up, my leg still a bit sore, but much better than the previous night. I stretched, trying to get the kinks out of my back from sleeping on the hard floor.

I stepped out of the closet and made my way down the narrow hallway toward the main room of the Union Hall. The sound of clinking mugs and hushed conversations reached my ears, a comforting noise that meant another busy day had begun.

Rodrick was already at his usual spot, surrounded by ledgers and papers. He glanced up as I approached, his eyes sharp and appraising.

“Morning, Larry,” he said, his voice gruff but not unfriendly. “How’s the leg?”

“Much better,” I replied, giving him a nod.

“Good to hear,” he said, scribbling something into a ledger. “Head to the kitchen and grab breakfast. Grud made his special porridge today.”

I nodded, feeling my stomach rumble at the mention of food. The kitchen was warm and inviting, a stark contrast to the rest of the Union Hall. As I approached, the comforting aroma of cinnamon and cooked oats filled the air, making my mouth water.

Grud, the Union Hall’s cook, was bustling about the kitchen, his large frame moving with surprising grace. He looked up and gave me a warm, toothy grin as I entered.

“Morning, Larry! Want some porridge?” he asked, his deep voice resonating through the room.

“Absolutely,” I replied, grabbing a bowl from the shelf.

Grud ladled a generous portion of the steaming porridge into my bowl, adding a dollop of honey and a sprinkle of nuts on top. “There you go. Eat up, you’ve got a big day ahead.”

“Thanks, Grud,” I said, taking a seat at one of the long wooden tables.

As I ate, the kitchen slowly filled with other members of the Union Hall. Conversations buzzed around me, a blend of plans for the day and recounting of the previous night’s events.

Rodrick appeared in the doorway, his presence commanding immediate attention. “Alright, everyone, listen up,” he called out, silencing the room. “We’ve got a busy day ahead. Larry, I need you to meet me in my office when you’re done eating. There’s something important we need to discuss.”

I nodded, quickly finishing my breakfast. My mind raced with possibilities as I made my way to Rodrick’s office. He rarely called me in for personal meetings, and it usually meant a job that was more dangerous or critical than usual.

When I entered his office, Rodrick was already seated behind his cluttered desk, a map spread out before him. He looked up, his expression serious.

“Close the door, Larry,” he said, his tone leaving no room for argument.

I did as he asked, taking a seat opposite him. “What’s going on, Rodrick?”

He leaned back in his chair, folding his arms across his chest. “I’ve got a new assignment for you. It’s important, and it’s risky.”

“Alright,” I said, leaning forward. “What is it?”

Rodrick pointed to a location on the map, a section of the city I wasn’t familiar with. “There’s a shipment coming in tonight at the south docks. It’s vital that it reaches its destination without any interference.”

“What’s in the shipment?” I asked, my curiosity piqued.

Rodrick’s eyes hardened. “It’s better if you don’t know. All you need to do is ensure it gets to a man named Varren. He’ll be waiting for you at the upper docks. This is crucial, Larry. Do you understand?”

“I understand. I won’t let you down.”

“Good,” Rodrick said, his tone softening slightly. “And remember, keep your head down and stay out of trouble.”

I gave him a final nod before heading out. The morning sun was still rising, casting long shadows across the cobblestone streets. I reached the docks just as the shipment was being unloaded from a small, nondescript ship. The air was thick with the smell of salt and fish, the sound of seagulls echoing in the distance. A man in a tattered coat approached me, his eyes scanning the area warily.

“You Larry?” he asked, his voice low.

“That’s me,” I replied, matching his cautious tone.

He handed me a small, ornate box, its surface covered in intricate carvings. It was surprisingly light, but I could feel the weight of responsibility that came with it.

“Make sure it gets to Varren at the upper docks,” the man instructed. “And be careful. There are eyes everywhere.”

“I will,” I assured him, tucking the box securely under my arm.

As I made my way through the crowded streets, I couldn’t shake the feeling of being watched. Every shadow seemed to hold a pair of eyes, every passerby a potential threat. I quickened my pace, determined to complete the delivery without incident. The buildings here were grander, the people more refined.

I felt out of place among the well-dressed merchants and their elegant clientele, but I kept my head down and pressed on. I weaved through the throngs of people, my senses on high alert. The ornate box felt like a beacon, drawing unwanted attention. I had to be quick and discreet.

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“Hey, watch it!” A tall man in a finely tailored coat snarled as I narrowly avoided colliding with him. I muttered an apology and kept moving.

After a few moments of scanning the area, I finally spotted him, a weathered man with a thick, gray beard, standing near a stack of crates, his gaze fixed intently on the sea of people passing by. He was flanked by two burly guards, their arms crossed over their chests, eyes darting vigilantly around them.

Approaching cautiously, I made sure not to draw too much attention. As I got closer, Varren’s eyes flicked in my direction, and he straightened slightly, assessing me with a calculating stare.

“Varren?” I called out as I approached.

His eyes locked onto me, scrutinizing every inch. “Who’s asking?”

“Larry Lewis. Rodrick sent me,” I said, holding up the box as if it were a peace offering.

His gaze softened slightly. “Ah, the delivery. Come closer, boy.”

I stepped forward, handing him the box. He examined it closely, running his fingers over the carvings. “Perfect,” he muttered. “Rodrick said you’d be reliable.”

I nodded, unsure of what to say.

Varren glanced at his guards and then back at me. “Stay here a moment.” He turned and disappeared into one of the grand buildings lining the docks. The guards remained, their eyes fixed on me.

One of them, a hulking figure with a scar across his cheek, finally spoke. “You from around here?”

“Sort of,” I replied, shifting uncomfortably under his gaze. “I’ve been in the city a while.”

“Doing what?” the other guard asked, a hint of suspicion in his voice.

“Odd jobs. Deliveries mostly.”

The scarred guard grunted. “You keep your nose clean?”

“Yeah, I try to,” I replied, trying to sound more confident than I felt. The guard’s eyes bore into me, searching for any hint of deceit.

“Good,” he said after a moment, his tone softer but still cautious. “This city’s got enough troublemakers.”

Before I could respond, Varren reappeared, holding a small velvet pouch. He tossed it to me, and I caught it awkwardly.

“Here, take this back to Rodrick,” he said, his voice low and menacing. “And remember, boy, there are consequences for pinching from this pouch. Consider this your only warning.”

I nodded, feeling the weight of his words. “Understood.”

“Good,” he said, straightening up. “Now, off with you.”

Varren nodded curtly before turning his attention back to his customers.

The city was slowly coming to life around me. Merchants were setting up their stalls, and the aroma of freshly baked bread drifted from a nearby bakery. Despite the peaceful morning scene, I remained alert.

Navigating through the quieter morning streets, I took a circuitous route, avoiding the main thoroughfares and sticking to the shadows of the narrower alleys. Halfway through an alley that cut through a row of warehouses, I heard footsteps behind me, quick and purposeful. Instinctively, I quickened my pace, glancing over my shoulder to see who was following. A figure in a hooded cloak was gaining on me, his movements deliberate and predatory.

Heart pounding, I considered my options. Confrontation could lead to trouble, but losing Varren’s payment was not an option. I veered down another alley, hoping to find a way to shake off my pursuer or find help.

The cloaked figure closed the distance rapidly, and just as I turned a corner, he lunged forward, grabbing my shoulder and spinning me around with surprising strength. Before I could react, a voice hissed in my ear, “Hand over the pouch, and we’ll both walk away from this.”

I tightened my grip on the pouch, weighing my next move carefully.

“I can’t do that,” I replied firmly, trying to steady my voice despite the adrenaline coursing through me.

He laughed softly, a sound devoid of humor. “You’re in no position to refuse, messenger boy. Don’t make this any harder than it needs to be.”

In that moment, a commotion erupted from a nearby street as a group of city guards patrolled into view. The thief hesitated, his grip on me loosening slightly.

Seeing my chance, I acted swiftly. With a sudden twist, I broke free from his grasp and darted away, sprinting down the alley towards the safety of the main street where the guards were approaching.

As I sprinted towards the main street, the thief’s footsteps echoed behind me, closing in with alarming speed. Desperation fueled my legs as I dodged around crates and leaped over debris littering the alleyway. The city guards were within sight now, their uniforms a beacon of hope.

Just as the thief reached out to grab me again, a peculiar sensation washed over me, a sudden inexplicable certainty that things would go my way. It felt like a nudge from fate herself, urging me sideways with an unshakable confidence.

With this newfound resolve, I rounded a corner into the bustling street. At that precise moment, a barrel rolled out from a merchant’s stall, obstructing the thief’s path and causing him to stumble. He cursed loudly, momentarily delayed. It was enough of a distraction for me to gain precious ground.

I veered sharply into a shadowy side alley, hoping to lose my pursuer in the labyrinthine network of narrow passages. The thief hesitated for a split second, thrown off by my unexpected move, and I seized the opportunity to dart around a corner and into another dimly lit passage.

My breath came in ragged gasps as I sprinted through the twisting alleys, the echo of footsteps behind me growing fainter. Adrenaline pushed me forward, my mind racing with thoughts of the pouch clenched tightly in my hand.

Each turn leading me deeper into the maze of the city’s underbelly. Shadows danced around me, the occasional flicker of sunlight teasing through gaps between buildings. I glanced over my shoulder, heart pounding in my ears, but there was no sign of my pursuer. Either I had managed to lose him or he was biding his time, waiting for the perfect moment to strike.

I slowed my pace, trying to catch my breath and calm my racing heart. The pouch felt heavy in my hand, a tangible reminder of the danger that lurked in these streets. I needed to find a safe place to regroup, away from prying eyes and potential threats.

Turning a corner, I stumbled upon a narrow staircase leading up to a rooftop. Without hesitation, I ascended the stairs, my legs protesting with each step. At the top, I found myself on a flat expanse overlooking the city, the rooftops stretching out in all directions like a chaotic patchwork quilt.

I collapsed against a chimney stack, taking deep breaths to steady myself. The city bustled below, oblivious to the chase that had just unfolded in its hidden corners. From my vantage point, I could see the docks in the distance, a reminder of the task I had nearly completed.

The pouch lay in my lap, its contents a mystery yet to be revealed. Varren’s warning echoed in my mind, urging caution even in this moment of relative safety.

I pressed myself against the cold stone wall, barely daring to breathe as I listened for any sign of pursuit. Seconds stretched into eternity before I cautiously peeked around the corner.

The alley was empty, save for a stray cat slinking along the cobblestones. Relief flooded through me. Slowly, I straightened up and continued on my way back to the Union Hall, taking a longer, circuitous route this time, my senses on high alert.

I skirted around a bustling market square, the aroma of spices and the chatter of vendors mingling with the brisk morning air. My senses were on high alert, attuned to any sudden movements or unusual sounds. Every distant shout or clatter of hooves made me flinch, my hand instinctively tightening around the pouch.

The journey back to the Union Hall was fraught with tension, each step feeling like an eternity. I ducked into narrow alleys, doubled back through hidden passages, and kept a watchful eye on every shadow that seemed to linger too long.

Finally, after what felt like hours of careful navigation, I arrived at the familiar sight of the Union Hall. Its weathered facade offered a welcome sight amidst the uncertainty of the city's streets. I slipped through the side entrance, away from prying eyes, and made my way to Rodrick's office.