It wasn’t long until we formed a coterie of sorts, and I began to aid in their interactions with the rich. Our reputation has grown over the last decade, and we now even boast a name: The Cloaked. Many men and women have since joined and left, but we’re the trio who lead the pack— always. We’ve managed to keep my identity a secret. To anyone outside our close-knit band, I’m just another bandit, stealing for sport. We’ve never failed, and we’ve never been caught. Our jobs have always been simple. Pickpocketing in taverns, ambushing traveling carriages and fleecing nobles out of a great deal of money. But last week, a new kind of opportunity presented itself. One none of us foresaw.

King Vaskis of Baelliles, my own father, sent spies across the kingdom searching for The Cloaked. They lurked in every bar, brothel, and village from our southern border within the Deep to the northernmost perimeter near Verdana. One of Torrent’s friends caught word and sent us the King’s message.

‘Let The Cloaked bandits know I have a rather unorthodox errand and can use their assistance. Tell them that it pays prettier coins than their eyes can imagine and more than their hands can hold,’ the instructions began.

At first, I was wary. Performing a job for my father ran the risk of my identity being flushed out. The King has no idea that his son is part of a criminal assembly, let alone one of its co-founders. But when Torrent relayed the rest of the message, I knew we had to accept. This was no small job, nor was it a ruse to catch The Cloaked. This job could very well save Baelliles from destruction.

My father needed thieves.

My father needed us.

“There’s movement north, at least twelve marks away,” Lorna, arguably the best-looking member of The Cloaked, warns. Her emerald-green eyes glisten in the patchy light the tree canopy offers.

I slap the pouch against Lin’s legs, who stuffs it into his knapsack. Standing, I send a nod of approval to Lorna, who silently slips back between the trees.

“Are we ready, boys?” I ask, flashing a smile that does not match the severity of the situation.

“Born ready, boss,” Torr grins.

Lin picks up his enormous crossbow, which swallows half his body, and props it onto his arm.

“Not in the slightest,” he says with a wink.

I run my fingers through my hair, pushing the loose wisps from my brow. As I reach back for my bow, I contemplate the risk ahead for a final time. This time we won’t steal money or cozen an insolent nobleman. This time, if we fail, we won’t lose a deed or coin purse. My life and my kingdom are on the line.

The band knows how little I can help them should our attempt fail, and they’ve agreed to do this anyway. The sound of horses’ hooves trampling the dirt and the muffled voices of what sounds like a few dozen men grow near. Then the sound of her carriage, the wheels clomping and clunking on the rock-strewn road. I pull an arrow from my quiver and nock my bow.