CHAPTER TWELVE

The vault door was made of solid iron, with intricate patterns etched into the metal, and it loomed like a great beast ready to devour. Hands shaking with nerves, Tatsuya took a deep breath as he stepped forward, mindful of his dwindling window of opportunity, and studied the door carefully. Although he had not seen many vaults in his life, nor had any reason to break into any, lock picking was a common skill to have in this day and age—and the vault seemed to be an easily accessible one rather than a long-term storage—so he was confident this wouldn't be much of a challenge.

Still, in that split second before he pulled out the set of lockpicks and fitted one into the keyhole, probing, every nerve in his brain and body was electrified. It felt as if the very world was completely still. Nothing moved but him—and even that was purely mechanical, as if the silence had instilled a ghostly calm over him—fueled by the anticipation of being so close in a way that was more than words, in a way that was so completely tangible.

Working quickly, he fitted two more picks in and wiggled all three simultaneously, his fingers deftly manipulating the mechanisms of the lock until it finally turned with a click. Though satisfied, he couldn't help but think that was easier than killing the guards—which shouldn’t be due to the importance of the vault and the treasures within—and it was all he could do to ignore the raised questions as he put away his bundle on his person and, once the door creaked open, slipped inside, looking around in wonder as he did so.

His heart raced in excitement as he took in the sight of the riches—stacks of cowry shells, precious gems and jewels, and ancient artefacts of all kinds—before him, even as he moved silently and carefully through the vault (dimly lit by the torches in the passageway), eyes scanning the shadows for any danger as his feet deftly avoided pressure plates and trip wires, for any misstep could trigger a trap or an alarm.

But his joy was short-lived as the sounds of footsteps echoed loudly in his ear, and he knew the corpses had been seen, and irate guards, more than likely fueled by thoughts of vengeance, were approaching. So, he quickly grabbed as many small bags of cowries as he could tie to his waist, hoping to exit the vault and make his way towards the staircase (where he had a better chance of ambushing them), but he was too late; the guards were filling the stretch of passage between the stairs and the vault, spears, and elements drawn.

Before they caught more than a glimpse of his features, he drew back and slammed the door shut, the currents aiding greatly when his strength failed him. Unbidden, in the ensuing darkness, he pressed his back against the metal’s cool surface and slid to the ground just as angry voice reached him from outside the vault.

“Attention, thief, we know you're in there. Come out now with your hands up and surrender peacefully, and we may not beat you to within an inch of your life for what you did."

Panic threatened to set in as Tatsuya tried to figure out a way to escape, his hands automatically balling in fists—perspiration glistening against his forehead and trickling down his brow while his breathing became increasingly labored with every passing second—but through sheer force of will, he pried his fingers free.

Yes, the guards outside were now shouting for him to come out, and yes, he knew that if he complied, he would be thrown into prison for a long time—and that was if he wasn’t executed in the coming days—so he had to think of a way to get out of this situation, and he had to act fast.

But he also had to be rational. Calm. He couldn’t afford to lose control, not when one of his biggest asset was his mind and his ability to think himself out of every problem he found himself in.

“…above patience, self-control was the key skill of the hunter,” the memory of his father said.

It wasn’t something most people were naturally gifted with, and Tatsuya hadn’t been when he was ten-years-old, out in the cold and damp on the first of his subsequent hunting trips. But he had learned. There was an art to being controlled in the field, of suppressing himself in other to magnify everything around him and become hyper-focused on his target.

Then, he had to clear his mind of all distractions, keep his eyes and ears open to all the sights and sounds around him, especially on said arbitrary target: what they did, how they moved, and their unspoken body language. However, right now, though there was no target, that didn't mean the teaching wasn't useful. After all, wisdom was the right use of knowledge.

Tatsuya had to block out the cacophonous blur that was the guard’s mingling, raised voices, the thick stickiness of sweat on him—made worse by the trapped, humid air in the vault—the numbness of his ass as he sat there on the slightly cool flooring, and most importantly, the clogging panic in his veins. Panic- induced decisions had a nasty way of leading to bad outcomes, and that was something he wanted to avoid at all cost, especially since the advancement of his goal relied on his success here.

He took a long, slow deep breath. It was only him, nothing else mattered, and regardless of the reality of the situation—his quickly closing window of escape—he had to use the time afforded to him to consider every available option from every possible angle.

He couldn't stay in the vault forever, but he also couldn't surrender. He was trapped, and sooner rather than later, his body would give in to the exhaustion creeping into his bones, and he would be forced to choose an option from the two—and, unwilling to be captured again, it would most likely be the former—and that was reliant on if they didn't decide to force themselves in, riches be damned.

What could he do?

He was sure the vault had another exit—it would be monumentally stupid and downright impractical to have only one escape route in case of an emergency; not to mention the vault had to be easily accessible for the reeve or anyone she sent at short notice—but the relative darkness and piles of treasures within prevented him from trying to find it.

He blinked. Speaking of treasures, could he use them to get out of trouble? They weren't technically his yet, but surely, someone among the guards would be swayed by thoughts of possessing even a fraction of a fraction of said treasures. It was common wisdom that people could be bought, and as wealth was power, they were willing to do anything to acquire more—and Tatsuya sought to take advantage of that fact.

Lips curling into a confident grin, he opened his mouth to negotiate with the guards, telling them he would give them a share of the treasure if they let him go. However, their response was as such, after a short pause followed by a shared raucous laugh:

“We're not interested in your bribes. Surrender now, and we can resolve this peacefully. No one needs to die again.”

His grin was wiped off his face in one fell swoop, but though he was more sober than before, he knew not to let the doubt creep back in. Instead, he tried to understand the reasons behind their refusal as he didn't want that to happen, and maybe, he could change their minds. Surely, they knew of the riches he was with, and he had already made it clear he was willing to share, so why didn't they accept his proposal?

Pacing around the available space, he asked as much.

“Do you think we haven't had thoughts of stealing from the vaults? For spirits’ sake, it isn't exactly difficult to break into, and we are sure we can avoid the traps within.”

“Then why? Why haven't you followed through on your temptations?”

“Lord Kuro.”

“Kuro?” Tatsuya’s voice was shaky—soft, halting, disbelieving. That sudden jolt of electricity had returned, but rather than instill a sense of calm in him, this time it left his brain stuttering for a moment, every part of him going on pause while his thoughts played catch-up.

What did the bastard have to do with this?

As he pondered that line of thought, something suddenly clicked in his mind and the last piece of a puzzle he wasn't even aware of fell into place. He added, “He owns the treasures?”

“Not all of it,” the first voice said, and Tatsuya could imagine a guard shaking their head, beads of sweat trickling down a ghostly-white face. “Some are taxes from the villagers, but the rest are the Lord’s.”

“It's an open secret that the chief is close to Lord Kuro, so I’m sure you are a newcomer,” another guard said. “Maybe you’re part of the group responsible for the commotion near the…”

Their voices trailed off as Tatsuya tried and failed to stop the sting of betrayal from registering. Maybe it wasn't a pertinent piece of information in the grand scheme of things, and maybe, it would have also distracted him from the quest, but he would have liked to be given the choice to decide for himself if he wanted to know.

The omission hurt, he could freely admit it, and he would have words with Jao and Zoel—they weren’t strangers, so they ought to have known—but there was no time to lament; he put aside his feelings to focus on dealing with the problem at hand, and to be honest, it all made sense.

A part of him had raised some concerns as to why breaking into the vault (breaking into the chief’s house, for that matter) was easier than going through the guards, and after digesting their words, he now realised the reason. The chief didn't expect anyone to be stupid enough to try.

The threat Kuro posed hung over the guards like a noose, tightening around their throats with each mental step they took towards thievery. It was true they could run, but for how long and how far? Eventually, they would have to confront the bastard head-on, and unless all their stars aligned, they would be summarily beaten and promptly executed.

Although Tatsuya hated Kuro, he gave credit where it was due, and he couldn't help but wonder if his name would ever instil as much fear as the man’s own did. Would he even like that?

In the end, the guards weren't willing to budge on the matter, and as he didn't want to be stuck in the vault until they grew tired and forced their way in, he reluctantly surrendered— though not before grabbing as much bags of cowries as he could and hanging them off his trousers.

“Smart choice. Now, come out slowly and with your hands up. No funny business; we’ve got fire elementals ready to toast your ass at the slightest twitch.”

“Alright, you got me”—Tatsuya rose and opened the door, emerging with his head bowed in shame and hands up—“but can I at least keep what I stole?”

Thrown against the wall, a wince escaped him, followed by a muffled shout as a stocky guard roughly wrenched his hands behind his injured back and tied them with a coarse rope. “That's not how this works. You'll have to face the consequences of your actions.”

“I figured as much,” Tatsuya said through gritted teeth, breath sharp, but aware of the alert guards strategically surrounding him, he forced himself to bear the pain and relaxed his posture to seem compliant. However, he happily noted they had put away their spears (though they still held them in easy reach), so he allowed a slight smile to work itself onto his lips—and even as the expression turned to a grimace as an equally stocky hand was placed on his back while the other reached for the bags hanging from his waist, he took solace in the plan forming in his head.