January 9, 1641

Shirakawa Palace, Thearchy of Gahara

The smell of cut grass filled the air as Thazarim walked through the garden behind the royal palace. He blended in seamlessly, his rough and earth-stained attire that of a common gardener. Beside him, Verashta mirrored his appearance, her hands occasionally reaching out to brush against the vibrant flora, a disguise as a botanical assistant.

Thazarim swept the area, taking in the layout, the positioning of guards, and the flow of servants and officials through the garden. Tatsukai’s recommendation did not fall short; the garden was indeed the optimal ingress and egress point due to the low volume of traffic. If it was like this in the afternoon, he imagined it would be even better before dawn.

Verashta leaned in slightly. “Three guards near the west wing entrance. Regular intervals.”

“And the east?” Thazarim asked.

“Less guarded. But there’s a watcher on the balcony above. Sharp eyes,” she replied, pruning a nearby bush.

As they neared a sculpted hedge, Thazarim paused, pretending to inspect a leaf. In reality, his eyes were tracing the route they’d take come nightfall, identifying shadowed paths and blind spots. A guard passed by, offering them a nod which Thazarim returned with a practiced, inconspicuous smile. The guard moved forward, and Thazarim watched him until he turned a corner.

“Let’s go,” he said once the guard disappeared from view.

Abandoning their position in the garden, he led Verashta toward a back entrance in the palace; they needed to scout the vault. Their disguises wouldn’t work in the restricted areas near the vault, so they would have to rely on timing and subtlety.

They slipped inside, blending in with the flow of servants. Thazarim scanned the corridors – all the doorways, turns, and staircases aligned with Tatsukai’s map. Verashta, walking a few steps behind, counted the pacing of patrolling guards, her lips moving slightly as if muttering to herself.

Reaching an ornate hallway, they encountered increased security. Thazarim steered them into a corridor without any servants in it, using a small illusion spell to project an image of an empty corner when a guard glanced their way. As the guard left, Thazarim moved up to peek around.

“Clear,” he said.

They continued down the ornate hallway, reaching an intersection that split toward the royal chambers to the left and the royal treasury to the right. Turning right, they silently trailed a pair of guards, sticking to the walls and using nooks and empty rooms to evade detection. Soon enough, they found themselves outside a heavy wooden door, guarded by two samurai.

This had to be it – the entrance to the vault. Projecting an illusion of an empty hallway in front of him, he stepped out and observed the guards. Their stance, their grip on their swords, their periodic communication with other patrols – all were cataloged in his mind.

Verashta nudged him lightly, a signal to move on. They couldn’t linger. Thazarim nodded, leading them back the way they came. Exiting the palace through the back garden, Thazarim sighed and looked back. Tonight, they would return to infiltrate the second and first most secure places in Gahara – breaking into an overly cautious diplomat’s office and then breaking into a king’s vault, respectively.

Not as exciting as their heist on a Muan museum, but important to the Resurrection Management Agency nonetheless. It would be as easy as killing a slime. He paid the palace no further mind. “Tatsukai should be waiting for us at the inn by now. Let’s go.”

They made their way back, shedding their palace disguises in favor of their prior merchantwear. The inn and its integrated tavern greeted them with its familiar, dimly lit ambiance. Tatsukai was seated in their usual secluded spot, sifting through a sheaf of papers in front of him. As they approached, he looked up, his expression a mix of urgency and caution.

“You’ve seen the palace. Now, for the office,” Tatsukai began without preamble. “The boss leaves exactly at eight each night, but the guards remain. Two at the front, one in the back. Minimal interior patrols.”

“The safe?”

“In his office, behind a painting. Classic concealment but effective.” He pulled out a set of service keys, isolating a short silver one. “This will get you inside the building, the long gold one next to it will get you in the office itself.”

Verashta interjected, “Can you draw a layout of the office?”

“Already got one.” Tatsukai slid a sketch across the table. It showed a detailed floor plan, including the safe’s location. “Here,” he pointed. “The office. The safe is here, behind the ‘Autumn in Shirakawa’ piece.”

Thazarim studied the layout. We won’t have enough of a window to get in. We’ll need a distraction for the guards. Something subtle. A noise, a false alarm.”

“Simple illusion spell outside the building should do the trick – enough to draw them away without raising a full alarm.”

Tatsukai folded the papers and tucked them away. “I’ll ensure the back entrance is clear. You’ll have a fifteen-minute window before the night shift takes over and patrols become heavier. After that, your illusion magic won’t be very useful.”

“Fifteen minutes,” Thazarim echoed. It was tight, but doable. “Easy enough. Let’s go.”

– –

They approached the Gaharan Foreign Affairs building under cover of night, having waited half an hour until the boss’ confirmed departure. The building itself loomed before them, its architecture a blend of oriental Gaharan grandeur and subtle foreign influences in its Parpaldian columns. It was quieter now, the hustle of the day’s work having subsided into the calm of the evening.

Verashta stayed a few paces behind Thazarim, checking out the surroundings. “On your signal,” she whispered.

Thazarim watched the two guards stationed at the door, preparing himself to rush inside once they were distracted. He waited for the right moment, the brief interval when one of them yawned. Then he gave the signal.

Verashta’s hands moved swiftly, palm facing a set of bushes near the entrance. A second later, the sound of rustling leaves and a cracking branch echoed, drawing the guards’ attention. They hesitated, then moved to investigate, leaving their post unguarded. She summoned an illusion by the back corner of the building, clear enough to warrant investigation, but subtle enough for the guards to simply play it off as a trick of the eye later on.

Seizing the opportunity, Thazarim slipped through the back entrance, Verashta right behind him. The interior was dimly lit, the corridors deserted at this hour. They found the office easily, Tatsukai’s maps once more proving their accuracy. Reaching the door, Thazarim retrieved the key Tatsukai had provided and unlocked it with a soft click. They entered, closing the door behind them with equal care.

The office was impressive – furnished lavishly but with a functional austerity. American gifts and souvenirs decorated the desk in the center. Thazarim’s focus, however, was on the painting that Tatsukai had mentioned – ‘Autumn in Shirakawa’. He approached it, his fingers feeling for the edges, lifting it from the wall.

Behind the painting, instead of the expected mechanical safe, was a sleek, modern design. His heart skipped a beat. This was not what they had planned for. He examined the safe, its keypad glowing faintly.

Verashta’s voice broke his concentration. “Can you open it?”

Thazarim looked back at her, his expression grim. “It’s American. Electronic. We don’t have the tools for this.”

This unexpected turn complicated matters significantly. He weighed their options – trying to force it open could trigger an alarm, leaving them empty-handed and exposed. But then, an idea struck him. The keys weren’t worn enough to reveal their use, but he could still determine the most used keys via a detection spell.

Closing his eyes, Thazarim reached into the depths of his knowledge. The standard detection spell worked by identifying a specific characteristic that can stand out amidst a general environment – heightened mana signatures in an empty forest, a lone flame in a clearing, chemical hazards in a laboratory, or in this case, the faint oils of human fingers on the keypads. He adjusted the spell, focusing on the organic composition and specific texture of the oils left by human skin, enabling the spell to highlight the residues on the keys. And there it was.

With a cautious glance at Verashta, he whispered, “Got something. Three numbers, one repeated.” The realization brought a glimmer of hope, but the challenge of deducing the correct sequence remained.

He focused on the glowing keys, considering possible combinations. Standard patterns first: 1178. No response. He recalibrated, trying another combination: 1781. The more attempts he failed, the greater the possibility of triggering an alarm. On his third attempt, he pressed the keys again: 1718. The keypad beeped softly, and the safe’s door clicked open.

Relief washed over him. He quickly reached in, securing the second key they needed for the vault. “We have it,” he announced, a subtle triumph in his tone.

Verashta nodded. “Time to leave. We’ve got what we came for.”

Silently, they slipped out of the office, exiting the Foreign Affairs building. The night air was cool and crisp as they made their way back to their hideout, a nondescript warehouse nestled in the quieter parts of Shirakawa Port.

Once inside, they quickly debriefed Tatsukai, handing over the promised payment. The informant’s eyes flickered with a mix of satisfaction as he counted his money. “Good luck,” he murmured before disappearing into the night and leaving Thazarim and Verashta to their final phase.

Thazarim walked over to a crate and pulled out a rugged, well-worn bag. He opened it, revealing its contents. First, a palace servant’s outfit – great for getting around, as long as the guards didn’t see his face. Next, a compact mana cutter, a couple of spell scrolls, and a set of finely crafted lockpicks with integrated disenchantment capability.

Verashta watched as he sorted through the items. He then extracted several compact explosives – rigid and crystalline blocks with shimmering veins of energy coursing through them. They looked out of place amongst standard merchandise, but were small enough to be wrapped up with cloth and hidden in a crevice.

With their gear sorted, they embarked on their mission. The first explosive was placed inside the hideout, a precaution to destroy any evidence of their presence. The second found its home in a warehouse leased to a Riem corporation, ensuring the fire would quickly among the imported goods. Another was tucked away in a waste disposal building, where piles of flammable materials awaited.

At each location, Thazarim set the timers, varying the countdown to ensure a staggered sequence of explosions. This would create a prolonged distraction, pulling the palace guards and local authorities in different directions as they scrambled to respond.

With the explosives strategically placed, they made their way to the palace’s garden. Hidden behind a set of bushes, they donned their disguises. Thazarim slipped into the servant’s outfit, carefully concealing his tools and weapons within his cloak. Then, he waited.

The first explosion resonated in the distance. Around them, the palace erupted into chaos, with servants and guards evacuating into the palace and setting up a defensive response. Seizing the moment, Thazarim and Verashta blended into the crowd of palace staff. They moved swiftly, their servant disguises allowing them to slip through the panicked throng unnoticed. As they made their way deeper into the palace, they encountered a group of guards rushing to reinforce the entrances.

A quick illusion spell concealed them as they hid around a corner. He led Verashta through the maze, his memory of the previous day’s reconnaissance guiding them. As they approached the vault, the second explosion boomed, further away but no less impactful. The reverberations were felt even within the palace walls, adding to the growing sense of urgency. Guards directed servants and administrative staff to safety, too preoccupied to scrutinize the pair closely.

Reaching the vault’s entrance, Thazarim glanced around. The patrol routes were surprisingly deserted, but the entrance itself was reinforced by another pair of guards. He quickly scanned for any remaining magic detectors, recalling their placements from their earlier scouting. Then, he pulled a pistol from his cloak, quickly fastening a suppressor on it – an enchanted attachment that eliminated sound and dampened mana signatures from usage.

Lining up his shots, he channeled mana into his weapon and fired twice, taking out two of the guards. Beside him, two pulses of mana echoed – Verashta had taken care of the other two samurai. He stepped over the bodies, pulling out the keys they acquired and giving one to Verashta. Together, they inserted both keys, turning them. The lock disengaged with a satisfying thud, and he gently pushed the door open.

The vault was shrouded in shadows, pallets and shelves illuminated by scant, evenly distributed torches. They stepped inside, Thazarim’s eyes adjusting as he checked the corners. Clear. They dragged the bodies into the vault before starting their search. The shelves seemed to be categorized by genre; that meant the beacon would likely be with other magical artifacts. There, on one of the various pedestals within the aisle for artifacts, lay their target – the beacon, glowing faintly with an inner light.

He approached the beacon, lifting it. Though contained by magical insulation, he could still sense the tremendous amount of magic power within. He secured it within a small box inside his cloak. Having completed their objective, they exited the vault. They retraced their steps through the now eerily quiet corridors, slipping past the guards.

The garden in the back of the palace was their final hurdle. The night’s chaos had not yet reached this secluded haven, but the increased patrols and heightened awareness were noticeable. Perhaps even calling this a hurdle was a bit of a stretch – such measures were trifling compared to their operations in Mu and the Holy Mirishial Empire. He and Verashta moved with practiced ease, weaving the foliage and statues. As they approached the garden’s edge, Thazarim could hear the distant commotion caused by their diversionary explosives.

They reached the palace wall and found a secluded spot where the shadows were thickest. With a nod to each other, they scaled the wall quickly and dropped down to the other side, landing softly on the grass. Running from the palace, they navigated the streets of Shirakawa Port, steering clear of the areas where they had planted explosives. The sounds of confusion filled the air, covering their escape.

Reaching a quieter part of the port, they found a small dirge moored and waiting, just as they had arranged. They quickly boarded it, casting off and setting a course away from the city. The dirge cut through the water, its magical engine a low hum in the night.

As they moved further from the port, Thazarim allowed himself one last look back. The silhouette of Shirakawa port receded into the distance, intermittently lit up by explosions. He felt a mix of relief and anticipation. They had successfully infiltrated the palace, secured the beacon, and escaped without detection. Yet, their missions would only become more difficult from here. No doubt the Americans would try to expedite their beacon retrieval attempts after this, but for now, he could rest easy knowing a promotion was in sight.