The moon hung low over the beach, casting an ethereal glow across the crashing waves of the Ælmaran coast. A lone figure, cloaked in black, stood at the edge of the water, his silvered hair whipping in the wind like a tattered flag from a forgotten era. This was Roderic Vance, once the most feared and renowned gentleman thief in the Four Kingdoms. But those days were far behind him.
Tonight, the ocean wasn’t singing a lullaby. It murmured of sorrow, of loss. The body of his younger brother, Tarian, lay on the shore—life having been snatched from him hours earlier in what appeared to be an accident, but Roderic knew better. Accidents in politics didn’t happen, not in these lands, not with the looming council elections.
Roderic’s thoughts were interrupted by the soft crunch of sand behind him. Talon Daro, his apprentice, approached—unexpectedly graceful for someone of his height, and possessing a charisma Roderic could never fathom. The young man had an odd charm, one that swayed hearts and clouded minds, yet it was never Talon’s charisma that drew Roderic to him. No, it was the hunger in the boy’s eyes—the longing for something more than what life had handed him.
“Do you think it was them?” Talon asked, kneeling beside the body, his voice quieter than the waves.
Roderic didn’t answer immediately. His mind was on House Edrath, the powerful family that ruled the coastal region. They were not pleased with Tarian’s recent bid to expose their corruption, and Tarian’s sudden death seemed far too convenient. Roderic could almost hear the smug satisfaction in their council chambers already.
“It was them,” he said finally. “They killed him to send a message. They think I’m too old, too broken, to fight back.”
Talon stood, his gaze shifting to the darkened cliffs where Edrath’s manor loomed like a sentinel over the sea. “Are they right?”
Roderic met his eyes. The moonlight reflected in the boy’s gaze, but something darker shimmered beneath. He’d trained Talon to take his place one day, but Talon was still so naive about the dangers of this world. He hadn’t yet learned that playing the game wasn’t about winning—it was about surviving.
“I’m not finished yet,” Roderic muttered, almost to himself.
For years, Roderic had been content to fade into the shadows. After all, he had survived wars, betrayals, and schemes beyond count. He’d made his fortune, built his reputation, and outwitted kings. But now, the death of his brother stirred something inside him—a restlessness he hadn’t felt in years. A part of him longed for the old days, the thrill of the heist, the rush of outsmarting the most powerful in the land.
There was a time when Roderic believed in something more. He’d fought for change, for justice, only to learn that power was the ultimate game, and it was always rigged.
Talon shifted beside him, his youthful energy barely contained. “So, what’s the plan?”
“The plan…” Roderic hesitated. He wasn’t used to having to answer that question. For years, he’d avoided conflict, preferring the quiet life. But now? His brother was gone. And someone had to pay.
“We take them down,” he said, eyes narrowing toward the manor.
Later that night, Roderic and Talon slipped into the Edrath estate like shadows. The grand hall, with its towering pillars and lavish tapestries, was empty save for a few guards too deep in their cups to notice the intruders. Talon, with his natural charm, played his part as a distraction, drawing the attention of the guards while Roderic moved silently through the corridors.
At his prime, Roderic would have navigated the estate without a sound, but now, every creak of the floor seemed louder than a trumpet in his ears. He was slower than he used to be, and there was a growing dread gnawing at him that maybe he wasn’t ready for this life anymore.
But he couldn’t let that stop him. His brother was dead. And the conspiracy that led to it wouldn’t go unanswered.
In the council chambers, Lord Hadeon Edrath sat at the head of a long table, poring over letters by candlelight. He was a man used to power, with a confidence that made him careless. Roderic approached, unnoticed in the dimly lit room, until he was standing just behind Hadeon, his knife at the ready.
But before Roderic could act, Talon’s voice broke the silence.
“Wait.”
Roderic turned. Talon stood in the doorway, his posture tense. For the first time, the apprentice’s calm façade faltered. “There’s more at stake here than vengeance,” Talon said, eyes darting to the letters scattered on the table.
“Tarian wasn’t killed because of a political rivalry. It’s much bigger than that.”
Roderic frowned. “What do you mean?”
Talon stepped forward, his gaze now locked on the documents. “Tarian discovered a plot—House Edrath is not the mastermind. They’re pawns, just like we are.”
Hadeon, for his part, smirked from his chair. “Smart boy,” he said, looking at Talon. “But you’re still too late.”
The twist hit Roderic hard. His whole life, he’d been playing the game, believing that he was always one step ahead. But this? It wasn’t just about one corrupt family. It was about a web of power that stretched far beyond the Four Kingdoms, a secret order pulling strings from the shadows.
For the first time in years, Roderic felt something unfamiliar—fear. He had spent decades convincing himself he was in control, but now he was just another piece on the board.
But Talon… Talon had always wanted something more. He wasn’t content with just playing the game. He wanted to win it.
“You said we’d take them down,” Talon said, stepping beside him. “We still can. But we’ll need to take bigger risks.”
Roderic’s hand trembled as he lowered his knife. Perhaps it was time for someone else to take the lead. Perhaps, in Talon, he’d found someone who could finish what he started.
And perhaps, just maybe, it was time for Roderic Vance to stop pretending he was ever the hero of this story.
As the moon continued to shine over the coast, the two thieves left the manor—one seeking justice, the other, something more.
And for the first time in a long time, Roderic Vance allowed himself to smile.
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