Morning came gently to Silver Dawn.
Sunlight filtered through linen curtains, carrying with it the distant sound of laughter, street vendors calling out fresh bread, and the chiming of small bells tied to shop doors. It was a city that woke without fear-without the urgency of fortifications or alarms.
Saturo opened his eyes slowly.
For a brief moment, he forgot where he was.
Then memory returned: the open kingdom, the thieves, the silver-haired noblewoman, the invitation waiting three days ahead.
He sat up, rubbing a hand over his face.
"You're awake earlier than usual," Kael said from across the room.
Kael was already dressed, seated at the small wooden table, methodically sharpening a dagger. His posture was relaxed, but his eyes were alert, as always.
"Habit," Saturo replied. "Kings don't get the luxury of sleeping in."
Kael snorted. "You're not a king here."
"Exactly why I should stay sharp."
They dressed simply-no insignia, no weapons openly displayed. Just travelers. After washing and gathering their things, they descended to the inn's common room.
Breakfast was simple but hearty: warm bread glazed with honey, spiced eggs, and a fruit stew unfamiliar to Saturo but pleasantly tart. Around them, locals chatted freely-no hushed tones, no guarded glances.
"This place really is different," Saturo murmured.
Kael nodded. "Low walls. Smiling guards. Either they're foolish... or confident."
"Or watched over," Saturo said quietly.
The smell of warm bread, roasted roots, and spiced tea filled the air.
Saturo ate slowly, eyes and ears open.
Silver Dawn spoke openly—too openly.
"Lost another purse last night."
"Dice house by the docks never seems to close."
"My cousin swore he won big—then lost it all the next day."
Kael leaned closer, voice low. "Patterns are forming."
"Yes," Saturo replied quietly. "And they're being ignored because no one wants to believe ill intent exists here."
Silver Dawn was kind. Trusting. And because of that, blind.
They finished eating and stepped back into the streets.
They did not rush.
That was the first mistake many hunters made.
Instead, they blended.
Saturo spent the morning speaking casually with shopkeepers, dockworkers, and tavern patrons. He listened more than he spoke, offering coin freely for stories, not answers. Kael moved separately at times, lingering near alleys and side streets, watching patterns.
Silver Dawn's openness revealed much-if one knew how to look.
By midday, the pieces began to align.
The thieves who had robbed them were not desperate civilians.
They were hooks.
Scouts trained to identify outsiders with kind hearts and unfamiliar eyes. They tested compassion, then exploited it—guiding victims toward "friendly games," harmless wagers, places where laughter flowed and coin vanished quietly.
There were whispers of games played behind closed doors. Of debts that ruined families overnight. Of men who smiled in daylight and vanished into basements after dusk.
"Luck dens," one baker muttered. "They say it's just cards. But no one ever wins twice."
By evening, Saturo stood beneath a lantern-lit archway, watching a stream of people enter a modest-looking tea house.
"No sign," Kael muttered. "No guards. No markings."
"Exactly," Saturo said. "A parasite doesn't announce itself."
An organization.
The Undercover Ring
"They operate under legitimate storefronts," Kael said as they regrouped near the river. "Warehouses. Taverns. Even a bathhouse."
"And the thieves?" Saturo asked.
Kael's eyes hardened. "Recruitment. They prey on kindness. Desperation. Travelers."
Saturo clenched his jaw-not in anger, but resolve.
"We observe," he said. "Two days."
Kael nodded. "Third day?"
"We step inside."
The next two days were patience made flesh.
Over the next two days, they confirmed it.
The gambling organization operated beneath layers of civility:
Games disguised as social gatherings
Winnings shuffled through false bets
Losses blamed on chance, not manipulation
Travelers were drained slowly—never enough to cause outrage, always enough to ensure silence.
They also observed who entered which doors. Which guards were real-and which were pretending not to be guards at all. They mapped the flow of coin, the silent signals exchanged between lookouts, and the subtle marks scratched into walls.
Once, Saturo nearly gave himself away.
A man bumped into him deliberately, testing his reaction. Saturo felt the probe instantly-and forced himself to stumble, curse, and apologize like a common traveler.
The man smiled and walked away.
That night, Kael spoke softly in the inn.
"They're cautious."
"As they should be," Saturo replied. "So are we."
By the third night, they were ready.
The entrance was a forgotten cellar beneath a shuttered wine shop.
Rain drizzled lightly, cloaking the street in sound.
They slipped inside one at a time.
Disguises were simple—no cloaks of mystery, no hidden blades. Just confidence, relaxed posture, and controlled losses. Saturo allowed himself to be drawn in, laughing lightly as dice rolled and cards flipped.
The air changed instantly-thick with smoke, sweat, and murmured greed. Lanterns cast uneven shadows across crowded tables where dice rolled endlessly and coins vanished just as fast.
Saturo's heart rate slowed.
Tranquil Sight.
He didn't invoke the technique fully-just enough to sharpen perception.
He felt it then.
They posed as gamblers. Lost small amounts intentionally. Watched hands, eyes, exits.
Not just watching the tables—but watching him.
Saturo kept his expression neutral, but his instincts sharpened. His aura stirred faintly beneath his skin, restrained but ready.
Then came the first near-capture.
A dealer frowned at Saturo's coin pouch. "That seal," he said. "Where'd you get it?"
Saturo felt Kael tense beside him.
"Won it yesterday," Saturo replied casually. "Lucky day."
The dealer studied him far too long.
Then laughed. "Careful. Luck like that draws attention."
Kael drifted toward the back rooms.
A back stair. A locked door. Voices arguing behind it.
Kael worked the lock-slow, precise.
Footsteps.
Saturo stepped into the shadows just as a guard turned the corner.
Their eyes met.
For a breath, the world froze.
Then Saturo let the dice fall from his hand, cursing loudly as they scattered across the floor.
"Damn it-!"
The guard scowled and kicked one die back. "Watch where you're going."
They exhaled only when he was gone.
Saturo followed the trail of coin, memory, and movement—until he saw it.
A ledger.
Hidden poorly behind a false panel. Names, sums, routes.
Proof.
Kael whispered, "We have enough."
Saturo nodded.
He had just reached for it—
When the atmosphere shifted and horns sounded.
Not alarm bells.
Authority.
Boots thundered outside. Orders rang sharp and disciplined, cutting through the music and laughter like steel through silk.
Steel rang.
A commanding voice echoed through the den.
"Silver Dawn Guard! No one move!"
The Undercover Ring erupted into chaos.
Tables overturned. Coins scattered. Dice rolled uselessly across the floor.
Saturo froze—not in fear, but surprise.
They noticed.
Not just the ring.
Us.
As armored figures surged through the entrances, steel flashing beneath lantern light.
And Saturo realized too late-
They were not the only ones watching.
Someone important had been watching.
And Silver Dawn, for all its kindness—
Was not blind after all.