The door sealed behind them, and Cira found herself in a small storeroom with spices and produce on the shelves, and crates full of produce on the floor. As Joe supplied earlier, this seemed to be a pantry. Beyond was a kitchen which may or may not be staffed and then a room where the guards stationed here would rest. Cira plucked a plum from a basket and took a bite. It was no Moonberry plum, but it was tender and sweet—perfectly ripe.
“What the hell are you doing?” James whispered.
In response, she held up one finger, “Shhhh.”
Without Spatial Sight there was no way to see beyond the door, so Oliver took point with his sword drawn and opened it a crack. After a second, he swung it open and glanced both ways before turning around with a nod.
Cira didn’t feel very stealthy on a peg leg, but everyone concealed their steps best they could. Noise wouldn’t travel through stone to the floor below, but it could carry outside of the kitchen. Inside there was a center island with a few stacked bowls on the edge. Clean cook surfaces lined the wall with an unlit range in the center and aside from a few cooking utensils, everything seemed to be put away.
After a few more bites, Cira set the uneaten half plum on the counter and walked up to the door. With her ear up against it, she heard a set of footsteps, not approaching but seeming to walk across the room. If there were others inside, they were probably sitting.
According to Joe, there should be a mage stationed on this floor at all times, and from back in his day, at least ten guards. Simply barging in would be foolhardy, of course. There was a reason they planned this out. It would not be possible to get in and out without leaving a trace given they had multiple things to steal with guards between them, but their goal was to be on the way home by the time a commotion was roused.
Cira reached into her bag of goodies and retrieved a ball a little larger than a plum beset with a gorgeous veridian gemstone. This time she cracked the door herself and tossed the artifact inside.
“What in the god damn—” A voice from inside abruptly went silent and Cira pushed her way into the room with her staff at the ready. There were two rows of bed against the left side of the room with ten or so guards slumbering away, and Cira focused on the one man who was already running for her at the door. Three others across the room sat up from a table and their half-eaten meals when they noticed what was happening. Their faces twisted in anger and shock, but no sound came from their mouths. As they shot up and drew their weapons, their footsteps were silent and so were their scabbards.
The wind artifact had rolled away somewhere out of sight, but its job was complete. As their voices failed, they shared a look of horror before snapping out of it when people kept funneling in behind Cira. The four men were all dressed in black and gold leather while suits of heavy armor rested on their stands against the wall.
One pirate hurriedly went to stir the others in their beds and Jimbo whipped out a pistol without skipping a beat. A puff of smoke rose from the barrel and Cira saw the man drop to the ground. At this point, she’d reached the first pirate—a scraggly man who resembled Joe to a degree. He wouldn’t be so agile, so Cira swung the onyx around and bashed it into his shin. He tried and failed to slash at her but didn’t have the reach. The look on his face was that of pain as he fell into the ground trying to take weight off the leg. He lurched to the side landed on the floor with a silent thud that reverberated through Cira’s wooden leg.
As two more approached, she didn’t have time to waste and knocked the scraggly one again over the head before continuing. While poising her staff to receive their attack, Jimbo overtook her and went flying at the next guy with a kick followed quickly with a stab before he faced off the last man with his cutlass drawn.
Cira took a glance back and saw her mages reduced to beating the sleeping guards and tying them up. Jimbo silently clashed with the remaining pirate that came in with a heavy slash. It glinted off Jimbo’s blade who went for a kick only for the man to swipe at his ankles with a knife. Jimbo quickly backstepped and his attacker took it as a chance to move it, lunging at him with the point of his sword.
Jimbo barely dodged and fear flashed through his eyes as the man just kept swinging. Each time it was deflected, he would come right back around with the knife. It was like a beautiful dance of blades as Cira watched the two go at it. Jimbo was fast and had a certain experience from the many fights he’d surely partaken in, but it was clear his opponent was formally trained.
When Jimbo parried a strike, it looked like he was swatting the blade away, but the other man would gently turn his wrist and twirl into a riposte. With either the dagger or his sword constantly cocked back, his string of attacks was relentless. Jimbo was clearly on his back foot and only made one feeble blow for every three or four he had to deflect.
With each trading of blades, Jimbo got more exhausted. Sweat beaded up on his face and flew away as he avoided each slash. It wasn’t looking good, but Cira trusted her first mate. He would turn it around like he did in Uru, or against that Ripley fellow she forgot to ask about. Of all people, she could trust in Jimbo.
The tale has been illicitly lifted; should you spot it on Amazon, report the violation.
The other man leaped forward and brought down a powerful strike. Jimbo braced to block and was pushed back as his sword flew from his hands. A dagger was already en route for his throat and Cira’s eyes went wide just as a gust of wind slammed the man into the ground. It startled her for only a moment before Tawny rushed in and started beating the man to a silent pulp.
Jimbo turned and looked Cira right in the eyes with the most baffled expression. He threw his arms out and shook his head looking offended.
Whoops, was I supposed to help? I thought he had it. He’s the one that jumped in front of me.
With an opponent that skilled, it was hard to say if she could have done any better herself. Of course, both of them would have prevailed together, but she thought he was having a moment. That’s just how it felt when he came flying in.
Tawny rose from the ground with bloody knuckles and glared at her before helping Jimbo up. Well shit, my bad.
She felt a tap on her shoulder, and it was Marko. He jerked his head to the side and Cira followed it to see a bed with a long trunk next to it. There was a man bound to the bed frame and gagged, glaring up at her with a mixture of disdain and fear.
Cira returned him a smile as she realized what Oliver was trying to tell her. This man was the mage. He was a little older than her and had dark hair with a mustache, one black eye.
Cira’s smile did not make him feel any better, but before reaping her bounty, she would remedy his mood. There were nine others in beds, most of which were out cold, but all showed signs of a beating. One by one, she drew the rune from before and stuck them with a sleep-dart. This was a pure-mana based sorcery that affected one’s corporeal form, forcing their mind to sleep.
Depending on the duration, it affected their memory as well. For instance, at the efficacy level Cira was casting, they would sleep for at least a day and forget roughly five minutes leading up to their slumber. Soon they were all asleep and Cira took the liberty of peeking inside the mage’s belongings.
Just as she hoped, Cira found a polished wooden staff bearing a bright green crystal at the top. It sat on a set of fine robes woven with similar colored fabric and darker undertones. If Wick had any artificers, she imagined the mages robes would all be black and gold, but he was apparently too cheap for that.
Cira picked the staff up and twirled it around in her hand a few times to test the weight, then gave it a couple practice swings. It was heavier than the one she carried, but she would need her quill for the remainder of this heist. With the help of her big, strong paladin, they dragged the whole footlocker over towards the pantry door.
Was she committing the same crime as Wick by stealing the mage’s staff? Perhaps. There was no way of knowing. If it really belonged to him, he could petition for it back once she was done bamboozling Jimbo into taking the throne.
The man in question yelled something at her, but she couldn’t hear. They all knew the artifact would stay in effect for at least an hour. With everybody incapacitated though, Cira brought her crew to the next door. It was on the opposite wall they came from and would lead to a stairwell.
At this time of night there shouldn’t be much foot traffic, but Marko still opened it himself. After checking both ways then up and down, he nodded again, and the crew continued.
A spiral staircase rose up carved from the same white stone as the palace, but the steps were blackened from years or even decades of not being swept. Cira could see a door down below, but sound hadn’t returned yet, so they quickly pushed through.
The next wooden door was locked. Their party of thieves didn’t include a locksmith, per se, but Cira quickly painted a rune on the doorknob and all the metal components were sucked out into an orb. She handed the iron ball to Eros since he hadn’t done anything yet and he took it with a look of uncertainty.
When the door swung open, a stiff breeze carried the pungent order of exotic herbs, and it assaulted her unwitting nose. She cringed and took a step back before shaking it off. Unlike the torchlit hallway, this next room was dim. The soft flicker of candlelight cast hues of pink and purple onto the walls. The candles were set on tables lining the hall and placed behind screens of colored paper for ambiance. Each one had a stick of incense pointed straight up in its holder.
Cira didn’t recognize the scent as anything medicinal, but it made her head feel foggy after breathing it in for just a few seconds. Strangely though, the aroma started to grow on her as she advanced into the ill-lit room.
It appeared as some kind of foyer, with decorations on either side and a grandiose door at the end with curtains pulled to the side. Cira coughed on the smoke and realized they’d exited the range of her wind artifact. With cautious steps, they approached the door when Marko and Lero each took one side of it.
As slow as they could go, they each swung their half of the door, but it still ground against the stone beneath. The two winced as they couldn’t do anything about it and as soon as it was open enough for Joe to fit through, Cira had them stop.
This was a suite where Wick slept occasionally, or after a celebration apparently. The room not often used led straight to the main treasury. It was so close, Cira could almost taste it.
Cira stepped through the doorway and felt a faint breeze on her face. There was an open window across the room with silk curtains softly blowing. An ornate bedframe sat in the middle of the room with posts and curtains to surround it—they were slightly transparent and partially drawn. Exotic flowers sat in vases atop decorated tables which sat against the wall, and Cira noticed an empty cart that his minions must use to wheel food in for him.
There was nothing that obviously looked like a door, but many pieces of furniture and cabinets were built into the wall. Cira scanned the room, looking over all the gaudy paintings and random curios Wick had acquired or stolen over the years when she took a few more steps into the center of the room for a better look.
“I thought you were going to make me wait all night—” Cira craned her neck around to the source of the voice and found a rather curvaceous young woman scantily dressed in striking lingerie. The woman’s eyes went wide as they both froze, staring at each other in shock.