In the hearth of the aged stronghold there burned a fire, crackling and popping with steam as the wet wooden logs struggled to stay aflame. The light from the flames fought back the shadows of the stone den, which crept along the trims and corners of the room, masking some of the further portions of the chamber in faint darkness. Along the walls were hung small lamps fueled by Vare oil. Vares, a blubbery and lethargic species of sea creature, were often hunted all along the river Brux for their precious, and abundant oil. The oil they produced was both efficient in expenditure, and bright when lit with a wick, making them perfect for lanterns. The interior of the stronghold was made of chiseled stone brick, trimmed with heavy wooden beams which were coated in a thin layer of Arkkon finish to protect them against moisture and mold. The fort itself was quite old, being erected in the early centuries of the great war between the Astari and Aeon. Its structure was forged into the earth, with the entrance being carved into the side of a small cliff. It had been long lost to the forest it was rooted in, forgotten by time and its irrelevance in the present. For many years it sat dormant, without a soul to care or inhibit its walls. That was until a group of wayfaring outcasts came about it, and made it their own. There were four to begin with, but over the course of a half-decade, they grew to a mighty six.

In front of the lit fireplace, there stood a young man, armed with an old wooden broom. He was busy with cleaning the den of the stronghold, having been commanded to do so under the auspices of being disciplined for his failure a few hours back. Even with the hours of work behind him, there was still much tidying up to be done by the boy during the remainder of the night. He had made a rather crucial mistake, after all. Being seen by a witness was nasty business, especially when it was a young one, and a starving one, moreover. Sympathy made it hard to do what needed to be done to keep their secrecy intact, and such were his thoughts filled with images of the boy as he worked. He was surely dead by now, eaten alive by the winter night. 

“Damien, are you almost done in there?” Through the pathway to the kitchen there appeared Thaddeus, holding a piece of toasted bread topped with cheese. It was a southern spread, a mix of goat and cow cream from the eastern point of Akrsvon, and one quite popular with the people of Vimbaultir. As he ate, he took in Damien’s work, deciding whether it was in need of a second sweep. It was done wholly, and there wasn’t much to complain about. As with the rest of the work he had done that night, he took it seriously, meaning the discipline was working as intended.

The two archers weren’t the only ones in the den at that moment. To Thaddeus’ right, there sat Bella, snug in the seat of an old Lĕrvergan couch that predated their time in the stronghold. She had in her lap an old tome, flipping through its pages in search of some new or interesting information. Written in the language of the Ljósálffa, it was a treasured possession of hers, aiding her in her journey down the road of the Magii. Beside her on the couch was Nallia, who was soundly asleep on her side, snoring gently in her slumber. Being a Nyx, she took up only a small portion of the couch, leaving the rest to the studious woman. Across from them against the adjacent wall, there was their clan leader, Sylas. He was sitting on a matching couch, legs crossed, waiting patiently as he stared out the window next to the front entrance. The gentle flurry had picked up into a moderate snowfall, and the night had but a few hours left until it was vanquished by the sun.

“Yes, sir. I’m done,” Damien made a few quick movements with his broom before turning to face his superior. “What’s next?”

“Have you eaten?”

“No, sir.”

“Well, get something to eat, then,” Thaddeus waved him off as he sat down on Sylas’ couch. “Make it quick, though.”

Damien threw a few nods in his direction before making off towards the kitchen, stowing the broom in the supply closet in the far corner of the den. With the youngest thief’s departure, the room grew quiet, save for the faint tapping of Sylas’ shoe on the ground, and Nallia’s snores. 

“And here I thought Nyx were nocturnal,” Bella sighed, glancing over at her sister-in-arms.

“Perhaps we’re starting to rub off on her,” Sylas chuckled, shaking his head. “Her constant harping on Damien must be tiresome, I imagine.”

“She oughta stop that,” Bella looked up at Sylas, peering through the top of her glasses. “She’s giving the poor boy the wrong idea. It’s bound to get him hurt one day.”

“And you’re sure it’s the wrong idea?” Thaddeus chimed in, swallowing some of his snack. “I for one have always taken her comments in honesty. Maybe that’s how things are done in Arkkon.”

“Well, Dame’s not from Arkkon, now is he?” Bella scoffed before turning back to her book, turning its old pages with delicate fingers.

“Count’s ready!”

Leon stepped out from the hallway leading to the stronghold cache, armed with a short parchment in one hand, and a pen in another. The three awake thieves shot up at the mention of the count, turning to face their swordsman with looks of elation. Without much of a place to sit, Leon moved a short table, which had been put aside by Damien in his sweeping, back to the center of the den and sat down at its side, placing the parchment on its surface. The three others were quick to join him, looking over the list with wide eyes.

“It looks like being cut short didn’t take much from the haul, huh?”

“We made out pretty well, that’s for sure.”

“Three hundred and fifty silver pieces. We could stretch that out for a month, if not more!”

“Sylas, when would we want to pawn it off?” Leon turned to face his leader, who began to ponder over the swordsman’s inquiry.

“Mhh,” Sylas thought aloud. “Monrose will have an eye out for his inventory, it may be best to head to Vor Del to sell it.”

“Ver Del?”

“No, Vor Del, northeast of here. Ver Del has too many prying eyes, with all the merchants coming in, word would get to Monrose that we have his loot.”

“You’re not worried about being swindled?” Bella added.

“We’ve been there before, there’s no trouble there. As for the time, that depends. Would it be smarter to sell it quickly before word makes it to Vor Del, or should we wait until the buzz dies down.”

“I’m one for waiting,” Thaddeus chimed, having finished his bread and cheese. “We’re in no rush. It would be safer to hold out.”

“Aye, that’s my thinking as well,” replied Sylas.

“I suppose there’s no real reason to chance it,” Leon nodded, taking into account their savings at the moment. “We have enough to hold out for a few more weeks. Food for us isn’t the problem, it’s horse feed that will set us back. Not to mention our tithe to the Corps gang is coming up next month. If we miss that, we’ll lose our territory.

“True, that is true.”

“How about we wait till the first to sell out? We can last until then off our stockpile, and it’ll leave us half a week to come up with the coin for the Corps,” Sylas made up his mind, relaying his plan to his siblings. “Sound good?”

“I’m for it,” came Leon, followed by similar statements from Thaddeus and Bella. Seeing as Nallia was resting, and Damien was in little position to offer input, the plan was agreed upon by the four. They would send a rider or two to Vor Del to cash in on their take from Monrose, and thus their worries for the near future would be taken care of from that simple haul. 

“Still no word about the boy?” Leon, standing up, asked his friends. 

“Nothing yet. Not that that’s surprising, he’s likely dead by now,” Sylas rose to make for the couch again, collapsing against it as he let out a sigh. “I could see the kid’s ribs through his coat. You know, if it weren’t snowing, I’d have the inclination to say he would make it here without a scratch. No beast would have a mind to maul him, he’s got nothing to eat on him.”

“That’s cruel,” Bella shook her head, noting how Thaddeus laughed in response. “Must we always do this with a witness?”

“Yes, we must,” it was Leon who spoke, chiming in before Sylas could once again explain their actions to Bella. “It’s all about trading lives. If one witness were to live, that would put us in danger. Six is greater than one, and besides, there’s no guarantee they’re dead anyway. We scare them off with a promise to hunt them, and they either make it out alive, or they don’t.”

“Or they end up at our doorstep,” Sylas added, glancing over at Nallia. “Those two made it.”

“I suppose they did,” came Bella in a soft voice. The conversation was over, and all that remained was the crackling of the fireplace, and the subtle snoring of their Nyx companion. “I suppose they did...”

*Knock*... *Knock*

From the circular entrance to the stronghold, there came two solemn knocks, sounding off against the heavy wood of the door. It stirred the four conscious thieves, catching their attention in an instant as they looked towards the front of the den. Damien, who had returned from the kitchen, had arrived in time to hear the knock as well. They were heavy impacts, too heavy to be branches blowing in the wind, or other oddities brewed by the blizzard.

“I’m not mad, am I?” Bella mouthed, closing her book to place it on the cushion beside her. “You all heard that, yes?”

“That we did,” Sylas and Thaddeus said in unison, rising from their seats. Soon enough, the five were all standing, facing the door with caution. There came another set of knocks, this time three in total.

*Knock*... *Knock*... *Knock*

Sylas dug a hand under the cushions to reveal a long knife, sheathed with a leather scabbard. Leon and Thaddeus did the same as Bella took up behind them.

“Damien, get your kit!” Called Thaddeus as the three men approached the door. The whole scenario had proven enough to stir Nallia, who sat up on the couch to let out a long yawn. 

“*Yawn*, ahhh, what’re you all doing?”

*Knock*... *Knock*

“I’ve got the door,” Leon crept forward, holding the blade in his right hand while reaching for the door handle with his other. He grabbed onto it before turning back to glance at the others, who all sent him ready glares. They were ill-prepared to handle danger, but were still primed nonetheless. Bella, expecting the worst, had already begun to conjure a protective stave, waiting for confirmation before casting it on the three.

“Here we go.”

With a twist of the handle, the door flew open, letting a gale of snow fly about the den. From the other side of the door, there sat a large black bear, leaning against the wood before promptly falling down onto the stone floor of the den. It was missing a head, with dried blood smeared all across its pelt. The four, caught up in the sight of the headless bear, were slow to notice Ander, standing beside the beast, also saturated with gore. He wavered on his legs for a moment, before falling flat against the floor, shivering profusely in the warmth of the den.

“Oh my gods,” Bella mumbled before racing forward to the boy’s side. The other three put down their knives at once, joining the woman beside Ander. 

“By Essa…”

“What the hell happened?”

“Bella, he needs healing! Drag him in front of the hearth.” Sylas and Bella exchanged glances, grabbing the boy by his arms. As they did, life spurred within him, and in an instant, he let out the contents of his stomach, some of which landed on the two thieves. It was mostly fluid, but blotches of crimson were present in it.

“Oh for heaven's sake!”

“Hah!” Thaddeus couldn’t help but laugh, having moved the bear aside to allow them to get to Ander. “I’m surprised he had anything in there to cough up!”

“There’s blood,” the woman cringed, calling upon her arcana to conjure a healing spell. “He vomited blood, he’s in ill health.”

“Of course he’s in ill health! Look, his shoulder’s torn up, the poor boy.” Leon kneeled beside Ander, inspecting the wounds brought about by the bear.

“Is no one going to mention the bear!” Damien, who was now armed with his bow, finally found the will to speak amongst the commotion. “And the fact that it’s missing a head?”

“One mystery at a time, Dame. Looks like he was mauled,” Sylas grabbed hold of Ander and dragged him inside, throwing the door shut to keep the blizzard out. “Cuts on his chest, bite marks on his shoulder.”

“Frostbite, too,” Leon held up Ander’s hand, which was coated with dried blood and painted purple by the cold. 

“I’m on it,” Bella began her chant as her hands glowed with ethereal presence. She clasped them over his shoulder, eyes shut in focus. Out of all the casts coveted by Magii, healing spells were among the hardest. Rebuilding living tissue from the ground up - pulling the strings in such an organized and exact fashion - took a mastery that Bella had just barely achieved. Regardless of that fact, she did her best to mend the boy.

“Nali! Go set a warm bath, and not for yourself!” The older woman called out to the Nyx, to which the short creature smirked. She hurried off towards the stronghold bath, still stretching out her tired state.

“Anything I can do?” Damien called out to Thaddeus, who was wiping his hands clean of bear blood. The older men thought for a moment, before reaching down to retrieve one of the three knives on the ground. He pushed it into the younger man’s chest and spoke. 

“In fact, there is,” Thaddeus grinned. “Grab some real clothes and take the bear outside. Skin it, clean it and cut it up to keep in the under storage. You got that?”

“Y-Yes, sir,” he said, first with timidness, then with resoluteness.

“Alright, off with you then,” the elder archer motioned towards Damien’s room, to which the boy took off.

“Water’s ready!” After a few minutes, a cry bellowed from the washroom, the voice belonging to Nallia. “How’s the healing?”

“His wounds were already clotted shut, but he lost a lot of blood,” Bella relayed what she could feel in her administration. “He should be stable. It’s hard to know for sure. His body’s so frail that I can’t really tell.”

“Not frail enough to kill a full-grown bear, apparently,” Sylas said, still coming to grips with the headless beast residing in his once-clean den. “Did he drag it here? On his own?...”

“Someone oughta take him to the bath, he needs to warm up.”

“Don’t they need to warm up slowly? Won’t a bath make it worse?”

“I’ve got him past that, he’ll be fine.” Bella waved away Sylas’ doubt.

“Is that a knife he’s got?” Thaddeus noticed a small protuberance from the boy’s side, where a small gleam of metal shined through. He lowered down to reach for it, but found a frail bloodied hand keeping him from the knife. It clasped around the older man's hand, tainting his white shirt with a mixture of mud and gore.

“My… Knife…”