Viktor caught his breath, standing amidst the aftermath. Both boys, now free, were adjusting to their unexpected release from a sticky predicament.

"Why shouldn’t we have helped you?" Viktor asked, curious yet firm.

The boy shrugged, trying to be nonchalant. "’Cause now you’ve gone and made an enemy of the guild," he replied casually.

Viktor maintained his stance, a trace of skepticism on his face. "But you could’ve gotten hurt," he argued. "Had we not stepped in when we did, they might’ve—"

The boy cut him off with a dismissive wave, a cocky grin flashing across his face. "Nah, that toadlicker weren’t gonna do more than scare us a bit," he claimed boldly. His bravado, though meant to reassure, had an edge of youthful ignorance.

The other boy, silent until now, interjected quickly. “He gutted that other lad ‘bout a month back.”

“Oh… yeah, I forgot ‘bout that,” the first boy admitted, scratching his head sheepishly.

“How d’you forget somethin’ like that?” the second boy muttered incredulously.

“I been busy,” the first shrugged again.

“No, you ain’t,” countered the second immediately.

“You don’t know that!” the first boy shot back defensively.

“Yes, I do,” the smaller boy said with a look of exasperation. “I’m stuck with you all day, every day.”

Viktor shook his head, clearly taken aback by the bickering between the boys. He glanced at Arelos, who watched the exchange with an expression of disbelief, as if he couldn’t quite fathom how these boys had managed to survive thus far.

Finally, it seemed the first boy remembered his manners. “Right! Introductions,” he said, stepping forward a little. “I’m Fenric. And this here’s my twin brother, Soren.”

Viktor grinned, acknowledging their brief, yet colorful introduction. “Twins, huh? How do we tell you apart?” he inquired, genuinely curious.

“Well, it’s easy,” Fenric replied with a cocky confidence. “I’m the looker.” He gave a cheeky smirk that earned him a roll of the eyes from Soren.

Viktor chuckled, the tension from moments ago dissipating slightly. “Nice to meet you both. I’m Viktor, and this here’s Arelos.” His eyes glanced over at Arelos, giving a nod of acknowledgment.

Arelos gave a slight wave, his face expressionless.

Fenric leaned against the alley wall, arms crossed casually as he regarded Viktor and Arelos. "So, why’d you butt in like that?" he asked, trying to sound nonchalant but unable to mask the underlying curiosity. "Bit daft, stickin’ yer nose in other folks’ troubles, don’t ya think?"

Arelos nodded in agreement. "Agreed. It was a mistake getting us involved, Vik," Arelos added, his tone crisp and unruffled.

Viktor shrugged, brushing off their doubts easily. "Maybe so," he admitted. He turned his gaze to Fenric, his expression earnest. "But maybe a bit of thanks is in order, instead of throwing shade at someone who just helped you out," Viktor suggested, his tone good-natured but firm.

There was a brief pause before Fenric shrugged, his casual bravado slipping for a moment. "Yeah, yeah, cheers or whatever," he muttered, trying to sound dismissive. It was a tone Viktor recognized—one meant to deflate the expectation of return or obligation. He’d seen it before, kids downplaying their need for help to avoid feelin’ indebted.

Viktor, undeterred by the lackluster thank you, opted to steer the conversation towards a more productive direction. “Alright, now what?” Viktor posed the question broadly, looking between them. “Do you two have a place to lay low? Somewhere safe?”

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"We ain’t thought that far ahead," Fenric confessed, a sheepish look crossing his face. "You know, with all the runnin’ and whatnot." He quickly added, as if to cover for the gap in their planning, "We’ve kinda been makin’ it up as we go."

Soren nodded, glancing between Viktor and his twin. "Findin’ somewhere safe to hole up weren’t exactly on today’s list," he admitted with a small chuckle.

Viktor looked at Arelos, who was already shaking his head, likely sensing Viktor’s next words. Despite Arelos’s obvious hesitation, Viktor pressed on, the words on his tongue refusing to be held back.

"We have a place," Viktor offered, with a reassuring smile. "It’s safe and away from prying eyes. You two could lay low there until things blow over."

Arelos made a noise that spoke volumes without words, a familiar signal to Viktor of his friend’s reluctance. Viktor, however, remained undeterred, keeping his attention on the two brothers as if he hadn’t heard it.

Soren was the first to speak up after processing the unexpected offer. "What’s the catch?" he asked, a hint of wariness threading through his voice.

Viktor shook his head. "No catch," he assured, his tone earnest. "Just a place to stay until you figure things out."

The twins exchanged a look, a silent conversation passing between them before they gathered in a huddle of hushed whispers. Viktor and Arelos stood patiently, watching the twins debate their offer.

After a moment, Fenric spoke up, a decision seemingly reached. "Alright then," he said, nodding firmly. "We’ll take ya up on that."

Arelos hesitated, a blend of caution and uncertainty clouding his expression. He leaned in, whispering low enough for only Viktor to hear, "I don’t like this, Viktor. We’re inviting a lot of risk into our lives. We don’t even know these boys."

Viktor placed a reassuring hand on Arelos’s arm, meeting his gaze with a steady confidence. "Don’t worry about it," he murmured.

Arelos searched Viktor’s eyes, looking for any sign of hesitance, but found none. Eventually, he gave a reluctant nod. "Fine," he conceded quietly, his tone still edged with caution. "Just… don’t let them anywhere near our coins. They’re obviously part of a thieving guild."

If you spot this narrative on Amazon, know that it has been stolen. Report the violation.

Viktor nodded, acknowledging Arelos’s wisdom with a steady smile. "Got it, we'll be careful," he promised.

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Viktor led the way through the bustling streets of Lycona, Arelos accompanying the twins, Fenric and Soren, close behind. The city, vivid with the colors of late afternoon, played host to streams of people going about their business, the chaos a comforting constant. Together, they navigated the lively scene, drawing little attention as they made their way toward the attic Viktor and Arelos called home.

As they walked, Viktor kept the atmosphere light, attempting to ease any lingering tension. “So, the guild, eh?” he started, glancing sideways at the two boys. “You guys part of that?”

Fenric, the more talkative of the twins, nodded with a grin that bordered on cocky confidence. “We are—” he started with pride, before catching himself, “we was,” he corrected, his words rolling off with a casual drawl. "Nearly three years now," he boasted, adding a touch of swagger. “Best sneaks this city's ever seen, mark my words.”

Viktor couldn't help but chuckle at Fenric's boast, unsure whether to be appalled or impressed by such an open claim. In his mind, the thought of taking pride in thievery was as foreign as it was bold. He decided to let Fenric's proclamation slide, focusing instead on keeping the conversation going.

Soren, walking more quietly alongside his brother, shot a glance at him and said, "Not that it matters none now, with what all went down today."

Viktor sensed the shift in Soren's tone, the edge of unease that accompanied leaving such an organization. “No better time for a fresh start, right?” he offered, casting his gaze forward to the path ahead.

The twins seemed to mull over Viktor's words, their footsteps falling into a comfortable rhythm as they weaved through the city's alleys and streets. Viktor took note of their relaxed demeanor, contrasting sharply with the tension from earlier.

Before long, they arrived at the ladder leading up to the attic. Viktor climbed up first, his movements a familiar dance of practiced ease. Once inside, he made sure the inner room was locked securely, safeguarding their belongings within. Satisfied, he returned to the window and signaled for the others to join him, his gesture both welcoming and reassuring.

The attic, though simple and spare, held a sense of solace and shelter. Viktor had grown accustomed to its comfort, the way it offered safety from the world outside—a feeling he hoped the twins would come to share.

The boys glanced around, their eyes wandering over the makeshift beds and the modest furnishings. “This ain't bad,” Fenric admitted, his voice carrying a note of approval as he settled down on one of the empty spaces. “Better than most places we've been.”

Soren nodded in agreement, his expression filled with a quiet appreciation. “Yeah, definitely not the worst,” he added, his tone echoing his brother's sentiment.

A small smile tugged at Viktor's lips. “Glad you think so,” he replied, his voice warm and welcoming as he, too, settled into the space. “It's not much, but it's home for now.”

Arelos, who had been observing the twins with a discerning eye, gave a nod of approval and commented, "It does the job. There's also an outhouse out back," he added, pointing toward the small window that revealed the general direction. "Use it however you like, just make sure we don't end up stepping in any filth."

Viktor chuckled, a fond smile playing on his lips as he remembered Arelos issuing a similar warning to him when he first started living in the attic.

As the conversation began to flow more freely, Viktor found himself enjoying the twins' company. Though they were younger and had navigated lives vastly different from his own, they held a certain charm and energy that Viktor found refreshing.

Fenric, feeling more relaxed, began recounting tales from their days with the guild—stories of narrow escapes and perilous exploits that painted a vivid picture of their resourcefulness and daring.

“’Member that time we hustled that merchant’s ring?” Fenric burst out, his eyes gleaming with the fun of the memory. “Took the bloke days to suss it was nicked!”

Soren snorted, shaking his head with a wily grin. “Yeah, an' he went 'round accusin’ his own crew of pinchin' it,” he added, a roguish gleam in his eyes.

Viktor listened intently, captivated by the world these boys described. Despite the questionable ethics of their stories, he couldn't help but be intrigued by their ingenuity and the tenacity that had seen them survive in such a challenging environment.

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Viktor surveyed the attic, the echoes of the twins' jovial laughter still hanging in the air like a warm embrace. He leaned back, savoring the rare tranquility following their recent escapades. His curiosity stirred like a pot coming to boil.

“Tell me, how old are you two?” Viktor inquired, a friendly gleam in his eye as he looked between Fenric and Soren.

“We're twelve!” Fenric declared proudly, puffing up like a small bird trying to appear bigger. “And you?”

“Thirteen,” Viktor replied automatically, then paused, his tone shifting to a more somber note as realization took hold. "Actually, I suppose I'm fourteen now."

Arelos, propped against the wooden wall with casual ease, chimed in with a nod. “Same here—fourteen.”

A cozy silence draped itself over them, the attic creaking gently as it coddled them in its timeworn eaves.

Shuffling slightly, Arelos fixed his gaze on Fenric, creasing his brow with the ponderance of unasked questions. “About that confrontation,” he began, his voice threaded with curiosity, “we caught wind of what was said earlier. Real talk—did you really pilfer from your own guild?”

Fenric's hackles rose instinctively, a flash of bravado flaring in his response. “And if we did?” he shot back with an exaggerated shrug. “What's it to you?”

Before Arelos could answer the challenge, Viktor smoothly inserted himself into the exchange, aiming to diffuse potential sparks. “Just gathering intel,” Viktor reassured, his tone gentle yet inquisitive, “so we can plot our next moves wisely.”

Soren scratched his head, deciding to spill a bit of the truth. "Alright," he admitted, "we might've gotten a bit too greedy, y'know, with them extra coins layin' around the safehouse. And yeah, the guild master’d prob'ly have our heads if he ever catches us," he added with a chuckle that didn’t quite mask the anxiety in his eyes.

Arelos shook his head, a mixture of admonishment and disbelief in his voice. “You never swipe from your own guild, even I know that” he articulated, with the evenness of someone who understood all too well the gravitas of their predicament.

Viktor raised a hand for peace, motioning to pause before youthful indignation reignited. “What's done is done,” he said soothingly, locking eyes with Fenric and Soren. “But you’ll probably need to lie low for a while, though hunkering down here forever isn’t an option.”

Fenric and Soren nodded, a cocktail of apprehension and understanding flitting across their features.

Viktor pressed on, mapping a tentative strategy aloud. “I doubt the guild's reach extends out here,” he mused. “Stick to evening outings, and the odds of running into any former compatriots of yours should be slim.”

He leaned forward, his tone steady. "I'll bring supplies after my morning shift at the Den." He paused, considering his next words. "By the way, what was the name of the guild you were part of?"

There was a beat of hesitation before Fenric relinquished the name, honoring it with reluctant deference. “Hollow Hand,” he murmured, the weight of it settling heavily in the room.

Arelos sighed, a knowing concern etching itself onto his face.

Soren chose to momentarily sidestep the gravity, turning back to Viktor with curiosity piqued. “So, about this Den? What's your hustle there?”

Viktor smiled. “Outrider's Den, it’s a tavern. I lend a hand time-to-time,” he expounded. “We've got a good thing going there with the owner.”

Seizing the moment, Viktor shifted the spotlight back to Arelos, his interest piqued by the earlier reaction. “So, you’re familiar with this guild?” he probed.

Arelos nodded, the gravity of his words underscored by a cautious tone. "They’re the top guild in Lycona," he affirmed, "and as aggressive as they come."

An introspective silence laid itself upon the attic, the revelation resonating like a solemn bell tolling for awareness and precision in their forthcoming maneuvers.

The twins exchanged knowing glances, a silent testament to their shared awareness of Hollow Hand’s daunting reputation. Viktor absorbed Arelos’s words, tucking it away in his mental arsenal as a reminder to tread carefully.

“We’ll navigate these waters,” Viktor promised, his voice a beacon of determination that provided a steadying force amid the unknown. “But for now, we keep a low profile.”

Arelos nodded in agreement, his typical quiet wisdom serving as a compass in the murky waters between safety and peril.

“Got it,” Fenric agreed, echoed almost instantaneously by his brother. Their accord settled in the room, a united front against the looming uncertainties.