The boys reached their first checkpoint, choosing a small, trifling alley near an old, rundown building that cast long shadows on the street. It was a place disregarded by most, perfect for slipping unnoticed into its forgettable confines to wait out any unwanted followers. Viktor took a quick sweep of their surroundings, scanning for any potential company.

"Seems clear," Viktor murmured, crouching closer to the wall to lessen his visibility, the adrenaline from their recent thread of escapades still coursing through his veins.

Fenric slid down beside him, his breath mingling with the crisp night air. "I still can't believe you can do that...with locks and all. Almost had me thinking you were sweet-talking the ruddy thing!" Fenric admitted, keeping his voice at a low murmur.

Viktor chuckled softly. "Believe it," he replied, his tone light.

"I have to admit," Fenric continued in a hushed tone, "our guild jobs never came with this level of planning. Arelos really knows his stuff." He nodded in genuine respect.

Viktor leaned back against the cold brick wall of the alley, pulling his cloak tightly around him to stave off the chill of the night air. "Arelos is something else," he agreed, nodding thoughtfully. "We're lucky to have him with us."

Fenric leaned back against the wall, his features relaxing. "Lucky for sure, but he could still loosen up. Guy's as rigid as a board sometimes."

Viktor chuckled, amused by the comparison. "Can't argue with that," he replied. "He's definitely got a serious streak."

"You think they made it to their checkpoint alright?" Fenric asked, his voice barely above a whisper, tinged with a flicker of concern.

Viktor offered a reassuring smile, his confidence in their friends unquestionable. "They know what they're doing. I'm sure they made it just fine," he replied softly, hoping to ease any of Fenric's lingering worries.

They sat in comfortable silence for a few moments, their breaths mingling with the night's cool breezes. Fenric shifted, curiosity bubbling up again as he turned to Viktor. "So, what else can you do with your... magic?" he asked, eyes bright with intrigue.

Viktor shrugged. "Not much more, really," he admitted.

Fenric raised an eyebrow, a grin spreading across his face. "No summoning flames or calling down lightning like in the old stories, then?"

"No, nothing that impressive," Viktor laughed, shaking his head at the thought. "The best I can do is nudge things about from a distance. Takes a bit of focus, but it’s no fireball alright."

Fenric's eyebrows shot up at the revelation. "Wait a sec—so during that dice game, you were... tweaking the rolls? I knew it! And Soren told me I had been duped into buying a dud set!" He exclaimed, a vindicated grin breaking across his face at the realization.

Viktor burst into laughter, nodding. "Guilty as charged," he confessed with a grin. "Had a good time seeing you scratch your head in confusion. Shame I can't keep up the ruse any longer."

Fenric's grin turned sly, his eyes alight with mischief. "Well, no need to clue Soren in just yet, eh?" he suggested.

Viktor cast a sidelong glance at Fenric. "You really want to keep this from Soren? It's a bit unfair, don't you think?" he said, trying to sound serious but unable to hide the teasing note in his voice.

Fenric snorted. "Unfair? Oh, come on, Vik! Soren would do the same to me in a heartbeat!" He paused, his face taking on a wistful look. "Just imagine all the fun we could have at his expense. So much fun, so much expense."

Viktor couldn't help but chuckle, shaking his head at Fenric's antics. "You two are something else, truly. But alright, Fenric, I'll mull it over. No promises though."

The alley was quiet as Viktor sat with Fenric a while longer, enjoying the peaceful lull while they could. After about an hour of comfortable silence interspersed with occasional chatter, Viktor finally called it. "We've waited long enough. Time to head back to the attic," he decided, his voice resolute but calm.

Fenric nodded, stretching out his limbs as he rose from his seat against the cold wall. "Right, the sooner we're back, the sooner we can finally rest," he agreed, stifling a yawn as he tried to shake off the fatigue of the night's events.

They moved cautiously through the maze of Lycona's alleys, ensuring their path home remained clear and unobserved. The city around them lay still, wrapped in the thick blanket of night. Viktor led the way, his steps confident, Fenric closer now, matching his pace.

Reaching the attic after a swift and silent walk, they climbed through the small window.

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Once inside, they found Arelos and Soren already waiting, their expressions a mix of anticipation and relief.

"So, did it go well?" Arelos asked, breaking the stillness that had settled in the attic with his calm demeanor. He hadn't been expecting trouble, but his relief was palpable now that everyone was back.

Fenric's eyes lit up, and he swaggered forward with a broad grin plastered across his face. "Oh, it went more than well," he exclaimed, his voice filled with excitement. "Vik, show 'em what we got!"

Viktor chuckled at Fenric's enthusiasm. "Alright, alright. No need to shout for the whole city to hear," he teased, reaching into his cloak. He pulled out the letter, its edges crisp and sealed with the insignia in vibrant red wax.

Arelos nodded approvingly at the sight. "That's what we were after," he said, acknowledging the crucial success of their mission.

But before he could say anything further, Viktor produced the golden signet ring, which caught the fading moonlight with a gleaming allure.

Soren's eyes widened in admiration as he moved closer for a better look. "Now that's a treasure," Soren murmured, admiration clear in his voice.

Arelos, studied the ring with a critical eye before nodding with approval. "Good work," he said. "We've got what we came for. Now, we'll rest here until dawn breaks. The sooner we deliver the letter to Faros, the less chance we'll have of him trying to cheat us."

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As the night deepened, the attic took on a hushed calmness that clung to the shadows around them. Soren and Fenric settled onto their makeshift beds, the day's events catching up to them in a wave of exhaustion. Their whispered conversations gradually faded into the muted rustle of the bustling city outside.

Viktor and Arelos positioned themselves by the attic window, each scanning the streets below with a practiced vigilance. They both knew the importance of remaining alert after such a risky venture.

Arelos finally broke the silence, speaking softly to avoid waking the twins. "Soren did well tonight. Once we saw the candle in the window, he was on top of his game, making sure the guard didn’t venture back to your exit. I saw you both leave and then gathered Soren to head for our checkpoint."

Viktor nodded, appreciating the quick recap. "Things were smooth on our side, except for a hiccup at the end. We crossed paths with one of the staff, so they definitely know something’s up by now."

Arelos absorbed this information with a thoughtful nod. "Got it. We’ll need to be extra cautious when making the delivery," he agreed.

Silence fell again, but it was the comfortable quiet of shared understanding. After a while, a smile crept onto Viktor's lips as he recalled Fenric’s earlier reaction. "You should've seen Fenric’s face when I unlocked that door. He couldn’t believe it," he said, chuckling at the memory.

Arelos chuckled too, glancing at Fenric who seemed to be sleeping quite soundly despite the night’s adventures. "He looks pretty unfazed now. Seems like he’s adjusted quickly to the revelation," Arelos replied.

Viktor agreed, "Yeah, he got over it pretty fast. Though he has asked me to keep Soren in the dark for a bit longer."

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Arelos smirked. "Why would he want that?... Ah, brothers," Arelos said, understanding blossoming in his eyes. "He's hoping to get one over on Soren."

"Exactly," Viktor replied, his own smile broadening. "It’s a brother thing, I guess."

Arelos still smiling, offered a piece of advice, "I say you'd better let Soren know sooner rather than later. With Fenric in on it, the secret's already out anyways."

"You're right," Viktor agreed, contemplating the best way to break the news to Soren.

The remainder of the night passed peacefully, each boy immersed in his own reflections. The sky gradually lightened, and as the first rays of sunlight pierced the horizon, Arelos glanced at the twins, then nodded to Viktor. "Time to wake them," he said quietly.

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The boys moved cautiously through the streets of Lycona, their senses heightened as they approached Faros’ safehouse. Viktor felt a prickle of paranoia, suspecting every passerby's gaze lingered a moment too long. However, they made it to the house without incident, where a burly man at the door eyed them before letting them in.

Inside, Viktor noticed a shift in the atmosphere—unease mingled with anticipation. The wait wasn’t long before Faros appeared, his broad smile an odd counterpoint to the tense air. "Heard some whispers that the Morgavos manor got hit last night," Faros said, his eyes glinting with curiosity. "Guessing that was your handiwork?"

Viktor met Faros' gaze with a sly look. "We've had a busy night," he replied smoothly. With a subtle nod, he signaled Arelos, who stepped forward and handed Faros the sealed envelope they had retrieved.

Faros broke the seal and scanned the letter, satisfaction etching into his features. "Rumor has it," Faros continued, his tone light, "that the job was carried out by a couple of young nobles?"

"Can’t always trust the grapevine, can you?" Viktor countered smoothly, diffusing the line of questioning.

Faros leaned back, a soft chuckle escaping him. "You've got a fair point there. Rumors can be a twisty thing. I'm just curious to know what got them rolling," he said, curiosity sparking in his eyes.

Viktor held his gaze steady, determined to shift the focus back to business. "How about the payment?" he asked, keeping his voice neutral, wanting to close this chapter cleanly.

Faros's smile widened, and with a nod he said, "Give me a moment." He disappeared into the recesses of the dimly lit house.

The minutes crawled by, a heavy tension thickening the air around Viktor and his companions as they waited for Faros to return with their payment. Arelos, carrying his usual composure, couldn't help but glance at Viktor, a hint of worry leaking into his eyes. They all understood the precarious nature of their dealings, and Arelos’s mind whirled with the possibility of a con.

"Think he’ll pull one over on us?" Arelos murmured, his voice low enough that only Viktor caught it.

Viktor shook his head, a small yet reassuring gesture. "Let’s trust, at least for now," he replied, though he shared Arelos’s concern. Their dealings with Faros had been straightforward so far, but that was no guarantee of future dealings.

Just as Arelos opened his mouth, likely to voice more of his apprehensions, the soft thud of approaching footsteps signaled the fence’s return. Faros emerged, still wearing that practiced smile, a pouch hanging loosely in his hand.

He tossed the coin purse to Viktor, who caught it with ease. "All there, just as agreed," Faros assured with a casual wave.

Viktor smirked at Faros, deciding not to count the coins, trusting at least for now that their dealings were honest. "Thank you," he said simply, tucking the purse securely into his cloak before nodding to Fenric.

Fenric stepped forward eagerly, holding the makeshift cloth bundle of looted items. "So, we got a couple things here," he began, his voice carrying an edge of excitement.

Faros waited as Fenric rummaged through the bundle, pulling out the first item—a wooden mug.

Arelos shot him a disbelieving look. "Did you really swipe another mug? You dumbass," he said, shaking his head.

“Ya never know what it might fetch. Maybe it’s valuable,” Fenric countered defensively, shoulders shrugging as if to brush off Arelos’ skepticism. “Let's see what our man here thinks before you start judging.”

With a flourish, Fenric handed the mug to Faros, hoping for a surprise reaction. Faros took the mug, examining it with feigned interest before shooting a perplexed look towards Viktor.

"Are you serious with this?" Faros questioned, his eyebrow raised.

Viktor sighed, casting an apologetic glance at Faros. "More than I'd like to admit. Just indulge him, won't you?"

Faros shrugged, barely suppressing a chuckle. "Well, it's a nice enough mug, but I'm afraid my offer is... zero," he stated, shaking his head.

Fenric's face fell from hopeful anticipation to disappointment. He approached Faros with a hint of sulkiness, taking the mug back while Faros watched him with an amused smirk.

They continued to sort through the items. Most were of little value, but a silver letter opener caught Faros’s interest, as did a few of the documents Viktor had pocketed.

After a quick assessment, Faros offered them four silvers for the entire lot, an offer which Viktor accepted without much fuss.

Satisfied with the preliminary transaction, Viktor reached into his cloak for the piece de resistance, a golden signet ring.

Faros took it from him, his eyes glinting with interest. “Ah, a Morgavos signet ring,” he noted, turning the ring over to inspect the engraving. “Style and craftsmanship on point, but nobody wants another family’s mark. Material alone, I’d say it’s worth two gold.

The boys exchanged glances, nodding in agreement. It echoed what they’d expected.

“Deal,” Viktor said, nodding to Faros.

Counting out their payment, Faros presented two golds and four silvers, which he promptly handed to Viktor.

"You've amassed quite the sum," Faros said, leaning forward with a hint of conspiratorial interest. "And if you're keen to keep acquiring such gains, there's more where that came from."

Viktor raised a hand, intending to halt any further persuasion. "We'll stop while we're ahead, I think."

Faros' smile faltered slightly, perhaps a touch of disappointment clouding his eyes before he resumed his affable expression. "I see," he replied. "Understandable indeed."

The boys began to shuffle, as though making ready to leave, when Faros' voice dropped, gaining a weight that commanded attention. "The winds are changing," he began, a touch of caution slipping into his tone. "The emergence of a new player is disrupting the very delicate balance of Lycona's underworld, and old truces are being increasingly tested."

Viktor listened carefully, sensing that more lay beneath Faros's words. He stood still, all business now.

Faros turned his gaze onto Fenric and Soren, his scrutiny something far more than casual interest. "You may think you can remain unaffected, but let's be clear." He paused, ensuring his words sank in. "The Hollow Hand hasn’t forgotten about you two."

The room fell silent after Faros' ominous revelation. Fenric and Soren both swallowed hard, exchanging a glance filled with unspoken worry.

Finally, breaking the silence, Viktor looked directly at Faros, his eyes narrowing. "That a warning or a threat?" he asked, his tone cautious yet probing.

Faros leaned back slightly, studying Viktor with an amused expression. "A threat? Hardly," he chuckled, shaking his head. "I hold nothing but contempt for the Hollow Hand, so you’ve no need to worry about me. Just remember, whatever’s brewing out there will reach you eventually, and when it does—you’ll need allies."

Faros’s words hung in the air, the weight of them pressing down like an unspoken challenge. Viktor gave a curt nod, signaling the end of their exchange. "We’ll keep that in mind," he said, his tone firm. With that, the boys exchanged a brief glance and took their leave, soon stepping out into the still-awakening streets of Lycona once more.

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Faros watched the boys leave, the sound of the closing door lingering for a moment longer in the dimly lit room. He turned slightly, his eyes narrowing as he scanned the room's shadowed corners. "Your thoughts?" he asked quietly.

From the shadows, a figure stepped forward. Dressed in dark clothing that seemed to blend seamlessly with the dim light, the man surveyed the room before speaking. "They were surprisingly thorough in their preparation," he began, casting a critical eye towards Faros. "But the execution makes it clear they're inexperienced."

Faros nodded, understanding. "That's to be expected," he replied with a knowing smile. "The youngest ones might have some relevant experience, but we all know how the Hollow Hand tends to squander its resources."

The shadowed man hesitated for a moment, uncertainty evident in his voice as he spoke again. "There's something else," he said.

Faros raised an eyebrow, curiosity piqued. "Well, let's hear it," he prompted, leaning forward slightly.

The shadowed man continued, "I didn't get a good look from my vantage point, but I suspect that the boy might be a mage."

Faros's eyes widened slightly in surprise at the revelation. "A mage? Surely you must be mistaken," he replied, skepticism in his tone. "What makes you think that?"

The man explained, "The entry they used had a complex lock. Even a master lockpick would have been slowed down by it, but the boy didn’t even attempt to pick it. He just held out his hands, and seconds later, they stepped through."

"Are you sure it wasn't left unlocked by mistake?" Faros questioned, his skepticism evident.

The man shook his head. "No, that door was definitely locked."

Faros thought for a moment, trying to find a reasonable explanation. "Are you saying he destroyed the lock somehow?"

The shadowed man hesitated again, his uncertainty growing as he spoke. "I inspected it afterwards. There were no signs of destruction or tampering."

Faros considered this, appearing unconvinced. "But wouldn't a mage's abilities typically leave some mark—some sign of forced entry or destruction?"

"Usually, yes," the man conceded, an edge of doubt creeping into his voice. "But I'm certain of what I saw."

Faros let the silence stretch out, weighing this new information. "If he's truly a mage, then perhaps our suspicions of his highborn status hold more weight," he speculated. "Have you found anything else about him?"

The man shook his head slightly, a frown crossing his brow. "Nothing substantial. If he indeed is highborn, it's a mystery what circumstances have led to his current situation. There are no whispers of any missing scions from the known local families," he explained.

Faros leaned back in his chair, a thoughtful look crossing his features. "Then from another city perhaps? Could he be from further afield?" he speculated.

The man considered this for a moment before responding. "His accent fits this region too well. It's possible, but not probable," he stated, his voice calm and analytical.

Faros smiled faintly, a glint of intrigue in his eyes. "I don't yet know what role the boy will play, but, I have a strong feeling it won't be an insignificant one," he mused aloud, almost speaking to himself rather than the other man.

The man nodded, accepting Faros' insight. "What are your instructions for now?" he asked, his posture relaxed yet attentive, ready to receive his orders.

"Keep watch," Faros instructed, his voice carrying a note of caution. "Don't let him out of your sight, but for now, maintain your distance. If the Hollow Hand makes a move, be prepared to step in," he directed with deliberate clarity.

The man nodded again, understanding the importance of keeping these unfolding events under close scrutiny. With a final nod from Faros, he melted back into the shadows, his presence in the room disappearing as swiftly and quietly as it had arrived.

Faros sat quietly for a moment longer, deep in thought. The undercurrents of change stirred in the city's dark corners, and he intended to be ready for whatever the tide might bring. For now, he would wait, watch, and let the pieces fall into place.