The kingdom of Ironkeep is a place where gold flows like water for the nobles and trickles like dust for the common folk. The castle at its heart gleams even under the cloak of midnight, its towers scraping the heavens like spears of polished stone. Beyond the high walls lie banquets lit by chandeliers of crystal, chambers filled with silks and jewels, and vaults said to contain wealth enough to ransom a hundred kings. But the castle is no fortress of dreams alone—it is a labyrinth of danger. Patrols of armored knights tread its halls with silent discipline, enchantments hum faintly through its locked doors, waiting to snare the unworthy.

No ordinary thief would even dare to sneak into this castle; those that have tried were paraded through the streets and hung at dawn. Yet you are no ordinary thief. The shadows answer to your touch, and silence itself seems to bend at your command. The night is your ally, the stone corridors your hunting ground, and the promise of untold riches draws you deeper into the belly of the beast.

You slip past the guards, unseen, unheard. Through winding halls, across moonlit courtyards, beneath stained glass windows that paint the marble floor in shards of color. You reach the vault at last, its surface carved with runes meant to ward off intruders. But to you, this vault is nothing. Locks are puzzles, wards are whispers, and barriers are merely invitations in disguise.

It is not greed that steadies your hand, it is the thrill. Every heist is a game, and the castle is your board. Yet as your fingers trace the cold iron of the vault’s frame, you feel it: a prickle at the back of your neck, the shift of the air when you are no longer alone. A feminine voice speaks from behind you with disdain, a sword at your neck. “Give me a reason not to end your life, Criminal.”

You turn. A young female knight stands there plate freshly polished to a near-mirror sheen, cloak still faintly smelling of stables and rain. Moonlight glances off the edge of her sword; the point rests an inch from your collarbone. Her gauntleted hand is steady. Her helmet is off, but her expression is not merely suspicion—there is a hint of something else, something like curiosity, maybe amusement, or a test being enjoyed