It’s 2:33 am, and you watch Ameronis as she disappears into the shadows across the street. Ahead of you, Silas silently slips down the alleyway beside Bradwyn & Holden’s, and you follow suit, glancing about to make sure nobody sees you.

The two of you crouch around a corner nearby, watching the back door of the building closely. The watchman should be coming out any second now. But he doesn’t. 10 minutes pass and there’s still no sign of him. Though you’ve remained focused on the task at hand so far, your mind starts to wander a little, and for a moment, you feel a faint flutter of nervousness in your stomach. What if something goes wrong?

You shake your head. There’s no need to start getting antsy. Silas said the night watchman periodically comes out and doesn’t have a set schedule for that. The wait isn’t unexpected; you just need to be ready for when it ends. You exhale and resume your silent vigil.

Less than 5 minutes later, the sound of the door being unlocked faintly echoes down the alley, and you and Silas both tense; he shifts his position. A few seconds later, a lantern emerges, held aloft by a displeasingly large man. He is tall, almost 6 and a half feet by your estimate, broad across the chest, and, the hand that holds up the lantern could quite comfortably wrap around most necks. You feel another, brief flutter in your stomach.

He waves the lantern back and forth, casting light about and checking the area before he steps outside. He turns and begins to lock the door behind him, and that is your cue. When he starts walking, you and Silas edge closer, and as soon as he turns down the alleyway, the two of you hurry forward, scrambling to the door as quickly and quietly as you can.

The watchman’s light moves away down the alley, while Silas crouches in the dark in front of the lock. You stand nearby with your back to him, watching the light continue to fade, and hoping it doesn’t suddenly start growing stronger. You hear the faint sound of metal clinking and scraping as Silas fiddles with the lock, and just as you begin to wonder how long this will take, Silas tugs on you as he pushes the door open and slinks into the shop. So far, so good.

You move into the store and continue past him; he closes it behind you and begins fussing with the lock again. You cautiously continue onwards, keeping an eye out for any unexpected surprises; you grip your battle axe firmly.

You know the layout of the store; Silas had gone over it with you during your planning, so you quickly check the hall and two side rooms before you reach the shop floor, all empty. You briefly breathe a sigh of relief, but can’t get complacent; you have a lot to do and limited time.

You scan the room; dimly lit by the light of a nearby streetlamp. You see the window display up ahead but ignore that for now; Silas will take care of it. Your job is to grab what you can. The counter and till are to your right. In front of the counter, there are a few rows of shelves, with a larger display cabinet against the wall beyond them. In front of you, between you and the bay window, are a few display tables lined with unidentified objects; an easy selection to grab from. To your left are a couple of smaller display shelves, and beyond them, standing by the wall and staring ahead silently, is a fully armoured guard.

Your heart skips a beat and you freeze; you resist the urge to bring up your axe. What is he doing in here?! Has he seen you? You won’t stand a chance against him, especially if he has a sword, or worse; a crossbow.

You inch back. You’re in the shadows of the doorway. Perhaps you’re hidden from view? He hasn’t moved at all. Unless..?

You tentatively move forward, your confidence growing as the guard does not respond, and you simultaneously frown and breathe a sigh of relief as you stop in front of it, and confirm the presence of the stand supporting an empty suit of armour. It does have a sword, a beautiful, ceremonial one, but fortunately, it’s no threat to you now.

A little put out for a second, the sight of Silas emerging from the shadows and hurrying towards the front entrance snaps you back to the moment. Hurry! You’re running out of time! Through the window, you can see a second light source; this one is moving. The night watchman has made it to the front of the building. You can’t see him, but you know he’ll be making the return journey soon, and then the true test of Silas’ plan will begin.

Silas crouches at the front door and begins fiddling with the lock. You retrieve one of your sacks, open it up, hurry behind the counter and grab and stuff whatever you can inside it. Silas moves away from the door.

You move around the counter to the right, ignoring the locked display cabinet and grab items from the display shelves instead. Silas begins looking around in the nearby gloom for any of his items.

The two of you pause as you hear a sound coming from the back door. There is a faint thud, followed by the sound of the lock being forcefully jiggled. You glance at Silas. You can’t clearly see his face, but you can tell he’s looking at you. You pick up your pace.

You place your first full sack on the floor near the counter, then open up the other. There’s another thud against the door, followed by a silence that drags on. Where is the watchman now? Is he on his way to the front of the building?

You stand by one of the display tables, grabbing the shiniest, most valuable-looking items you can discern. You hear Silas quietly exclaim; apparently, he found one of his trinkets.

He glances at the door, then whispers for you to be careful; light can be seen steadily illuminating the stained glass of the front door, and you can just about make out the silhouette of the watchman.

You crouch behind the table and Silas slinks away from the door. You hear the key enter the lock. Then silence. Then like before, the lock is jiggled a few times, then the door itself. It doesn’t open.

The light moves towards the bay window; you have just a second to dart around the table out of view as the lantern floods the room with light. Silas crouches below the window, obscured from view by the window display itself. You wait with your back against the opposite end of the table as the light sweeps around the room.

You count the seconds; what is the watchman doing? You imagine him suddenly smashing through the window, followed by you and Silas. You shake your head. No; don’t be silly. The light sweeps out of the shop, then fades; he must be going to try the back door again.

You jump up and begin randomly grabbing items from the second table, resisting the urge to simply sweep the full contents into the sack; you only have enough space for a few things, so best make them count.

While the watchman’s light had danced about in the bay window, Silas had used the opportune illumination to scan for any sign of his items, and as soon as the lantern’s light faded, he made a beeline for a particular display shelf, securing another one of his trinkets. Now, he turns his attention to the window display. Just as Leif had predicted, it’s difficult to not “clatter about” in there, but fortunately, anything that gets in Silas’ way goes in his sack, including his coveted jewellery box with the black-gold amulet inside.

With most of the shop surveyed, and the window display now pilfered, it’s time to exit; if the watchman sees the display now, he’ll realise what’s wrong and may try to raise the alarm. You need to be gone before that happens. As soon as you hear him at the back door…

You move along the table, stuffing a couple more small items into your nearly full sack along the way, while Silas goes back to the front door, ready to unlock it. Then, right on cue, you hear a more determined attempt at the back door.

You catch a glimpse of Silas extracting something from the lock as you turn and move towards the counter to retrieve your other sack, but are jerked back suddenly as the sack snags on something. You turn back to free it and see the bottom of the sack hooked on the impractically-shaped decorative sword hilt, and the silhouette of the suit of armour, now angled forward precariously and twisting towards you as it slowly unbalances.

You scramble forward to catch the suit, but it’s too late; you touch the chest plate, but it slips out of your grasp; the rest of the pieces break free all at once, and you lose your grip on the sack, which falls, still hooked onto the hilt.

The suit explodes into a rain of parts, each piece fighting to clatter and clang against each other with the sound of a thousand pots and pans. The sword too does its best to add to the cacophony, as the pieces spill across the floor and against the closest shelf, while the sack adds a modest thud and a muffled ring of metal and glass. Several pieces of armour scatter across the floor, and the helmet rolls out of sight but you hear it as it spins several times before eventually coming to a halt in some dark corner.

The silence that follows is deafening. For a moment, your mind goes blank, but you hear Silas curse across the room. You glance at him; he’s crouched in front of the door again, hurriedly trying to reinsert something into the lock. You blink, then snap out of it. Of course. Why wouldn’t the worst possible thing happen right now?

You scoop up the sack, finally wrenching it free from the stupid hilt, clattering the sword once more, then hurry back towards the counter to grab the second sack.

“Get down!” Silas suddenly hisses, ducking down moments before the lantern light shines brightly through the bay window; you drop down behind the table again. The watchman got here quickly; he must’ve run. A second later, the light shifts and he’s at the door again. But it still won’t open.

You spot Silas gesturing towards the back door and you nod. Things got ugly for a second, but you can still get out of here. As long as the watchman stays at the front, you can still escape via the back.

Silas creeps away from the door towards the back, and you carefully lean out from behind the table to grab the first sack by the counter. You look at the front door then glance at the bay window, just in time to see a law enforcer approaching.

You were wrong before; this is the worst possible thing to happen.