Kaelis skilfully scaled the rooftops of Orion, his feet carrying him with the grace of a seasoned thief. The sun shone bright, the air smelled of wildflowers, and the stolen pouch full of gold jingled happily at his side; his day could not get any better. 

Until he'd spotted his favourite rival—a lone thief who'd thought themselves too good for Veiled Roses, his amazing guild—running across the bustling markets. 

Time and time again, he had attempted to recruit them into his guildmaster's ranks, only for them to reject his propositions. They were aggravatingly talented. Even Kaelis, with his silver tongue and hands of a phantom, could admit they needed no one. They made theft look like an art form, the way they moved with the elegance of a swan, silent as a ghost. It was magical how objects disappeared in their presence. 

He found delight in watching them work, so it was no wonder his fascination had turned into him developing a penchant for sneaking alongside them. To bother them, to be seen by them. 

But now, as he watched them from his vantage point, he noticed they were, in fact, not targeting a noble or a merchant; no, they were running from a horde of seething knights. And to make matters worse, in their panic, they were heading for a dead end. His brain went into overdrive—the King of Orion did not take theft lightly—they would be hanged. 

The clatter of metal echoed louder, the knights yelled commands to one another, and suddenly Kaelis' muscles strained with urgency as he began sprinting. Washlines heavy with drying tapestry whipped against his face before he pushed them aside, his feet carrying him with a force derived from pure desperation. 

He'd barely managed to make it down an alleyway in time before they'd run past it; he grabbed them, pulled them into his arms, and away from the eyes of the knights, who ran past them. 

"That sure was a close call. Are you alright?" He asked through haggard breaths, suddenly feeling self-conscious at their proximity and the fact he was dripping with sweat.