Jamie fixed Thomas with a steady gaze. "We have one last task for the day," he said quietly. "It's ti to scope out our target."
That was all the explanation Thomas needed. Without another word, he fell into step beside Jamie as they slipped into the darkened streets of the Lower Quarter. The night enveloped them, the narrow alleys illuminated only by the silver sheen of the moon and the occasional glow of magical lampposts along the main roads.
"It's not far from here—just four blocks," Jamie whispered, gesturing ahead as they walked with a asured pace. The streets were nearly deserted at this late hour; most residents had long since sought the safety of their hos. Only the distant hoot of an owl and the soft rustling of nocturnal creatures broke the silence.
Jamie moved with practiced ease, his footsteps silent on the uneven cobblestones. He blended into the shadows, every movent deliberate to avoid drawing attention. Thomas followed close behind, attempting to mimic Jamie's stealth but finding it a challenge. His heavier boots scuffed lightly against the ground, and his silhouette seed more conspicuous against the dim backdrop of the alleyways.
Despite this, they navigated the labyrinthine streets without incident. After traversing four blocks, they erged into one of the few open squares in the Lower Quarter. The plaza was a stark expanse, its scant benches and withered trees.
"Up ahead is the Cutpurses' base," Jamie said, nodding toward a two-story building crafted from dark timber. The structure bore no sign or marking to indicate its purpose. To an unsuspecting eye, it might have been a simple residence or perhaps an abandoned relic left to decay.
Thomas eyed the building skeptically. "But how do you know it's their base?" he asked.
"Observation," Jamie replied with a faint smile. "I've been watching them for so ti now."
The square was cloaked in darkness, save for the glow of the moon and a few flickering lanterns in nearby windows. In the distance, the end of the street marked the beginning of the Comrcial Quarter. Towering above the cityscape was the Arcane Tower, its spire piercing the night sky. Even from afar, its illuminated form was unmistakable, and the perpetual fair at its base buzzed with activity, lights twinkling like distant stars.
Jamie gestured subtly toward two smaller houses adjacent to the main building. "Those two houses," he whispered. "Day and night, you'll see children and teens entering and leaving."
As if to underscore his point, a group of young boys and girls erged from one of the houses, darting across the square before disappearing into the labyrinth of streets leading toward the fair. Monts later, another group approached from the opposite direction, slipping silently into the shadowed entrance.
Thomas watched the scene unfold, a furrow deepening on his brow. "They're using children," he muttered, a note of disapproval in his voice.
Jamie nodded solemnly. "The Cutpurses recruit the young—orphans, runaways, any child they can lure into their fold. They train them as pickpockets, spies, and couriers. It's how they've managed to stay ahead of the city guard for so long."
Jamie gestured discreetly toward the two adjacent houses across the shadowed plaza. "In those two houses live the pickpockets," he explained in a hushed tone. "Children who owe debts to Ezek. In exchange for their services, they receive food, a place to sleep, and the faint hope that one day they'll be admitted into the main group."
Thomas's eyes followed the subtle movents of small figures darting in and out of the buildings. His posture remained alert, every muscle tense as he surveyed the situation. They couldn't risk getting any closer without revealing their presence.
"The middle house serves as their command center," Jamie continued, his voice barely above a whisper. "That's where the core group operates from and where all the stolen loot ends up. The adults are there—most of them lack formal combat training but are ard and fiercely protective of their operation."
"How many are inside?" Thomas asked, a hint of apprehension creeping into his voice.
"It's hard to say for certain," Jamie replied thoughtfully. "From my observations, I'd estimate around ten people, not including their leader."
"Ten?" Thomas echoed, his brows knitting together in concern. "How are we supposed to take on ten of them?"
Jamie cast a sidelong glance at him. "Didn't they teach you anything in soldier training?"
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Thomas gave a rueful smile. "Truth be told, not much beyond physical drills and how to fight off wild beasts."
"Well then," Jamie said, a hint of a challenge in his tone. "Imagine they're monsters. What would you do?"
"I'd set up an ambush," Thomas answered after a mont's thought. "Separate them and pick them off one by one."
"Not a bad strategy," Jamie acknowledged. "But consider that these 'monsters' are intelligent. The mont you take down a few, the others will be on high alert."
Thomas frowned, the weight of the scenario pressing upon him. "So, what do you suggest?"
A sly smile played on Jamie's lips as he reached into his cloak. He opened his hand to reveal several berries—deep blue, almost black, their skins gleaming in the dim light.
"Nightshade?" Thomas whispered, his eyes widening.
"Not enough to kill," Jamie assured him. "But enough to send them into hallucinations for hours. It would make infiltrating their base and neutralizing them much easier."
Thomas considered this, concern etched on his face. "But how do we get them to consu it?"
"That's where you co in," Jamie replied. "We'll need to take turns keeping watch over them. Fortunately, they hold a feast once a week for their official mbers."
Thomas glanced toward the houses, his mind racing. "But how do we get inside to poison their food or drink?"
"We won't need to enter their lair," Jamie said, pointing toward a well situated near the main house. Its stone rim was worn, and a wooden bucket hung from a frayed rope. "Their water source. We'll add the nightshade there."
Thomas looked skeptical. "But we have to ti it precisely—just before they draw the water for the feast. If anyone else drinks from it, innocent people could be hard."
"Exactly," Jamie agreed. "That's why we'll need to be vigilant. We'll observe their routines, learn their schedules. When the mont is right, we'll act swiftly."
Thomas sighed, still uneasy. "It's risky."
"All great endeavors are," Jamie said softly. He placed a reassuring hand on Thomas's shoulder. "Our goal is to dismantle their operation with minimal bloodshed. But that doesn’t an no bloodshed."
Thomas scratched his head, a puzzled expression crossing his face. "I still don't quite see how we're going to do this," he admitted, his voice low.
As the two of them conversed in hushed tones, their eyes fixed on the shadowed building across the square, the main door creaked open. Three n erged into the pale light cast by a sliver of moon peeking through the clouds. The first two were tall and muscular, with short brown hair and the rough attire of seasoned thugs.
But it was the third man who drew Jamie's attention. He was shorter, lean, and wiry, with an unsettling grace to his movents. His ears tapered to subtle points—a telltale sign of elven lineage mingled with human blood. In his slender hands, he toyed with a gleaming knife, flipping and spinning it between his fingers with practiced ease. The blade caught the ager light, flashing intermittently as it danced across his knuckles.
"The two larger ones," Jamie whispered, nodding subtly toward the n trailing behind. "They're the leader's primary guards."
Thomas nodded in acknowledgnt, his eyes never leaving the trio.
"Up front, that's Ezek," Jamie continued. "Half-human, half-elf. He's skilled with knives—dangerously so. His greatest flaw is his arrogance. He consistently underestimates his opponents."
"Clever enough to rise to power, though," Thomas remarked quietly.
"Indeed," Jamie agreed. "But that arrogance might be our advantage."
Thomas furrowed his brow. "I thought the plan was to incapacitate them all with the nightshade. Won't they be affected as well?"
"Possibly not," Jamie replied, his gaze sharpening. "Ezek may be arrogant, but he's cunning. To have secured his position, he likely takes precautions. I doubt he'll consu the sa food or drink as his n—he'd fear betrayal from within."
Thomas scratched his head again, digesting this new complication. "So, even if we taint their provisions, Ezek and his personal guards might not be affected."
"Exactly," Jamie said. "Which ans we need to be prepared for a confrontation with them, unaffected by the nightshade."
Thomas's hand moved instinctively to his side, where his belt was conspicuously devoid of a weapon. "What do you suggest?"
"We need to arm ourselves discreetly," Jamie answered. "You'll need at least a short sword—sothing you can wield effectively in close quarters. As for …" He paused, considering. "A dagger should suffice. It'll be easier to conceal and won't draw unwanted attention."
Thomas nodded. "I'll see what I can get."
"For now, that's all we can do," Jamie said. "Get so rest. We'll need to be at our best. As soon as the opportunity arises, we'll strike."
"Right," Thomas agreed, though a hint of apprehension lingered in his eyes. "Stay safe."
They parted ways, each retreating into the labyrinthine streets of the Lower Quarter.
The opportunity presented itself sooner than they had anticipated. Four days later, under a sky cloaked in heavy clouds, Thomas and Jamie found themselves again near the Cutpurses' hideout. Crouched behind a stack of weathered crates in a narrow alley, their eyes fixed on the commotion unfolding across the square.
A flurry of activity had taken over the area. The gang mbers moved back and forth, carrying barrels and crates into the main building. Laughter and snippets of conversation drifted through the air—tones of anticipation and revelry. They were stringing up lanterns adorned with colorful scraps of cloth, casting a warm glow that defied the dreariness of the evening.
"A feast," Thomas murmured. “It's happening tonight.”
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