When Connor arrived back at his uncle's mansion on the palace grounds, he expected an angry Victor to confront him the moment he stepped through the door.

But, there was no sign of him.

“Is my uncle home?” Connor asked one of the manor guards.

“No, my lord. He left shortly after you did,” the guard said.

Connor sighed. He wanted to get his groveling over with and resolve everything as soon as possible, but fate, it seemed, was not on his side.

Rather than brood inside the manor, waiting for his uncle’s return, he walked out into the palace gardens.

He strolled along gravel pathways lined with hedges trimmed to look like beautiful women and flowers that blossomed from the first kiss of spring.

He sat on a stone bench beside a bubbling fountain and closed his eyes, taking deep breaths. Victor was his family. It’d all work out, wouldn’t it?

The crunch of boots on gravel disrupted his thoughts.

Couldn’t he get a single moment of peace today?

He cocked his head and looked at the source of the disturbance.

A portly man in fine silk clothes stormed toward him, flanked by two royal guards in shining plate armor without their helmets.

Great. Chamberlain Davison. What in the hells did he want now?

“Where is your master? I demand to know why he is digging into the affairs of the nobles,” The Chamberlain said. His every word dripped with venom.

“You mean the nobles with ties to the slave trade and corruption?” Connor asked, “ I’d think as someone loyal to the city you’d be glad that they got what they deserved.”

“Listen, boy,” Chamberlain Davison said as he wagged a sausage-like finger in Connor’s face, “I’ve heard about how you’ve been causing trouble for Elgar. Things like that can have dire consequences. You tell your uncle to keep his nose out of other people’s business.”

Connor scoffed. “If you could do anything to me, you’d have done it already,” he said.

The Chamberlain’s face twisted in anger and he pushed his finger hard against Connor’s chest. “Now you listen to me—ye-argh!”

His words were cut off when Connor grabbed the man’s hand and twisted it almost to breaking point as he leaned in close.

“No,” Connor said in a voice that chilled the air, “you listen to me. I don’t work for you. I’m not one of your servants. You don’t boss me around, and if you ever touch me again, you’ll lose that hand. Now run along and harass one of your maids, snake.”

Chamberlain Davison’s eyes bulged, and his lower lip quivered. His guards grasped the hilts of their swords.

“I wouldn’t do that if I were you,” Connor said with a nod to behind Davison’s guards.

They turned around and saw they were surrounded by men and women in dark clothing. Their weapons were already drawn and only a hair’s breadth away from the guards’ throats.

“This is an outrage!” spat The Chamberlain even as he kept his eyes on his hand.

“As I was saying,” Connor said as he released his iron grip, “Victor isn’t here. Perhaps you should come back another time.”

The Chamberlain cradled his hand to his chest and massaged it tenderly. He looked at his guards and at Connor, his eyes filled with rage.

Connor stared at him with a mocking smirk on his lips, daring him to attack. To give the order to cut Connor down. To finally step too far and give Connor an excuse to end him.

Unfortunately, The Chamberlain restrained himself.

“This isn’t over,” said The Chamberlain. He turned on his heel and gestured for his guards to follow.

When Chamberlain Davison and his guards were out of earshot, Connor turned to Victor’s guards.

“Thanks for the backup,” he said.

They saluted. “Only doing our duty, my lord,” the captain said with a bow, “Though if I may be so bold, I’d suggest not angering Chamberlain Davison further. He is a spiteful man, and we cannot protect you from all dangers.”

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“Davison would have us all killed as soon as he got a chance, no matter what I do,” Connor said, “I change nothing by taunting him. Though maybe he will take some more rash action, and we can finally catch him out. Besides, it’s so satisfying.”

“As you say, my lord,” the captain said respectfully.

Connor returned to the manor. He had hoped to relax in the palace gardens, but the peace and serenity the garden offered was tainted now.

At least in the manor, he wasn’t likely to run into any more of the nobles, but he wasn’t able to relax either, and he anxiously waited for his uncle to return.

He paced restlessly until he found a box filled with locks he’d never seen before.

He frowned. Why weren’t these in the training room with the rest of the practice locks?

He picked one up and turned it over in his hand. It was an odd design and scratches marred the surface, but it didn’t look difficult. Not for him anyway.

Maybe it could help him take his mind off the impending confrontation with his uncle? He pulled out his lockpicks and got to work.

A minute later, he was scratching his head.

The lock seemed so simple, but once his picks were inside the keyhole, it resisted all his attempts to unlock it.

Was he going insane? It truly seemed as though it were actively defying him.

He turned it over in his hands.

He’d been off his game against Adelia, but even on his worst day, a simple lock would give him no trouble at all. He was missing something, but what?

He held up a magnifying lens and looked closer at the design. What had first looked merely like scratches, were actually tiny runes etched on the surface.

He smirked. Well, that explained a lot. An enchanted lock…

But these were expensive! Where did Victor get a whole box filled with them?

He considered putting it back but, something stopped him. They were supposed to be impossible to pick, but he was already waiting for Victor… what did he have to lose?

He studied it more carefully and tried different techniques with his picks, yet it resisted them all.

This didn't frustrate him. Instead, he lost himself in experimenting with the lock. He wanted to solve the puzzle that every thief balked at.

Connor furrowed his brows. What made this lock different?

Magic.

Something in his mind clicked.

After all, it wasn't just the lock that was different, it was the key.

Each key for these locks had to be enchanted. There were differences between the grade of magic used, but in the end, both the lock and the key needed to have a specific type of magic.

After all, for most locks, the teeth of the key had to match up with the pins in the lock to open it.

Maybe the magic worked in a similar way? That the magic in the key had to fit into the magic of the lock suppressing it and allowing the key to turn and open the lock.

He needed a way of copying the magical as well as the mechanical aspects of the key using his picks.

The magic in the lock and the key was quite low powered. His magic was unstable and weak, but maybe… just maybe…

He pulled on his magic.

It felt like dragging a heavy, unwieldy weight. It was cumbersome and difficult to get even the smallest amount of magic, but a small amount was all he needed.

He drew his magic down his arms and into his fingers. Then, he tried to channel it into his picks.

He’d never attempted something like this before, and it took him quite a few tries to get his unwieldy magic to pour into his picks.

Once he had it there, he tried to pick the lock again.

This time, as it resisted him, he subtly changed his magic. The amount he needed was so low that he could control it far more than normal, though it was still challenging.

He changed the magic faster and more subtly as he continued fiddling with the lock and time flowed by unnoticed as he concentrated on the puzzle before him.

His head throbbed with a dull headache.

He’d never used his magic for so long before, but he was determined and barely even noticed it as he bent his mind on the lock and picks.

Eventually, his magic synced with the lock and his picks slipped in place. He picked the mechanical aspect of the lock in a second, and it opened with a satisfying click.

Connor sat back with a smirk and rubbed his temples. “I wonder how many thieves can do that,” he muttered.

They didn’t have his magic, as weak as it was, but that didn’t diminish his happiness. If anything, he felt even better about it. His magic could finally do something immensely useful.

Magical locks weren't common, but even so, this was an incredible advantage.

To open a magical lock would usually take an enormous amount of effort as the original key would have to be stolen or duplicated somehow, yet Connor could now open them without such a key.

"That's not bad," said Victor, leaning against the doorway.

What was it today with people sneaking up on him while he wasn't paying attention?

"How long have you been standing there?" Connor asked, mortified.

"Only about an hour," said Victor, with a smug smirk.

Connor sighed and massaged his temples. The use of his magic for so long had left his head aching badly. What should he say about earlier?

An awkward silence followed as uncle and nephew stared at each other.

Victor broke the silence first, "I've been thinking about what you said earlier—"

"I'm sorry, uncle. I shouldn't have said what I did," Connor interrupted.

Victor waved his hand as if to brush the argument aside and continued, "I never gave up on my brother, Connor. I still have men out there looking for any sign of him and your mother, but I’ve found nothing. Not even the barest of rumors in fifteen years.”

Victor sat opposite Connor with a heavy sigh. “Wizards, smugglers, princes, and beggars. I have people searching from every possible angle, and still, I’ve found nothing.”

“I’m sorry, uncle… I didn’t know… I thought you’d given up.”

“No, Connor,” Victor said. He stared into space as though looking far away. “Your father and I had a falling out a very long time ago, but he is still my brother. He is still my family,” Victor said.

“Why don’t we go out and search for them ourselves then?” Connor said. Hope filled his voice.

“To what end?” Victor said, “I already have men out there searching.”

“But we could do it better! If I could just—”

“I know lad… I know exactly how you feel, but your father wouldn’t like it if I let you charge around kicking over rocks.”

Connor sighed, dismayed. He didn’t know what to say to that.

A long silence followed as the two men were lost in their thoughts.

Victor seemed to make up his mind about something. “Perhaps it is time,” he said as if to himself.

“Time for what?” Connor asked.

“Not here,” Victor said, “come with me.”