The Port Town Cathedral performed mass and liturgy twice weekly. The next mass would not be until tomorrow. But the cathedral remained open for visitors, pilgrims, and any faithful looking to petition the regional bishop.

  “We really ought to come up with code names for these stock schemes,” Jelena mused. “Smash and grab, for when we hold up the place. Maybe ‘stealth attack’ for when we’re aiming to go in undetected? Well, don’t just leave me talking to myself here, what do you all think?”

  The group scoped out the cathedral from a nearby rooftop balcony they’d invited themselves onto. The lighthouse had been lit about thirty minutes prior, bathing the scene in an intense but narrow glow every minute and a half. Just consistent enough to plan an operation on…

  “Ooh.” Zilara raised her hand as if asking to be picked. “How about ‘long con’ for when one of us serves as a distraction like this?”

  “Fair enough.” Jelena’s lips formed a fetching frown. “Still, maybe that should be used for longer, well, cons. Plan is to not stay in there more than an hour. In and out.”

  “Quick and dirty,” Enkidu said.

  “Good thinking, ‘Kidu.”

  Jelena chuckled, self-satisfied. She turned to Calaf.

  “You going to be okay?”

  “I’ll do it,” Calaf said softly. “Just… hold a conversation with him. Keep him from snooping in the reliquary while Zilara picks the lock and does her thing. Yeah, I’ll be fine.”

  Zilara sighed. “Last time we were here a fungus revenant almost buried me in an avalanche of shrooms. Anyone going to ask if I’ll be okay?”

  “You’ll be with us the whole time, kid. As for you, Calaf, we’ll be just around the corner. Risk of being caught is high.” Jelena gently took, then squeezed, Calaf’s hand. “You’ll be isolated most of all. Just be careful out there.”

  The plan was thus:

  Calaf would enter the cathedral first to ensure the reliquary and statue room remained open to the public and not under guard. He’d send a message through their handy one-way communication snail to the only other Branded member of their group letting the rest of them know that the path was otherwise unobstructed. Then, Calaf would distract the local bishop or whoever else was on duty near the reliquary hall.

  With the path clear, Zilara would enter the cathedral as the ‘child’ of Jelena and Enkidu. They would all be disguised given their wanted posters were a frequent sight at most pilgrimage stops – Zilara with a spoofing ring, Jelena and Enkidu with hoods and shawls and whatever else they’d been able to scrounge up while Calaf was armor shopping. They’d fake a prayer at the cathedral altar, then beeline for the statuary hall in the back. But it wasn’t the statues they were after.

  The reliquary vault for Port Town sat dead center in the middle of the statuary hall. Within that vault was a relic that would be invaluable to any attempts to crack open the Olde Docks. Calaf knew this because he’d returned the Lockpicks of the Scout to the local bishop about a year ago, now.

  As the only member of the posse without a wanted poster, Calaf was the only one who could serve as a distraction. He possessed neither the Menu-blessed stats nor the learned ‘manual’ skills to pick the vault door. But he was on a first-name basis with Bishop Deacon, the new head bishop of Port Town cathedral.

  Which is to say that this was something only Calaf could do.

  Calaf approached the open, towering double doors of the grand church. The entrance was inviting and homey despite the lack of worshipful adherents entering or leaving for mass.

  Gone was the dire atmosphere of dread that had hung over the cathedral late into the last pilgrimage season. A handful of extremely devout worshipers remained in the cathedral, mostly attending the confessionary hall.

  Calaf walked immediately to the leftmost wing of the cathedral. The reliquary hall was open and free. The Squire summoned forth a porcelain snail from his Inventory.

  “Path is clear and unguarded,” he whispered.

  There would be no response, for the snail only communicated one way. Still, it was the cue for Jelena and Enkidu to escort Zilara through the cathedral hall.

  A few junior pryors were attending confessionary duties. Calaf entered the statue hall and adjacent reliquary vault to, as Jelena oft described it, ‘Case out the Joint.’

  And so, the joint was cased.

  Four statues were arranged in the cardinal directions along narrow, shaded walkways, each corresponding to one of the old heroes. And in the center was a great vault door. This was the reliquary – Jelena’s destination. Calaf walked around the outside, passing each statuary station in turn:

  The Battlemage with his sword and a spell-catalyst glove in accord.

  The Paladin, with his face concealed by a helm. Duly, Calaf noted that he was now equipped with the same shield and plate armor (sans helmet) as martyred Roland, the first and greatest of Shielders.

  Next, in the back-right station, was the shrine to the Cleric, holy priestess. Mother of the church. There were other reasons besides securing the wing for Jelena’s lockpicking scheme to check this spot. Calaf looked behind the statue, where a minor trickle of water provided a toe-deep moat for aesthetic purposes. The entire back wall of this shrine had been redone in fine new brickwork. Concrete kept the masonry flush, like there hadn’t been a gaping hole in the wall leading into the aqueducts months before.

  This tale has been unlawfully lifted from Royal Road. If you spot it on Amazon, please report it.

  In a pinch, they could tear this wall down for an escape route. As Calaf walked around the other side of the statue, though, he encountered one more figure in the statuary hall.

  “Ah, there you are,” came a kindly, familiar voice.

  “Psst. Got him around in the back of the statuary hall. Will try to distract him,” Calaf whispered into the snail.

  Above, there was a rapid swaying of lights as the lighthouse did another circuit over the cape. That was, what, the fifth such circuit since Calaf first set foot in this hall? Jelena and the others should be almost at the vault, now.

  “Hello, Deacon,” Calaf said, louder, to the figure that was approaching from the Scout’s shrine.

  There were missing person posters in some of the early stations requesting information on Calaf’s whereabouts. They didn’t penetrate this far north, as far as Calaf knew. He was the only one in the group who wasn’t properly wanted for relic thievery-based crimes, hence his role as the distraction. Between pilgrimage seasons, there wasn’t much scuttlebutt between regions. Hopefully, it wouldn’t come up.

  “Why, level fifty, that’s most impressive,” Deacon began. “That’s well ahead of me, now. You must have traveled far up the path.”

  “That… that’s right,” Calaf said.

  It wasn’t a lie. Autumn’s Redoubt was right around the leveling range for the fifties.

  “Well, I recall when you were barely even in the teens, level-wise,” said Bishop Deacon. “Ah, even three or four pilgrimage seasons is not enough to bring most laypeople to these lofty heights. You’re quite blessed.”

  “I’m… sure I am.” Calaf sighed.

  Deacon walked up to Calaf. The pair examined the statue of the Cleric for a time.

  “What of the… thing, in the sewers?” Calaf asked.

  “Arbiters walked into the aqueducts by this very shrine. They requested it be sealed up in their wake. They emerged elsewhere some months later. No problems have been reported since. A few still disappear, but these bodies are found and consecrated quickly. The results of more… secular… causes than the late unpleasantness. Drunken violence and the like.”

  Calaf exhaled all at once. He did not respond.

  “Suffice to say, we’ve been politely but firmly told by the Hammer of Faith himself to avoid dwelling on the murders and disappearances of that season. Trauma from that time still crops up in confession frequently. We’ve been encouraged to… aid the flock in moving towards the future.” Deacon sighed, betraying his displeasure at the order. “Come, it looks like you’ve been walking the statuary circuit. I walk it thrice daily; think I can skip one. I’ll escort you to the last station.”

  The meaning was clear. Deacon wanted to walk back towards the Thief’s – Scout, the Scout’s! – shrine. This station provided a direct line of sight to the relic vault!

  “Actually, I traveled anticlockwise,” Calaf lied.

  “Oh? Well, I didn’t see you,” Deacon said, rebuffing the Squire through obliviousness. “No matter, if so I’m sure you want to visit the shrine to the Paladin first. I need to head back to the confession hall and ensure Sir Perarde’s decree is adhered to.”

  Of course, the head Bishop of the Scout’s hometown would pay extra attention to the local hero’s shrine. It was ever so slightly larger and more grand than the other three – a small heresy, but one not worth clamping down on.

  Calaf followed Bishop Deacon back around to the Scout’s wayshrine. The nimble rogue was on a pedestal, gilded dagger in one hand and parchment map in the other.

  “Uh, about this statue,” Calaf said, thinking of any ruse to keep Deacon from turning to the relic vault.

  The pair considered the rather flattering statue of the Scout. Calaf took a quick look behind them and found the relic vault to be… closed. The mighty turn-handle on the vault was off-center, evidence of previous manhandling. Had Zilara already picked the lock?

  Why, it was times like this where two-way communication would be invaluable. Perhaps they could invest in a second set of snails…

  “Oh, what questions do you have?” Deacon asked expectantly.

  Calaf turned to the statue. Hopefully, the Bishop wouldn’t notice the slightly altered state of the vault.

  “Well, I have a party that was going to brave the Olde Docks soon,” Calaf said. “We were wondering if there were any documents or biographies about the thie—Scout, rather, that would help us prepare.”

  Deacon scratched at his chin. “Well, well. I haven’t had the pleasure of attending to the docks myself. From what returning Scouts have claimed, it’s a weed-eaten district or two of Port Town preserved in eerie stasis. Strange wind-up creatures patrol the avenues. They’re exceedingly difficult to kill for even an at-level party in a straight fight.”

  All this was congruent with Calaf’s briefest of experiences with the dungeon. The point was to distract Deacon rather than gleam brand new information out of him.

  “I would, ah, definitely take multiple Scout aspirants with you,” Deacon continued. “They are essential to dancing around the many ambushes and traps you are like to encounter there. It is their dungeon, after all. And there are some traps that mere Endurance and a stalwart shield alone cannot protect against.”

  Calaf had delayed the Bishop as long as possible. Deacon turned and walked towards the exit – and the relic vault.

  The turn-dial lock was not in a locked position. Calaf would have to keep him distracted just a moment or two longer.

  “I see you’ve donned pre-Paladin armor,” said Deacon. “Did you happen to save some rubble from the top of Fort Duran? When you reach the proper level, it would just be a matter of visiting a statuary shrine. Why, it would be an honor for you to use this one.”

  “It just felt… better to wait.”

  Not to mention Calaf had enough blood money in the form of gold and experience from that damned crusade at the fort.

  “Ah, well, if you’ve been there once then at least you are familiar with the fortresses’ contours.” Deacon nodded as he walked.

  They passed the vault. Deacon turned towards the exit.

  “A warning: active dungeons are far more dangerous than when they’ve come pre-cleared. Do not attempt any of this without a full party with which you have great rapport.”

  Calaf nodded. “I won’t, Bishop.”

  “Oh, please, it is Deacon. Just Deacon for you.”

  The kindly Bishop left the statue wing. The ruse had taken. Calaf stepped backwards twice, then turned and ran to the vault door as quickly as possible without causing undue noise from his boots.

  “Uh, anyone in there?” he asked at a low tenor.

  “We closed the door when we heard someone coming.” Though the noise was muffled, it was clear Jelena was shouting behind the door. “Just give the wheel a solid tug, won’t you, dear? Otherwise Enkidu will have to slice the vault down and that will cause too much noise for a stealth job!”

  Jelena, Zilara, and Enkidu were indeed waiting on the other side of the vault door.

  A modest collection of relics sat on austere pedestals. Only one was missing – sucked into Zilara’s Inventory.

  “We’re good to go,” said the holy child.

  “Any trouble on your end?” Jelena asked Calaf.

  She’d ‘disguised’ herself by hiking a pilgrim’s shawl over the eyepatch-laden side of her face. Unbranded churchgoers were not unheard of – mostly showing up to convert or plan for their conversion. Enkidu had prepared even less of a disguise – reluctantly wearing a pilgrim’s hood with no other elements of their alibi.

  Jelena smiled. “We got what we came for. Rest of the relics are there to impress tourists. C’mon, out the front door. If we’re lucky nobody will even notice us leave.”

  Leave, the quartet did. Walked right out of the statue hall and turned towards the cathedral exit.

  Only, as they left, a group of four ran into the cathedral.

  “Ha. Vile thieves. Come to defile this cathedral as you have so many wayshrines in the redoubt!” said one figure.

  “Your heretical reign of terror ends here!” said another.

  The stir turned heads within the cathedral. Exfiltration couldn’t have been that easy.