Within the shadows of the looming rampart, Valerlanta swung the rope, weighted with a stick, in wide, steady circles above her head. The arc grew wider, faster, until she released it. 

The stick soared out of sight, then hit stone with a dull thud. Valerlanta flinched, her breath catching, and waited for an alarm to be raised. But there was nothing—no shouts, no hurried footsteps.

She tugged on the rope, feeling it go taut.

'First try,' she thought. A good omen, perhaps.

The thief was at the lowest section of the castle rampart, where the stick was now wedged securely between two merlons. Coming to this spot had been a gamble—within the walled city and likely less patrolled by guards—but she couldn't be certain.

Valerlanta hesitated.

'Am I really doing this?' Stealing from a castle? She had never attempted a job this big, let alone solo.

A voice in the back of her mind reminded her that Venic was waiting, maybe even searching for her by now.

But there was no time to dwell on that.

That horrid man was here, and he would ruin everything if she didn't move quickly.

The weathered stone was slick beneath her boots, but she found her footing and began to climb. The city sprawled out behind her, a sea of twinkling lanterns and the occasional flicker of light from passersby.

Reaching the top, Valerlanta pulled herself up to her elbows, exhaling sharply—only to freeze as movement caught her eye. Instinctively, she dropped back down, clinging to the ledge with just her fingertips. The strain was immediate, biting into her muscles.

A clink of boots approached, echoing off the stone.

Her fingers began to slide.

She glanced at the rope—grabbing it again would make the anchor clatter against the stone, a sure giveaway.

Valerlanta held her breath, her body trembling with the effort.

Her grip continued to loosen.

Torchlight glimmered above.

 The guard paused, his heavy, raspy breathing betraying his age. She desperately hoped that the old age came with poorer eyesight.

She bit her lip, every muscle screaming, as she waited for him to move on.

After what felt like an eternity, the guard's steps resumed, fading down the wall.

Knowing her time was limited, Valerlanta heaved herself up. She kept low, eyes darting as she watched the guards patrolling the long stretch. With a swift motion, she tossed the rope down from where she had climbed.

She had no choice now.

Standing between two towers, she was completely exposed. If the sentries in the towers didn't spot her, those in the courtyard below or even the great hall might.

Keeping low, Valerlanta rushed into the nearest tower door.

The interior was as black as any cave she had ever explored.

Her heart pounded, her breathing quickening as she waited of her eyes to adjust to the darkness. A faint glimmer of light revealed itself further down the spiraling stairs.

The steps wound downward in near-total darkness, save for the occasional torch casting flickering light against the stone. The light beckoned her deeper, and she descended as quickly as she dared, the dizzying spiral threatening her balance.

One doorway passed by, but it wasn't the one she needed. She continued without hesitation. There were no sounds of anyone else upon the stairs. It seemed everyone was either in bed or had gathered at the gate, drawn by the commotion.

When the final doorway came into view, it was ajar. Valerlanta pressed her back against the cold stone, cautiously peeking around the door frame.

Ahead lay a large courtyard, the royal gardens at its center. The scent of horse stables drifted on the cool night air.

Darting to the cover of a nearby wheelbarrow, Valerlanta crouched low. From here, she could see a distant guard stationed at the gate.

Training told her to observe the guards' movements, to learn their patterns before moving. But there was no time for that. Lowering herself onto her belly, she began to crawl, inching forward with agonizing slowness. The carefully trimmed bushes loomed ahead, offering the cover she needed.

Palenwood castle was -- likely thanks to it's wild setting -- not large, and she hoped that also meant castle guards were too costly of a budget to have too many.

Once surrounded by the foliage, she rose into a crouch, quickening her pace as the greenery shielded her. The main doors loomed ahead, but she ignored them, veering left toward a smaller, hidden door, its entrance masked by clever stonework.

Inside, the air was warm, tinged with the smell of recent meals. The kitchen was empty, its cooking fire reduced to embers, plates neatly stacked in the corners. It was late, too late for dinner, but the kitchens were usually staffed at all hours. The absence of people made her pause.

Could this be a trap?

Her heart skipped a beat at the thought, but she quickly dismissed it. Not even she had known she would come at this moment. How could they?

As an answer, she caught the sound of giggling from a nearby room and noticed a broom leaning against the door frame.

An amused smirk tugged at her lips as she continued on.

At the end of the hall, Valerlanta slipped into a narrow servant's staircase, navigating it quickly. The exit was so tight she had to turn sideways to squeeze through. Beyond it, stone columns carved with ghastly creatures rose into a vast, shadowy space. The one nearest her depicted a commoner bravely wielding a fallen knight's sword against a fearsome dragon. The story spiraled around the column, culminating on the opposite side.

This wasn't just any hall, she realized with a caught breath. These columns recorded the kingdom's past, etched in stone.

Candles flickered atop a table still laden with the remnants of a meal, likely left by those seeking refuge from the days heat.

She spotted three guards ahead, casually strolling between the columns as if they had all the time in the world. One even snatched a piece of half-eaten bread, munching on it as he patrolled. 

They had grown complacent in their safety.

Beyond them was the doorway she sought, its frame etched with symbols matching those on her puzzle ball.

The castle was not an overly large one, but she still mentally thanked whatever caused her to be lucky enough to end up exactly where she needed to be on the very first try. All she had planned was "go downwards," and....here she was.

But the guards stood in her way, and she needed to get past them. 

Fortunately, the pillars cast long shadows, untouched by the candlelight.

Valerlanta crept forward, darting from pillar to pillar. 

The last of her cover ran out, leaving her exposed with a guard directly in her path. He bent to retrieve his water skin, and she seized the opportunity, darting past him in a swift, silent motion.

 Valerlanta ducked inside, nearly running into a thin cord strung across the entrance. She halted just in time, leaping over it and narrowly avoiding the bells that would have sounded her arrival.

Breathing a sigh of relief, she continued into the room.

The interior reminded Valerlanta of a dragon's hoard. Golden cups, weapons, baskets, books, and even a life-sized miniature pony made of gold crowded the space.

'A clever trick,' she thought. 'Hide one item of value among hundreds, and only someone who knows what they're looking for could find the right one.'

A vise-like pressure gripped her chest, but she forced herself to move slowly toward the first table. Several items bore inscriptions in dryad script, but something about them felt wrong. 

It was too easy. All of it was too easy.

The only explanation for a treasure room without a door was that some of the items were rigged to alarm.

'A room full of goods, but only one item matters,' Valerlanta reminded herself, scanning every detail. 'Most would reach for the most expensive item; others, thinking they're clever, would go for the least. Neither would be right.'

A jeweled dagger? Too obvious. 

A golden codpiece? Amusing, but no.

Her hand hovered over a small, simple toy box. It was unremarkable, save for a carved tree on the lid. If she had to guess, it was made to hold toy soldiers or something similar—or at least it was meant to look that way. 

The fact that a simple toy box had a small lock keeping it closed was what struck her as peculiar. What was more was that the lock had the tiniest line of dryad script.

Valerlanta swallowed hard and touched the box. Then, with one final breath, she lifted it.

The box came free in her hand. Her body tensed, waiting.

Nothing happened.

Curiosity gnawed at her, urging her to pick the lock right there, but she slipped the box into her bag instead and took one last glance at the remaining items.

She only had one chance at this.

Hesitating, Valerlanta debated whether to trust her gut or risk grabbing more items, each one potentially triggering an alarm. After a few more breaths, she made her decision and left the rest behind.

As she planned her escape, a commotion echoed from the grand staircase reserved for nobles. A large group was thundering down the steps.

The guards in the room straightened, weapons drawn, as they edged toward the door. Seizing the distraction, Valerlanta padded out of the room and dove behind a pillar as the soldiers marched in.

It was the hound's men—their uniforms gave them away immediately—but they weren't alone. Palenwood guards, a nobleman, and someone whose presence sent a chill through her veins.

Askyel of House Lochsell.

The black market leader strode confidently, leading the group of men as if he were in charge.

No, he was in charge.

"Go fetch it," he ordered, and three men sprang into action.

Valerlanta pressed her back against the cold stone, her heart pounding in her ears.

Her hand brushed the hilt of her dagger, a small comfort.

"It's gone!" a guard shouted, rushing back into the room. "Someone has taken it!"

"We should lock down the city," barked a raspy voice. From the arrogance in his tone, Valerlanta guessed it belonged to the young nobleman who'd recently been granted this castle by the king. "We'll search every home, and burn down those who don't comply!"

'What a charming leader. Pride of his people, I bet.'

"No need for that," Askyel responded, voice laced with amusement.

"Why not? You said the king himself requires it. If a commoner has it, we must retrieve it before their filth corrupts it!"

"There's no need. You told me yourself you ensured it's safety before meeting us at the gate, and so if its gone now...that would leave dreadfully little time for the thief. In fact, I am impressed there was time to get in here and grab it at all."

Valerlanta's muscles tensed, her breath caught.

"Why does that matter?" the brat asked, his irritation clear.

"It matters," Askyel said, his tone darkening, "because she's still here."

The boy gasped, and before the guards could process Askyel's words, Valerlanta sprang from her hiding spot.

"There!" a voice shouted.

The two guards by the stairs lunged at her, but Valerlanta ducked under their arms, narrowly escaping their grasp.

"Stop her!" the brat screeched, his voice cracking with fear.

Valerlanta took the stairs two at a time, but something caught her ankle, sending her crashing hard against the stone steps. 

A rough hand clamped down, dragging her back toward the waiting men. 

Desperation fueled her as she scrambled for a hold, kicking furiously with her free leg.

The man grunted in pain, his grip unwavering, until finally, one of her boots connected with his face. His nose crunched under the impact, and he lost his balance, toppling backward and taking another guard with him.

Valerlanta didn't hesitate. She bolted up the stairs, her head spinning from the relentless ascent.

Bursting out onto the ground floor and out the kitchen, she raced across the courtyard without slowing to check if anyone was there. 

The shouts of alarm grew louder, echoing through the grounds.

No on blocked her path back up onto the rampart.

 The rope was gone, but perhaps—just perhaps—the trees below would break her fall.

Her feet skidded to a stop as the old guard stepped out of the doorway in front of her, a bow drawn and aimed at her.

"Halt!" He rasped.

Valerlanta spun around, only to find the doorway there blocked by soldiers spilling out onto the stonework. 

She was trapped.

"Give up," a familiar voice ordered; it was the one that sometimes surfaced in nightmares. "There's nowhere for you to run."

Valerlanta let a sly smile play on her lips as she removed her pack and swung it before her, back-and-forth, tauntingly.  "Aw, poor thing, so upset. What's wrong, little hound? Do I have something you want?"

Jerstain's grin was wicked, his eyes crazed as they fixed on her with a disturbing intensity. Valerlanta had memories of him being impossibly tall as a giant, but had wondered if it was just her fear that made him seem like way. Now, however, she saw the truth of it. He towered over both her and his men, and had the thick muscles to match his height. "You are in no position to bargain. Look around you! You are surrounded. Surrender peacefully, or things will get very painful for you."

Oh, she had no doubt about that. However...

Valerlanta arched an eyebrow, letting the pack slip from her fingers. It sailed over the edge of the wall, disappearing into the darkness below.

"Oops," she said with mock innocence.

In an instant, the soldiers were upon her.

Valerlanta managed to draw her knives, one in each hand, slashing and stabbing with desperate precision. 

She saw some men drop under her blade, but not enough. Not even close to enough. Their numbers overwhelmed her.

Just as Valerlanta made the desperate decision to use magic, a sharp blow struck the back of her head, sending her crumpling down.

Rough hands twisted her arms behind her back and pulled,  so she had to look up at Jerstain.  

He loomed over and cold fear hit her in the chest. 

"And so the forest finally loses one of it's rats." He said, happily.

Any hope of concentrating enough to use magic vanished as his boot slammed into her, again and again, each blow driving her deeper into the abyss of pain.