•East Storage House•
Ann's POV
The moment Chief Gareth left us in the storage house, the air thickened with the scent of dust and aged wood—dry, musty, clinging to the back of my throat. I flicked on the light, revealing piles of sacks stuffed with stolen goods. Philip immediately strode forward, his boots scuffing against the rough floorboards as he crouched to inspect the nearest bundle.
"These are all mixed together—textiles, household items, food supplies," he observed, fingers deftly untying a sack. The fabric rustled as it fell open, exposing a jumble of belongings. "We should organize them by category so the merchants can identify their goods more easily."
I nodded, rolling up my sleeves. "You're the merchant. I'll follow your lead."
Philip chuckled as he pulled out a crimson jewel that caught the light, its facets glittering. "So many expensive items here," he mused, rolling it between his fingers. "If these had no owners, I'd be tempted to keep a few."
