Chapter 29: The Heist

Guild City of Aleria, Valir
24th of Enedron, Year 457 of the Fourth Age, Harvest Moon

Heath didn’t sleep. 
When dawn finally broke, he rose from his bed and looked around his small room. The chair overturned. Scattered equipment. Discarded clothes on the ground. His dagger embedded in the wall. He sighed, and carefully set about cleaning up after the fight from the night before. He found his journal, several pages torn and damaged. He gingerly dusted it off and set it aside. 
He could feel his slower reactions as he moved around the room. The clouded mind didn’t help either, both lingering effects from the kick of the previous day. As punishing as it was, he knew it would have been worse if he hadn’t worn it out of his system. But that didn’t redeem his decision to take it in the first place. 
As he tidied, Heath looked with scant hope and found no sign of his attacker. No sign of forced entry, nor what they could have been after. Even in his dazed state, Heath didn’t have to imagine hard who could have been behind his midnight visitor.
His mind made up, Heath dressed and left the tavern while the sun was just cresting over the city walls. He walked through the empty streets, the great city still slumbering after a night of celebration and revelry. He breathed in the cool air, the quiet a welcome companion. His body ached from the punishment of the fights the night before, but it began to dull as he moved. 
Before long, he reached one of the nicer streets along the docks of the northern shores. As he drew close to a particular winehouse, he ducked down an alley. He wound his way through the twisting side streets until he reached the back of the house, away from the view of the street. He knocked twice.
The door opened, a man with olive skin and dark hair stood in the doorway. He sized Heath up with dark eyes. Heath held out his hand, a single iron coin in his fingers. The Bordovian guard took the iron mark, studying Heath again, before he opened the door wider and motioned him inside. 
“It is early,” the guard said in a low accented voice. “The lord has not yet risen.” The common room was dimly lit and empty besides one other Bordovian guard and a woman behind a wide counter. 
Heath waved him off. “No need to wake him on my account. I need to speak with him, but I can wait.” Heath paused. “Let him know I’m here, when he rises. I don’t need this to be a surprise.”
The guard nodded, and gestured to the empty tables.
Heath took a seat, and the woman brought a platter of fruit and bread, along with a pitcher of water. Heath ate sparingly. The two Bordovians were polite enough not to stare, but Heath could feel them studying him. Neither of them had familiar faces, but that was not surprising. It had been years since he had been in Bordova, and those working for the Motovani and Rodrigo would have surely changed in that time.
An hour passed, and the muffled sound of footfalls above caused Heath to sit up straighter. Moments later, Rodrigo descended the stairs into the common room. 
The handsome Bordovian prince looked haggard and far older than he had the last time Heath had seen him. He had dark circles under his eyes, his shirt was unlaced and rumpled, and his curly black hair was a mess, rather than tastefully bedraggled. He walked with heavy steps, and his shoulders were slumped. It was a far cry from both the proud son of the Motovani patriarch and the masterful killer Heath knew him to be. His eyes met Heath’s from across the room, nearly emotionless.
With a sigh, Rodrigo turned and walked to the counter, took a bottle of wine and a glass, and made his way back to Heath’s table. He sat back heavily in his chair, pouring a glass of wine.
“Looks like an unpleasant morning for both of us,” Rodrigo said humorlessly before taking a long drink. “You really let that sailor embarrass you.”
“I didn’t let him do anything,” Heath said evenly. He shrugged. “He beat me fairly. Maybe I was just tired after competing in the arena for two days.”
Rodrigo snorted into his glass. “I remember when you could’ve run for two days on end and still been able to fight better than anyone in this stinking city.” He raised an eyebrow as he looked Heath over again. “And you still don’t look half as bad as you should.”
“That was a long time ago,” Heath said quietly. “It was a different time then. And you and I were both different men in those days.” He hesitated. His hand drifted up to his face, feeling the tender skin, which should have been blackened and swollen. He breathed in carefully, expecting to feel a sharp pain from his ribs, but only a slight twinge instead. 
“Aye,” Rodrigo said wistfully. “That is true.” He took another long drink, then refilled his glass before grabbing at the food left on the table. “Now, tell me why you dragged your bruised body across the city so early. It certainly wasn’t to reminisce about the old days.” Heath could hear the bitterness creeping into his old friend’s voice.
Heath hung his head, too tired to pretend that what he was about to say had driven him to desperation. “I need your help.” He looked up, catching Rodrigo’s surprised expression. 
“She’s still here,” Heath continued. “In Aleria. Murmur.” Rodrigo stiffened at her name, but didn’t speak. “I- we need to deal with her. After… she must have gone underground, I almost thought she might have left, but she was there during the tournament. Openly walking through the city.”
Rodrigo nodded. “Yes, I remember. She is passing herself off as the Lady Francesca de Ardeti.”
As the name passed his lips, Heath saw grief wash over Rodrigo’s face. Neither of them spoke for a time, the memories loud enough for both men. Eventually, Heath broke the silence. 
“We need to stop her,” Heath repeated softly. “She’s already done too much. I still need to find where she’s been hiding out. She eluded me before, but now that she’s in the open, I can use that. Her arrogance is something we can use.”
Heath paused. “But I don’t know if I can do it on my own,” he admitted. “I exhausted every avenue I had, and found nothing. I need your help-”
“I know where she is,” Rodrigo interrupted. “I found her three days before the tournament began.”
Heath started. Questions rose one after another in his mind.
“She’s staying in the upper city,” Rodrigo continued, hands clasped on the table in front of him. Sitting just like Miguel would sit. “I can show you where, but we can’t reach her there. It’s a series of residences, typically used by visiting nobles or dignitaries. Not only is she protected by those retainers who escort her through the city, but the building has a contingent of guards. Not to mention it’s deep in the upper city, prominent and dangerous to approach. Doubly so to get out.”
“I’ve only been there twice, but I’m too recognizable,” Rodrigo said. “I can’t wander this city using my aliases, and even so, if she’s watching she’d know what to look for. So I haven’t risked it. Besides, she probably has someone already watching my movements. Losing track of me for too long would raise her suspicions.”
Heath shook his head. “You’re already assuming she’s four steps ahead of you. Second-guessing and reacting to things that may not even be true.”
Rodrigo looked up, his eyes hard. “The last time I didn’t account for her, my brother died. I won’t make that same mistake again. You and I both know she is more than capable of so much more. So I will act accordingly, and even with you, I don’t think we have what it takes to deal with her. There’s a better chance that she draws us in to kill us herself before it’s done.”
Heath sat in silence. He knew Rodrigo was right. He rubbed his forehead, the fog in his mind frustrating him and making him irritable. Eventually, he sighed.
“We need the guild,” Heath said. Rodrigo’s eyes snapped up, Heath quickly raising a hand before he could protest. “I know it’s not ideal, and this isn’t even the sort of work they do, but she’s dangerous! They’re capable, and if it means we can stop her…”
Rodrigo glared at him, his jaw clenching and tension visible throughout his body. “No,” he said, his voice strained. “They’d be more of a liability than any help they might bring. And I don’t trust them. You think those idealized people will agree to go into the upper city, burgle a recognizable establishment, and kill a woman who by all appearances is a visiting noble from the south? On my word? Hah!”
Rodrigo sat back, shaking his head. His contempt was evident, and he looked much more like the fiery young man Heath had known in his youth.
“More than likely they put both of us in chains and turn us over to the City Watch for conspiracy!” Rodrigo snorted. “Not a chance.”
“If we want to do this, we don’t have a choice,” Heath retorted sternly. “This isn’t Bordova, you can’t get your Midnight Riders to help make all your problems disappear without anyone asking questions. Aleria doesn’t have an excess of mercenaries that excel at wetwork. And those that do, they all have other loyalties. So the moment you try to hire one, half the members of the king’s council will know about it. And how do you think that would go?”
Heath sighed, reining in his emotions. “We can do this, but it needs to be done carefully,” he continued, his voice struggling to remain even. “You don’t trust them, and I promise you the feeling is mutual. So we have to do this right to even have a chance of them hearing you out.”
“Hearing me out?” Rodrigo asked. “What about you?”
“This has to come from you. They can’t know even a hint about our connection, and they can’t know anything about who either of us were. They can’t know what we were, that we all used to be the same.”
“What are you saying? We lie to them?”
“No, no,” Heath said, screwing his eyes shut. He tried to organize his thoughts into something coherent. “No, this comes from you. We could have Victra vouch for you, say that the two of you worked together before, which is the truth. They know you’d have motivation, because of what happened to Miguel.”
“And what about you?” 
Heath pursed his lips. “Kriv knows I’ve been focused on Murmur for a time, but I’ve been careful. I told him I was worried about a dangerous assassin still at large. I don’t think he suspects anything more than that.”
Rodrigo furrowed his brow. “So… you’re saying I go to them and what? Hire them? With only the Wyldestalker’s word to allay any suspicions they have?”
“Look, they don’t trust you,” Heath said bluntly. “But they trust Victra, and if you can convince them that this is about vengeance for what happened to Miguel, they’ll listen. You tell them that you found out where she is, but she’s a danger, and you can’t trust Alerian authorities. You don’t even do anything beyond conveying whatever urgency you can, and the information you’ve already uncovered. They don’t need to know who you were, and the fewer reasons we have for them to ask questions, the better.”
Heath sighed. “We don’t lie to them, but if we can tell them the right pieces for them to form their own conclusions, this could work. We let them craft a narrative that still shows them how dangerous she is, and it aims them right at her. All while keeping both of us safe.”
“Safe,” Rodrigo scoffed. “Are you afraid?”
“Yes. Both of us did things we aren’t proud of, and those cast long shadows. We walked away from them for good reasons. And maybe we can get through this without bringing those sins to light. Without causing more damage that can’t be undone.”
Rodrigo stared at him for a long time. Finally, he nodded. “Fine,” he said. “Bring Victra, we can talk to her.”
Heath bowed his head in thanks. He could tell Rodrigo was unhappy, and his distrust of the guild wasn’t going to be assuaged by Heath’s words. Whatever he said, the Motovani prince was surely creating contingencies and safeguards for himself already in his mind. 

Before midday, Heath and Rodrigo sat in one of Heath’s remote safehouses. Rodrigo had properly dressed, though conservative in style, with a cloak that allowed him to walk the Alerian streets inconspicuously. Both men had taken chairs, and the third figure in the room stood in front of them like a stern mentor. Victra had her arms crossed, her disapproving stare fixed on the two of them. 
“And I’m sure you didn’t consider that I might have a problem with this plan?” She glared at Heath pointedly. “That the idea of lying to the others is a bad thing?”
“First, it’s not lying,” Heath said. “Second, I did consider it. But none of us like any part of this, so I don’t really care.”
“It doesn’t matter how you justify it,” Victra replied. “Not telling them the whole truth is lying.”
“They don’t need the legacy of that woman to know that she’s dangerous!” Heath said. “And they don’t need to know how complicated this all is, it’ll just make them ask more questions. They’ll doubt, they’ll second-guess, and we could lose our best chance to stop her.”
Victra narrowed her eyes. “Maybe they deserve to ask questions. Determine for themselves who to trust.”
Heath grimaced. “We can deal with all that after! Right now, Murmur is out there and we might finally have an opportunity to kill her!” Heath was standing, his chest heaving.
Rodrigo raised a hand. “There are many threads woven together in this, but he is right, the woman must be dealt with. And quickly. She murdered my brother. She will continue on her bloody path unless she is stopped. Heath and I discussed this, and he believes that this is the best, perhaps only, course to do so. But we need your help.”
Victra spun, cursing under her breath. She shook her head. 
“Fine,” she said. “I’ll go to the guild. I can’t promise they’ll want to listen to this, but I’ll try.” She turned, meeting Heath’s gaze. “I know she’s dangerous, and maybe this is the best way to stop her. But there will be a time when the truth comes out. It always does.”
Heath bowed his head. “I know. And… for what it’s worth, thank you.”
Victra snorted and stormed out of the room, slamming the door behind her.
The room was quiet for a time. Heath exhaled, hanging his head as another wave of exhaustion washed over him. Rodrigo shifted in his chair, and Heath prepared himself for a sharp comment, probably about how he could have handled speaking with Victra better.
“You still call her Murmur.” 
Heath started. Emotion welled up inside him. “That’s who she is,” he said, his voice thick. He couldn’t bring himself to say her name, her actual name. That girl had disappeared a long time ago deep in the mountains. 
“That’s who she was,” Rodrigo said gently. “Under the Order. She’s on her own now. Has been for some time.”
“That’s who she is to me.”
Rodrigo smiled, but it was a sad smile. “Just like you’ll always be the Hunter, eh?”
Heath didn’t reply, he just rubbed the dull armring around his forearm absentmindedly. “How did you find her?” Heath asked, changing the subject. 
Rodrigo chuckled. “You have started to think too much like them. You think with rules, structure. You expect everyone to react a certain way, or to always stay the same.” Rodrigo laughed again. “With how much you changed, I would have expected you to have a wife and a quiet life somewhere by now.”
Heath didn’t react, but adrenaline surged through him. He hoped it was an innocent comment, but he couldn’t let even Rodrigo see a reaction. A pang of panic rose in his chest, how long had it been since he checked on Hrovingard? Weeks? 
“Murmur has changed,” Rodrigo continued, seemingly oblivious to Heath’s emotions. “She’s more dangerous, she’s no longer answering to anyone but herself. She’s not one of the Three anymore, so stop expecting her to act like she used to.” The handsome man turned his head, once again regarding Heath with a keen eye. “And you. You’ve changed too.”
“You don’t need to tell me that,” Heath muttered. He stood, and began to pace back and forth in the small room.
“Oh, but I think I do,” Rodrigo said. “You have fallen a long way from the man whose mere rumor was enough to evoke true terror, whose presence heralded a shift in the power of kingdoms. That man carried names of power. Now, you have relegated yourself to this… mockery of a name, discarding those names and titles of your past.”
Heath paused, facing the wall. When he spoke, his voice was hushed. “This is who I’ve become now.”
“Perhaps,” Rodrigo mused. “Then again, a man who walked away, truly walked away from it all, he would not have kept a shadow’s hood.”
The silence settled in the room once more. Heath knew that Rodrigo was speaking the truth as he saw it, he always did. He was often impulsive, hotheaded, and direct; but he rarely spoke a lie. There was little condemnation in his words, but it was far from comforting to hear it spoken so plainly. He continued to pace. 
Rodrigo was the one to speak first. “I must say, I’m surprised you came to me. With all things considered.”
“It feels like fighting my family.” The words sprang unbidden on Heath’s lips.
“They were never our family,” Rodrigo said. There was a tinge of emotion in his voice. Sadness? Pity? “No matter what the old man tried to make us believe.”
Heath hung his head. “I believed it. I never had a family. Not before, and certainly not after. I held onto that for as long as I could.”
Rodrigo stayed silent. 
Heath knew what family was to Rodrigo, what it had been like for him. Better than most, he had come to understand Rodrigo’s relationship with his father as the second son, and what it would mean now that Miguel was gone. He had heard what it had done to him in his youth, and seen firsthand how unrelenting the Motovani patriarch could be, even to his own sons. 
“I never had any of that, good or bad,” Heath said. “And having that ripped away? Because of what he made them do? That almost broke me.” In some ways, it was still breaking him. 
The quiet returned, a still comfort as both men retreated back into the safety of their own thoughts. Some time passed, and a quiet knock at the door announced Victra’s return.
“So soon?” Heath asked as he let her in. “You were barely more than an hour?”
She shrugged. “I’m fast and I’m convincing when I need to be.” She looked at Rodrigo. “They’ve agreed. Kriv didn’t seem too happy about it, but they’ll gather the guild at sundown to hear what you have to say. I told them you regretted the earlier misunderstandings, and that you’ve put those aside because this is more urgent. So be polite.”
“Seems I have little choice,” Rodrigo said, a hint of his old humor in his tone. His rose, donning his cloak. He bowed slightly to Victra. “I have things to see to before then. I’ll expect you at sundown then.” 
The door closed behind him, leaving Heath with Victra’s judgmental gaze. 
She exhaled, collapsing into the chair next to him. “What’s going on? And not some excuse, Heath. What’s really going on here?”
Heath couldn’t meet her eyes. “I can’t answer that, not yet. I need to see everything to its end first. Then I’ll share more, I promise. I’ll explain everything to you. I’ll apologize to the guild. But I can’t do any of that while she’s still alive.” He looked up.
Victra was quiet, her expression etched with genuine concern for him. It was a rare, raw display of open emotion for her. “Alright,” she said eventually. “I’ll trust you, but you need to figure this out. They all deserve it, but you deserve it more.”
She stood, placing a hand on his shoulder. She gave it a squeeze, holding it a moment before turning to the door, leaving Heath alone. 

As the day stretched towards sunset, Heath became more and more restless. His mind raced and he found himself growing irritable. Eventually he made his way across the city towards the guild hall. 
As he walked, the gathered storm to the west continued to hang over the horizon. The grey clouds and low rumbles of thunder had endured for days, and it had made Heath uneasy. Summer storms were not unusual, but ones that persisted for days on end were nearly unheard of. The dry heat was layered with a heaviness, as though the world was holding its breath and waiting for the storm to break over them. 
Heath reached the guild hall some time before they were expecting Victra and Rodrigo, but he wanted to avoid any suspicion of his involvement. Better to space out their arrivals. He gave curt greetings to the others as they all arrived one by one, but easily settled back into his sullen silence as he waited. 
Sunset arrived, the warm glow filtering through the high windows painting the great hall orange. Not long after, the heavy doors opened with their resounding boom, and Victra walked in followed closely by Rodrigo Motovani. He was dressed in a sharply tailored black and silver jacket and trousers, a shortsword at his waist. A navy cloak hung around his shoulders, the hood back to reveal his regal features and olive skin framed by dark, curly hair. 
From where he leaned against the wall, Heath had a view of the gathered members of Shattered Silence and their reactions to the southern lord. Across the more than dozen members who were gathered, they varied from indifference to suspicion to outright disgust. Few made any attempts to disguise their feelings, and it was hard to blame them. Their previous interactions with Rodrigo had been far from cordial, and Heath doubted the fact that his brother was murdered had done much to soften their sentiments. He just hoped they could put those feelings aside to deal with their common adversary.
Rodrigo stepped forward, after taking a nod from Victra, faced the guild and gave a short bow. He looked around, meeting everyone’s eyes, clearly acknowledging the tension already in the room. He took no longer with Heath than he did anyone else, but Heath felt himself holding his breath. Victra remained at Rodrigo’s side, standing at ease, but not speaking for him.
“Thank you all for meeting with me, especially on such short notice,” Rodrigo began, clasping his hands behind his back as he spoke. “I understand the complexities at play here, and I know it must have been tempting to simply reject my proposal to parlay. I am hopeful that you all understand the gravity of what I am here to as of you, and why it is important for all of us to put aside whatever personal feelings we may continue to harbor towards each other.”
Low murmurings of assent answered him, with several guild members nodding. It did nothing to remove the looks of suspicion, but no one spoke out. After a beat, Rodrigo nodded and continued.
“There is a person who has taken up temporary residence in your city. Someone dangerous to both your goals and mine. Someone who cannot be dealt with using conventional methods. And thus, she must be removed by less favorable methods. I know such a task is distasteful, and likely not something many of you would ever entertain, but I beg you to first hear me out.” Rodrigo looked around the room again, his expression pleading. “Let me share what I know, and then make your decision. I will not begrudge you your decision, whichever you choose.”
“From what I have been told, you have some familiarity with this woman I am here about,” Rodrigo began, his voice grave. “She has gone by many names in many places, but the name she has long taken for herself is Murmur. She is a talented assassin, though her skillset extends beyond wetwork and tradecraft. She is a talented mage, bending glamorous and illusions seamlessly with her skill with a blade. She has been a killer for years, and by all accounts doesn’t care about her name or reputation, which makes her uniquely dangerous.”
“Which is convenient, as none of us seem to know of her,” Kriv said.
Laying it on a bit thick, aren’t you, Heath thought as he watched Rodrigo. You don’t need to make them think she’s so dangerous you scare them away.
“Precisely, though I imagine you would have heard of much of her work over the years,” Rodrigo replied. He continued pacing as he spoke. “While a formidable adversary, she is exceedingly arrogant, which gives us an edge. We can use that against her.”
Rodrigo paused, taking a breath to steady himself. “She killed my brother, as you all know, during the events of Casimir Manor two months ago. I strongly believe that she did so out of a personal vendetta with me. This began years ago, and is not something I wish to go into detail about. Suffice to say that she holds me responsible for a great loss she suffered, though it was of her own making. While there are likely many who could profit from my brother’s death, the fact that I still live and this woman has been seen still in Aleria suggests that it is personal.”
“I have conducted investigations of my own these past weeks, and have uncovered some scant information that may be of use. She has been staying in a place called the Golden Heights, in the upper city, under the assumed name of Lady Francesca de Ardeti. It is a residence of suites and apartments that caters to visiting dignitaries, nobility, and the like. It is distinguished, expensive, and of high repute. Which means it is secure, guarded at all hours, and is located right at a prominent crossroad. This makes it far from an ideal place to strike, but likely will be the best chance we have.”
“Mistress Ardeti is staying on the fourth floor of the building, but I also found that the uppermost floor is reserved under the same name. My best guess is that she is making use of that upper floor for her personal guards, who shadow her throughout the city.” Rodrigo paused, and looked over at Victra. He gave a small shrug of apology. “Something I just received word of today is that there is now a timetable. The reservations under the Ardeti name are only continued through the next four days. So the hourglass is slowly draining, so to speak. And if we miss this, she could vanish into the wind.”
“Well that’s good to know. Having to do this expedited is even further from ideal,” Victra said sarcastically. She turned, looking at Heath. “Between the guild’s contracts, we’ve had one of our own investigating this woman ever since what happened at Casimir Manor. We all know Heath is good at what he does, and he’s turned up next to nothing in those weeks. If we lose her now, there is a real possibility we won’t get another shot.”
Heath kept a stoic expression on his face, hoping the flush of embarrassment didn’t show on his face. Members of the guild had known about his investigations, but to have his shortcomings laid bare so dismissively still stung.
“There was also a man,” Kriv said. “He was with her during the Contest in the stadium. Is he someone we could use, or a way to get to her?”
“Certainly not,” Rodrigo replied. “The man is Marten Issentar, a relatively private, though wealthy merchant who has his hands in several trades moving through Aleria. He has money and connections throughout the city. It is also a very thorough alias, and I believe he is actually her brother, a man who uses the moniker Whisper. And yes, they do both have a flair for the dramatic.”
“Issentar is someone who seems to have enough connections to not draw attention, but is known enough that we cannot simply remove him.” Rodrigo paused, and Heath could have sworn he was disappointed. “He is dangerous like his sister, but the two are staying in different parts of the city, only interacting in public and limited capacities from what I’ve had observed. They are likely trying to keep both covers intact, which is another reason to deal with her at the Golden Heights. She will be isolated from him and the additional resources he commands.”
“This is just sounding more and more promising,” Kriv growled.
Rodrigo narrowed his eyes, but quickly mastered himself before speaking. “Here is what I propose to you all, knowing full well that this is undesirable and not something I would otherwise wish to bring before a sanctioned guild.”
Heath could feel the tension ramp up through the room as Rodrigo paused. 
“We need to break into the Golden Heights, one night we know she will be there. It must be done in a way that doesn’t arouse suspicion or alert the contracted guards, while also dealing with her personal escort.” Rodrigo hesitated. Then, barely perceptible, his eyes flickered towards Heath before returning to the room as a whole. “We need to recover her. This will be a heist where you get her and get out without anyone knowing.”
Heath’s gut wrenched. His twisted reaction was barely suppressed as his every instinct wanted to shout that she needed to be killed. He reviled those thoughts even as he fought to keep the anguish from his face. She couldn’t be brought back, not alive. Not only could she uncover him, but seeing her might be the final thing that broke him.
The others in the room had responded more vocally, several standing and voicing their concerns. Rodrigo raised his hands, urging them to listen once again.
“There are questions that need to be answered,” Rodrigo said as the room quieted. “Questions whose answers should not be assumed, and questions only she can answer. We need to know why she is in Aleria, what she’s planning, and who else could be working with her. She may have a benefactor, other assets in play, other things I may not have already considered!”
“Let me get this straight,” Kriv hissed, his tone bordering on dangerous. “You want us to stalk someone alleged to be impersonating a member of a foreign kingdom. Then we break into a secure residence in the upper city, kidnap this person, and then interrogate them? Heh, and I thought you said she was the dangerous one.”
“She will die at the end of this,” Rodrigo said. His voice was suddenly cold, devoid of all emotion. “There are questions that she needs to answer, yes. And this whole affair is distasteful, and extracting those answers from her will likely prove even less desirable. But yes, this woman has become far too dangerous to be allowed to live. And I require the help of all of you to see it done.”
The members of Shattered Silence all began looking amongst each other. Low conversations began between small groups as Rodrigo took a step back. From his shoulder, Victra continued to stand silently, but she shared a look with Heath. He felt his stomach twist again. He had remained silent up to that point.
“How do we know we can trust him?” Heath’s voice cut through the lowered voices. He knew he needed to cast doubt, his character demanded the suspicion. Nevertheless, the words nearly caught in his throat as he forced himself to meet Rodrigo’s eyes.
Deep emotion surged, as hurt and hatred intertwined as his old friend regarded him.
“I would hope my being here at all is a demonstration of trust,” Rodrigo said evenly, not betraying the emotion he was likely fighting internally. “What I have shared with you could be construed as treason. By trusting you all with that, and with Victra’s word, might that be enough?”
Heath clenched his jaw, and leaned back against the wall. The others all looked around, and a few nods were exchanged. Kriv stood, walking across the room and narrowing his eyes at Rodrigo.
“You told us what needs to be done,” Kriv said. “How would we do it?”

The next three days saw Shattered Silence rise to their new task with surprising efficiency. Despite the odious endeavor they were to embark upon, the group had agreed with Rodrigo’s insistence that it was a necessary evil. Even so, a few members had objected to their personal involvement. 
Svrcina had seemed unusually off put by the entire ordeal, and had insisted that her brother likewise have no part in it. There was some external factor, but no one had questioned them on their decision. Nambu had also expressed his reluctance, given his newfound faith and redemptive path. He and Daen agreed they would not engage in the task itself, but they would assist the group whoever else they could. Heath had silently rebuked them for their naivete, believing that by not wielding their blades they could keep their hands clean. For a bloody task such as they were on the cusp of, none would remain blameless, whatever lies they told themselves. 
Rodrigo had proven himself invaluable to their efforts. He had leveraged his access as a dignitary, and been granted admission to the city’s archives. There he had retrieved schematics and design plans for not only the Golden Heights, but several of the other buildings in the area. He also offered a boat at the docks, something purchased through an alias and untraceable to him, as a location to bring Murmur once she had been recovered. It was isolated and remote enough that he was confident they could interrogate her there without interruption, and then deal with her after. The ultimate conclusion was left unspoken, but understood by all present. 
Victra and Kriv paired off to investigate the location of their heist. They scouted the nearby streets and alleys, even delving into the sewers to look for additional points of entry and egress. They were thorough, busy during all hours of the day and night, both intent on gathering as much usable intelligence as they could in a short amount of time.
Heath was given the task of mapping any possible routes into and out of the crossroads, finding avenues of approach and escape. As their plan formulated, having contingencies was a necessity. Routes for them to reach their target would be the easy part, but also traversing the city to reach Rodrigo’s boat either unseen or without attracting attention would be another. Heath watched the crossroads for any sign of Murmur and her guard, their patterns or habits. He also waited to see if Whisper, using the name Marten Issentar or under any other guise, ever showed his face at the Golden Heights. If he decided to suddenly appear, it would be another complication to their already tenuous plan.
The decision was made early on that the group would attempt to incapacitate Murmur and transport her body across the city for their interrogation. It was suggested that since she was a talented mage, they make use of the lead-lined box the guild had held onto from the first contract they had taken alongside Heath. It seemed ironic that the original use of such a thing had been repulsive, but for their current task it was invaluable. 
Orsic and Mars began rapid construction of a reinforced cart with the help of Daen for transporting the box. They erected a framework and cover to obfuscate the massive contents, while trying to keep the overall profile as unassuming as possible. 
Adrie had the idea that she could investigate the interior of the Golden Heights, using her unique pedigree as an Aleria noble to dismiss suspicion. She convinced Svrcina to join her, arguing that their work could ultimately keep their friends safer and reduce the chances of something going wrong. Posing as a noblewoman and her handmaiden, the two women spent an afternoon in the upper city, gaining special access to the Golden Heights. They returned with details none of Rodrigo’s intelligence had revealed. 
And thus, the morning of the fourth day, the guild gathered one last time before they all embarked on their tasks for the heist. 

Standing around the long table of the great hall, nine people made their final preparations.
Rodrigo had used multiple aliases, and making the most of what Adrie and Svrcina had discovered, had reserved all remaining suites in the Golden Heights in order to keep it as empty as possible for their operation. It risked exposing him, but would mean the entry group would only have to worry about the concierge and the guards stationed on the bottom floor and outside the building.
The main group, consisting of Mars, Cael, Adrie, Orsic, and Victra, would approach through a back alley under cover of dark. Heath would be perched on height to the south, Kriv would await in an alley opposite, and Nambu would be a block away with the cart.
The entry team would breach the back wall, entering at the stairway at a point above the first floor. Adrie and Orsic would use their magic to gain entry without alerting the guards. Heath had been skeptical, but they were confident and the entire plan hinged upon their initial success. Mars would be there to subdue Murmur’s guards, with Victra and Cael following to assist with both additional complications or Murmur herself. The group would ascend, find Murmur, then apprehend and extract. Rodrigo already had guards stationed at the docks, and assured them that the boat was ready.
Kriv would be positioned to run interference from the street if needed, while Heath would remain on lookout above. He was given the guild’s Ring of Whispers, a minor magical trinket that would allow him to telepathically speak to the others within a short distance. It made his skin crawl, but he didn’t argue. The guild knew that Kriv’s second-story work was unparalleled, but he would be of far more use in the street. It fell to Heath to watch from the nearby rooftops and help coordinate for any unforeseen complications. 
The final plan was run through once more, everyone confirming their place in the operation. As they exchanged final words of encouragement and luck, Rodrigo took his leave as the group likewise began to disperse. Kriv grabbed Heath’s arm as he turned to leave.
“We’ll see you at the boat, yes?” The dragonborn asked, his voice low. 
Heath felt his heart sink, but nodded. “I’ll be there.” For all his obsession with Murmur the past several weeks, and for his own conscience, he knew he had to see their task through. No matter the dread he felt coiling in his gut, he needed to be there. 
“Once this is over,” he said, keeping his voice low, “we need to talk.” Kriv looked at him quizzically, but nodded before walking away.
Heath took a deep breath, steading himself. It would be a night for blood and shadow. A night for the Hunter. Perhaps the last night for the Hunter. He had a lot to do before nightfall.

That night, the storm arrived in Aleria. There was something in the air, something that put everyone on edge. The clouds rolled in, muting colors and painting the gathering night sky a dull, russet orange. Rumbles of thunder, which had remained distant for days, grew louder as the storm drew closer. 
As the sun dipped beneath the horizon, Heath crouched atop the spire high above the street, watching in the growing darkness. His climb had been easy, and the held quiet of being high above the city was a small reprieve. The lit streets were quiet, but figures still moved around below him. Illenia never slept, and many of the attractions of the upper city thrived once the sun disappeared. However, the seemingly imminent arrival of a summer storm had left the streets nearly empty. A small measure of luck, it seemed.
Heath wore his hunter’s garb, the flexible leathers silent when he moved, the black cowl obscuring his features. He had even spent the time fashioning a darkened sheath for the knife Orsic had gifted him. He didn’t know why he had the overwhelming urge to wear it, he knew it was a risk every time he donned it. But something about his grim task, hunting her, as much as it twisted him up inside, it also felt right. 
Down in the crossroads, Heath saw the four guards standing outside the Golden Heights. They were each of them tall, powerful, and handsome. Three men and a woman, all regal in their glittering armor, though Rodrigo had warned them that the guards were not just there for show. Their heads were bare, but heavy plate armor covered their bodies. Heath didn’t like that. He didn’t want to have to kill them if things turned.
But what would four more lives be in the pursuit of ending the crimson legacy of Murmur, Heath thought bitterly. Or my own. He shook his head. No, they are innocent in all this. 
He thought of the tempered bodkin arrows in his quiver, hoping he would not have to use them that night. Only as a last resort, he promised himself.
As the horizon darkened, the dull orange of the sky became layered with deeper clouds. Thunder rumbled again, the brief flash of lightning illuminated through the clouds to the east. Heath took a breath. It was time.
Heath looked across the street towards the alley he knew Kriv was skulking in. He raised a hand to his lips, a ring of silver and copper dull on his finger. He twisted the ring, activating it and whispered softly, “What’s the word?”
Kriv’s reply was low, his voice in Heath’s mind making his skin crawl. “All clear. Four outside, and no one has entered.”
Heath hated that he had to be the go-between, but he understood. The sooner it was all done, the better. One less undesirable thing wearing on him from the whole mess.
Heath looked to the north, and the dark space between the tall buildings. He knew that would be the avenue of approach for the main group. He whispered into the ring once more.
“Victra, all is clear from up here. You’re good to move.”
“Here goes nothing, though this might be the stupidest thing we’ve ever tried.” Her reply in his head still unsettled him, but having her down there gave Heath some comfort. Her usual abrasive humor was gone, and her voice was uncharacteristically serious.
Heath narrowed his eyes and focused his gaze, the barest movement in the narrow alley below was the only hint of the group moving towards the building. He took a deep breath. Here we go, he thought. 
A sudden clatter from below reached his ears, and Heath’s heart sank. Another sound rose through the night, like breaking or tumbling wood, coming nearly at the back of the Golden Heights. Heath swore as he saw the guards stationed out front immediately stood, looking towards the alleys.
Heath raised his fist, whispering a message to Kriv. “They’ve botched it, backup time.”
He rose to a kneeling position, steading his bow as he drew an arrow, fingers feeling for one with an ordinary arrowhead. The black lacquered bow flexed, its curves elegant and deadly in the nighttime light. He felt calm wash over him as he willed away any lingering doubts.
Kriv’s voice came back in his mind. “More trouble, Watch patrol is coming this way. You should pull them out.”
Heath hesitated. “No,” he whispered, his eyes locked on the street below. “You deal with the patrol, I’ll get the guards. We need to do this tonight.” Heath drew back the arrow, looking down as one of the guards had his hand on his sword, slowly walking towards the alley.
Wrong place, my friend, Heath thought as he sent the arrow through the night air. 
The arrow slammed into the guard’s shoulder pauldron, sending him stumbling forward. Heath shifted his focus, turning to look at the three in front of the building. He drew again, this arrow with an armor-piercing tip. The bodkin punched through the leg of another guard, dropping him to the ground.
Heath drew again as the guards shouted, looking around with their weapons raised. He whispered into the night, “Go, we’ve got this. See it through.” He heard no reply from Victra, but had to hope that she would trust him.
An arrow buzzed through the air, its arrowhead slamming into the breastplate of another guard. The metal buckled, but held. Good, Heath thought grimly. 
Heath stood, the guards pointing up to the spire. He drew another arrow with a hardened bodkin point, holding his aim, then firing. It cut through the pauldron of the female guard, but Heath knew it wouldn’t do much. 
He took a breath as he knew they must see him, sending a lingering hope that Kriv could handle the City Watch patrol. His hand brushed against his thigh, feeling steel where empty sleeves had been. That had been the final step for him, admitting the Hunter back. Closing his eyes, Heath stepped forward, hand braced against the rough stone, and plummeted from the height. Falling through space, he slammed into the cobblestones below, his legs almost giving out from the pain. Blinking away the blinding lights, Heath stood and leveled his gaze at the guards. 
He must have been a sight, dropping out of the night air, cowled and clothed in black. He stood alone before the four bright, shining guards, each of them stumbling or bleeding from his arrows. They stood there, all of them unmoving for a long moment. 
Heath sprung into action, hand dropping to his leg. With a sweeping arc, he sent three bladed flechettes through the air as he fell into a run. He heard the soft impact of them each finding their target. Heath knew the flechettes were razor sharp, but would barely slow such armored knights. He just needed to get their full attention. 
As the guards shouted in surprise and the screams of civilians broke the night, Heath was already down the road. The clattering footfalls of armored feet behind him told him he was successful. Grimly dashing into the night, Heath felt a rush.
Heath sprinted through the darkened streets, a rising sense of freedom giving wing to his legs, as the gilded guard pursued him. Above, lightning arced between darkened clouds above Aleria. The entire world seemed to be holding its breath as the rain never came, and only the wind rushing through the dry, dusty city managed to keep pace with Heath’s shadowed flight.