The storm clouds had continued to gather through the afternoon and had grown dark and ominous as the sun started to fade from the sky. By the time the pair had reached the tree line behind the gardens of Arckvile a light rain had started to fall. They sheltered under a large oak tree while they scanned the perimeter.
“The two guards should be making their rounds right about now, so either they are off with the others searching for us or they have turned in early because of the rain.” Wilt observed from his perch in the tree.
“Well I hope it’s the former, but either way we need to get moving and out of this rain,” Lukas said as Wilt climbed back to the ground. “Unless you want to leave little wet foot shaped clues all over the floor.” Wilt quirked an eyebrow in surprise. He honestly hadn’t thought about that; and he was supposed to be the thief.
Keeping low beside the hedges they wound their way through the gardens. Wilt took the lead and he was conscious to move slowly so that Lukas could keep up, despite the adrenaline churning in his stomach. If he thought there was any chance of him listening, Wilt would have tried to convince him to stay behind. But even after knowing him only briefly, Wilt already understood the depths of Lukas’ stubbornness.
The back of the house was dark and no sound stirred in the kitchen beyond. Wilt moved like smoke, slipping through the shadows as he pushed and pulled at the windows.
“It’s no use,” he growled. “The glass is completely set into the walls, they don’t open at all. I should have known that. I should have noticed while I was scouting the house.” Wilt muttered the last part, berating himself. He was glancing back and forth, looking for a way in, when Lukas crouched at the back door. “It’s a waste of time,” Wilt sighed. “It’s latched from the inside; there’s not even a lock to pick. Not that I’m any good at picking locks anyway.” But Lukas either didn’t hear him, or wasn’t listening. He pushed and pulled at the wood, testing its strength.
“Right,” he announced with a certain nod but hesitated a moment, twisted his position, and rammed the door just above the latch with his good shoulder. Something metallic scraped and clanged before the door swung open.
Wilt couldn’t speak a word, not even a gasp of surprise; he just stood there, mouth hung wide.
“A funny thing about these types of doors is the latch will jolt open with a well placed blow. Useful if you lock yourself out, or want to break in.” Wilt just continued to gape. “Right… shall we go then?” Lukas stepped back from the door and offered Wilt the lead.
The kitchen could have well been abandoned judging from the state it was in. The fires were out and cold to the touch. When they checked the cupboards to find something to dry themselves with, they were completely bare except for the dust and grime. The only sign that the room saw any use was the pile of dirty dishes in the sink. Neatly stacked beside the dishes was a bundle of drying cloths; Wilt tossed one to Lukas before wiping himself down with another.
According to his surveillance the second floor could be accessed by the grand staircase in the foyer or, more conveniently, via a servant’s stairs leading from the kitchen. Wilt tested his weight against each step, checking for any creaks or groans. Lukas followed close behind, careful to place his foot where Wilt had stepped. At the top of the stairs Wilt held out a hand and gestured for silence. He peeked his head around the corner before waving the okay to follow.
The house was cold and silent, which was strange as a man as wealthy as Horth could afford to have every fireplace ablaze, but there were not even any candles burning in the wall sconces. Outside the storm was growing and rain assaulted the roof in a droning symphony. While it would help mask the sound of their movements, it would also hide anyone else that might be present. Even worse though, was that the sound of the rain reminded Wilt of the clacking of that woman’s shoes and he had to stop himself from flinching constantly.
The length of the hallway was covered in frayed and mismatched carpets that not only silenced their steps but also hid any wet spots they left behind. It gave a very different view compared to the ornate library downstairs; it almost felt like a different house.
“This one should be his bedroom and the door there should be his office.” Wilt whispered as they passed an ornately carved door.
“Should? Why does that not fill me with confidence,” Lukas muttered as he followed and Wilt could feel the eye-roll without needing to turn around. The door to the office was even larger and more ornate and the well worn bronze handle shone in comparison to the dim and dark room. Wilt pushed down on the handle but it didn’t budge.
“Figures,” he huffed.
“But it’s a good sign.” Lukas slipped in beside him to examine the keyhole. “You don’t lock a door unless there’s something worth keeping people away from.”
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