“I can’t believe I wasted a swing of my axe on those piss-poor illusions. Whoever casted those is getting his neck chopped off.”

Just as Pyre managed to get the door unlocked, Akemi heard the voices again, barreling down the hallway. The bats sounded tired and aggravated, and their footsteps were coming quickly, thundering through the corridor. They couldn’t be more than a half-minute away.

“You think it's one of Galzar’s runts? The Illusionists?” the other chimera ventured.

“Maybe. But they could do better than that. My guess, it’s one of Nocturne’s. No one has access to a wider set of amateur mischief than the auditors.”

Pyre yanked open the door, they darted in, and then she slowly, arduously closed the door, producing the faintest click imaginable.

Once they were safely inside, Pyre wasted no time in lighting the small circle of candles that sat at a nearby table, then the line of oil lamps bordering the room. Once they could actually see eachother again, Pyre hoisted up her treasured piece of wrinkled paper

Make sure all the bolts are fastened tight. Alright?

Confused at first, Akemi soon discovered what she meant by all the bolts. The door had several locks of different kinds—two mechanical, and one ... runic, from the looks of it. The mechanical ones she shifted back in place easily with her fingers, sliding two small metal bars into a hatch. As for the rune, it looked gray and lifeless, inoperable; just like the runes that lay deep inside the Shadow Auditor’s chapel.

How the hell am I supposed to turn that one on?

It didn’t exactly look like something with an on/off switch.

Pyre, sensing her annoyance, came to squat behind her.

“Let me handle that one,” she whispered.

She reached a hand over Akemi’s shoulder, her forearm grazing Akemi’s cheek as she pressed her finger to the rune. Then, with the utmost precision, she traced the shape printed on the rune with her thumb; it was a circular pattern with a single dot in the middle.

When she finished, she removed her thumb, revealing a faint, green light emanating from the rune’s center.

Akemi craned her neck to look at her. She raised both eyebrows, slightly impressed.

“Good work, know-it-all,” she whispered back.

Pyre smirked, then raised her page again.

You might think it's a stupid waste of time, but it actually pays off to be Nocturne’s teacher’s pet. I’ve learned practically every basic rune in Kodra. This one—the circle rune with a central point—is a Locking rune variant.

An abrupt voice interrupted their conversation.

“Hey Kovo, should we check in the Viscount’s office?”

The chimeras’ voices were muffled now, but they were still loud enough that Akemi could hear them pause at the doorway. They had finally caught up to them. Akemi gave Pyre a slightly alarmed look, but the other woman just shook her head and mouthed “watch.”

You might be reading a stolen copy. Visit Royal Road for the authentic version.

“Of course we should, idiot. If these intruders are looking to steal anything, this would be the place they’d go. Well, this and the treasury. But that’s halfway across the building, and we’ve already got Nav’gra on that, don’t we?”

“Wait, was I supposed to message Nav’gra?”

One of the chimeras made an irritated chirping sound.

“You haven’t messaged her yet? Dear gods, are you useless? Open your accomplice panel right now while I get this door unlocked.”

The two mechanical locks fiddled back and forth, vibrating against their casing. With a little bit more maneuvering, they slipped open with a soft click, undoing Akemi's handiwork. But when the chimera gave the door a push, it didn’t move. It didn’t even register the attempt.

“What the hell?”

The chimera pushed again, slamming this time with his shoulder.

“There. I messaged Nav’gra.”

“Great. Happy you could accomplish the most basic security measure ever. Now help me unblock this door, it’s stuck fast.”

The two chimeras heaved themselves at the door, but it didn’t budge. It didn’t even make a whining sound, or any other obvious signs of capitulation. Instead, it seemed to push the guards right back, like a repelling force. Akemi heard them both groaning in unison as they hit the opposite wall.

Next to her, Pyre grinned widely.

“Told you,” she mouthed.

Akemi rolled her eyes.

The terrible thing about Pyre was that she possessed one of the most annoying traits a human being could have: thinking they know everything, and then, when tested, actually knowing (for the most part) everything. It was inhumane torture for Akemi. A crime that would most likely be punishable by death, in any other circumstance.

If only she wasn’t so disgustingly helpful.

“The Viscount must have activated his runic lock when he left,” one of the chimeras grumbled. “Didn’t want anyone snooping around in his place while he’s away. Whatever. If it’s keeping us out, it’ll be keeping out the intruders, too.”

“But what if they managed to undo the locking rune, and now they just reactivated it?”

“Don’t be so naive. A locking rune with the strength of the one Viscount Dimitri’s got installed could only be undone by the likes of Nocturne himself. And if Nocturne’s locked up in that room, I say he can steal whatever the hell he wants, as long as that means I'm not the one who has to deal with him. Come on.”

With a small sound of protest, the other chimera joined his companion in continuing down the hallway. Once their march of heavy boots was completely out of hearing range, Akemi let out a long sigh of relief. The danger—at least, the imminent one—had passed.

“We can talk now, as long as we’re mostly quiet,” Pyre whispered. “These walls are magically reinforced, like the ones back at the tavern.”

“Alright,” Akemi blew out a breath, then, realizing how mentally and physically exhausted she was, she laid her head down on the ground, and closed her eyes. “You go do whatever. I’m taking five.”

Pyre, on brand as ever, glared at her.

“I said we can talk, not nap. This is the most crucial part of the mission. And we have no idea when the Viscount is getting back. More importantly, Nocturne put you on numbers this trip. I’m legally barred from touching the ledger.”

Akemi opened one eye.

“Legally?” she said, oozing sarcasm. “I didn’t know the rules for forgery were so judicially enforced. What’s the punishment? Five spankings from Nocturne, or spending a day inside Dread’s mouth?”

“Oh, shut up, and get up. The number book should be in his chamber. I’ll guard this main room while you’re in there, and try to scrounge up anything useful.”

With a quiet groan, Akemi heaved herself up into a seated position. She could see the chamber in question laid out plainly in front of her—it was a door, already ajar, leading into a bedroom. Akemi assumed that’s where the Viscount did his real work, considering the room they were in currently was rather sparse—full of, by and large, shoes, coats, blouses, and other matters of luxurious dress. She’d make sure to grab something on her way out.

In fact—she took a gander to the left, finding a wall completely covered in mirrors, like a proper circus maze—if her suspicions were correct, this place was actually just one giant walk-in closet. A room for the Viscount to admire himself from every possible angle before leaving.

These bats really are vain.

Without another word, she headed for the bedroom chamber.