Over the next few weeks, a sense of cautious relaxation settled in among the boys. The immediate threat from the guild seemed to have subsided, allowing them to breathe a little easier, though the nagging reality of their dwindling resources loomed like an ever-approaching storm cloud.
Arelos resumed his visits to the temple to continue his lessons, eager to make up for lost time. Viktor also returned to his shifts at the Outrider’s Den, immersing himself in the comforting rhythm of familiar tasks and faces, finding solace in the predictability of his routine. The twins, Fenric and Soren, meanwhile, explored the city cautiously, their ventures always mindful of avoiding any run-ins with former guild compatriots.
Yet, despite their efforts to maintain a semblance of normalcy, Viktor could not ignore the slow depletion of their coins, each expenditure feeling like a drop in a progressively emptier bucket. It wasn’t long before Arelos addressed the issue.
“Viktor, we can’t keep this up,” Arelos said, his tone as blunt as ever. He leaned against the wall, arms crossed. “Our stashed coins will run dry well before winter at this rate.”
Viktor, seated cross-legged on his makeshift bed, nodded slowly. “I know. With the twins here now, we have more mouths to feed. Even with us working, we’re barely breaking even.”
Arelos agreed with a thoughtful nod. “Yes, and our lodging might not stay ours come winter if the current trend continues in the city. We need a plan, something solid.”
Their musings were interrupted by the twins, Fenric and Soren, engaged in an animated discussion of their own. Their conversation, filled with laughter and playful banter, was filled with the carefree spirit typical of brothers.
“Hey,” Viktor called over, interrupting with a small wave to catch their attention. “Guys, can you come over here?”
Fenric looked to Soren with an exaggerated pout before pushing himself up from the floor and sauntering over. “You summoned, my lord?” Fenric asked with mock gravity, causing Viktor to chuckle.
“Yeah, yeah,” Viktor replied lightly. “Listen, we need to make some decisions here. You two planning to stick around with us for the long haul?”
The twins exchanged a glance, a silent communication passing between them before they turned back to Viktor. Fenric, as usual, was the first to speak. “If you’ll have us,” he said with a nod.
Viktor’s face softened, a short laugh escaping him. “Of course, you’re part of the group now. No going back.”
At this, Arelos interjected, his tone gentler than usual. “But that means we need to discuss some practical matters. Our current situation with money is… precarious.”
Soren reached into his pocket and produced a small, worn purse which jingled faintly as he tossed it gently toward Viktor. “Got some here,” he said, nodding toward the coins. “Fifteen coppers. It ain’t much, but it’ll help.”
Viktor accepted the purse gratefully, weighing it in his hand. “Thanks,” he said, genuine gratitude in his voice. “Every bit counts, but Arelos and I were talking... We might not have a roof over our heads come winter if things change in the city.”
“You’re expecting more change?” Soren asked, his tone edged with concern.
Viktor fixed his gaze on Soren, weighing his words carefully. “The way the city is swelling with folks moving in, and with the Withering hitting everywhere…” Viktor let the sentence hang, aware of the reality lurking at the edges of their lives. The twins remained quiet, absorbing the weight of their precarious situation.
“That’s why we need something more consistent,” Arelos added thoughtfully. “Work that isn’t piecemeal.”
It was then that Fenric, ever eager and bold, spoke up with what he clearly believed was an ingenious idea. “Why don’t we pull off a heist?” he suggested, his eyes bright with mischief and anticipation.
Viktor blinked at the unexpected suggestion, finding himself momentarily at a loss for words. “A heist?” he repeated, trying to process the idea.
“Sure,” Fenric confirmed confidently. “Find some rich folks or a cushy target, break in, take what we need. Just one good score could see us through the rest of the year.”
Arelos, ever the voice of reason, intervened before Viktor could respond. “Stealing is too risky,” he countered, his expression grave. “If we get caught, it could ruin everything we’ve built. There’s safer ways to get coin.”
But Fenric was not so easily dissuaded. “It’s not all that risky if you know what you're doing,” he argued. “I’ve pulled plenty of jobs and got away clean. We’re good at it.”
Soren interjected, adding a hint of reality to Fenric’s bravado. “Yeah, but look where it got us,” he pointed out dryly, reminding his brother of their narrow escape from the guild’s wrath.
“Just bad luck,” Fenric muttered, though his defiance was slightly tempered by Soren’s pragmatism.
Viktor halted the exchange with a raised hand. “Listen, we’re not in the business of stealing from folks. We’re smarter than that. I'll talk to Bryna about more shifts, but we still have to keep you guys under the radar to avoid guild attention.”
Arelos sighed, adding, “A couple of extra shifts might help, but it won’t be enough on its own.”
If you stumble upon this narrative on Amazon, be aware that it has been stolen from Royal Road. Please report it.
Viktor glanced at Arelos, determination setting in his gaze. "We'll find a way," he declared, his voice carrying a newfound resolve. "Something's bound to come our way." The room fell silent, the weight of their uncertain future settling around them, but Viktor's words lingered, a beacon of hope amid the encroaching shadows.
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The next few months flew by for Viktor, Arelos, Fenric, and Soren. They managed to avoid further run-ins with the guild, allowing them to feel a bit more at ease. But, despite their efforts, the work they could secure was barely enough to keep their heads above water. Viktor worked tirelessly from dawn until dusk, yet even his boundless energy was starting to wane under the strain. Arelos, seeing Viktor's exhaustion, offered to take a break from his studies to help find work. Viktor, however, insisted that Arelos continue his studies, having already paid for them upfront.
The twins, despite their best intentions, were unable to contribute significantly. They spent their days wandering around Lycona in search of work or something to occupy their time. Though they managed to land a few shifts at the Den, thanks to Viktor's persuasion, those opportunities were too sparse to make a real difference, leaving a growing frustration at their inability to help.
The twins often tried to convince Viktor to consider thievery, an idea that didn’t sit well with him, and he shot it down repeatedly. Their sense of helplessness deepened as Viktor remained steadfast in his refusal.
Eventually, the strain reached a breaking point. With Viktor and Arelos fast asleep, Fenric and Soren stealthily slipped out of the attic under the cloak of night, determined to take matters into their own hands.
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It was the first light of dawn when Viktor awoke to the clattering sound of metal hitting wood, his groggy mind struggling to make sense of the noise. Rubbing the sleep from his eyes, he blinked rapidly, trying to focus on his surroundings. Arelos, startled by the noise, sat up quickly, scanning the room until his gaze fell on Fenric and Soren.
Standing triumphantly, Fenric had just dumped a small cloth bundle onto the attic floor, the contents spilling out haphazardly. Gleaming in the early morning light were a jumble of silverware, glinting rings, a silver necklace, and—oddly enough—a wooden cup with intricate carvings.
"What in the world..." Viktor muttered, rising to his knees, irritation quickly settling over him as he comprehended what the twins had done. "What were you thinking?"
Fenric shrugged, trying to maintain an air of nonchalance. "You weren’t going to budge, Viktor. We had no other choice."
"No other choice?" Viktor echoed, his voice rising in disbelief. "I told you, things are picking up at the Den. More shifts were coming our way."
Soren, standing beside his brother, spoke up, his voice level but edged with urgency. "Vik, come on, you been sayin’ that for ages now. Coin’s running low. Winter’s months 'way, sure, but the city's reclaiming spots already. Half the houses here are being taken up."
Their back and forth continued, frustrations simmering between them. Meanwhile, Arelos, seemingly detached from the brewing dispute, inspected the loot with a curious eye. He lifted the wooden cup, running his fingers over its carvings, his brow furrowed in confusion.
He interrupted, asking, "Why did you nick a wooden mug?"
Viktor turned, momentarily distracted from his tirade, noticing Arelos's lack of concern over the stolen goods. Annoyance at his friend's indifference bubbled up. "Seriously? That's what you're concerned about right now? They risked everything!"
Arelos shrugged, meeting Viktor’s exasperated gaze. "I heard you, loud and clear, but you know what? I’m inclined to agree with Soren," he said, his voice calm yet firm. "What we've been doing isn't sustainable."
Viktor blinked, stunned that Arelos was siding with the twins. He opened his mouth to argue, but Arelos raised his hand to silence him.
"Before you go off about morals and whatnot, I already know your stance," Arelos interjected quickly. "You’ve made it clear. And I’m not about to dive into a debate. What’s done is done. We need to move on."
Viktor closed his eyes, a muscle twitching in his jaw as he clenched his teeth. After a moment, he let out a resigned sigh. "Fine," he muttered, starting to release his frustration. "So now what?"
Fenric perked up, his usual eagerness shining through. "Now we sell the stuff," he declared victoriously. "It's a solid haul!"
Soren cocked an eyebrow at him, curiosity replacing trepidation. "And where exactly are we gonna sell it, Fen?" he inquired, folding his arms across his chest.
Fenric looked at Soren as if he’d missed the obvious answer. "The fence, duh!" he said, beaming with confidence.
Soren’s expression turned deadpan. "Really, Fen? The guild fence?" he questioned evenly.
Fenric hesitated, visibly replaying the implications in his mind before responding. "Oh," he said, his arrogance deflating. "That's, uh ... a problem, huh?"
Viktor just shook his head, a wry smile tugging at his lips despite himself. "That's an understatement," he remarked, his tone lightening slightly.
Arelos, aiming to bring focus back to their situation, spoke up. "We know a fence—Faros—operates around here. I’m pretty sure he’s guild-affiliated, but I don't know which one." He glanced at the twins for confirmation. "Ever heard of him?"
Soren shook his head. "No," he replied thoughtfully. "Our fence doesn’t do business in the Burrows."
Arelos pressed on, keeping his tone level. "Any chance you were followed or could be recognized?"
Fenric shook his head confidently. "No way, we had a clean break," he boasted. "Might be our best job yet, if I do say so myself."
Arelos weighed their assurance with a skeptical nod. "Alright then," he said, deciding on a course of action. "We’ll lay low for a bit, just to be sure. Then we'll approach Faros and see what he thinks."
Fixing his gaze on Viktor, Arelos’s tone shifted, gentle yet resolute. "Vik, what’s done is done. Let's deal with the situation as it is."
Viktor released another sigh, more of his tension bleeding away as he glanced between them. "Alright," he conceded, "but this is a one-time thing," he insisted, pointedly addressing the twins. "I’m not getting mixed up in thieving escapades again."
Fenric and Soren exchanged relieved smiles, nodding in agreement. "Got it, Viktor," Soren replied earnestly. "No more stealing, promise.”
The tension in the room eased slightly, but the quiet that followed was uneasy, laden with unspoken thoughts. The faint creak of the floorboards beneath their feet filled the void as the group settled into a moment of stillness, each lost in their own mind.
Arelos broke the silence, his voice cutting through the lull like a blade. He held up the wooden mug once more, his gaze steady as he addressed Fenric. "You never answered me earlier. Why this?" he asked, his tone sharp, redirecting attention back to the peculiar artifact.
Fenric scratched his head, trying to look unfazed. "Eh, thought it looked real fancy, yeah? Maybe worth somethin'," he said with a casual shrug, though his voice carried an edge of doubt.
Arelos stared at Fenric for a long moment, then let out a quiet sigh, shaking his head slowly as if the boy were a hopeless case. Without another word, he set the mug down and turned his attention back to the pile, clearly deciding it wasn’t worth pursuing further.
With a consensus reached, the group settled into a waiting game, aware of the risks yet determined to see this through wisely.