The night was cool and cloaked in thick shadows as Viktor, Arelos, Fenric, and Soren made their way through the cobbled streets toward the manor. The moon hung in the sky, casting a silver glow that danced off the edges of the buildings. Each step they took was measured, soundless, as though the night itself held its breath in anticipation.
Arelos paused at a tree just shy of the manor’s entrance. "Remember, stick to the shadows. If anyone tails you, don't lead them back to the attic," he reiterated, peering into the dimly lit distance.
Viktor nodded alongside the group, tension coiled in his stomach like a tightly wound spring. His breath was steady, his mind sharp. Tonight was the night they’d planned for—a week of whispers and strategizing, now boiling down to these crucial moments.
"It's all set," Arelos continued, his tone a calming juxtaposition to the nervous energy thrumming around them. "If things go sour, head to the alley. Supplies are stashed there. Keep your heads down until it blows over."
The group nodded, a united front, as they exchanged final affirmations.
Arelos motioned for silence, gesturing towards the house. "As observed, there’s usually only one guard around this time. When he rounds the west corner—that’s your move, Viktor." He glanced at Fenric, "You'll be with him."
Fenric, who crouched expectantly on the ground, nodded, his usual cheek replaced by a rare focus.
Viktor felt the weight of the plan settle over him, each detail etched in his mind with crystal clarity. Every inch of this place had been scrutinized in preparation, every possible twist anticipated.
Minutes stretched. Their world shrank to just them and the manor before them.
Soren, from his lookout, suddenly whispered, "He's moving. Get ready." His voice was barely louder than the breath it rode on, yet it carried an undeniable urgency.
Fenric pushed himself to his feet, a liveliness returning to his eyes as he prepared for the task ahead.
Arelos nodded at Viktor, signaling it was time to move. "Remember the signal. Get creative if you need to," he whispered, eyes scanning the surroundings.
"Got it," Viktor replied, his heart beating a steady rhythm against his ribcage.
"Be quick. Be precise," Arelos added, his tone firm, offering a final word of encouragement.
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Viktor and Fenric set off, moving with the stealth of shadows as they closed in on the black metal fence. They climbed over it with practiced ease, landing softly on the other side, the garden's damp earth cushioning their steps.
The pair made their way towards the plain east-side door of the manor, the chilly night air adding urgency to their mission. Fenric glanced around nervously, ensuring they weren't seen, whispering as he did, "You got the tools, right?"
Viktor, unable to resist himself, replied, "Tools? Oh no, I thought you were supposed to bring tools," he said, feigning shock.
Fenric turned sharply to Viktor, disbelief written across his face. "You’re jokin’, right? We can’t do this now!" he exclaimed, his voice a low hiss.
Viktor shrugged, keeping up the ruse. "Guess I’ll figure something out," he said nonchalantly, as if unworried by the lack of tools.
Fenric threw his hands up in exasperation. "We’re aborting, Vik! We’re not sweet-talkin’ our way past a door for real!" His whispered shout carried more annoyance than fear.
Viktor knew that Arelos would be unimpressed with his antics had he been there to witness it. But still, the chance to have a little playful jab at Fenric was one he couldn't resist.
"I might just give it a try," Viktor muttered, pretending to address the door with mock sincerity. Leaning close, he hovered his hand above the lock, whispering, "Be a good door now, and let two young dashing lads like us in, won't you?"
Viktor then closed his eyes, focusing on the lock intently. Within moments, there was a faint sound of metal shifting, and then the lock clicked. The door slid open, almost as if it welcomed them of its own accord.
He turned back to Fenric with mock surprise on his face. "Huh, guess I really do have a way with words. Thanks, dear door."
Fenric stood frozen, his mouth partway open, as he processed what he had just seen.
Viktor watched Fenric, noting how the revelation seemed to have left his companion utterly flabbergasted. Fenric's eyes darted from the door to Viktor, his brain visibly scrambling to piece together what had just happened.
"That—how did you...?" Fenric stammered, pointing at the door then at Viktor in disbelief.
Realizing they had no time to waste, Viktor decided to address the issue directly, hoping to snap Fenric out of his stupor. “Fenric,” he said, giving his friend’s shoulder a firm, reassuring squeeze. “Listen, I’m a mage. Or something to that effect at least.” Viktor paused, making sure Fenric was listening. “We can talk about it later, alright? Right now, we need to move.”
Viktor firmly grabbed Fenric's shoulder, urging him into motion before he could fully process the revelation. The urgency in Viktor's grip jolted Fenric to action, and he stumbled slightly as he followed Viktor into the house.
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The hallway they entered was dimly lit, the faint glow of moonlight filtering through the narrow windows above, casting long, pale shadows across the tiled floor. Viktor moved swiftly, his mind focused on the task ahead, acutely aware of the time ticking by. He led the way, and Fenric, still reeling from the recent revelation, trailed behind him, his footing less sure but his determination unshaken.
Once inside, they paused to listen, each breath quiet and measured as they attuned their ears to the mansion's murmurings. The echo of distant footfalls reached them, prompting Viktor to pull Fenric into an alcove, where they stood, breath held. Viktor's mind raced, calculating their next moves with precision.
"Which way?" Fenric finally managed, his voice a hushed whisper laden with intrigue.
Viktor pointed towards a set of stairs leading up, his expression focused and purposeful. "Study should be upstairs—second door on the left," he replied, his voice low yet steady. "That's where we'll find it."
Fenric nodded, and together they crept forward, careful with each step. Viktor's eyes scanned the interior, mentally marking exits and potential cover spots should they need them.
They reached the staircase, and Viktor started up first, testing the strength of each board beneath him to ensure stealth. Fenric followed suit, any hesitancy from before now replaced by a concerted effort to emulate Viktor's silent precision.
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Each creak seemed magnified in the silence, but they pressed on, reaching the landing and pausing once more to listen. Viktor's eyes fell on the corridor's end where the door they sought awaited.
They approached cautiously, Viktor's breath steady as he reached for the handle, only to find it locked.
Viktor shot a quick glance back at Fenric, a knowing smirk playing on his lips. He leaned forward, focus and determination in his eyes, as he extended a steady hand towards the lock. Fenric's eyes widened, his gaze fixed intently on Viktor, trying to catch every subtle movement and trick.
In silence, Viktor focused his mind, feeling the mechanisms within the lock with an invisible touch. Moments later, the lock clicked, and the door swung open silently. The faintest smile tugged at Viktor's lips as he glanced back at Fenric.
"That's something else," Fenric murmured, amazement clear in his voice.
Shaking off any moment of triumph, Viktor nodded. "No time for that now," he replied. "We've got to stay on task."
Fenric nodded back, resolute. "Right behind you."
With the door now open, they slipped inside the study, careful to minimize noise.
In the dimly lit study, the flickering shadows on the walls seemed to play a game of hide and seek with the quiet intruders. Viktor gestured towards the desk, spotting a candle nestled amid scattered papers. "I'll need the tinderbox," he whispered over his shoulder to Fenric, still by the door, keeping watch.
Fenric moved cautiously, reaching into his pocket to retrieve the small, metal box, and handed it to Viktor. "Here you go. Be quick," he said, his voice barely above a whisper, eyes still scanning the corridor for any signs of movement.
Viktor took the tinderbox and opened it, trying to strike the flimsy flint against steel as silently as possible. Each attempt produced a muted scrape and a brief flare of sparks, which danced around the candle’s wick but failed to catch. After the third strike, Viktor glanced back at Fenric, who subtly signaled that all was clear outside. Reassured, Viktor returned to his task with renewed focus.
Finally, the fourth strike managed to light the wick, the flame casting a soft orange glow throughout the room. The light revealed a cluttered desk with documents strewn about, some marked with various seals and insignias that broadcast their importance.
"Let's find the letter," Viktor instructed, his voice steady as he set the tinderbox aside and began to sift through the papers.
Viktor moved with precision, scanning the shelves and surfaces for any sign of the significant envelope. Fenric stayed by the door, ears attuned to the slightest of disturbances outside the room.
The envelope proved elusive as Viktor sifted through stacks of parchment, his fingers brushing over countless documents bearing red wax seals. Time was slipping through their fingers, an invisible enemy urging them to hasten their search.
Viktor's brow furrowed in concentration, eyes sharply scanning the surfaces. Finally, his gaze fell upon a small, ornate chest tucked away on a low shelf. Its unassuming appearance masked the promise of what it could contain.
Viktor approached it, his touch gentle as he lifted the lid with care. Inside lay a singular, sealed envelope, neatly edged and official in appearance.
"Got it," Viktor whispered, holding up the envelope for Fenric to see.
Fenric nodded in approval, a smirk playing at the corners of his mouth. "Perfect. We've got a little time left," he suggested, reaching into his pocket to pull out an empty cloth sack. "Let's see if we can snag anything else worth our trouble." His voice was low, filled with the excitement of the hunt.
Viktor hesitated for a moment, weighing the risk of taking more. But eventually, he nodded, signaling his consent. "Alright," he agreed, "but let's not push our luck. Quick and quiet."
They moved cautiously through the dimly lit study, eyes scanning for anything of value.
Viktor began to collect random documents and letters, not because he believed they held significant value, but rather for the petty satisfaction of knowing their absence might inconvenience the owner. Each paper he tucked away felt like a small, triumphant act of mischief.
Viktor's fingers skimming over the desk came to a pause as he noticed a drawer, slightly ajar. Curiosity piqued, he reached out and opened it, revealing a neatly wrapped bundle of soft cloth nested within. Carefully, he unfolded the fabric to uncover a gleaming signet ring.
The ring was a masterpiece, its gold surface shimmering in the candlelight, adorned with an intricately carved family crest that spoke of wealth and legacy. Viktor couldn't help but marvel at its craftsmanship, holding it up to better admire the detail.
"Fenric," Viktor called softly, catching his friend's attention.
Fenric glanced over, a grin spreading across his face as he laid eyes on the ring. "Now that's some find," he whispered with a hint of mischief. "I reckon the big merchant man won't be too pleased when he notices it gone."
Viktor matched his grin. "Indeed," he murmured, slipping the valuable ring into his pocket.
Continuing their search through the sparsely decorated room, the boys found little else of interest. Viktor was just about to call it when his eyes landed on Fenric, who was holding a wooden mug.
"Really, Fen? Another mug? What's your obsession with those?" Viktor whispered, incredulity lacing his voice.
Fenric shrugged. "You never know, right? Could be worth something," he whispered back.
Viktor shook his head, a faint chuckle escaping him despite the tension. "Right, next thing you know, we'll be the city's greatest mug collectors," he joked, the levity offering a brief respite in the gravity of their task.
But their moment was shattered by a distant sound—a creaking floorboard echoing in the hallway. Viktor stiffened, all senses suddenly alert. He motioned for silence, gesturing Fenric to remain still.
They stood, breath held as footsteps shuffled outside, slow and deliberate. Viktor’s heart raced, every fiber of his being attuned to the approaching sound.
The tension stretched, almost unbearable, until the steps faded away. Relief washed over them, but it was fleeting. Viktor knew they had to leave. Now.
"We need to move," Viktor urged quietly, folding the envelope safely within his cloak.
Viktor nodded and picked up the still-burning candle from the desk. "Let's set this up," he whispered to Fenric. Together, they quickly left the study, their footsteps light against the wooden floor.
As they reached a nearby window, Viktor carefully placed the candle on the ledge, its flickering light casting soft shadows across the room. "Start counting," he instructed Fenric, who nodded and began a silent countdown.
They moved stealthily down the staircase, their focus was fixed on reaching the exit. Just as Viktor was about to ask how much time was left, a voice resonated through the corridor, stopping them in their tracks. It was a woman's voice, her tone accusatory and laced with suspicion. "Who are you, and what exactly do you think you're doing?"
Viktor turned slowly, his heart racing, to find a maid standing before them. She looked tired, perhaps having just woken up, but her eyes were sharp with suspicion. Fenric gripped Viktor's arm tightly, ready to flee, but Viktor's mind raced, searching for a way out.
Drawing on every ounce of noble demeanor he could muster, Viktor replied with cool indignation, “Who am I? Is this how guests are treated here? We arrived on a matter of urgent business for my father, and we’re met with neglect and now insults.” His voice was commanding, a sharp contrast to the warm, gentle interior of the home.
The maid hesitated, surprised by the commanding tone of the young man before her. She fumbled for words, trying to make sense of this unexpected encounter. "I-I apologize, my lord," she stammered, bowing her head slightly in deference. "I was unaware of any visitors tonight. It's late, and I heard a noise, so I came to check." Her voice was a mixture of confusion and genuine concern.
Fenric tugged at Viktor's sleeve, leaning in to whisper urgently, "Viktor, the count's up. We're out of time. We need to move."
Viktor, feeling a twinge of pity for the maid's distress, maintained his authoritative demeanor. "Very well," he said with a firm nod. "You can inform your master that I require his immediate presence."
The maid blinked, caught off guard, and then quickly nodded, her steps hurried as she turned to deliver the message, clearly eager to fulfill her unexpected duty.
Once she was out of sight, Viktor and Fenric exchanged a quick glance, the urgency of the situation snapping them back to their immediate purpose. Without wasting another moment, they pivoted and made their way back through the manor.
They slipped back through the same door they had entered, emerging into the night once more. The garden lay before them, a path shrouded in moonlight guiding their way. Keeping low and moving quickly, they made their escape, hearts pounding with the thrill and tension of their narrow escape.
As they moved through the shadows of the garden, Viktor cast a quick glance at Fenric, a small smile breaking through his composed exterior. "Looks like we got out just in time," he murmured, his voice a mixture of relief and triumph.
Fenric chuckled, shaking off the tension of the encounter. "Yeah. You had that maid running 'round dazed like a headless chicken. Smart play, just like Arelos said—improvise and adapt."
Viktor and Fenric successfully cleared the fence, landing quietly onto the cobbled street that stretched before them. Their footsteps echoed softly as they made their way toward the designated checkpoint, where they intended to lay low before returning to the attic.
Under the cover of night, the two boys navigated the maze of alleys and shadowy passages, sticking to the plan Arelos had drilled into them. Each turn was part of a precise path, calculated to ensure they wouldn't be easily tracked.