Desdemona Blackwood's Fellowship

The lead thief stays pinned to the sled rail, while the thief beside the crates keeps her blocked hand raised. The burly warrior guards the hollow, axe ready but lowered.

The Guild healer kneels beside the unconscious rear guard and checks his breathing, then looks toward the slope. Beyond the blue pines, distant water glints between the trunks.

The scraped palm stings against Corrin’s lockpicks, and brass dust still clings to the sled’s hasp. The path slopes downward, offering little time before nightfall.

Corrin searches the surrendered thieves with practiced care. Keen senses catch the faint outline of a knife beneath the lead thief’s belt, while his thieves’ tools lift a concealed sheath from the other’s boot.

He removes both weapons, checks the thieves’ sleeves and boots, and finds no further steel. He then binds their wrists securely with spare cord, leaving them able to walk under guard.

The burly warrior takes hold of the bound thieves while the Guild healer remains beside the unconscious rear guard. The confiscated blades lie safely beyond reach, and the hollow settles into wary quiet.

The agreement settles the hollow. Bram takes the bound thieves toward the sled, while Mira checks the fallen guard once more and gathers the nearest marked crates for transport.

The lead thief nods toward the descending path. Corrin has command of the prisoners, while Bram's warning makes the cost plain: any lost cargo will stain his standing with the Guild.

The comparison lends Corrin's command a theatrical edge, and the bound thieves exchange wary looks. Bram gestures them forward while keeping their cords firmly in hand.

The two prisoners descend between the trees under Bram's watch, their bound hands visible and their pace steady. Mira follows with the marked cargo, pausing only to confirm the unconscious rear guard still breathes.

Corrin's praise rises grandly over the descending path, but his flourish draws more attention to himself than to the careful work beside him. The bound thieves glance at one another, unimpressed.

Bram's rebuke quiets the procession without stopping it. Through the trees, moss breaks around a low stone face set into the hillside, confirming the prisoners' direction and offering a clear place to secure the cargo.

The boast earns no new acclaim, but the hidden entrance is no longer hidden. The team reaches it together, with the prisoners watched, the cargo accounted for, and the next choice plainly before Corrin.

Corrin kneels at the root-covered stone door. His keen senses catch a hairline seam beneath the moss, while his lockpicks probe the hidden mechanism and his thieves’ tools steady the delicate work.

He turns the final pick with a sly flourish, making the puzzle last for one needless heartbeat. The lock yields, but a sharp metallic click carries through the trees and exposes the attempt.

Stone grinds against stone as the door swings inward, revealing a cramped chamber stacked with marked crates, sealed bundles, and a lantern burning low on a shelf.

Corrin nods in agreement and steps into the chamber, letting his thieves’ tools guide a careful search across the shelves, crates, and sealed bundles.

His keen senses reach through the lantern’s weak glow, picking out disturbed dust, faint scuffs, and a narrow strip of blue wax tucked beneath the shelf. The wax bears a thorn-shaped seal.

A tool slips beneath the shelf’s loose board and lifts a folded scrap without tearing it. The writing lists delivery times, a shoreline rendezvous, and the initials E.V.

Behind the bundles, Corrin finds a second ledger page listing the marked crates and a payment promised after delivery. One entry names a boat waiting at the eastern shore.

Corrin’s confident charm makes the question sound generous, though his earlier flourish still hangs in the air. His keen senses catch every glance between the bound thieves as lockpicks and thieves’ tools rest visibly at his belt, quiet reminders of how easily he found their secrets.

The answer lands cleanly: E.V., a covered skiff, moonrise, and a distinctive gray-cloaked buyer. Corrin has the lead, but the thieves’ wary looks show the cost of his theatrical manner: neither trusts him enough to offer more without pressure.

Corrin leaves The Sea of Trees — hidden stone chamber behind and arrives at Lavendara.

Lavendara receives them beneath violet wisteria and perfumed evening air. The Guild’s lamps glow ahead as Bram escorts the two bound thieves, while Mira guides the recovered cargo and watches the unconscious rear guard.

Corrin walks quietly at the procession’s edge, scanning balconies, alleys, and passing faces. Nothing escapes his watchfulness, and the group reaches the Guild without losing cargo or prisoner.

At the Guild steps, an iron-bell summons an aide from within. The lead thief stiffens at the sound, while the other lowers her gaze and keeps walking.

The Guild doors open onto lamplight, clerks, and waiting shelves. Beyond the threshold, a fresh blue-wax message rests on the intake desk, bearing the same thorn-shaped seal as the evidence.