Moonlight spilled through the glass roof panels of the abandoned warehouse, casting long shadows that danced across crates and forgotten geared machinery. Located in Valemir's decaying industrial district, the building had once manufactured textile dyes before cheaper competition from the eastern provinces had driven it to ruin. Now it served a different purpose—one that thrived in darkness and secrecy.
Six men worked with urgent efficiency, moving crates from a hidden cellar entrance to a waiting wagon. Their breath fogged in the cold night air that seeped through broken windows. These weren't common thieves but professionals—their movements practiced, their vigilance constant. Three carried short swords at their hips; two others had crossbows slung across their backs. The sixth, clearly their leader, wore an enchanted dagger whose blue runes pulsed faintly whenever anyone approached him.
