Viktor, Arelos, Fenric, and Soren gathered their things, preparing to leave the orphanage. Just as they were about to set off, a familiar voice stopped them.

  "Where are you boys headed?" Voralis stood near the stairwell, arms crossed, his eyes scanning them with quiet concern.

  Viktor barely glanced back as he tightened the straps of his pack. "The Outrider’s Den."

  Voralis let out a small hum, his brow furrowing. "That’s a bit far, isn’t it?"

  "It’s not that bad. We've made this trek plenty of times before, " Soren answered.

  "Plenty of times before," Voralis echoed, nodding slowly. His gaze lingered on each of them in turn, as if weighing his next words carefully.

  Viktor, narrowed his eyes. "Something wrong?"

  Voralis hesitated, then shook his head, but his stance remained rigid. "Just—keep your eyes open, and don’t dally too long."

  Soren crossed his arms. "That’s vague. Why?"

  Voralis sighed, rubbing the back of his neck. "It’s not something to worry about. Not yet, at least."

  Fenric, who had been adjusting the hilt of his knife at his hip, finally turned to face him. "Not yet? That’s not exactly reassuring."

  Voralis exhaled sharply through his nose. "Look, I don’t want to spook you for no reason. But there have been... developments."

  That got their attention. Soren straightened, and Arelos shifted his weight. Fenric tilted his head slightly, watching Voralis carefully.

  "Developments?" Fenric repeated. "You're making it sound like something’s actually wrong."

  "Maybe it is," Voralis replied, his voice even. "All I’m saying is, be a little more cautious than usual."

  Soren rolled his eyes. "That’s still vague."

  "Good," Voralis said. "Vagueness keeps you on your toes."

  Fenric scoffed. "That’s just a fancy way of saying you’re not telling us something."

  Voralis gave him a dry look. "Sometimes not knowing every detail is a good thing. If there was something urgent, you'd know."

  Viktor met his gaze, searching for any crack in his resolve. Finally, he shrugged. "Fine. We’ll keep our eyes peeled. Won’t we, lads?"

  Arelos, Fenric, and Soren all exchanged glances before nodding.

  "That settles that, then." Viktor adjusted the strap of his pack. "See you later, Voralis."

  Voralis let out a quiet chuckle, shaking his head as he stepped aside to let them pass. "I suppose you will."

  With that, the four boys stepped out into the bright afternoon.

  Soren, Viktor, Arelos, and Fenric wove their way through the bustling streets of Lycona, the scent of roasting meat and fresh bread mingling in the air. The Outrider's Den wasn't far now, and yet, Soren couldn't shake the conversation they'd had with Voralis earlier.

  “What do you guys think that was about with Voralis?" Soren asked, his gaze flicking between his companions as they walked. “He was acting strange."

  Viktor exhaled through his nose, arms crossed over his chest. “Not sure, but he was being awfully vague about it."

  Arelos tilted his head, considering. “He probably learned something from the warden last night and was told to keep it quiet. Standard procedure if the guild thinks an information leak could put a source in danger."

  Soren’s brow furrowed. “That makes sense, but… does that mean we might be walking into something dangerous?"

  Arelos gave a casual shrug. “Beats me."

  Viktor let out a sigh. “No clue, but it can’t be good if he thought it was worth warning us."

  Fenric, grinning from ear to ear, clapped Viktor on the shoulder. “I bet it’s something juicy. You know, like demons being sighted or something."

  Viktor gave him a flat look. “Demons?"

  Fenric waggled his eyebrows. “Or something equally sinister."

  Arelos smirked. “The day we get forewarning about demons is the day the guild starts handing out hazard pay."

  Soren didn’t look comforted. “I don’t like being kept in the dark."

  Fenric waved a dismissive hand. “If Voralis thought it was a real danger, he wouldn’t have just given us a vague warning. He’d have pulled rank and told us outright to stay put."

  Viktor nodded. “True. If it were that serious, he’d have made it clear."

  Soren sighed, still not convinced. “Maybe we should cancel our evening plans, just in case?"

  Viktor rolled his eyes. “C’mon, like Fenric said, if it was that bad, Voralis wouldn’t have let us go."

  Fenric leaned in, grinning wickedly. “You just don’t want to miss out on seeing Mira."

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  Viktor smirked, unbothered. “So what if I do?"

  Soren shook his head, exasperated. “You’re impossible."

  “Determined," Viktor corrected, his smirk deepening. “Mira aside, I’m not about to let a cryptic half-warning ruin my night."

  Soren still looked hesitant. “I don’t know… I’m not sure I’m keen on going."

  Viktor shrugged nonchalantly. “That’s alright. I don’t mind going on my own."

  Fenric gasped, clutching his chest in mock horror. “Alone? Oh no, we can’t risk that. Not now that there are demons lurking in the shadows. That noble blood of yours probably makes you extra appetizing."

  Viktor arched an eyebrow. “Is that so?"

  Fenric nodded solemnly. “Absolutely. Real high-grade vintage."

  Viktor scoffed. "Well, at least with you lot around, I'll have something to trade the demon with in exchange for my own life."

  Soren threw up his hand. “Not it!"

  Arelos, barely looking up from adjusting his coat, added lazily, “Not it."

  They all turned to Fenric, who sputtered indignantly. “Pft! Any demon that tries to eat me is getting a knife in the face."

  Viktor chuckled. “True. You probably also taste foul to demons."

  Fenric scoffed. “I’m an acquired taste."

  Soren squinted at him. “More like rancid from the start."

  Viktor turned to Soren, grinning. “Sorry, Soren, looks like you’re it in the end."

  Soren pointed an accusatory finger at him. “Why me? I called it first! If anyone’s getting eaten, it’s Arelos."

  Viktor shook his head, suppressing laughter. “Sorry, I need Arelos for translation."

  Soren frowned. “Translation? Arelos doesn't speak any demon tongue."

  Viktor nodded as if very serious. “That’s true. But if anyone’s going to figure out how to convince the demon to eat you instead of the rest of us, it’ll be Arelos."

  Arelos smirked. “I do have a way with words."

  Soren’s shoulders slumped in mock defeat. “I guess you’ve got a point."

  Fenric clapped Soren on the back. “Hey, at least you’ll get to meet a demon up close. You’re always talking about wanting new experiences."

  Soren groaned. “Yeah, not exactly what I had in mind."

  Then, suddenly, Soren perked up, a playful glint in his eyes. “Alright, fine. I’ll agree to it—on one condition."

  Viktor tilted his head. “And what’s that?"

  Soren grinned. “We offer Fenric up first. If the demon declines—maybe after sampling an arm or two—then and only then do I take my spot on the chopping block."

  Fenric reeled back, hand over his chest. “An arm or two? You want to put me through sampling rounds?"

  Soren shrugged. “Just making sure we cover all our bases."

  Viktor chuckled, shaking his head. “Fair enough, Soren. We’ll make sure to give the demon a proper Fenric taste test first."

  Fenric muttered under his breath. “I hate you all."

  Viktor clapped him on the back. “That’s the spirit."

  The boys approached the Outrider's Den through an alley shortcut when four menacing figures suddenly stepped out of the shadows, blocking their path.

  One of them, a wiry man with a crooked grin, sized them up. "Look at this lot. Fresh-faced, well-dressed. You thinking what I’m thinking?"

  Another, a bulkier man with a scar running down his cheek, chuckled. "Oh, I’m thinking it, alright. Bet they got some coin to spare."

  The wiry man nodded, stepping forward. "Yeah, looks like they about to splurge a bit in town. Seems only fair they share some of that merriment with their fellow Lyconians, don’t you think?"

  Fenric groaned theatrically, rubbing his temples. "Again? What is it about this part of town? Why are we always getting cornered in these bloody alleys?”

  Arelos nodded sagely. "Impoverished area, low security enforcement, high crime rate. If I were to rob someone in broad daylight, this would be the ideal location. Relatively high foot traffic, minimal witnesses, easy escape routes. Logically sound."

  Soren interjected, grinning. "I don’t know. Personally, I’d go for a bathhouse. Nobody expects a mugging when they’re naked. Or better yet—the sewers."

  The wiry man frowned, knife slipping into his palm. His three companions followed suit, as if on cue. "Hey! Are you lads not grasping the gravity of the situation?"

  Viktor arched an eyebrow, turning to Soren. "The sewers?"

  Soren shrugged. "Think about it—no guards, no witnesses, and the smell’s so bad, I wouldn’t even want my money back. It’s the perfect crime."

  Arelos tapped his chin, intrigued. "What if you—"

  The wiry man cut in angrily. "I’m seriously about to hurt you all if you don’t start handing over your belongings. And I mean all of them."

  Viktor turned to him, frowning. "That was rude. He was in the middle of a thought."

  The wiry man sputtered. "What—? I don’t care about his thought! I care about your coin!" He pointed at Viktor’s belt. "Me and my boys are gonna be eating real good tonight."

  One of his men shifted uneasily. "Uh, boss? I’ve got a bad feeling about this."

  The wiry man snapped. "Shut up! These kids barely got chest hair, and they think they can talk back to us?" He turned back to the group, sneering. "Now, enough talk. Fork over the silvers."

  Viktor exhaled, rubbing his neck lazily. "I’d listen to your friend if I were you. This is not the fortuitous little encounter you think it is."

  Fenric practically bounced on his feet. "Vik, please, please, please let me do this one."

  Viktor glanced at him, considering. "There’s four of them. That’s more than double what you've dealt with before. You sure?"

  Fenric hesitated, then sighed. "Fine. Can you thin it out to three? I want to see how much progress I’ve made."

  Viktor shrugged. "Sure, who you want out?"

  "Dealer’s choice. just don't do it before they commit"

  Arelos muttered, "And be subtle, Vik. Faros would not be pleased if word of your 'talents' got out from something as mundane as this."

  Viktor gave a casual nod.

  Fenric drew his knife, rolling his shoulders. "Alright, let’s get to it."

  The closest man didn't hesitate and instantly lunged for him. Fenric sidestepped easily, his blade flashing. A quick slash to the forearm sent the man's knife clattering to the ground. Before he could react, Fenric sliced the tendons behind his knees. The man collapsed with a pained yelp, unable to stand.

  The other three, now recognizing Fenric as a legitimate threat, rushed in. Viktor casually flicked his fingers. The furthest robber stumbled—his foot caught on nothing—and he smashed headfirst into the stone wall, crumpling unconscious to the ground.

  Viktor winced sympathetically. "Oof. That looked like it hurt. Someone remind me to watch my step. Wouldn't want to trip like that in the heat of battle."

  The remaining two men tried to maneuver around Fenric, attempting to flank him. He kept them at bay with short, sharp slashes, adjusting his stance as they circled.

  Soren groaned. "C’mon, Fen. I’m hungry. Wrap it up."

  The wiry man, roaring in frustration, charged. Fenric sidestepped again, knife plunging into his shoulder, then his leg. The man crumpled with a choked scream, out of the fight.

  The last robber saw his moment, lunging at Fenric’s back. But Fenric was already moving. He rolled forward, popping up just in time to meet the man head-on. His blade flicked out, striking in rapid succession. Shallow cuts, nothing fatal—but enough to drain the fight out of the man.

  Bleeding and gasping, the robber fell to his knees, exhausted.

  Fenric tilted his head. "You done?"

  The man barely had time to nod before Fenric delivered a swift kick to his face, sending him sprawling unconscious.

  He cleaned his blade, exhaling in satisfaction. "Not bad."

  Viktor looked unimpressed. "You’re improving, but the last part was unnecessary. What’s with all the extra cutting?"

  Fenric shrugged. "It worked didn't it?"

  Viktor looked skeptical. "If by worked you mean it enraged him, then yeah."

  "He went down because he ran out of breath, not blood. You would've accomplished the same thing by just running in circles you know, " Arelos added.

  Fenric grumbled, sheathing his knife. "Everyone’s a damn critic these days."

  Viktor dusted off his hands. "Alright. Let’s move."

  Soren lingered, glancing at the unconscious man Viktor had tripped. "You sure he’s okay? He hit that wall pretty hard. Might have cracked his skull."

  Viktor knelt down briefly, checking. "He’s breathing. He’ll have a hell of a headache, though."

  Soren gave an approving nod. "Good enough for me. Let’s go."

  And with that, they stepped over the bodies and continued on their way.