Luciel stepped out of the room, a small wooden barrel tucked under one arm, and nudged open the third door in the underground chamber.
A wave of salted air and dried spices hit his face. Inside, the room was stacked high with rows upon rows of jerky — smoked, spiced, and neatly bundled.
There was enough meat here to feed a thousand people for a month.
Luciel gave a low whistle. "Bloodbeard really knew how to live. No wonder he managed to keep a band of five hundred thieves fat and loyal."
He tugged on a strip of jerky. It tore cleanly, tender and dense with flavor. The meat was good — far better than the half-burned rations he'd been eating lately.
He smirked to himself. "Seems moving in here was the right decision after all."
But then his expression turned thoughtful. The room was overflowing with supplies, and the dome above had only a narrow gap — barely ten inches wide. There was no way to get the crates or barrels out through that.
