Night was in full swing by the time that they had been roused from their beds to the news that the mission was a go. Once again, the squad found themselves huddled awkwardly in a dark, damp, narrow alleyway. At least the air was not as cold as they had feared. While the tall, featureless buildings gave little in the way of architectural inspirations, they did a fine job of protecting themselves from the elements. A cold, biting wind had chased them across the estate gardens, threatening to snuff out the weak and sputtering torches they had been provided with. Fortunately, it seemed unable to pursue them once they’d passed into the shadows of the city buildings, a small comfort amidst the lack thereof. The cloaked member of Winslow’s team who had collected them led them through narrow passages and forgotten alleyways. Soon the vaguely familiar parts of Jestriff were left behind as they moved into streets unknown. The homes they passed began to change, first slowly, then with a startling pace. Gone were the plentiful glass windows, the colourful boxes of flowers and the elegantly painted shutters. Wide and well-maintained thoroughfares gave way to seedy streets of broken cobble, flanked by tall, featureless stone buildings. More than half of their ground floors were taken up by small, non-embellished wooden doors that offered no promise of a warm reception. Any windows spotted were kept strictly to the upper floors, small, drab, square things, few of which seemed to have any glass at all. So the trend continued until they arrived at their unmarked destination in one of the myriad doors.

  “Wait here.” The guard had ordered softly before disappearing inside.

  With a gentle click, the entrance closed again, and they were left alone in the unforgiving near-darkness. The squadmates gave each other uncomfortable glances in the dim light as the faint tramping of boots indicated the man was ascending to a higher floor. With a dry chuckle, Alter turned and leaned his back against the wall before giving the others a look that told them to relax a little. One by one they relented, spreading out a little to carve out their own independent spaces.

  “Urghh, this place gives me the creeps. It feels like I’m being watched from every corner.” Whim shivered as he paced up and down.

  “It’s just a figment of your imagination. Try counting the cobblestones, that’ll take your mind off it.” Riptide answered with a hint of sarcasm.

  “That still doesn’t change the fact that I don’t like it.” Whim shot back, but his eyes still lowered to the ground and the mumbled sound of ascending numbers began to emerge from his lips.

  “‘Pebble Maze’ is a damn good name for this place. There’s no rhythm or structure to be found in this mess.” Pavejack complained as he squinted at the high windows.

  “Oh yeah, you’re from one of those places where everything’s a grid, aren’t you? How does it feel being in a place with some genuine history?” Boats snickered.

  “Thats–” Pavejack began to respond in a loud, hissing whisper.

  “Enough.” Alter commanded as his ears pricked up. “Sounds like the man is on his way back down.”

  The squad simmered down and a moment later the door opened and a familiar face silently beckoned them to smother the torches and come inside. Alter stepped through the threshold and immediately onto the first step of a steep and narrow staircase. From there, a featureless corridor stretched a short distance before turning a corner, beyond which gentle candlelight promised some semblance of life. Rounding the corner led him into a surprisingly spacious room, although the sheer amount of people inhabiting it still made it quite the squeeze. He counted roughly twenty men, cloaked, armed and armoured. Some stood in small groups engaged in quiet conversation, others remained aloof in the various corners, their attention on their weapons or other gear. At the centre stood Winslow, surrounded by a small cadre of guards with slightly fancier helmets. Spotting their arrival, he immediately waved them over.

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  “Glad to see you all made it here smoothly. But I can’t help but notice you’re only seven strong, is your eighth man still unable to serve?” He asked once they’d weaved their way through the crowd to him.

  “He still needs a couple of days rest, although he’d tell you otherwise.” Boozehound responded with a wry smile.

  “I understand. It’s always frustrating to be left behind when you feel ready for duty. But for now it's time for business, are you prepared to begin?”

  “I believe so, though I must admit we were dragged out here without much of a briefing. Anything more you can tell us would be greatly appreciated.” Alter folded his arms and gave him a level look.

  Winslow returned the look for a second, before sighing and scratching at the back of his head. He shifted his focus to a small table standing next to him, upon which stood a small, bronze hourglass. Light grey sand poured through the gap as the flow began to dribble to a halt and the last grains fell through. Picking it up, Winslow gently tapped its side and confirmed the top half’s lack on contents.

  “Time’s up, gentlemen. Get moving, and keep your wits about you.” He ordered, and the room immediately began to empty. It wasn’t until the sound of boots on the stairs fell away that he began to speak again.

  “I recognise the fact that we haven't given you much to go on, and I apologise, but things were moving too quickly to start changing plans at the last second.” He sighed again as he slipped the hourglass into a pouch at his waist.

  “In truth, your role tonight is as simple as it sounds. There are three set points we need manned in order to cover the possibility that this safehouse has another, hidden exit. Of course, that means you’ll have to divide your team to cover each one, but you’ll still be in easy shouting distance should things get messy.”

  “What about everyone else?” Riptide asked.

  “We determined that there are two surface-level entryways, the guards are splitting up to enter both at the same time. The Silver Wolves found their tunnel earlier this evening, the timer was to give them enough time to get into position. My men rush in, grab anyone that moves, and spirit them away before they know what's happening. Anyone that flees underground meets the wolves, anyone that jumps from a window meets you.”

  “You make it sound so simple.” Whim remarked.

  “Well, there’s no sense in overcomplicating things.” Winslow growled as he began moving back towards the stairs, motioning the others to follow. “Lord Oliver values your lives far too much to risk losing any of you on a job like this. So, you're stuck doing the safest work, like me.”

  “He’s keeping you back as well?” Pavejack asked curiously.

  “I’ve proven myself too valuable. I should be the first man through the breach, but instead here I am at the back playing tour guide.” Winslow laughed grimly, a waved hand indicating no offense being directed towards them.

  In single file they stepped back out into the crisp night air where Winslow reignited their torches before setting off deeper into the Pebble Maze. Once again that feeling of being watched simmered in the corners of their minds. Once again, the feeling that something was bound to go wrong began seeping in. The squad broke apart as Winslow indicated the different alleyways that needed blocking. Pavejack and Walross took the lone straight path, while Riptide and Whim slipped around a nearby corner. Finally, Alter, Boozehound and Boats were stationed on a nondescript T-junction, with orders to keep eyes on two of the directions at all times. With that, Winslow vanished into the night.

  So commenced the wait, until the silence was suddenly shattered by a loud banging and the splintering of wood. The raid had begun.