Go to Somewhere Wealthier

Liora’s mind raced, desperately trying to figure out how to brush off his razor-sharp suspicions. She stood frozen by the bedside table, her fingers gripping the wood, searching for a lie that could withstand the piercing weight of his gaze.

Just as the silence threatened to crush her, Kaelen’s voice broke the suffocating tension. The dangerous edge left his tone, replaced by a steady, measured calm.

"Everyone has secrets," he stated, leaning back slightly against the pillows. "If you don't want to tell me, I'm not going to force you."

He watched her react, his dark eyes unwavering. "My family is already in a terrible spot. My mother and my sisters-in-law have been through hell, enduring more grief than anyone should bear. My primary concern is their safety. They are vulnerable right now. I just hope you do not harbor any bad intentions toward them."

Facing a woman whose methods defied logic, Kaelen refused to gamble. If he were a lone soldier, he would push for the truth and take the risks that came with it. But he carried the lives of the surviving Vane women on his shoulders. He could only hope that his blunt, honest words would appeal to whatever conscience she possessed. Even if she turned out to be an enemy plant, maybe she would spare the grieving widows out of basic human pity.

Liora met his gaze, deeply understanding his protective wariness. If she were in his position, watching a stranger orchestrate impossible thefts right before a royal raid, she would have drawn a blade by now. Her behavior all evening had been bizarre and calculated.

She took a slow breath. *Calculated honesty,* she decided. The impending exile to the barren, frozen north would be a brutal test of endurance. She would eventually need to pull from her hidden supplies during the journey. She couldn’t fabricate a new, flawless excuse every single time a loaf of bread or a winter coat magically appeared. It would drain her energy, and against a mind as sharp as Kaelen’s, the lies would crumble anyway.

"You have nothing to worry about with me," Liora said, keeping her voice level and looking him directly in the eye. "I swear I mean no harm to the Vane family."

Since he had laid his cards on the table, she felt a calculated fraction of truth was necessary.

"I will be honest with you about one thing," she continued, her tone firm. "I was indeed the one who took everything from the manor storerooms. Every last grain sack and iron pot. I couldn't stomach the thought of our enemies marching in here tomorrow and profiting from your family's wealth. Having those supplies will make our exile bearable."

She stopped there, setting a hard boundary. If Kaelen kept pushing for the mechanics of her secret, she was prepared to walk away and leave the Vanes to their fate. She possessed modern combat training and a dimensional space; she had the ability to build a comfortable life anywhere in this ancient world. There was no point in staying if her allies questioned her every move.

Silence stretched across the candlelit room. Kaelen studied her face, his mind working through the tactical variables. His gut instinct, honed by years of sniffing out treason on the battlefield, told him to trust her. She wasn't lying about her intent.

"Fine," Kaelen finally said, his voice holding a serious weight. "I won't ask about your secrets anymore."

He agreed to drop his inquiries into her methods. An unspoken, powerful understanding settled between them, replacing the hostility with a fragile alliance.

Then, a gleam sparked in Kaelen's eyes. A wildly bold thought took root in his strategic mind.

"So," he began, his tone casual but laced with a testing edge, "you can clean out an entire, massive storeroom without a single guard knowing."

Liora narrowed her eyes, cautious. "Yes."

"I wonder," he murmured, tilting his head. "Could you do the exact same thing if I took you somewhere vastly wealthier?"

Liora’s eyes immediately lit up with fierce excitement. Her dimensional space was cluttered with random, low-value items she had hoarded over time. For the unpredictable, deadly road ahead, they needed hard currency. Extra, untraceable funds were exactly what they lacked.

"Where are we going?" she asked eagerly, the thrill of the prospect washing away her previous guard.

Kaelen’s lips twitched into a ghost of a smirk, recognizing her immediate buy-in. "I intend to rob the royal treasury itself. You handle getting the goods out, and I will handle getting us inside."

"The royal treasury?" Liora gasped, utterly shocked by his sheer, treasonous audacity. She thought she was a pragmatic survivor, but plotting to steal directly from King Osric on the eve of their execution decree? That was on another level.

Her mind immediately pivoted to the logistics. Her only true internal concern was whether her space had enough room for a kingdom's worth of wealth.

Watching her chew her lip in thought, Kaelen frowned slightly. "What, are you scared?"

"Scared? No," Liora shot back. "I was just thinking about where to put everything from the royal treasury."

"Put everything?" Kaelen repeated, his brow furrowing in confusion. "How do you physically plan to carry—"

"You promised," she interrupted, her voice sharp and quick as she reminded him of his word. "No prying."

Kaelen blinked, then nodded, readily admitting his mistake. "My apologies. That was out of line."

Liora checked the time in her mind. It was already past two in the morning. The royal decree authorizing the raid and their banishment was imminent. They were out of time.

"Wait here," she ordered.

She turned and headed for the adjoining side room, shutting the door behind her. Closing her eyes, she reached her mind into her spatial inventory. She went to work, wincing in mental effort as she ruthlessly dumped her less important, bulky items. Stacks of random furniture, cheap fabrics, and heavy wood materialized in the side room, piling up on the floor. It stung to abandon her hoarded safety nets, but the promise of clearing massive amounts of hidden space for King Osric’s gold made the loss worth it.

When she hurried back into the main bedroom, she froze in her tracks.

Kaelen was already sitting on the edge of the bed, lacing his leather boots. His face was a stoic mask, but the tight set of his jaw and the sheer paleness of his skin betrayed the excruciating pain radiating from his bleeding injuries. The bandages beneath his shirt were already damp.

"Can you even walk?" Liora asked, stepping forward with urgent concern. "I know field medicine. Let me have a look at you."

"I'm fine," Kaelen refused flatly, not missing a beat as he yanked the laces tight. "We cannot waste a single second."

Ignoring his torn flesh, he stood up and opened the heavy oak wardrobe. He pulled out two sets of inconspicuous dark clothing. He tossed a bundle to Liora and quickly pulled the other over his broad shoulders, hiding the fresh bloodstains.

Liora slipped into the black garments. They were his, hanging slightly loose on her frame, but she tied the sash tight to ensure she could move without restriction.

Clad in black, Kaelen grabbed a concealed steel blade from the wall. He turned to her, his dark eyes locking onto hers, and took her hand firmly. His grip was hot and unyielding. Together, they moved to the ledge and slipped silently out the open window.

Liora barely had a moment to find her footing before she was swept off the roof tiles.

Kaelen physically carried her, his arm wrapped securely around her waist, as they launched into the biting night air. Liora’s breath caught in her throat. Utilizing a breathtaking martial arts technique, Kaelen soared far beyond the high stone walls of the Vane manor.

The rushing wind whipped past her face. She looked up at his sharp profile set against the dark night sky. His movements were masterful, silent, and terrifyingly fast. They cleared rooftops and dark alleys with graceful, sweeping leaps, never making a sound as their boots grazed the clay tiles.

In her past life, Liora had prided herself on her lethal close-quarters combat training. She thought she knew what peak human performance looked like. Now, watching Kaelen traverse the sky, masking the agony of his wounds while carrying another person, a stark realization hit her. Her modern skills paled in comparison to this. He was exactly as remarkably lethal as the historical legends claimed.

Within minutes, they began their descent. They touched down without a whisper of sound in a worn-out, unassuming courtyard.

Liora scanned their surroundings. Weeds choked the cobblestones. The crumbling brick walls smelled of rot and damp earth. It looked like a forgotten slum, entirely abandoned by the city above.

"This is it?" she whispered in disbelief, her boots crunching slightly on the dirt. "This dump is the royal treasury?"

Kaelen did not answer. He kept his grip on her hand and silently guided her across the overgrown yard toward a dilapidated room in the darkest corner.

Inside, the air was stale. Kaelen walked straight to a ruined, collapsing brick bed frame that looked as if it would shatter under a heavy breath. Moving with practiced, easy strength, he pressed his hands against the mortar and firmly pushed aside several heavy bricks.

A cold, damp draft hit Liora’s face.

Behind the bricks, a deep, terrifyingly dark hole was revealed. The blackness seemed to stretch endlessly downward, hiding the bottom from sight.

"This is the forgotten secret passage," Kaelen whispered, leaning in close. "It leads directly into the treasury."

A dozen burning questions flooded Liora’s mind. How did he know about a tunnel into the king's vault? Who built it? Why did the honorable general of the north have access to a thief's path?

She opened her mouth, but the words stopped in her throat. She had demanded he respect her privacy. Choosing to deeply respect his secrets just as he had respected hers, she completely swallowed her burning questions. It didn't matter how he knew. It only mattered that the gold was waiting at the end.

Without uttering another word, Liora tightened her grip on his hand. She stepped forward, following Kaelen closely into the pitch-black cave, trusting his confident, steady steps in the absolute dark.