The cistern was buzzing with activity, a rare intensity rippling through the thieves’ guild as the deadline to volunteer for the contract on Lord Cedric loomed. The Black Fangs were used to danger—after all, every heist carried risk—but this was something else entirely. Kael had spent the last few days restless, his mind a relentless engine turning over every detail he could find about Cedric’s mansion and its defenses.
He’d mapped every street leading to the mansion, memorized the guard rotations from stolen notes, and studied the layout of nearby buildings for potential escape routes. He wasn’t even sure he’d be picked for the team, but Kael knew one thing: if he was chosen, he wouldn’t fail.
For most of the guild, the contract was more a point of gossip than an actual opportunity. Conversations echoed off the cistern walls, laced with doubt and dismissal. “Fool’s errand,” one thief muttered. “Even the best of us would struggle with this.”
But slowly, some of the more notable members had begun to step forward. Kael recognized a few of them—seasoned thieves who were as respected as they were dangerous. He’d watched them approach the Guildmaster’s table one by one, offering their skills for the score.
Kael’s heart raced every time he saw another name added to the list. He was young, and while his reputation was growing, he was nowhere near the stature of these veterans. He knew that youth and inexperience could work against him. But he also knew the Guildmaster valued skill above all else.
The Guildmaster had given the guild a week to volunteer before he began handpicking the final crew. The deadline was now two days away, and Kael had waited long enough.
He stood near the edge of the cistern, going over his plan in his head. He’d practiced his speech a hundred times, rehearsed every word and every pause. He couldn’t just offer himself up blindly—he needed to show the Guildmaster why he was valuable.
Kael’s fingers twitched at his sides as he approached the Guildmaster’s table. The older man was seated, hunched over a worn ledger, his expression unreadable as he scribbled notes.
There were the whispers of those around him as they saw his approach. Everyone knew what he was doing. And many were saying that he was simply too young and not ready to be on a contract like this.
He would prove them all wrong.
“Guildmaster,” Kael said, his voice steady despite the nerves bubbling under his skin.
The Guildmaster didn’t look up immediately, his quill scratching against the parchment. When he finally did, his sharp gray eyes locked onto Kael, piercing and unwavering.
Kael swallowed hard but held his ground. He straightened his shoulders and launched into the speech he’d prepared. “I want to volunteer for the Cedric contract. I’ve spent the last week gathering information, scoping out the mansion, and studying the routes in and out. I know the guard rotations, the blind spots, and the nearby exits. I can help plan the approach and—”
The Guildmaster raised a hand, cutting him off mid-sentence. His expression didn’t change, but his silence spoke volumes. Kael felt his pulse quicken, the weight of the older man’s gaze pressing down on him.
For a moment, the Guildmaster simply stared at him, his eyes narrowing slightly as if weighing something unseen. Kael’s heart thudded in his chest, every second of silence stretching into an eternity.
Then, without a word, the Guildmaster nodded.
“Go talk to Darius,” he said, his tone clipped and direct. “He’s leading the crew.”
Kael blinked, his mind racing to catch up. He’d done it.
“Yes, sir,” Kael said quickly, his voice almost stumbling over the words.
The Guildmaster had already turned back to his ledger, the conversation over in his mind. Kael didn’t linger. He spun on his heel and made his way toward the corner of the cistern where Darius was seated, a knot of anticipation tightening in his chest.
Darius was a veteran thief, his reputation for leading high-stakes jobs nearly as intimidating as his towering frame. Kael had seen him around the guild plenty of times, but they’d never spoken directly. The man was leaning back in his chair, his feet propped on the edge of the table, a dagger spinning lazily in his fingers.
Kael approached cautiously, stopping a few feet away. “The Guildmaster told me to speak with you,” he said, keeping his tone respectful but firm.
Darius glanced up, his dark eyes flicking over Kael with a hint of amusement. “You’re the kid everyone’s been whispering about, huh?”
Kael nodded, his jaw tight.
Darius leaned forward, planting his feet on the ground and resting his elbows on his knees. The dagger stopped spinning. “You think you’re ready for this?”
“Yes,” Kael said without hesitation.
Darius smirked. “We’ll see.”
Kael didn’t flinch under the man’s scrutiny. He knew this was only the first hurdle, but he was ready to prove himself. The challenge of the Cedric contract wasn’t just an opportunity—it was a test. And Kael had no intention of failing.
The air in the Guildmaster’s chamber was heavy with tension, the kind that crackled through a room when danger was spoken aloud. The crew gathered around the scarred oak table were some of the best the Black Fangs had to offer, each handpicked for what was shaping up to be the most dangerous job in the guild’s history. Kael stood near the edge of the room, just within the lantern’s flickering glow, his heart pounding despite his effort to stay composed. He was the youngest there, both in age and experience, but he was determined to prove he belonged.
The Guildmaster, his broad shoulders hunched as he examined a rolled parchment in one hand and a leather bundle in the other, let the murmurs die down before he spoke. He placed the leather-wrapped bundle on the table, unrolling it to reveal several detailed sketches: the layout of Lord Cedric’s mansion, its towering gates, and what appeared to be its inner vault. Alongside these were crude maps of the streets surrounding the property.
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“This contract,” the Guildmaster began, his gravelly voice commanding the room’s full attention, “is unlike any other we’ve taken. You’ve all heard the rumors, but now you’ll hear the truth. The stakes couldn’t be higher, and the risks are greater than anything the Black Fangs have attempted before. But the reward?” He paused, letting the weight of his words settle. “The reward is more than worth it.”
Kael shifted slightly, his eyes drawn to the sketches as the Guildmaster gestured toward a particular drawing: a small, ornate chest. Its intricate design was etched with unfamiliar symbols that made Kael’s stomach churn just looking at them.
“This,” the Guildmaster said, his finger tapping the sketch, “is what we’re after. Lord Cedric recently acquired it, and it’s said to hold secrets older than this kingdom. It’s worth a king’s ransom on the black market, but that’s not why we’re taking it.” His voice dropped lower, drawing the crew in further.
“The buyer who commissioned this job claims the chest contains evidence of treason. Proof that Cedric is conspiring to overthrow the crown. They didn’t give details, and I didn’t ask. It’s not our job to care why—it’s our job to take it. Information can be as or more valuable than any treasure is.”
The room buzzed with whispers, and Kael’s pulse quickened. Treason. It wasn’t just the value of the chest or the danger of Cedric’s fortress-like mansion; this was bigger. Kael’s eyes flicked back to the sketch, lingering on the ominous symbols carved into the chest. Something about them felt… wrong, but he shoved the thought aside.
The Guildmaster continued, outlining the challenges they’d face. “Cedric’s mansion isn’t just any target. His guards are palace-trained. The walls are thick enough to withstand a siege, and the vault? Let’s just say no one’s even come close to cracking it. If you take this job, you’ll plan every step as if your life depends on it—because it does. Darius,” he said, turning to the hulking man near the center of the table, “you’re leading this crew. Use your team. Figure it out. You’ve got two days.”
Kael didn’t hesitate. As the murmurs began to rise and the group started breaking into smaller clusters, he stepped forward, clearing his throat. “I’ve already started,” he said, his voice cutting through the noise.
All eyes turned to him, some with curiosity, others with irritation.
“What?” Darius asked, a smirk playing on his lips. “The kid’s got a plan already?”
Kael ignored the jab and pressed on. “I’ve been watching Cedric’s mansion for days. I’ve mapped out the guard rotations, pinpointed three weak points in the perimeter, and marked escape routes in case we need to split up. If you want to get in and out clean, we’ll need every advantage we can get, and I’ve already started building them.”
The room fell quiet. The Guildmaster leaned back in his chair, his expression unreadable as he studied Kael.
Kael stepped closer to the table, placing a hand on the map. “Here,” he said, pointing to a side entrance near the servants’ quarters. “This is the least-guarded point during the night shift. We can slip in without drawing attention if we time it right.” His finger moved to another part of the map. “The vault is likely here, below the main hall. The mansion’s built into the side of the hill, so the lower levels are reinforced. But there’s an old drainage tunnel that runs underneath. It hasn’t been used in years, but it’s still accessible. It’ll give us a way in—or out—if things go south.”
One of the older thieves scoffed. “How do you know all this?”
“I made it my business to know,” Kael replied, his voice steady. “While the rest of you were sitting around waiting for instructions, I was out there watching, listening, and planning.”
For a moment, there was silence. Then Darius leaned back in his chair, shaking his head with a faint grin. “Well, I’ll be damned. Looks like the kid’s got more than just nerves.”
Kael didn’t flinch under Darius’s scrutiny, though his heart hammered in his chest. He could feel the weight of the room shifting, the unspoken acknowledgment that his information might actually be the key to pulling this off.
Darius leaned over the map, his eyes narrowing as he traced Kael’s marks with a calloused finger. Slowly, his expression turned serious. “This might actually work,” he muttered, glancing at the Guildmaster for confirmation.
The Guildmaster didn’t speak, but Kael caught the faintest hint of approval in his sharp gray eyes.
“Fine,” Darius said, straightening. “We’ll work with what the kid’s got. But listen here—if this goes south, it’s on all of us.”
Kael met Darius’s gaze without hesitation. “It won’t,” he said simply.
The crew broke apart into smaller groups, diving into the details of the plan. Kael moved to the edge of the room, watching as his notes became the foundation of their strategy. For the first time in days, the tension in his chest eased, replaced by a steady thrill.
They all knew it. They wouldn’t say it out loud, but they knew. Without Kael, this heist wouldn’t stand a chance. And as the lanternlight flickered over the maps and sketches, Kael allowed himself the smallest of smiles.
This hunt was his and he’d prepared.
———-
The road stretched ahead, winding lazily over the rolling hills that marked the southern approach to Althemar. In the distance, the city loomed, its stone walls catching the late afternoon light. From this far, it looked peaceful—serene, even. Thorne knew better.
He tugged the reins of his horse slightly, slowing his pace as the rest of his squad fell into formation behind him. The Rangers had been riding hard for days, making their way back from the outskirts of the kingdom after a successful job clearing out a bandit stronghold that had plagued a remote village. The assignment had been straightforward, if grueling, but it was done. Now they were passing through Althemar on their way back north, where the Rangers Guild was nestled into the rugged forested mountains.
Thorne glanced at the city again, judging the distance. If they kept a steady pace, they’d reach the gates by tomorrow evening. The horses could use the rest, and frankly, so could his squad.
“Tomorrow night,” he said aloud, his voice carrying just enough for the others to hear. “We’ll make camp when we reach the next clearing.”
There was no grumbling, no hesitation from the men and women who rode with him. Rangers didn’t complain, and his squad knew better than to test his patience.
Thorne shifted in the saddle, letting his thoughts drift as the city grew steadily closer. He’d received a formal letter from Lord Cedric himself a week ago, inviting the Rangers to stay the night in his manor during their passage through the region. Cedric, the ruling lord of Althemar, had a reputation for hospitality—at least when it suited his goals.
Thorne had no love for politics, but he understood predators. Cedric was one. The man had been gathering allies from every corner of the kingdom, currying favor with guilds, merchants, and nobles alike. He wasn’t just consolidating power—he was gearing up for something. Thorne didn’t know what, and he didn’t particularly care. His role was to keep the peace, not meddle in the games of the court. Still, he could smell a hunt when one was on the horizon, and Cedric reeked of it.
The invitation to stay at Cedric’s manor wasn’t an act of goodwill—it was strategy. Thorne doubted Cedric would try anything openly, but the man clearly wanted the Rangers in his debt.
Thorne adjusted his grip on the reins, his jaw tightening slightly. He’d accept the hospitality—it would be foolish not to—but he wouldn’t let Cedric think for a second that the Rangers were his to command.
The sun dipped lower in the sky, casting long shadows over the road. The northern forests, where the guild’s headquarters were hidden, felt farther away with every mile they traveled. Thorne longed for the familiarity of those woods, for the scent of pine and the quiet that came with solitude.
He thought briefly of the great white wolf that haunted the northern range, a beast that had evaded every hunter who had dared to track it. Thorne had glimpsed it once, years ago, and the memory still burned bright in his mind. Its fur had shimmered like snow under moonlight, its eyes sharp and piercing. No one had caught it—not yet. The thought of the hunt stirred something deep inside him, a restless hunger that no amount of riding or assignments could sate.
But for now, the wolf would have to wait.
A voice behind him broke his thoughts. “Thorne, do you think Cedric’s going to try and press us for something?”
Thorne glanced over his shoulder. It was Kellan, one of the younger Rangers in the squad. His question was laced with the curiosity of someone not yet jaded by experience.
“He might,” Thorne said, his tone measured. “But we’re not here to make deals. We’ll take the bed and the meal, nothing more. Let him talk if he wants. The Rangers don’t owe him anything.”
Kellan nodded, falling back in line. Thorne’s squad trusted him, and that trust was what mattered.
As the shadows stretched longer and the horizon darkened, Thorne urged his horse forward. Althemar awaited, but his thoughts were already far ahead, imagining the familiar trails of the north, the forests that had become his second home.
The city might be filled with its own predators, but none of them compared to the great white wolf. One day, he told himself. One day, he’d find it. For now, he’d endure Cedric’s hospitality, pass through the city, and get back to what mattered.
The hunt never truly ended. It simply waited.
———
The faint glow of lanterns flickered across the cistern, illuminating the gathered crew as they worked late into the night. The air buzzed with a mixture of tension and excitement, the kind that came before something monumental. The heist was set for tomorrow evening, and the crew had been hard at work for days, practicing signals, rehearsing their movements, and fine-tuning their plan.
Kael stood near the table where the map of Lord Cedric’s mansion was spread out, his sharp eyes scanning the familiar details. The lines and marks felt like second nature to him now, as if he’d memorized them in his very bones.
“Remember,” Kael said, tapping the map with the hilt of a dagger, “timing is everything. The guard rotation shifts at the south gate first, then the west. We’ll need to be through the servant’s entrance before that second shift starts, or we’re done before we begin.”
The others nodded, their focus unyielding. Darius, the crew leader, leaned back in his chair, watching Kael with a mix of amusement and respect. While he was technically in charge, even Darius couldn’t deny the kid’s influence. Kael had a mind for this work, and his insights had turned what initially seemed impossible into something that felt within reach.
“Signals,” Darius said, his deep voice breaking through the hum of quiet planning. “Go over them again.”
Kael didn’t hesitate. He stepped back from the table, drawing a thin length of cord from his belt. “We use three types,” he said, his tone confident. “Hand signals for close-quarters. I’ll be on overwatch to call adjustments. You all know the signs.”
He raised his hand, fingers twitching into practiced gestures. The others mirrored him, nodding in understanding.
“For mid-range, we use these,” Kael continued, holding up a small leather pouch filled with tiny metal balls. “Two clicks to halt, three to advance. Short, sharp, and quiet.”
“And for long-range?” one of the thieves asked.
Kael grinned. “We use the oldest trick in the book—rocks on windows. No one looks twice at a stray stone.”
A chuckle rippled through the group. It wasn’t much, but it broke the tension enough to keep everyone grounded.
Darius leaned forward, resting his elbows on the table. “And the gear?”
“Everything’s set,” Kael replied. “I made sure the grapples were reinforced, and the lockpicks are fresh. I’ve got smoke bombs for distractions if it comes to that, and Larris is handling the rope lines.”
Darius glanced at Larris, who nodded in confirmation. “Good,” Darius said. “Anything else we need to cover?”
Kael hesitated for a moment before speaking. “Cedric’s guards are trained. More than trained—they’re palace guards. If something goes wrong, we don’t fight. We scatter. This heist doesn’t work if we think we can take them head-on.”
“Agreed,” Darius said, his voice firm. “We get in, we get out. Nothing fancy.”
As the crew dispersed to finalize their preparations, Kael stayed behind, his eyes still on the map. The stakes were enormous, but he felt a steady, burning excitement deep in his chest.
He didn’t just want this heist to succeed—he needed it to. This was his chance to prove himself once and for all, to silence the whispers that he was too young, too green. If they pulled this off, no one in the guild would ever question his abilities again.
The older thieves might take notice of him now, but Kael wanted more. He wanted the contracts that mattered—the ones that made hearts race and palms sweat. He wanted to test himself, to push beyond what anyone thought was possible.
The faint sound of laughter from the crew drifted through the cistern as they packed up their tools and headed off to rest. Kael lingered, his fingers tracing the edge of the map one last time.
Tomorrow night, they would make history.
He rolled up the parchment and tucked it under his arm, his thoughts racing ahead to every step of the plan. This wasn’t just about the score—it was about Kael proving to himself, to the guild, and to the world that he belonged.
As he extinguished the lantern and slipped into the shadows, Kael’s lips curled into a small, determined smile. The impossible was just another challenge, and challenges were what made him feel alive.
Tomorrow, he’d show them all.