Chapter 42 The Little Thieves Guild

### Chapter 42: Little Thieves Guild

The bustling streets of Salevo were alive with the sounds of commerce and chatter. Bren and Lyra moved purposefully through the city, their sharp eyes scanning for the discreet symbols of information brokers carved into doorframes and street posts. Both women were seasoned enough to know that in a city like Salevo, knowledge was power—and it was rarely free.

Bren adjusted her sword belt as they rounded a corner into a quieter alley. "If we're going to get any useful leads on the Sherpa or Malgrin, we'll need to find someone who doesn't mind breaking a few rules to make a deal," she muttered.

Lyra, ever observant, smirked. "You mean someone like us?"

Bren shrugged, her expression neutral. "We've all got our secrets."

The first few brokers they approached were tight-lipped, their prices steep for even the most basic scraps of information. Bren's frustration grew with each dead end. "This city thrives on greed," she muttered as they exited a dimly lit shop.

Lyra gave a dry chuckle. "That's why it survives. Let's keep moving. The next one might be more talkative."

As they walked, Bren's instincts prickled. She noticed the subtle glances from nearby street urchins and halflings lingering too long at corners. Their movements were coordinated, too precise for mere loitering.

"We're being watched," she murmured to Lyra.

Lyra nodded, her hand casually resting on her dagger hilt. "I noticed. Want to deal with it now or let them think they've got the upper hand?"

Bren smirked, her voice low. "Let's give them a show."

They continued down the street, intentionally turning into a narrow lane with fewer passersby. It didn't take long before the trap was sprung. A child darted past, brushing against Bren's side. Instinctively, her hand shot out, gripping the child's wrist like a vice.

"Not so fast," Bren said, her tone cold as she turned to face the would-be thief.

The boy, no older than ten, froze in her grasp, his wide eyes filled with a mix of fear and defiance. A small pouch of coins dangled from his other hand.

"Returning this would be a good start," Bren said, snatching the pouch.

Before the boy could reply, more figures emerged from the shadows: three halflings and another pair of children, all armed with crude knives and a dangerous glint in their eyes.

"Well, this is adorable," Lyra said dryly, drawing her bow and nocking an arrow in one fluid motion.

One of the halflings, clearly the leader, stepped forward. "You've wandered into Little Thieves Guild territory," he said, his voice confident. "Drop the pouch, and we'll let you leave unharmed."

Bren chuckled darkly, her grip on her sword tightening. "Is that so? Funny, I don't recall signing up for your protection racket."

The halfling's confidence wavered as he took in the fierce gleam in Bren's eyes and Lyra's poised arrow. "You don't want trouble," he said, his voice faltering.

"Actually, I'm starting to think I do," Bren replied, her tone sharp.

The standoff was broken when Lyra loosed her arrow—not at the halflings, but at a precarious stack of crates behind them. The crates toppled with a deafening crash, scattering the group and sending them scrambling.

Bren released the boy and stepped forward, her voice ringing with authority. "Go home, kids. Playtime's over."

The halflings hesitated, then retreated, dragging their young accomplices with them. Bren and Lyra watched them disappear into the crowd before exchanging a knowing look.

"Think we made our point?" Lyra asked.

"For now," Bren replied. "Let's move before they get brave again."

---

Meanwhile, on the other side of the city, Trill was inside the Salevo Alchemist Guild. The interior of the building was a labyrinth of shelves stacked with exotic herbs, vials of glowing liquids, and bubbling cauldrons. Trill moved with purpose, scanning the wares for rare ingredients he could use for his own concoctions.

The guild's clerk, a wiry man with a sour expression, watched him suspiciously. "You've got expensive tastes," the man said, his tone dripping with disdain.

Trill ignored him, placing a bundle of rare herbs and a vial of powdered obsidian on the counter. "How much?"

The clerk sneered. "More than you can afford, I'd wager."

Trill's eyes narrowed, his voice calm but firm. "Try me."

The clerk rattled off an inflated price, clearly hoping to scare Trill away. Instead, Trill placed a pouch of coins on the counter, his gaze unflinching. "Fair price," he said. "Take it or lose the sale."

The clerk's eyes flicked to the coins, then back to Trill. He snatched the pouch, counting the coins with a scowl. "Fine," he muttered, sliding the goods toward Trill.

As Trill turned to leave, he caught sight of a well-dressed man entering the guild. The man was flanked by two armed guards, his bearing exuding arrogance and entitlement. Trill's instincts prickled.

"You there," the nobleman called, his voice imperious. "That vial. Hand it over."

Trill paused, his grip tightening on the vial of powdered obsidian. "I just bought it," he said evenly.

The nobleman sneered. "And now I'm offering to buy it from you. Double the price."

Trill's eyes narrowed. "Not for sale."

The nobleman's face darkened. "Do you know who I am?"

"Not interested," Trill replied, turning to leave.

One of the guards stepped forward, blocking Trill's path. "You should reconsider," the guard growled.

Trill's patience snapped. In one fluid motion, he drew his sword, the blade gleaming in the dim light. The guards hesitated, their hands hovering over their weapons.

"Try me," Trill said, his voice cold as steel.

The nobleman, clearly unused to being defied, took a step back. "You'll regret this," he hissed before storming out with his guards in tow.

Trill sheathed his sword and turned to the clerk, who was now pale and wide-eyed. "You might want to reconsider your clientele," Trill said before leaving the guild.

---

Bren and Lyra regrouped with Trill later that evening at the inn. The three of them sat around a worn wooden table, sharing their experiences from the day.

"Pickpockets," Bren said, shaking her head. "This city is crawling with them."

"And entitled nobles," Trill added, recounting his encounter at the Alchemist Guild.

Lyra smirked. "Sounds like Salevo's charm is wearing thin."

Trill leaned back in his chair, his expression thoughtful. "We'll need to be careful. This city has a way of pulling people into its web. The sooner we find what we're looking for and leave, the better."

Bren nodded, her gaze steady. "Agreed. But first, we need more information. If Malgrin's forces are active in this region, we can't afford to be blindsided."

As the three of them planned their next steps, the city buzzed around them, its secrets waiting to be uncovered. For Trill, Bren, and Lyra, Salevo was a crossroads—a place of opportunity and danger, where every choice carried the weight of the unknown.