The manor was silent, save for the muffled footsteps of patrolling guards. Mattius Runellius moved like a shadow through the grand hall, his gloved fingers brushing the carved railings as he descended a spiral staircase. His target—a Moonstone Circlet—was behind a reinforced door in the lower-floor collection room. The lock, a Dwemer mechanism, was finer than expected, but Mattius relished a challenge.

Crouching, he examined the lock before drawing his picks. Each motion was deliberate, the resistance a test of his patience. Finally, with a loud click, the lock gave way. Mattius froze, listening for approaching boots. When none came, he pushed the door open.

The collection room glimmered in dim candlelight, but something was wrong. The centerpiece display case that stood in the middle of the room was empty—its prized circlet gone.

"Shit, Mattius cursed under his breath. “You’ve got to be kidding me...”

A faint rustle from the shadows made him spin, hand hovering near his dagger. A masked figure stepped forward, clutching a bundle—a wrapped circlet.

Mattius smirked, arms crossed. “Well, aren’t you a clever magpie? Thought you’d have an easy getaway, eh?”

The thief stayed silent, tense and ready.

Mattius tilted his head. “What’s the plan? Run, fight, or share? Hand it over, and I might let you keep your fingers. Deal?”