The Summer Mansion loomed over the ancient city of Taka'Buriti like a malignant growth, its ebony walls gleaming in the harsh desert sun. Revita V, a lithe figure with sun-kissed skin and round eyes that flashed like polished copper, crouched in the shadows of a crumbling alleyway. Her mismatched heritage was a cocktail of Vascan, Tahuli, and Buritian blood existed both a curse and a blessing in this cesspit of a fief.

The fief's sole river gurgled nearby, a ribbon of murky brown cutting through the dusty landscape. Its waters promised escape, but Revita knew better. The flesh-eating eels that called it home were just as deadly as the Vascan guards patrolling the rugged streets.

"Oi, Rev! You gonna make your move or what?" hissed Jax, her partner in crime for this escapade. His Tahuli accent was thick, a reminder of the oppression that simmered beneath the city's surface; never fully learning the Crimson tongue was an easy and common way to show one's discontent for the elite.

Revita shot him a withering glare. "Patience, you slack-jawed moron. You want to end up decorating the mansion's gates?" She jerked her chin towards the many severed heads that adorned the imposing entrance, a grisly warning to those who crossed the fief's Vascan overlords. Each spike retaining its own gorey adornments of deceased individuals gaping maw.

Jax swallowed hard, his Adam's apple bobbing nervously. "N-no, but we've been sittin' here for hours. The sun's about to set, and you know how it gets after dark."

Revita did know. The Summer Mansion fief was a powder keg of criminal activity and political intrigue at the best of times. But when night fell, it transformed into a labyrinth of dangers that even she, with all her skills, was wary of navigating. "Fine," she growled. "Let's go over the plan one more time."

The scheme was simple enough: infiltrate the Summer Mansion during one of Prince Dennis' infamous revelries, liberate a few choice valuables, and disappear into the circuitous streets of old Taka'Buriti. Simple, but far from easy.

As Revita recited the details, her mind wandered to the events that had led her to this moment. Born to a Tahuli mother and a father of mixed Royal and Buritian blood, Revita had never truly belonged anywhere. Her Old World heritage, a closely guarded secret, connected her to the royal family, but it was a link that brought more danger than privilege.

From an early age, she'd learned to rely on her wits and her fists. The streets of Buriti were an unforgiving teacher, but Revita had been an apt pupil. By the time she was twelve, she could pick any lock, scale any wall, and talk her way out of or into almost any situation.

Now, at twenty-two, she was known in certain circles as one of the most skilled thieves in Eastern Buriti. But reputation was a double-edged sword in a place like this. The more famous you became, the bigger the target on your back.

As night fell, the sounds of debauchery began to echo from the mansion. Revita nodded to Jax. "It's time. Remember, we're in and out. No heroics, no unnecessary risks." She pushed her short copper hair to the side, eyeing the moving figures beyond the glass windows.

Jax grinned, revealing a mouthful of teeth stained red from chewing Coca nut. "You worry too much, Rev. This'll be easier than stealing sweets from a baby." The man nudged her with a pointed elbow while spitting disgustingly to the floor.

Revita rolled her eyes but said nothing. Jax's overconfidence would get him killed one day, but for now, his skills as a vagrant made him a valuable ally. Not even she could pop the vapidly intricate innards of the Vascan smithed mechanisms without help.

They slipped from shadow to shadow, their feet silent on the dusty cobblestones. The closer they got to the Summer Mansion, the more oppressive the atmosphere became. The air itself seemed to thicken, heavy with the weight of almost 2 centuries of oppression and cruelty.

Scaling the mansion's walls was child's play for Revita. Years of thievery had honed her body into a perfect instrument of larceny. She perched on a window ledge, peering into the chaos within. The heir to the Vascan throne, Regent Dennis'Vascaria, sprawled on a velvet chaise, surrounded by sycophants and painted courtesans. His golden dreadlocks were matted with wine, and his pudgy face twisted in a rictus of drunken mirth.

Revita's lip curled in disgust. This was the cream of Vascan society? This drunken boy-prince and his coterie of leeches? For a moment, she allowed herself to imagine a different world; one where her Vascan blood meant more than a target on her back, where the strength of the Tahuli and the wisdom of the Buritian were valued rather than crushed.

She shook off the foolish thoughts. Dreams were for children and corpses. Revita lived in the now, and right now, she had treasures to steal.

With a series of hand signals, she communicated the situation to Jax, who waited below. He nodded, then disappeared into the shadows, headed for the servant's entrance they'd scouted earlier.

Slipping into the mansion was almost disappointingly easy. The Vascan guards were more concerned with pilfering drinks and groping native servants than maintaining security. Revita ghosted through affluent halls, her expert eye cataloging potential marks. A bejeweled dagger here, a string of pearls there, each expertly lifted and secreted away in the hidden pockets of her form-fitting attire.

The decadence of the Summer Mansion was staggering. Gold leaf adorned every surface, and precious gems were as common as pebbles. Revita had grown up in the Mauve Capital slums, where people fought over scraps of moldy bread. The stark contrast made her blood boil.

As Revita worked her way through the crowded rooms, she kept an ear open for useful information. In a place like this, secrets were as valuable as jewels. She overheard snippets of conversation; plans for trade deals, whispers of rebellion in the outer provinces, rumors of King H. Vasca's failing health being the reason for the Regent's ascension.

In a secluded alcove, she caught sight of Vadim Sankov, the king's advisor and Svet menace, deep in conversation with a hooded figure. Revita's heart rate spiked. She'd never been this close to the man who had rejected her and her father's claim to royalty. Part of her longed to reveal herself, to force him to acknowledge her existence. But self-preservation won out, and she slipped away unnoticed.

It was in the midst of relieving a particularly corpulent noble of his heavy purse that disaster struck. An ashy hand clamped down on Revita's shoulder, spinning her around to face the bleary-eyed visage of Prince HuckleBerry himself.

"Well, well," he slurred, his breath reeking of expensive spirits that wafted fig notes. "What have we here? A little SandSkimmer come to feast at the big table?" Revita's mind raced. Could she take the prince in a fight? Drunk as he was? The consequences would be dire. Instead, she opted for her silver tongue.

"My liege," she purred, affecting a simpering tone that made her want to retch. "I'm but a humble servant, clearing away the... excesses of the evening." She dangled the nobleman's purse. "This fool clearly can't hold his liquor or his coin."

HuckleBerry's laughter boomed through the hall, drawing curious glances. "Oh, you're a clever halfie, aren't you?" His red eyes narrowed, studying her face with sudden, unnerving intensity. "Thieves lose their hands y'know? Would be a shame for you to end up as a dessert beggar...No status for people like us."

Ice flooded Revita's veins. How in Dhira's Infernus did this drunken oaf know who she was? She tensed, ready to fight or flee if he was not just mistaking her for another. But HuckleBerry's next words froze her in place. "Oh, don't look so horrified. I make it my business to know all the skeletons in our family's very large closet..."

HuckleBerry's whiskey-laced breath ghosted over Revita's ear as he leaned in close. "You know, I've always thought our dear patriarch could use a good... shaking up. What say you and I have a little chat about the future of Buriti-Vasca? Don't worry about the guards...I am not even supposed to be here, but exile bores me at times,"

Before Revita could formulate a response, the gilded ballroom doors exploded inward. Shards of wood and gold leaf rained down as armored guards poured through the opening, their shouts of "Intruders!" and "Thieves!" cutting through the elegant music.

HuckleBerry's face twisted in a snarl. "Idiots! Can't even keep the rats out during a party." He turned back to Revita, a dangerous glint in his eye. "Sorry...Try not to die."

In that instant, Revita's mind shifted into overdrive. Time seemed to slow as she assessed the situation, her eyes darting from exit to exit, cataloging potential weapons and obstacles. She had seconds to act.

Grabbing a nearby champagne bottle, Revita smashed it against the marble pillar beside her. The shocked gasp of a noblewoman provided cover as she palmed a shard of glass. With a fluid motion, she sliced through the strings of her corset, freeing her movement.

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The first guard reached her, cutlass raised high. Revita didn't fight his momentum. Instead, she redirected it, using his own weight to send him crashing into an ornate buffet table. China shattered, providing a momentary distraction.

Revita used those precious seconds to kick off her heeled shoes. Barefoot now, she had better traction on the polished floor. She snatched up a silver serving tray, wielding it as an impromptu shield.

Two more guards closed in. Revita feinted left, then dropped low, sweeping her leg in a wide arc. The first guard toppled, his armor clanging against the floor. As he fell, she rolled across his back, using him as a springboard to launch herself at his companion. The serving tray connected with a resounding clang, dazing the second guard.

Across the room, Revita caught a glimpse of HuckleBerry. The prince's eyes widened as a guard finally recognized him. "The exile!" the man shouted. "Seize him!"

HuckleBerry's languid demeanor vanished in an instant. With serpentine speed, he produced a wicked dagger from his sleeve. The blade flashed once, twice, opening the guard's throat in a spray of crimson. Without a backward glance, HuckleBerry slipped behind a tapestry, vanishing into the servant's passages beyond.

Revita had no time to dwell on his escape. Three more guards approached, fanning out to surround her. She backed up, buying herself space and time to think. Her eyes flicked to the crystal chandelier overhead, then to the velvet curtains framing the tall windows.

In one fluid motion, Revita hurled the serving tray like a discus. It sailed over the guards' heads, severing the chandelier's support chain. The massive fixture came crashing down in a symphony of tinkling crystal and panicked screams.

As the guards instinctively shielded themselves, Revita sprinted for the windows. She leapt, catching the curtain and using her momentum to swing in a wide arc. At the apex of her swing, she released, sailing over the heads of the stunned nobility.

She landed in a tight roll, coming up beside a decorative suit of armor. In seconds, she had liberated its shield and mace. Now properly armed, Revita felt a grim smile tugging at her lips.

Another guard charged, cutlass raised midway. Revita caught the blow on her shield, the impact jarring her arm. But she was ready. As the guard's sword slid off the shield's curved surface, she stepped in close. The mace came up in a vicious uppercut, catching the man under his chin. His head snapped back, eyes rolling as he crumpled.

Revita spun, shield raised just in time to deflect a crossbow bolt. The projectile embedded itself in the wooden paneling behind her. She had to end this quickly.

Sprinting toward the dais where musicians cowered behind their instruments, Revita's mind raced. The polished floor, the spilled wine, the panicked nobles... all assets to be used.

She vaulted onto the dais, kicking over a drum. It rolled down the steps, scattering guards in its path. In one smooth motion, Revita snatched up a violin, plucking its strings with desperate strength. The taut wire came free, and she wielded it like a garrote.

As a guard ascended the dais steps, Revita met him halfway. She ducked under his sword thrust, looping the violin string around his neck. A quick twist, and he was choking, clawing at his throat. She used his bulk as a shield, pushing him back into his comrades.

But for every guard she felled, two more seemed to take their place. Revita's breath came in ragged gasps, her muscles screaming in protest. She had fought brilliantly, but even her tactical genius couldn't overcome sheer numbers forever.

A lucky blow caught her in the ribs, driving the air from her lungs. She stumbled, off-balance for a crucial moment. Strong hands seized her arms, pinning them behind her back. Revita thrashed, snarling defiance, but the fight was over.

As darkness crept in at the edges of her vision, Revita's keen mind still worked. She memorized faces, counted exits, noted the direction HuckleBerry had fled. Even in defeat, she gathered intelligence.

The last thing she saw before unconsciousness claimed her was the opulent ballroom in ruins. Shattered crystal glittered like stars strewn across the floor. Exhaust took over.

------------------

Consciousness returned to Revita slowly, like a tide creeping up a shore. The first thing she registered was the oppressive heat, thick and cloying. Then came the stench; a nauseating mixture of decay, sweat, and human waste.

She forced her eyes open, blinking against the dim light filtering through a tiny barred window. As her vision cleared, Revita found herself in a cramped stone cell. The summer mansion's dungeon, she realized with a sinking feeling.

A soft, wet sound drew her attention. Revita turned her head, then immediately wished she hadn't. Jax's body lay crumpled in the corner, his once-handsome face now a bloated, unrecognizable mass. Maggots writhed in the gaping wound where his throat had been, the tiny creatures feasting in the sweltering heat.

Bile rose in Revita's throat. She swallowed hard, forcing herself to look away. Grief and guilt warred within her, but she pushed both aside. Now wasn't the time for mourning. She needed to focus, to plan.

Revita took stock of her situation. Her wrists were raw from manacles, her body a tapestry of bruises and cuts. She tested each limb carefully, relieved to find nothing broken. Her captors had been thorough in their search; every hidden pocket had been emptied, every lockpick and weapon confiscated.

The cell itself offered little hope. Solid stone walls, slick with moisture. A heavy iron door with a small barred window. The only other opening was a narrow slit high on the wall, barely wide enough to let in a sliver of light. No loose stones, no convenient tools left behind. Whoever had designed this prison knew their business.

Time passed in a hazy blur. Revita drifted in and out of consciousness, her mind replaying the events that had led her here. The chaos of the ballroom, HuckleBerry's cryptic words, Jax's final expression as they were separated. She should have planned better, should have...

The scrape of a key in the lock jolted her to full alertness. Revita tensed, ready to fight despite her battered body. The cell door creaked open, revealing a large figure in a blood-stained executioner's hood.

"On your feet, traitor," the guard growled, his voice muffled by the mask. "It's time."

Revita's mind raced. She could try to overpower him, but in her weakened state... The guard stepped closer, reaching for her arm. In that moment, he stumbled slightly, his stance betraying him.

"Huckleberry?" Revita hissed, incredulous. The guard froze, then quickly shut the cell door behind him. He pulled off the hood, revealing the prince's familiar scarred face, now streaked with grime and dried blood but still recognizable from the many wanted posters splattered across Buriti.

"Silence," Huckleberry whispered urgently. "We don't have much time." He produced a ring of keys, quickly unlocking Revita's shackles.

"Why are you helping me?" Revita demanded, rubbing her raw wrists. Her eyes narrowed with suspicion. "What's your angle?"

Huckleberry's expression was unreadable. "Let's just say, I have my reasons. Listen carefully; there's a riverboat heading south, bound for the border city of Nak. It leaves in an hour." He pressed something into Revita's hand. She looked down to see a crumpled ticket.

"I stole this off a guard," Huckleberry explained. "It'll get you past the checkpoints. Once you're in Nak..." He trailed off, shaking his head. "Well, you're resourceful. I'm sure you'll figure something out."

Revita studied him, trying to decipher his motives. "And what about you?"

A ghost of his old smirk flickered across Huckleberry's face. "Oh, I have my own plans. Don't worry about me." He glanced towards the cell door, tension evident in every line of his body. "We need to move--and for Doutros' sake, stay silent."

As they prepared to leave, Revita cast one last look at Jax's body. Huckleberry followed her gaze, his expression hardening for just a moment. "He suffered wildly," he said quietly. "Do not linger on the dead..."

Revita's eyes wavered on Jax's mangled corpse, a wave of nausea and grief threatening to overwhelm her. This wasn't just another dead body in the brutal sands of Buriti; this was Jax, her companion, her friend. The man who'd taught her to pick Vascan locks, who'd shared his meager rations with her during lean times. His crooked grin and awful jokes had been a constant in her life for years. Now, that life had been snuffed out, leaving only a grotesque shell behind.

Memories flooded her mind - their first successful heist, celebrating with cheap wine on a rooftop overlooking the city; Jax's unwavering support when she'd revealed her Vascan heritage; the countless close calls they'd survived together. Each recollection was a dagger to her heart, a reminder of all that had been lost. Revita's fists clenched, nails digging into her palms until they drew blood. This was her fault. She'd brought him here, into this death trap.

With a herculean effort, Revita forced the emotions down, locking them away in a corner of her mind. There would be time to mourn later, to honor Jax's memory and seek vengeance for his cruel fate. But right now, survival had to take precedence. She couldn't let his sacrifice be in vain. Revita took one last look at her fallen friend, silently vowing to carry his memory, and his lessons, with her. Then, with a deep breath, she turned to face Huckleberry and whatever uncertain future awaited her.

Revita nodded, swallowing the lump in her throat. "Let's go." They slipped out of the cell, Huckleberry leading the way. The dungeon was a maze of narrow corridors and identical iron doors. Revita memorized each turn, each landmark, a force of habit, even if she hoped never to see this place again.

They paused at an intersection, Huckleberry pressing them against the wall as a patrol of guards passed by. Revita held her breath, acutely aware of how exposed they were. One wrong move, one misplaced step, and it would all be over.

As they waited, Revita studied Huckleberry. The prince's face was a mask of concentration, his red eyes constantly scanning for threats. There was a tension in his shoulders, a coiled readiness that spoke of years of training. This was not the drunken fool she'd encountered at the party. This was a predator in his element.

"Why risk this?" Revita whispered when the guards had passed. "You're already exiled. If they catch you here..."

Huckleberry's eyes met hers, and for a moment, she saw a flicker of something – pain? Regret? – before it was quickly masked.

"Let's just say I have a vested interest in keeping certain bloodlines alive," he murmured. "Even the, shall we say, less acknowledged branches of the family tree--That V stand for Vasca or Vascaria? I guess it doesn't matter...Family is family." He chuckled to himself.

Before Revita could press further, Huckleberry held up a hand for silence. Footsteps echoed from around the corner, growing louder. They were trapped, with nowhere to hide.

Thinking quickly, Huckleberry shoved Revita against the wall, pressing close. He yanked the executioner's hood back on just as two guards rounded the corner.

"Hell's bane!" one of them called out. "What's going on here?"

Huckleberry turned, keeping Revita partially hidden behind his bulk. "Caught this one trying to escape," he growled, his voice once again muffled by the mask. "Taking her for Burlapping--Possibly a dune-keel"

The guards exchanged a look. "Didn't hear nothing about that," the second one said suspiciously.

"I forget--Which one of us is the executioner?" Huckleberry's voice dripped with menace. "Feel free to take it up with the Regent. I'm sure he'd love to explain himself to you personally...Maybe bring orchids, I hear he loves those"

The guards paled visibly. "N-no, of course not," the first one stammered. "Carry on."

As soon as they were out of sight, Revita let out a breath she hadn't realized she'd been holding. "Quick thinking," she murmured. Huckleberry grunted in acknowledgment.

They continued through the labyrinth, each step bringing them closer to freedom, or disaster. Finally, they reached a heavy Cactiwood door. Huckleberry produced another key, unlocking it to reveal a narrow staircase leading upward.

"Servants' passage," he explained in a whisper. "It'll take us out near the kitchens. From there, it's a straight shot to the river docks." As they ascended, Revita's mind whirled with questions. Why was Huckleberry really helping her? What did he know about her heritage? And most importantly, what was she going to do once she reached Nak?

They emerged into a bustling kitchen, the chaos of dinner preparations providing perfect cover. Huckleberry led her through a back door and into the warm night air. The smell of the river, muddy and rank, hit Revita like a barricade.

"This is where we part ways," Huckleberry said, gesturing towards the docks in the distance. "Remember, the boat leaves in less than an hour. Don't miss it."

Revita hesitated. "Huckleberry, I... thank you. But I still don't understand why–"

He cut her off with a shake of his head. "We all have our parts to play in this game, Revita. Yours isn't over. Stay alive, and maybe someday we'll finish that conversation we started at the party...or not. The choice is yours."

As Huckleberry melted into the shadows, Revita found herself alone for the first time since this nightmarish evening began. The relative quiet of the docks was a stark contrast to the chaos of the dungeon, the distant sounds of the city a reminder of the world beyond her immediate predicament. She allowed herself a moment to process everything that had happened; the failed heist, Jax's death, Huckleberry's unexpected aid, and the revelations about her heritage's part in the 'game'.

The weight of it all threatened to crush her, but Revita had spent a lifetime shouldering burdens that would break lesser individuals. She took stock of her situation: injured, weaponless, with only a stolen riverboat ticket and the clothes on her back. But she was alive, and where there was life, there was possibility. The skills that had kept her alive on Taka'Buriti's unforgiving streets would serve her well in Nak, or wherever this twisted path led her.

Revita's mind raced with plans and contingencies. She'd need to find allies in Nak, gather information, and eventually return to unravel the web of secrets surrounding her Vascan bloodline. But first, she had to reach the boat. With one last glance at the looming silhouette of the Summer Mansion, Revita squared her shoulders and set off towards the docks. The future was uncertain, fraught with danger and possibility in equal measure. But if there was one thing Revita V excelled at, it was turning uncertain odds in her favor.

End of Tangent.