Gwenyth stifled a yawn, her left arm moving to cover her mouth. She had been up all night, watching the tavern from nightfall to early dawn. Nothing interesting had happened since, and she was feeling like her time was being wasted. The reason for her stakeout was because of the young man she had tailed from the harbor. It wasn’t James Holter, but an ally of his. The man came on the same ship as him, and his cloak bore the symbol of the white raven. Still, Gwenyth recalled the bear pin she spotted on his scarf.
At first, the elf questioned if he was a Halvorson survivor, but soon stopped pondering on it. It wouldn’t do her any good to focus on a dead clan when she had Holter to look out for. The young man had come in with a dwarf, both of whom made their way to the tavern. They had been there all day yesterday, opting only to drink and wait. All she needed was for them to go back to their town, to lead her back to their home base.
Gwenyth turned her gaze to the clouded sky, which had slowly begun to brighten. The day was starting. Soon, she will get her answer as to why they were here.
Seamus rotated his shoulder as he stepped out into the street. Despite the clouds covering the sun, its light still temporarily blinded him. “Are you sure the barrels are safe back at the harbor?” He asked.
“Believe me, rolling two barrels of alcohol in these parts is practically us begging to be mugged,” Bjorn answered with a yawn. The dwarf rubbed at his eyepatch, his lone eye glancing at the busy street of Vindis.
“Are you sure this is where we’re supposed to meet up with them?” Seamus questioned as he leaned against a nearby lamp pole.
The duo had come to Vindis the previous day, arriving at the harbor late at night because of the weather. They spent the night at the tavern in hopes that their thief contact would come to meet them. No one had come, and Seamus and Bjorn had to spend the night in the tavern.
“Last time I was here, James contacted them,” Bjorn started, his hand shifting the wrapped backpack he had on. “They’re the ones who decided on this spot.”
Seamus looked up at the tavern’s sign. The ‘Drunken Draugr’ was the go-to meeting spot and tavern for James and Haggard. It was also apparently the go-to place for thieves and crooks to exchange and drink together. Seamus disliked the vibes he got from this place, but he couldn’t really complain. The rooms were cheap, and the food was even cheaper. Albeit moldy and stale. Still cheap though.
As Seamus contemplated their place of meeting, a hooded man bumped into him. Before the young man could instinctually reach for his pouch to check if it was still there, the man whispered something.
“Follow. Don’t make it obvious.”
Seamus stopped dead and glanced at the hooded figure. The man did not look back, instead opting to continue forward with his walk.
“You alright, kid?” Bjorn asked suddenly.
“I’m fine. Follow me,” Seamus muttered as he slowly began to trail the hooded man. The dwarf raised an eyebrow, his expression turning to confusion. Still, he followed behind the young man, keeping close.
Seamus made sure to keep his distance, his eyes glancing around at his surroundings. He needed to make sure no one was trailing him. The young man followed for a while, keeping his pace normal as he hid amongst the crowd. His eyes were focused on the hooded man, who slipped seamlessly into the crowded streets. Before long, the hooded man went into a nearby building. It was a shop, its banner showcasing the valdora coin. That emblem showcased that the owner of this building was part of the Merchant’s Guild, an organization whose members apparently spread across Azura. It wasn’t uncommon for someone in Vindis to be a part of the guild. Hel, half the traders in the marketplace were associated with the Merchant’s Guild.
Still, Seamus had a feeling that this shop had more than met the eye. The young man waited for a few seconds before he, too, entered the shop. As he and Bjorn passed through the door, Seamus felt the hairs on the back of his neck prickle with notice. His natural radar had gone off for a moment. That didn’t happen unless he was in the radius of a potential threat or stalker. Seamus turned around and peeked out the window of the shop. He scanned the crowd outside, hoping to find the person responsible for alerting him. Nothing interesting caught his gaze, however.
“Hey! You!” A voice called out from behind him. Seamus moved his focus to the shop’s interior. There was a portly man behind a counter, his brow furrowed at the duo. “Are you here to buy or window shop? If it’s the latter, then get the hel out. You can continue snooping outside.”
“If I’m being honest, he dragged here me,” Bjorn muttered as he gestured to Seamus.
“There was a man who came in here,” the young man explained. “He told me to come here?”
“He’s with me, Alf.” Another voice spoke up. It was the hooded man, his figure stepping out from the backroom.
“Oh, so you’re James?” The shopkeeper asked. “Funny, I thought he’d be taller…”
“It’s not him,” the hooded man revealed. “He’s apparently too good to do business personally.”
“He had other business to attend to,” Seamus explained as he stepped up. “I’m here in his stead.” The stranger raised an eyebrow, but didn’t comment as he turned around. He waved them on, prompting the two men to follow behind. They all went into the backroom, past the counter. Seamus glanced around, frowning a little. It looked just like any old, mundane storage room.
“Hey, a hand here,” the stranger called out. He was right next to the wall, his hand on the barrels. Seamus stepped forward, helping the man out by pulling the barrels away from the wall. Once that was done, the hooded man approached the wall. He knocked on the wall, his strikes ringing hollow. There was a moment of silence before the wall shifted and moved. Seamus watched as a torch lit hallway was revealed. There was another hooded figure there, wearing the same cloak as the first stranger.
“Follow us.”
Gwenyth cursed to herself as she jogged through the alleyway. She needed to find out where the two men were going. After losing sight of them in the shop, the elf knew she had to figure out their destination. She would’ve had an easier time had it not been for that young man’s alert skill, which nearly outed her.
‘How does someone that young have a skill like that? Nevermind… I need to find out where they’re heading and fast.’
The elf formed a rune with her hands; her focus going into a casting she kept in her back pocket.
“Enhance Sense,” she uttered under her breath. Her body reacted to the words in haste. Gwenyth could feel her eyes and ears burn with magical ability, the taste of fruit making itself present on her tongue. The elf stopped her jog, her eyes closing. She listened carefully, focusing on the other side of the wall. The sounds of footsteps made themselves present, as well as the muffle voices of the young man and dwarf.
“What is this?”
“Passageway to the guild. You’ll be having your meeting with Markov soon.”
“Markov? He’s interested enough to meet us?”
“Best you keep yourself from talking. There was someone trailing you earlier. It was why I had to meet you in the shop.”
“There was someone following?”
“Yes, and I’m not entirely sure we lost them, so keep quiet until we get confirmation we’re safe.”
Gwenyth opened her eyes, her gaze moving to her surroundings. No one was visible, but she couldn’t take the chance. The elf formed her fingers once more, casting two spells in succession.
“Nimble Feet, Shadow Step.”
Her body grew hot and the prosthetic on her arm vibrated as the castings made their appearance. Gwenyth pressed herself against the alley, feeling as the world around her grew dark. Shadow Step had the downside of lowering her field of view and range, but it was enough to keep her hidden from any prying eyes. The elf followed the sounds of the footsteps, hiding in the shadows.
The footsteps of the men continue on for a while, traveling past busy streets and abandoned sectors of the city. The elf continued to follow, all while keeping to the shadows and continuously casting her spells to keep Shadow Step on. Finally, they stopped somewhere unexpected. Gwenyth stared at the building the men arrived at. It was the Merchant’s Guild’s official building of commerce.
‘What the hel are they doing here…?’
Was all she could think. Where she expected a hideout in the slums or iron district, she had instead followed the thieves to a guild building in the valdora district.
“We’re here.”
The voice of one of the hooded men caught her attention.
“Can we speak now?”
“Yes. We have confirmation from our men that the stalker is nowhere nearby. Safe to say they gave up at the shop.”
“Where is Markov?”
“We’ll take you to him. He’s waiting.”
Gwenyth hurried to the guild building, her hands casting Shadow Step one more time. Her castings were running low, but it didn’t matter. All she needed to do was get close. The elf snuck into the building, quietly making it past guards and members. She crept into the basement, where she was sure she was going to find a secret entrance. Yet the elf found nothing but crates and barrels. She focused her senses once more, listening for the hums of magical runes. Silence. Gwenyth looked around, trying to find anything out of the place. Her eyes focused on a banner of the guild. She stepped up to it, her hands lifting the cloth. Nothing but a wall.
Still, something was catching her ears. The elf closed her eyes, focusing once more. It was the sound of wind. She leaned closer to the wall, holding her breath. There it was. The sound of air escaping from a crack in the wall. The elf opened her eyes, her hands moving to find the crack. There it was. All she needed to do was open it. Thankfully, she had just the tool. Gwenyth shifted her left prosthetic, her hand moving to grip onto the small crack in the wall. The elf pulled with all her strength, forcing her left arm to exert itself. She could feel the ley lines in her body react to the sudden burst of strength, her prosthetic shaking as it forced the door open.
The wall creaked as it slid, the sound thankfully not catching the attention of anyone. The elf only managed to open it to a certain point, but it was enough for her to slip past. Gwenyth slipped on her cloak as she snuck into the secret passage, her hands casting Shadow Step again.
‘Ten castings left.’
She counted mentally as she slipped through the dark tunnel and into the branching paths. If it wasn’t for her enhanced hearing, the elf would have been lost ages ago.
Gwenyth followed the grounds of the voices, pinpointing where the two men were. She snuck past men and women in the tunnels, almost all of them wearing the same green cloaks. Thankfully, none of them seemed to notice the cold breeze that rushed past them. Perhaps it was common in this place. In the end, the elf made it to a large and open room. There she saw the two men she was initially following, as well as an older fellow. This man had his hood pulled back, showcasing his scarred face and graying hair.
Gwenyth situated herself in a hiding spot above them, making sure she would not get spotted by any prying eyes.
“Seamus and Bjorn, funny seeing you two together. Where is James?”
“James is tending to other things,” the young man named Seamus explained.
“Well, it can’t be helped,” the old man sighed. “Where are the barrels? I thought you were here to sell us alcohol?”
“The kegs are back on our ship. We’re not risking them in this part of the city,” Bjorn revealed. “I have this right here, for sampling.” The dwarf slung off his wrapped up backpack, his hands undoing the ties that kept the cloth on.
It was a miniature keg, about a third the size of a real one. Gwenyth raised an eyebrow at the sight of the strange item. It even had a spigot. The old man examined the keg, his fingers snapping at one of his men. They hurried over with a tankard, handing it off to him. The old man held it out to the keg, his hand opening the spigot. Golden liquid poured out into the cup, splashing a little.
The old man closed the spigot before it could fully fill up his cup. He brought up the tankard to his lip and took a swig of the alcohol, his face scrunching into an interesting expression.
“This is… strangely good?” The old man muttered. “It tastes off-putting, but it’s actually pretty strong.” The old man reached again to refill his cup.
As he drank, the dwarf laughed. “Not bad, eh? Could be better, but James wanted to ‘water’ it down.”
“How many barrels do you have of this stuff?” The old man asked.
“Two of that and one of straight liquor.” Bjorn answered.
“Do you have the liquor available?”
“Sure do.” The dwarf reached for his waterskin, handing over to the older man. The elder uncapped it and poured the concoction onto his tankard. He took another sip.
“Freyja’s tits, that’s good!” the old man exclaimed. “Being part-dwarf, most beers and liquors usually taste like piss. But this… this is good! How much do you want for it?”
Seamus rubbed his chin in thought. “Well, since each barrel costs us six gold to produce, plus transportation and supply, I believe it’s fair to sell it for—”
“Sixty gold for all three!” Bjorn interrupted Seamus mid-sentence. “Or thirty valdoras. Either form of payment is acceptable.” His shouts caused a tense silence in the room. The old man stared at the dwarf. Seamus looked pale, his hands clenching onto the table. Even the surrounding men looked shocked.
Finally, the old man sat up. He drank the rest of his tankard before slamming it down. “Thirty gold. Your beer and liquor is good, but it isn’t sixty gold good.”
“Forty gold,” Bjorn bargained.
“Thirty,” the old man growled.
Bjorn leaned in. “Thirty-six and a cut from the profits.”
“Are you trying to piss me off?”
“Midsommar is today. I know you guys have taverns all over the city. Drunks are willing to pay top coin for the stuff that’ll get them the most fucked up,” Bjorn explained. “You and I both know that people will pay valdoras for just half a barrel.” That seemed to make the old man think. For a moment, they all stayed quiet.
“Thirty-three and you get a portion of the profits,” the old man finally muttered. He extended his hand to Bjorn, who stared at the man.
“Deal.” The dwarf grinned, his hand moving to shake the old man’s.
“Johan!” the old man called out. “Grab the coins from the safe box and go with these two. They’ll lead you to the barrels.”
“Yes Markov, sir!”
‘Markov. The leader of the Thieves Guild,’ Gwenyth thought to herself as she watched the old man stand.
Markov grabbed at the mini-keg. “I’m keeping this.”
“Go ahead, think of it as a bonus,” Bjorn guffawed. Before long, Seamus and Bjorn left the room with Johan. Gwenyth cast Shadow Step and followed behind.
The light of the morning sun shone itself onto the table that held the map of Vindis. Deimos looked down at the drawn tactics and red markings.
“We’ll need more men for this,” Ivana muttered.
“Cecil has already taken care of that.” Deimos answered. The chieftain had ordered the elf to gather up raiders and bandit groups for this raid. Cecil had done it before, back during the Halvorson raid.
“I mean trusted men. No bandits or pirates,” Ivana reiterated. “This city is convoluted and winding. One could easily get lost.”
“I see your plight, but we are not fighting against another clan or army,” Deimos tapped at the center of the map. “It is a cesspool of criminals and corrupted men. The only thing that forms a resistance is the Thieves Guild and even then, they won’t be much against us.”
“What about a clan response? Vindis still has its alarm system in place,” Ivana pointed out.
“Eli is currently taking care of that while we speak.” Deimos waved off.
The spellcaster had been preparing for an event like this for a while. Ever since the Halvorson raid, Eli had become confident in his ability.
“Will he be able to silence a city so big?” Ivana asked.
“Despite its size, Vindis is surprisingly weak,” Deimos started. “When the ley line totems are disabled and Eli draws his spell circle, there will be no way to contact the other clans.” Deimos revealed.
“I see,” Ivana muttered. She rubbed at her chin, her gaze focused on the map. It detailed squad movements and marauder groups. The red markings on the parchment specifically targeted key locations. If the marauders could capture and hold them, the city would be in their palm. This included harbors, guild buildings, and safe houses for the rich. The marauders in Orestead would already be enough to take them over, but with help from the hired raiders and bandits, their victory would be absolute. That is, if Eli could get his side of the plan done.
“Gear up, Ivana,” Deimos said. “We’ll have to prepare in the meantime.” They still had to take care of any roaming ships that could come to the vicinity of Vindis. It was midsommar, so that chance was low, but Deimos didn’t want to risk it. The chieftain didn’t get this far being cocky. Ivana nodded and headed out of the tent, her voice calling to the marauders in the camp.
“Everyone! Get ready! We’re heading out now!”
