A Secret Within A Secret

Lightning lit up the sky above Vulane as the constant rain was had now increased in volume coming down in sheets, a squall from the sea had made landfall and was releasing nature’s fury upon the strange city. Upon a hill a stately chateau house stood tall, no light burned within as the lightning flashed and illuminated the house its visage foreboding in the darkness, like an aged and rotted skull.

Through the iron wrought gates three figures ran, pulling coats and cloaks close against the driving storm. Quickly they ran to the door and huddled beneath the awning of the manor.

“Don’t think anyone’s home.” One of the figures spoke, their voice masculine.

“I can get us through that door.” A deeper male voice rumbled.

“No need, this is kit’s play for me.” A feminine voice spoke. “Here hold this.”

She shoved a peculiar object into one of the male’s chests as she produced a lockpick set. It only took a few seconds before the lock clicked and the great door was opened. The three figures filed inside the manor one after the other.

As soon as the trio made it to the center of the manor the door slammed shut behind them with a crash that rivaled the booms of thunder outside. It was the wind naturally, and none of the three paid the slamming door any mind other than a quick glance back.

Hoods were thrown back and coats opened revealing the mysterious trios features in the dim light. One was a large reptilian, his head that of a dragons with large horns jutting from his head, his scales were dark save for the bit of gray going down his throat. He was the one that now carried the peculiar object. A longsword was sheathed on his wait, bracers upon his arms. He had once been a gladiator of Vulane’s fighting pits, but he had escaped, now he was a fugitive.

The second was a male rat, his fur brindled and eyes weary with the weight of the things he had seen and done. His eyes wandered the cobweb covered halls of the manor, and the leering portraits of cats his keen sense of observations had served him well as an investigator.

The last member of the trio was a female ferret, her fur a mix of gray and white, a mischievous glint in her eyes and a smirk on her muzzle. She stowed the lockpick kit away, the tools of her trade.

The rat turned to the ferret. “Alright Farah what are we doing here?”

The ferret beamed at the rat, “My dear Skreet, we are lying low and finding a place to stash the clock. Also this manor is closer to that little place you’re renting from.”

The reptiloid loomed over Farah, “You said nothing about Azhertiti the dragon.”

Farah tilted her head, “Because you two didn’t have to worry about her. You were just there to draw attention away. I’m the one that just stole the thing I stole again.”

Draknor blinked his yellow eyes. Find Farah’s fast talk aggravating.

“Mammals.” Draknor grumbled.

The three looked up at the chandelier that was swaying above them. Skreet spoke.

“You sure no one is home? Not even a servant?” the rat questioned.

Farah’s tail twitched, “Certain. It belongs to a cat merchant who’s away on some trading mission. With the storm and the distance I’m sure he won’t be back for some time. Probably took his staff with him.”

“You’d think he’d hire someone to guard the place at least.” Skreet muttered. 

Farah tilted her head. “If they did they’re probably only allowed outside and are probably taking refuge outside. Trust me I cased this place.”

Draknor folded his arms, “We trust you to hold up your end of the bargain. We were your distraction. But we saw no sign of that lynx.”

Farah held up her hands, “Easy big guy, I’m sorry she wasn’t there. But I made you two a promise. I’ll help you with your problems now. But first. Let’s hide this clock, this is definitely not where any… interested parties would think to look. I’m such a clever little ferret.”

Skreet shook his head, “I’m sure there’s somewhere we can stash the clock. Probably a cellar in this joint or something. Spread out and look.”

Draknor grunted, Farah slipped away to the shadows as Skreet began to look about. As the three searched in the manor they could hear the creek of floorboards, likely Draknor moving around.

Stealth was not his forte. The thunder boomed on occasion shaking the walls of the mansion, a few of the cat portraits looked as if their eyes were boring into the low-class intruders.

Skreet found himself in a library the floor adorned with rich plush rugs.

“Hmm,” the seasoned investigator muttered as he drew closer to one of the bookshelves. “This reminds me of that one case.”

The rat leaned against the side of the bookcase and it began to swing out revealing a dark stairway below.

“Over here I think I found something.”

Draknor was first on the scene and used his strength to open the bookcase fully. Farah scampered back next as she finished stuffing something in her pouch, a glint of silver. Skreet flattened his ears and Farah merely flashed a grin.

“I’ll go in first.” Farah exclaimed.

After lighting some candles they descended one by one, Farah checking for traps the whole way down. The bottom was filled with dusty scrolls, and curious trinkets, and a large chest.

Draknor pointed to the chest. "Our secret within a secret. No one will suspect it's there."

“Now we’re talking.” Farah rubbed her palms together. After checking for traps she picked the iron shod log and lifted the lid on the chest. Bags of coins lay within.

“Oooooooh!” Farah exclaimed.

“Control yourself.” Draknor grumbled.

“Oh, come on!” Farah whined.

“Draknor’s right. Just hide the clock under the bags of money. We don’t want anyone to think anything is amiss.”

Farah rolled her eyes. “Ugh, fine.”

Hiding the clock under the bags of money Farah secured the lid and relocked the chest.

“But when we come back for the clock, I’m helping myself.” Farah declared.

Skreet shook his head as the ferret clapped her hands.

“Now, then you two have problems I might be able to help. I may be a thief but I’m not winging on a deal.”

The small group made their way back up finding the storm had subsided and the moon’s pale light was shining through the windows. They had found a perfect hiding place for the mysterious clock. But there was still much to be done.

The Lynx was still out there, Draknor’s sword was missing, and Farah had something else to do with that clock. Yet somehow their paths were converging and their stories bleeding into one another.

The city of Vulane beckoned them back to it’s beating heart.