Absorption 2.4.5

Night found me perched atop the roof of Ma’Ritz.

Evening had come and gone, upon Blossom Hill, darkness was broken intermittently by lamplight, some burning a type of oil, and others implementing artifice. There was a pattern to their placement, with the oil lamps following the main boulevard, and the artificed ones illuminating the sidestreets, if infrequently. But I had not begun my nightshift with the intention of pondering public lighting. No. But I did have plans to make. I had to solidify what I had learned alongside Kate, and decide upon my future here in Southbridge.

And truly, I had much to consider.

Assuming I attended the Academy, I would require a new Mark, and the Academy required the mark to be relevant to whichever path I chose. According to Kate, and from what I had learned independently since, the most applicable path would be one of Grace. This was also the path that Marianne intended to follow. This path was not terrible, at least if it applied to sleight of hand, legerdemain, and perhaps persuasion. Of course, this was assuming that I received a Greater Mark for either Dances through Courtly Battles or Hidden Blades and Beauty Seen. I was leaning towards the former rather than the latter, for I had previously satiated myself upon death, and I henceforth desired no more.

But even then, assuming I attended the Academy, assuming Kate succeeded in scheduling an appointment with a Sacred Artist, that I had a chance to undergo a new Marking, with a desirable ink and conducting metal; even assuming all of this… I would still require the funds to pay for it all.

And I needed those funds sooner rather than later.

By Kate’s estimations, I had only three days to assemble the materials and Chargers. And while Kate may have offered several potential ideas to raise my wealth from the current meager eight-hundred Chargers that I did have, none of her plans were neither safe nor fast.

Fortunately, as I traveled home after learning of this opportunity, I had given this problem some thought.

Fortunately, for the problem of gaining funds, I had a unique skill set that I could leverage.

It was not yet time for me to implement those skills, though I had an itinerary of targets I wished to hit that night. However, the time for action had yet to come. The impatient thief was caught.

From my brooding, I turned my attention towards the men passing by on the street below me. They were one of the incredibly infrequent patrols of peacekeepers that maintained the fiction of order and command along this section of the Hill. Not that the Hill was disorderly–it was nowhere near as bad as the slums–but there was an obvious criminal element, even here. Otherwise, Ma’Ritz would have no need for my services.

I reprimanded myself for treating the peacekeepers incompetence with disdain. Afterall, it would benefit me this night. Keeping a neutral opinion on this branch of law enforcement was difficult. Even as I scolded myself, I felt the twinge of judgment each time I heard their boots landing heavily upon the stone. Wherever they went, they were preceded by clomping echoes of footsteps. It may as well have been a courtesy towards any maleficent ahead of them, alerting them before they clashed.

As they passed, noisily, I marked the time. It was just past an hour after when Marianne turned in for the evening, which I knew as she frequently wished me a pleasant shift just before she tucked herself in. It may have been strange, but I had begun looking forward to such check-ins. She reminded me of my younger sister. And hence, the ritual had become a core part of my night that I structured the rest of it around.

Now that the peacekeepers had passed by, I could be assured that they would not passby again anytime soon. This allowed me to commit a somewhat suspicious activity.

An incredibly suspicious activity, and one that I could not allow my employer to learn of.

I began searching through the exterior windows of Ma’Ritz, climbing along the walls, peaking past shutters to track the night-workers’ progress. Because if my plan were to succeed, then I would absolutely want to ensure that no busy-body could find fault in my alibi. In particular, I sought out Tiffany in the windows of the second floor. I desired her location, to verify she was occupied or indisposed.

I climbed down the exterior wall of Ma’Ritz that faced a side-street. The adjacent building provided decent cover, along with the cover of darkness. Other than a street lamp along the main thoroughfare, the side-street was un-illuminated. Between that, my Talent regarding Stealth, and the fact that no onlookers were visible, I strongly suspected I was unobserved. Thus, with confidence, I crept along the wall, my hands and feet sticking to the wall, testing for weak spots that might give out beneath my weight. Perhaps unusually, I moved with my legs above me and my arms below me. Truly, I had underappreciated the Sigil for Inversion when I had first received it.

In fact, as I learned more of Sigils and Glyphs, I gained much more appreciation for the Mark I currently had. For it was of high quality, and all the Sigils offered great synergy, even if they perhaps lacked some of the tools I might have otherwise chosen.

I reached the top corner of the first window.

Unlike the shuttered windows of the third floor, the second floor offered glass panels and rich curtains, though the curtains were often left only partially open. The curtains offered clients the option of natural lighting, or perhaps the ability to perform as an exhibitionist, although I expected the second was quite rare. They may have just been an aesthetic taste for those desiring luxurious settings for their… passions.

It was a curtain that I found in the first window I peeked through. The cloth was thick enough that I could see nothing of the going-ons of the room. I pressed my ear against the glass, listening for any sign of activity. There may have been some rustling, but otherwise nothing of interest. Clients typically refrained from sleeping in their rooms, though some did choose to. I determined that the room was likely empty.

I moved to the second window. This one, the curtains offered a crack of visibility. I found one of the clients sprawled across the silken sheets of the bed, with a bottle of spirits on a side table along with two glasses. It appeared that the man had been left on his own. From his closed eyes, he may have been one of those rare few that stayed the night.

The next several windows were much the same, though some did have a working girl in the midst of action. I refused to dawdle at these, for I had no interest in voyeurism.

After finishing lurking along the sides of the second floor of Ma’Ritz, I had yet to spot Tiffany. I considered that she might have already turned in for the night, though I doubted it; she seemed rather desperate for funds.

I was beginning to wonder if I should call my planned heist off, or at least postpone. For if I could not verify Tiffany’s location, then I could not guarantee that she would not spy upon me or commit other forms of sabotage while I neglected my duties at Ma’Ritz. It would be one thing to be found lurking or patrolling in the vicinity of the brothel. It would be completely another to be found missing entirely. Especially if my absence just happened to coincide with a robbery.

So, I continued checking.

Another window. This room held two women coupling.

I moved on to another window.

Even if I failed to find Tiffany, I still required those funds. And the risk that Tiffany offered was likely minimal, or rather, it was only a small increase to risk compared to normal. And even if I did gain eyes on Tiffany, I still could not be certain that she would remain where I spotted her. In fact, as I thought about it further, I wondered if I was not making a mistake in attempting to track her down. I supposed that some naive portion of me had thought I would have found her by now.

The next window came. The curtains were widely drawn back, revealing most of the room. A lantern lit the room in a soft and yellow light. A rhythmic thumping could be heard. I was loath to peek in, but I desired to verify if Tiffany was otherwise occupied.

I leaned in until just my eyes and forehead poked over the sill.

A well curved woman had her back towards the window as she was riding a pair of hairy legs atop the bed. The moment I saw, the woman glanced backwards, over her shoulder, her green eyes quickly catching my own. Her makeup was immaculate and understated. No sweat marred her face. Her straw-green hair maintained its volume.

It was Esmerelda Bogswraith. She was looking my way. Our eyes were meeting, even though she should have been blinded by the interior light.

I had not intended to allow my gaze to linger. I certainly had no intentions of staring or gawking. The offense could not have lasted more than a second, but a second was enough.

She smiled and winked, before turning back towards her client and leaning forward, revealing much.

I ducked away, a gasp escaping my lips, my heart racing, fear clouding my thoughts. I remained there, besides the window, for a moment, then a moment longer. The rhythmic thumping sped slightly. Esmerelda made no moves to confront me. But she had seen me, I was certain.

Had she recognized me?

Even if she failed to do so, it was my remit to guard the place; catching voyeurs would be my responsibility.

It took some time to calm myself. But when no further action was made, and as my cheeks cooled in the smoky wind, I crawled back towards the roof, considering just how Esmerelda had known I was lurking outside the window. I had made no noise. I should have been practically invisible, with the room lit, and the exterior so dark. The only explanation I could derive was that Esmerelda had some sort of ability that alerted her to my presence.

Whether she recognized me or not, I could not say. Though given her personality, I doubted it would be much of an issue, unless she mentioned it to the madame.

I had to assume Esmerelda would keep this indiscretion between us. She had smiled, afterall. And she had invested heavily upon me, working longer hours to pay for my tuition, calling in favors to gain me combat training.

Besides, I consoled myself, the curtains had been left wide open. Spying upon them could not have been entirely my fault. Realizing that I had some excuses that I could make, I decided to wait another hour, to see if anything would come of the sighting, to see if anyone would come looking for me. I could afford that much, though it would cut into some of my plans, and it would reduce the number of targets I could hit. Unfortunately, waiting an hour was the minimum amount of time that I had to spend, considering it might take some time for Esmerelda to work her way free from her current client, assuming she wished to speak to me after.

I hoped that nothing would come of it.

I should have known better than to try spotting Tiffany.

Even if I had seen her, other than my own peace of mind that a potential enemy was otherwise occupied, there would have been little in tangible benefits.

I had been reckless.

The hour passed with further such self castigations; no one interrupted me with questions, accusations, or otherwise. Esmerelda never arrived. Despite my earlier misstep, it appeared I was free to pursue the bulk of my plans.

Knowing it was a risk, that I could be discovered missing, I still decided to commit to action. Gains would not be gained otherwise, at least not quickly.

I took off running across the rooftop, putting every bit of Athletics and Gymnastics to the test.

As I neared the edge of Ma’Ritz, I sprung forward with the greatest leap I could afford. The neighboring building was on the downward side of the slope, meaning that even with the building’s multiple stories, its rooftop still remained beneath my current altitude.

I sailed through the air, wind whistling past me, sliding its fingers through my hair, I felt a moment of exhilarating freedom, unbound by any concerns or restraints, with the exception of the quickly approaching landing.

My feet hit the angled slate rooftop. Rather than applying immediate force through my feet, I chose to collapse into a roll, somersaulting along the tiles before coming to a stop in a crouch. I paused a second to examine the tiles. None of the tiles so much as cracked with the landing. I had gotten somewhat lucky. Slate roofing tended towards brittle fragility.

I arose and stalked to the otherside of the roof, where in a corner, wedged between a support and a lazy turret, I retrieved my empty satchel along with my lockpicks. I slipped the lockpicks into a pocket sewn into the interior of my right sleeve and I resumed my run, angling downwards and westwards, descending Blossom Hill as an invisible specter of the night.

As I went, I felt the familiar burn along my right forearm. A Glyph or Sigil had grown, if just a bit.

Gymnastics: 4/9 (+1)

I continued until I came closer to an upscale market square that served as a focal gathering point for the wealthy residents of Blossom Hill. This was where I would find my targets for this night’s excursion.

The square featured several eateries and shops of interest. The shops were what I had decided on. The eateries were unlikely to hold much outside of secure lockboxes and safes, and the only alternative was either wealthy manors or administrative buildings.

I had also considered the manors. If the shops were a bust, I would hit several of them the next night.

After landing in a narrow walkway between buildings, away from any light-post, I committed to my next step.

I took a deep breath, releasing a portion of nervous energy.

This would be the first time in ages that I had done this, since arriving in Southbridge. While I had concerns regarding what would happen afterwards, if I was to succeed, then I needed all of the tools in my kit. And in the off chance that someone did catch sight of me during my performance, then it would be better if they failed to recognize me as Jackie the tavern-worker and prospective student.

Another deep breath. Another verification that nobody was around. Another moment crouched in the dark and narrow space between shops. It was time.

I schooled myself.

I dropped my Guise.

The perpetual pressure I felt along my spine lessened as my tailbone elongated, making sub-audible clicking sounds from cartilage rubbing against bone. I had prepared for this, having customized my pants with a buttoned seam in the back, providing a variable space for my tail to flow through.

As my tail grew, all my skin sent jarring sensory signals, from itching to goosebumps to stinging prickles. Lilac fur sprouted soon after.

Suddenly, the world went mute. I had been expecting something of this nature to happen, but it still caught me by surprise. It was as though I was hearing my surroundings from the bottom of a pool; my own heartbeat was the predominant volume. Seconds later, my hearing returned, sharper than ever. This was accompanied by a sharp pressure above and behind my temples. My ears had returned. I had not realized I had missed them.

My face cracked and shuddered, my teeth grinded within themselves, sharpening and changing position, following my jaw as it expanded with my noise into a muzzle. Disgusting. A full third of my field of vision had been consumed by the sight of my own nose. The disquieting feeling worsened as my sense of smell and taste exploded in a riot of odors: the pollution from the lower city, smoke, acerbic hints of alchemics, and of course, people.

Revolting, but useful.

With the enhanced sense of smell and hearing, my mind struggled to remember how to handle the volume and nuance of this rich sensory feedback. A headache accompanied this task, almost a migraine, though shorter and sharper.

My stomach squirmed in discomfort.

My tongue felt fat and gross.

The changes worsened as my humanity fled me.

What little breasts I had disappeared, changing the fit of my tunic and jacket. The mammaries shifted beneath my skin, my nipples divided further, three to a side.

I shuddered at the change. It was my least favorite aspect of this form. I quickly distracted myself by focusing on my throbbing headache, though that had begun to fade already, leaving me forced to comprehend the unwelcome changes.

My fingertips elongated slightly, the keratin of my nails thickened and extended into fixed talons, ones which could not be withdrawn.

My toes changed.

My foot shifted and groaned as tarsals rearranged themselves such that my foot seemed to have another joint within; one of my toes relocated in a different form, reminiscent of a dew-claw. Fortunately, my boots were soft leather and tied loosely. At the very least, I was not forced to see my bare feet and their inhumanity.

When all was said and done, the changes required more than ten seconds to conclude; the headache required another minute to fully lift. While I waited on the headache, I limbered and stretched. Of course, my false-arm was always limber, being composed of tendrils and a gelatinous semi-solid substance. My tail swayed behind me, rising up and over my head, adding both weight and air resistance to my movements.

The tail would provide versatility in movement, but also could serve as a hindrance. Especially as I had not practiced parkour or gymnastics with the tail. I hoped it would come naturally and increase my ability to maneuver, especially mid-air. But deep down, I knew the hope was naive. I would need to practice with the tail and relearn this horrific body.

But the body was only temporary. As soon as I completed this job, I could resume my Guise and shift back into a human form.

Support creative writers by reading their stories on Royal Road, not stolen versions.

The job needed to be completed as soon as possible.

I prowled back towards the top of a building to gain a vantage of the upscale market square. I scanned the shops. I had already scouted the square on previous excursions, and I had a solid idea of how I would infiltrate several of the shops. But even with the prepwork, a last minute check felt prudent.

To my right, several shopfronts shared the same two storied building.

One shop sold customized leather belts, satchels, and accessories. That shop carried items that would offer a poor value to volume ratio, though I had no doubt that some of the wares would be useful. But tonight I was focused upon maximizing wealth, not utility.

In that same shared building, a more promising shopfront could generously be termed an apothecary. It sold high end consumables, such as lotions, soaps, medicine, and verified alchemical solutions. While I had never visited the interior of this specific shop, from what I had seen through the windows, the medicinal and alchemical shelves were prized and guarded behind the clerk’s counter. While I was no expert on these specific vials, I believed that the right substances, to the right buyers, would bring a tremendous value to volume ratio. A good fence could find buyers for such items, assuming their practicality and use.

There were several other shops in this attached building, but only one other was a potential target.

This final target was an outlet for premium union-made artificed tools.

Artificed tools required lit Chargers to function, providing an immediate source of fungible goods. Additionally, artificed tools were notoriously expensive. The shop likely offered the best value to volume ratio in the entire square, and it was one of the major reasons I had chosen to target this particular building. However, the shop also employed the most thorough security, from locked security gates to a dedicated peacekeeper standing in front. This sentry was in addition to the regular patrol of peacekeepers that patrolled and ‘protected’ the entire market square and its surrounding neighborhood.

It was mostly the sentry I would need to avoid, though he had been foolishly emplaced to the front of the building, not even guarding from within the shop.

I darted across rooftops and leapt across walkways and streets until I arrived upon the roof of my targeted building.

I headed towards a skylight that opened to the second floor, though I suspected the second floor was not dedicated to any one shop. I expected it to hold a communal space for the building, with rentable rooms, workplaces, and perhaps storage.

In fact, I was banking on that suspicion that the second floor was shared.

However, once I reached a skylight, one of many, I hit my first obstacle.

I had hoped that the skylights were of the openable sort. But as I closely inspected them, I found that they were solidly connected to the rooftop. And while this was not a complete barrier to entry, my options were too noisy or time consuming.

But before giving up on this means of entry, I ran my knife along the seam connecting the frame to the ceiling. While the seam gave out in places, my knife caught on more than one obstruction–likely nails holding the frame to a foundation.

Unfortunate, but within the realms of my planned contingencies.

I resheathed my knife and chose to leave the skylight alone, at least for now.

Instead, I headed towards the edge of the roof, crouched to reduce my profile, though that precaution felt superfluous with the inattentive security and the darkness of night. Still, I remained cautious.

A foolish thief is a poor one.

From my vantage, I quickly checked the positions of the peacekeepers. A duo of them was heading away from me, towards an inlet to one of the sidestreets. That left the single peacekeeper sentry guarding the exterior of the artificer’s.

Notably, that remaining guard was holding a small lantern to a pocket-sized booklet. It was too far away for me to read the contents, but every once in a while he read a line aloud. It sounded like mumbled poetry.

My impression of the man was raised slightly. Only slightly.

With his attention taken up by reading, however, his nighteye would be nil to non existent. At least, assuming he lacked any special Markings of Perception. From what I had learned, Marks were less common than I had originally been led to believe; I gambled against him having one.

I crawled down the side of the building several feet, until I reached another means of egress: a window to the second story of the building, to an office, from what I had gathered during my initial scouting.

The building had several windows interspersed along the second floor, though only on the side facing the market square. The back of the building was almost pressed against a large retainer wall, which meant a window in that direction would have been pointless.

The window I currently was hanging over was roughly two feet wide and three feet tall. It sat on a sliding track, meant for ease of opening. Below it hung a flower box, though rather than flowers it contained trailing green ground covers, almost wiry vines. I thought it a strange choice to plant, but ultimately I was not there to admire the vegetation. Rather, I pushed a gloved hand against the window and offered a tentative push.

To my surprise, the window budged, though it did create a very slight sound.

I paused and checked the peacekeeper. He remained where he was, consumed with his poetry. If he was mumbling lines over his breath, then he likely would not have heard.

I pushed once more on the window in a smooth and constant motion. It gave a whisper of a groan, barely audible over the wind. Soon, it had opened wide enough to fit through.

I crawled in, curling around the top of the window until my hands stuck to the interior wall. No alarm had been sounded, and nothing seemed to have detected my presence. After waiting several seconds, I pulled my bottom half through the opening and landed on my feet in a silent crouch.

Still, no alarm sounded.

I shut the window before anyone could notice it opened.

The carpeted floor muffled my steps as I took in the office. It contained an old and beat up wooden desk that might politely have been called an antique. A painting of a cityscape hung on a wall, and shelves lined the opposite. It was tempting to rifle through the desk and shelves for any valuables, but that was not my target tonight, and if I wasted time up here, then I might not reach the real prizes.

Thus, I quickly found the way out.

There was a single door, though it had been locked from both sides. An irritating development, but this form of deadbolt was theoretically more secure, though it lacked convenience for whoever rented this office.

I removed my lockpicks and got to work, though I encountered frustration. My false-arm either over or under applied torque. Frustrating. I should have practiced picking locks a bit more before coming here. With too little torsion, the pins failed to stick. With too much, they jammed in place when I tried wiggling them with my pick.

It took over two minutes–over two minutes!–for the lock to tumble open.

The deadbolt slid out from the wall.

I put my tools away and pushed the door open slightly.

After listening for a moment, I failed to hear any signs of movement.

I peeked through the cracked ajar door.

On the other side was a dark hallway with wooden floors.

I left the office behind me, though I left the door partially ajar, just in case I needed to make a hasty escape and the door re-locked itself in some manner.

With soft steps, I moved down the hallway while keeping an approximate map in my head of the exterior and comparing my expected position with it. I avoided the doors on my left, which was the side facing the market. I expected that those were largely offices or workrooms. To my right, I expected there to be either storage closets or a means to descend to the first floor.

Given the number of doors on the right side, I hesitated just slightly. I could check all of them until I found the stairs, and that was what I would need to do if I lacked another means of figuring it out.

I checked the doors over the alchemist shop first, there were three on the right wall. All of them shared the same construction, with the same locking deadbolts. As they were all similar enough I was about to subject myself to unlocking all three of them, wasting valuable time, when a thought occurred to me: If the workers and managers of the shops below frequented the spaces on the second floor, then they would need to use the stairway to do so. Even if they ended up checking a pantry or whatever the two other doors were for, I thought the door to the stairs would feature additional traffic, at least comparatively.

However, a quick look at the wooden floor failed to turn up much in the way of wear and tear. In fact, the floor appeared freshly waxed. No revealing scuff marks were to be found. The only other source of frequent use I could think of was the locks themselves. A door frequently unlocked would show signs such as scrapes around the keyhole. The first door I investigated had a couple of scratches on the brass plate of the lock, but not much else. The second had more scratches along with a worn and dimpled brass plate. The last one showed some dimpling around the keyhole, but not much else.

I went back to the second door, with the most promising signs of wear, and I began my work.

Once more, picking the lock was far harder than it ought to have been. My false-arm understood my intent slightly better this time, though the fine movements were still a struggle. For when exerting pressure on a delicate tool, it helped to be able to feel that tactile feedback. It also helped to have direct control of the limb. In this case, I had neither, instead an intermediary between my left shoulder and the torque. Though this time it just took me over a minute to unlock the deadbolt.

My false-arm was learning… which worried me in a different way.

But as the door opened, revealing a flat floor and a wall shortly thereafter opposite to me, I faced a different concern, that I had opened the wrong door after all. Should I need to unlock all the doors along this floor, then I likely would fail to reach any of my intended targets. It would be a waste, worse than a waste, as I doubted I could remove all signs of my passing. My targets would be alerted and would raise their guard for the subsequent nights, and I would be forced to scout a new location.

But all was not lost.

For my understanding of the room failed to make sense, which meant my understanding was likely flawed. After all, one had no need of locking doors to small and empty rooms. I leaned over and stuck my head through the doorway. To my left was the expected plain wall. To my right though, in that direction was a deep shadow that failed to make immediate sense.

After allowing my eyes to adjust further to the gloom, I figured out what I was seeing.

The shadow of a sloping ceiling. Instead of the stairwell running perpendicular to the hallway, it ran parallel. The hallway must have been running nearer to the backside of the building that I had originally anticipated. Otherwise, a stairway built in this fashion would be obstructive to the remainder of the building space.

I left the door cracked open behind me and I followed the stairs down, letting the pungent and acerbic scents of the apothecary wash over me as I descended. At least I had found the right stairway, I consoled myself, even if it took far too long to reach this point.

At the bottom of the stairs, I had my first bit of luck. There was no locked door there, nor any door at all. I was looking into the apothecary, with the only source of illuminating being the market square on the other side of the shopfront glass. Remembering my plan, I kept to the back of the shop and focused on the medicinal and alchemical wares.

Among the back shelves were many vials and tins of various substances and labels. I had trouble understanding what held the most value. It was not as though I could take everything; the tins especially were each the size of a hand. But the vials lining the shelves were small enough that they all fit inside my satchel.

However, as I pulled the vials into my satchel, I came across one section of the shelf that had been locked behind wood paneling. It was padlocked between the shelf and a metal bracket nailed to the wooden panel.

My spirits rose at the sight. Whatever was contained within would be of high value. It would be worth the effort and time.

Nothing ever came easily, and certainly not wealth.

The padlock ought to have been simple, but as I lifted it up, I saw it required a combination.

Of course, there were tricks to defeat these sorts of locks. I would need to apply pressure to the lock while spinning the mechanism and listening or feeling for the tumbler clicking into place. However, that would be time consuming. Even more so with my false-arm and my limited dexterity.

Fortunately, an alternative solution was present. For the bracket had been nailed into the wood paneling. The wood was thin, and the nails appeared closer to finishing nails than actual impediments. I slipped my knife from its sheath and began wiggling the edge into the wood at the base of the bracket. It required very little force for my blade to begin wedging the bracket away from the paneling.

WIthin minutes, the bracket had been removed, and the padlock hung useless from the shelves.

I wasted little time in sliding the paneling to the side, revealing a glass case displaying three vials. It seemed a lot for so little, but I lacked the knowledge to say for certain what the vials were, what their value was. Regardless of their potential worth, they were small and light and I added them to my satchel.

After raiding the back shelves, I scouted for anything else of value.

The counter lacked a register or anything that shone with obvious worth. And while I could earn a few additional Chargers by ransacking the place further, I had one last target for the eve. I slid the panel back shut and left the apothecary mostly as I found it.

I headed back up the stairs, and traveled further down the hallway, once again tracking my position as best as I could against my internal map of the building.

About two shop-lengths later, I came to a stop and once more began checking the doors for wear and tear. Once more, I found the most heavily used door. This time, picking the lock took just under a minute. Progress, though I still felt disappointed in myself. I still remembered picking equivalent locks in less than twenty seconds flat. There was much room for improvement.

My false-arm’s tendrils shivered beneath the skin of my neck.

The door swung open, revealing a stairwell, and once more I descended as a silent ghost.

This was the first time I had entered a shop selling artificed goods. I was a little uncertain on what to expect, or what I should grab. So as I cleared the bottom step, I took it all in to the best of my ability. At least, what I could see in the very dim light.

The floorplan of the shop was largely open. A long bench-like table lined the walls to either side, and devices appeared set on the bench with plenty of space between each one. There were several podiums on the floor that held a single device each.

From what I could see, I felt disappointment. I had expected more. But there was not even a lockbox full of Chargers I could find. I checked over the counter and the cubbies beneath the back counter, but I found nothing, solely empty space. In fact, if I were to guess at the cubby’s purpose, I would assume they were meant for employees to store their personal belongings while on shift. Which meant that in this store, the only things of value were the things I had first seen on the tables and podiums… which was not a lot.

I chided myself for the disparaging train of thought.

Even if there had been a substantial number of artificed goods, I could not have grabbed more than I could carry. In fact, even from what I could see, there was more here than I could take back.

I would need to prioritize what I took.

A faint cough came from the windows at the front, and I saw the silhouette of the peacekeeper move. He was still standing out there, likely reading his book. It should pose no difficulty to me, so long as I avoided drawing his attention.

I stalked down the bench, glancing over the devices. Fortunately, each was present with a booklet and titled placard, sparing me from guessing at the tool’s function.

There was a recording and playback device, along with three coin shaped inserts that were purported to contain music. There was a voice amplifier, though it looked more like a wand. There was an automatic shaver. Paired two-way communicators. A projector with several clips containing different scenes. A set of spyglasses that both magnified and showed more than one spectrum. In short, an eclectic bunch. I swiped the devices that looked the most valuable, though I was forced to leave the projector as it was too large to carry easily.

When I came to the spy glasses, the ones that seemed the most valuable, I quickly swiped them. As I lifted them from their resting place, too quickly for me to react, I felt the slightest amount of resistance, almost a twang of a string snapping.

The spy glasses were in my hand, and then in my satchel, but that was the end of the good news.

Impending Sense: 3/9 (+1)

A shill alarm pierced the air.

The peacekeeper out front jumped and yelled, dropping his book of poetry in the process. He turned towards the shop, his eyes wide, his lantern shining through the bracketed windows. Already he headed towards the door, his hand grabbing at a keyring hanging from his belt.

There was no time to waste observing him.

I was already off to the stairway and running up them towards the hallway.

From behind and below, I heard the lock turning then the door slamming open.

I rushed through the door at the top, just barely keeping it from hitting the wall and causing a loud retort to reveal my position. I rushed down the hallway, light on my feet and making no sound.

Lucky Break: 7/9 (+1)

I reached the office.

From outside, I could hear the peacekeepers running across the market square as they arrived. Several shouted.

I leaned against the wall by the window, peering out. The peacekeepers shone their lanterns against the building. I ducked away from the glass as the light passed by, before I went back to spying, waiting.

The door to the shop finally opened, and two of the peacekeepers entered. The last was sent running off to the side, flanking the building. The second this peacekeepr’s back was turned, as he reached the corner of the building, I was already sliding the window open. I swung around to the outside wall and slid the window back shut behind me.

Before anyone was the wiser, I scurried up to the roof and came down in a perch to catch my breath and consider the situation.

More peacekeepers would arrive soon. It would take them time to check the roofs. Even if they looked up, all they would see would be shadows against the sky. The risk of fleeing by rooftop seemed negligible.

I took off in a sprint, jumping to the next nearest rooftop, then the next.

No chase came.

From what I could tell, no watchers followed.

It appeared that my heist had succeeded, despite the trap I had triggered at the end. Soon, I was heading back up Blossom hill with a bag of valuables to sell, which would hopefully fund my acquisition of a Greater Glyph, though several intermediary hurdles yet existed.

When I was halfway back up the Hill, I dropped into a sidestreet between a shrub and a wall and I resumed my Guise.

Guise of the Kitsune: 6/9 (+1)

The changes came over me once more, this time in reverse. My tail retreated, leaving an uncomfortable and persistent pressure against my back. My jaw burned and cracked as my muzzle retreated back to a human face. My skin ithced and kept itching for minutes after the fur had disappeared. What little curves I had once owned then returned.

Within minutes, I was once again human-looking. Relief swept through me once again having a human form, despite the cramped discomfort. Surprisingly, with the Guise came an insatiable craving for Cook’s meals; her specific spiced meat dish, in particular.

My stomach voiced its interests, and I did not disagree.

With my Guise on, I finished making my way to Ma’Ritz.

I stowed my bag and my tools on a nearby rooftop, wedged in tight between a balustrade and a faux turret that may have been a chimney in function.

I hurried back over to my usual perch over Ma’Ritz, pretending all the while that I had been there the entire night. I made a few rounds to ensure nothing looked out of place in the vicinity.

While it was too early to know for sure, I felt optimistic that my absence had gone unnoticed.

I was content enough to begin brooding over my next problem: where to offload the stolen goods.

There were merchants through-out the city, including those that bought second-hand goods. But what I truly required was a fence, and a reputable one at that. It was far too easy for black-market thugs to take advantage of novice thieves. Instead of a scrutable criminal, I needed to find one that was willing to make an investment into a potentially profitable relationship.

The issue was figuring out who that fence was.

Concerningly and strangely enough, I did have one idea of who that might be. Though I was unsure of how I had that knowledge in the first place. As I tried to remember where I had learned of this person and place, I encountered a migraine. The more I focused on the how of this knowledge, the worse I felt.

Despite this development, I knew where I could begin looking with a higher chance of success, an establishment called Laverna’s Cup. It was even on the Hill, though it fell on the outskirts.

Despite the suspicious nature of where the idea came from, it was the only lead I had so far, and starting there was more likely to return positive results than shaking down random criminals in the slums to find who they personally used to move hot goods.

With that potential and incredibly suspicious location given, I made plans for the next day.

Blessings: Rank (1/9)

* Body: 65

* Mind: 75

* Spirit: 49

Talents:

* Athleticism I (1/9):

* Climbing I (4/9)

* Featherlight I (4/9)

* Inversion (2/9)

* Gymnastics (4/9) (+1)

* Stealth I (8/9)

* Trackless Tracks I (3/9)

* Area Coverage (5/9)

* Alchemical Immunity (ineligible for growth)

* Eschiver I (2/9)

* Evasion I (1/9)

* Impending Sense (3/9) (+1)

* Lucky Break (7/9) (+1)

Spells:

* Illusion I (5/9)

* Touch (8/9)

* Guise of the Kitsune (6/9) (+1)

* Closed

Gifts:

* Obsession (3/9)

* Closed (0/9)

* Closed (0/9)