Kelme walked through the city with the confidence of a man who had finally discovered the answer to all their financial problems. His strides were long, his chin was high, and his eyes gleamed with the kind of certainty that usually preceded disaster.
Aria followed behind him.
She was less confident.
Her feet hurt. Her head ached. She’d spent an entire day watching people who weren’t worth robbing, and now she was following a former vampire through crowded streets toward yet another questionable destination.
"Are you sure about this?" she asked, her voice carrying a note of weary skepticism.
"Completely." Kelme didn’t even glance back.
"You said that about the merchant."
"That was before we discovered he was storing enough grain to feed half the city."
"And the noble?"
"Before we discovered he was poorer than us."
"And the tax collector?"
Kelme stopped walking. For a moment, he stood perfectly still, his expression shifting through several stages of discomfort.
"Let’s never speak of him again," he said, his voice unusually quiet. "I haven’t paid my taxes in too long. We might summon him if we spoke of him three times or something. Like a demon."
"Agreed."
They continued walking.
---
Eventually, Kelme stopped in front of a large stone building. It was grand and imposing, with tall windows, ornate carvings, and a massive wooden door that looked like it could withstand a siege.
Aria looked up. Then she looked at him. Then back at the building.
"No."
"You don’t even know what I’m thinking."
"I know exactly what you’re thinking."
Kelme smiled. It was the kind of smile that made Aria want to walk in the opposite direction.
"The auction house."
Aria stared at it. The building loomed before them, its walls lined with banners advertising upcoming sales. She could see the crowds gathering inside through the tall windows. People in fine clothes, carrying coin purses that probably contained more money than she’d ever held in her life.
A place where nobles, merchants, and collectors gathered to buy magical artifacts, rare weapons, expensive jewelry, and other things normal people couldn’t afford.
She slowly smiled. "Okay."
Kelme nodded, looking almost proud of himself. "See? We found our target."
"No, we found a building."
"Same thing."
---
They spent the next hour investigating.
They studied the auction house from every angle, noting the patrol patterns of the guards, the placement of the mages, the location of every possible entrance and exit. Aria counted twelve guards in total, each one heavily armed and alert. Two mages sat near the main entrance, their eyes scanning the crowd with practiced suspicion. The vault was reinforced with enough steel and magic to survive a direct siege.
And, according to the sign beside the entrance—
NO MASKS ALLOWED.
Aria slowly touched her magical mask. The smooth, black surface was warm against her fingers, a constant reminder of the debt she was trying to avoid.
"Well, that’s inconvenient."
Kelme looked at her. "You could take it off."
She stared at him as though he’d suggested removing her head. "No."
"Right. Or change your face. It can do that."
She blinked. "I forgot about that."
"Very useful."
"Still inconvenient."
They continued watching the building.
---
Eventually, a wealthy-looking man stepped outside.
He was tall and broad, with a thick beard that had been trimmed to perfection. Several guards surrounded him, their hands resting on their weapons, their eyes scanning the crowd for any sign of trouble. The man himself wore expensive clothes—dark silk, gold embroidery, a heavy silver necklace that glinted in the afternoon light. His fingers were covered in rings, each one worth more than Aria had ever owned.
Kelme whispered, "That’s our man."
Aria squinted. "How do you know?"
"He looks evil."
"That isn’t evidence."
"He has a mustache."
"That is even less evidence."
The man suddenly turned and shouted at a servant who had been walking too slowly. His voice was sharp and cruel, carrying across the street.
Aria blinked. "Okay. Slightly convincing."
---
They followed him.
Unfortunately, he entered a building surrounded by guards. Then another. Then another.
By the end of the afternoon, Aria had learned three things.
He was rich. He was extremely unpleasant. And he was paranoid.
"He’s impossible to rob," Aria muttered, rubbing her tired eyes.
Kelme smiled. "Not impossible."
"How?"
Kelme pointed across the street.
The man had just entered a small bakery. It was a modest establishment with a faded sign and a single window. No guards. No mages. No magical alarms. Just a small, unassuming shop that sold bread and pastries.
Aria stared. "That’s our chance?"
Kelme nodded. "We rob him in the bakery?"
"No."
"Then what?"
"We buy something."
Kelme looked genuinely offended. "We’re supposed to be criminals."
"We’re gathering information."
"By buying bread?"
"Yes."
Kelme sighed, his shoulders slumping in defeat. "Fine."
---
They entered.
The bakery was warm and cozy, filled with the comforting smell of fresh bread and sugar. A plump woman stood behind the counter, her face creased with a welcoming smile.
Aria glanced around, her eyes scanning the small space. No back exit. No hiding spots. Just bread, pastries, and a cash register that was probably locked.
She walked to the counter. "A loaf of bread, please."
The woman nodded, reaching for a fresh loaf wrapped in cloth. "That’ll be three copper."
Aria handed over the coins. She felt a small pang of regret—they were supposed to be making money, not spending it—but the bread was warm in her hands, and it smelled incredible.
Kelme stepped forward. "I’ll take two pastries."
He paid. He took a bite. His expression shifted to one of genuine appreciation.
"It’s good," he said, his mouth half-full.
Aria sighed. "This is going to take forever."
---
Behind them, the wealthy man walked out of the bakery.
He had apparently been in the back, speaking with the owner. He was holding a small bag of pastries, his expression one of casual superiority.
He looked directly at Aria.
Then at Kelme.
Then at the bread.
He narrowed his eyes.
Kelme froze. His pastry stopped halfway to his mouth.
Aria whispered, "Did he recognize us?"
"No."
"Are you sure?"
"Yes."
The man pointed at Kelme. His voice was sharp and accusatory.
"You forgot to pay for those."
Kelme slowly looked down at the pastries in his hand. His expression shifted through several stages—confusion, realization, embarrassment.
Aria covered her face with her free hand.
"...We’re terrible criminals."
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