The house was about an hour's ride away, nestled in a secluded estate just outside of town. The sun started setting as they approached, casting long shadows over the winding road. The estate was a grand structure, a testament to the merchant's wealth over the years. Its tall iron gates and stone walls were meant to keep intruders out, but it was another obstacle for Runner and his crew.

They stopped at a safe distance, dismounting from their horses. Runner surveyed the house, his sharp eyes scanning for any signs of life. "Let’s check the perimeter," he ordered. Alley, always the sharp-eyed scout, moved forward and knocked lightly on the door, more as a precaution than anything. Then she circled the house, peering through the windows, checking for movement or guards. After a few tense moments, she returned to Runner.

"No one’s home," she confirmed. "The place is empty. We’re clear."

Runner let out a breath he hadn’t realized he’d been holding. “Good,” he muttered. “If he had a wife and kids, I would’ve walked away from this mission.” There were lines even he wouldn’t cross, and killing innocents wasn’t one of them.

Farron, the group’s ritual expert, stepped forward next. His sharp mind had already begun to assess the magical defenses the merchant would likely have in place. “Wards,” he said, running his hands along the edge of the stone wall surrounding the estate. “I can feel them. Basic protection spells, nothing too fancy. He probably didn’t expect anyone to come this far.”

Runner nodded. “Break them. But quietly.”

Farron kneeled before the gate, drawing a small circle in the dirt. He began chanting in a low voice, the words barely audible to anyone nearby. He used an old ritual that disrupted the energy fields surrounding the protective wards without triggering an alarm. It was an intricate process that Farron had perfected over the years. Within minutes, the wards that protected the house shimmered briefly before dissolving into nothingness.

The moment the magical defenses were down, the crew moved in. They pushed open the gate and slipped inside the estate, their movements swift and practiced. The house was quiet, its dark windows giving off an eerie sense of abandonment. Runner felt the tension in the air as they made their way to the front door, his hand gripping the hilt of his sword just in case.

The merchant’s home was lavishly decorated, with expensive furniture and priceless artifacts. Paintings adorned the walls, and golden chandeliers hung from the ceilings. But none of it mattered to Runner. He wasn’t here for wealth. He was here to send a message.

The iron golems guarding the house were the first real threat. The towering constructs sprang to life as soon as the crew entered the main hallway, their eyes glowing a dull red as they moved to engage the intruders. These golems were not as powerful as the golden ones they had fought earlier but were still formidable opponents. Each was crafted from solid iron, and their strength was enough to crush a man with a single blow.

The fight was brutal. Runner and his team moved quickly, dodging the golems’ heavy strikes while searching for weak points in their armor. Alley darted between the golems, using her speed and agility to land precise hits where the iron plating was thinner. Farron, meanwhile, worked his magic, casting lightning spells to disrupt the golems' internal workings. It wasn’t an easy battle, but the crew had faced worse. After a tense few minutes of combat, the last golem fell to the ground with a resounding crash, its metal body crumpling under the weight of its destruction.

With the golems defeated, Farron wasted no time. He immediately began collecting the broken pieces, carefully laying them out in a ritual circle he had prepared earlier. Runner watched as Farron drew strange symbols in the air, his hands glowing with arcane energy. This was no ordinary spell, a ritual reserved for only the most expensive and rare golems and items. The fact that Farron was using it on these relatively weak iron golems spoke volumes about how seriously the crew was taking this mission.

As Farron chanted, the pieces of the broken golems began to shift and move, assembling themselves into new forms. The iron reshaped itself, becoming sleeker and more refined. These were no longer simple constructs; they were now imbued with powerful necromantic energy bound to the will of the Riverfoot Bandits.

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Runner couldn’t help but be impressed. “This guy really messed up,” he muttered under his breath. The merchant had crossed the wrong people, and now, everything he had built was being torn apart piece by piece.

Once the new golems were fully formed, Farron stood back and admired his work. “These will do,” he said with a satisfied grin. “They’ll follow our commands now.”

Runner nodded, his mind already turning to the final part of the plan. “Good. Give them their orders.”

Farron whispered a series of commands to the golems, binding them to their new purpose. From this point forward, their sole mission was to ensure the merchant would never find peace again. If he returned from death, these golems would be waiting for him, ready to strike him down in his sleep. Every night until he was finally gone for good.

With the golems in place and the house secured, Runner and his crew left, returning to the river foot camp. As they returned to the camp, this would be The first time Runner would see their camp.

The Riverfoot Bandit Camp is nestled beside a winding river, creating a natural blend of rugged terrain and flowing water. The camp is makeshift but fortified, consisting of several tents and crude wooden structures arranged around a central fire pit. The river serves as both a barrier and resource, with a few small boats or rafts moored at the water's edge, likely used for quick getaways or smuggling goods.

Dense trees and thick brush surround the camp, offering cover and concealment from prying eyes. A narrow, well-worn path leads to the camp from a nearby road, though the bandits have set up lookouts in high positions to guard against intruders. The river's rushing water masks the noise of the camp, providing an eerie calm in an otherwise chaotic atmosphere.

Weapons and loot are scattered around, with some stolen goods piled in crates or barrels near the tents. A larger, more solid tent, likely belonging to the bandits' leader, stands out, with guards nearby. The camp radiates an air of lawlessness and danger, with the river as a constant, powerful presence, both soothing and ominous.

Runner and Alley spent the next few days helping with the rebuilding efforts in Nuri'fon. They undertook various tasks, from moving supplies to the city's heart to cutting down trees in the surrounding forests. The lumber would be essential for reconstructing the homes and buildings that had been damaged during the recent conflicts. Runner enjoyed the physical labor—it helped clear his mind after the intense job they had just completed. It was a chance for Alley to stay close to him and contribute in her way, even though she wasn't officially part of Krimlond.

As they worked, Runner and Alley discussed their future. Runner knew that being close to Krimlond was necessary—his allegiance to Lina was unwavering. But Alley's not being a member is complicated. The Keep of Krimlond had strict rules about who could live within its walls, and Alley was not officially one of them despite her involvement in many of their missions.

"We need a place of our own," Runner had said to Alley one evening as they sat by the river, watching the sunset. "Somewhere close to the embassy but outside the Keep, we can still be together."

Alley had agreed, and so they began planning. Over the next few days, using the lumber they had gathered and the gold from their previous job, they started building a tiny house near the Krimlond embassy. The house wasn’t grand or elaborate but perfect for them. A simple stone foundation supported the wooden structure, and they worked tirelessly, hand in hand, to make it a home. They added a sturdy roof, simple but comfortable furnishings, and even a tiny garden where Alley could grow herbs and plants for her potions and remedies.

Runner also built a room where he hoped Zavet could stay when he needed it. After everything they had been through, Runner felt a strong responsibility toward the young lizardman. He knew Zavet had lost everything, his family, home, and Runner wanted to offer him stability. The room wasn’t large, but it was furnished with care, complete with a sturdy bed, a desk, and a window that overlooked the courtyard.

“This room’s for Zavet,” Runner said one evening as they stood in front of the house, admiring their work. “He might not stay here often, but he’ll always have a place to return to.”

Alley smiled, leaning into Runner. “You’ve got a good heart,” she said softly. “He’ll appreciate it.”

Runner shrugged, though he felt the warmth of her words. "We’ve all been through hell. It’s time we had a place to come back to."

With the house complete, they finally had a space, a sanctuary where they could rest between missions, away from the world's chaos. The proximity to Krimlond's embassy meant Runner could easily be called upon for work when Lina or the others needed him. But more importantly, it meant he and Alley could build something for themselves, a life together despite the dangers and uncertainties surrounding them.