The gallery first.
The door creaked. He winced and stepped inside. The room smelled the same.
He found the Veltrin exactly where he'd left it, half obscured between two monstrosities of pastoral mediocrity. He slid it into a length of linen and tied the ends tightly, creating a thin bundle just large enough to be mistaken for cleaning cloths.
Easy.
Next, the relics.
Down two corridors, past the unused parlor. He ducked into the storage room. Empty. Good.
He reached under the linen pile, pried open the chest.
The glass spheres were still there, glinting faintly. He didn't touch them. Just took the raven pendant, the true prize. It slipped into his inner coat pocket as if it belonged there.
Still good.
9:21.
Last stop.
The hunting gallery was cold. Dead quiet.
He found the rug. Pulled it back. The plank beneath was loose.
He pried it up. The chest was there.
Thick, oak, and covered in dust.
Veyn pulled out a wire with trembling fingers and stuck it into the keyhole. He twisted and scraped, tried every angle he knew, left tension, light rake, deep set jiggle. Nothing. The lock was old and stubborn.
His hands ached. His nerves buzzed. He didn't have time for failure. Footsteps could come any second. One creak, and everything he'd planned, the scouting, the faked papers, the subtle thefts building toward this, would unravel.
He pulled the wire out, swore under his breath, and wiped his palms on his uniform. That's when he got an idea.
Not through the lock. Around it.
He glanced behind him. Still alone. The celebration downstairs, Callum's eighteenth, was in full swing. Laughter, music, clinking glasses. The perfect storm. No one would be checking the third floor storage room.
He dragged the chest back and inspected the underside. The boards were old and warped.
'Maybe-'
Yes. One panel near the base had come loose from its nails. Time and neglect had done what no key could.
He dropped to his knees and worked the panel gently free, teeth clenched against the groan of old wood. He peeled it back just far enough to slip his hand inside.
His fingers closed around something soft. Fabric. Then metal.
'Jackpot.'
One by one, Veyn pulled out wrapped bundles and examined the contents under the moonlight from the window.
First, a necklace, pearls threaded with black steel.
Second, a pouch of coins, stamped with the old king's face. Pre war mint. Rare. Collectible.
He slid the chest back in place. Pressed the panel. Locked the secret away again.
Then, with practiced calm, he made his way out, just another tired servant hauling linens.
9:48.
Almost done.
He crept through the side passages. The weight on his back slowed him, but not by much. The exit, an unused courtyard gate near the carriage house, was close now. He'd unlatched it earlier under the pretense of scrubbing snow.
Slipping out and then, almost in the clear, he paused
'What… the hell?'
Outside, in the cold, they were wheeling away the body of an older man. Pale, still, undeniably dead.
'Why… is there a body? No, seriously… what the hell?'
Veyn stared, chest tightening as the frost in the air suddenly felt sharper.
What could've happened during Callum's birthday that ended with a fresh corpse?
The man looked old, maybe a guest who'd dropped dead mid toast? Possible... but unlikely. That would've caused a scene. There'd be screams, servants panicking, some noble fainting into a chair. But the celebration hadn't missed a beat.
Poison? An accident in the kitchens?
Then it hit him.
Callum's eighteenth.
A noble household.
A dead man.
And earlier, yes, Veyn remembered, there'd been a robed figure among the guests. Arrived early. Talking with Callum. A Spirit Sorcerer, most likely.
It all snapped into place.
"An Inheritance."
That was it. A coming of age ceremony, sealed with blood.
No better time than a birthday, no better gift than magic.
Veyn stood frozen, watching the corpse disappear into the night like it was just another box of leftover wine being carted out with the rest of the party waste.
His lips curled in a mix of awe and bitterness.
"Callum, you lucky bastard," he muttered.
Veyn didn't move for a long time.