Chapter 15: Lock Box 8:03 PM Rain fell, cutting through the dark air, hitting the ground in a soft pitter-patter. The grappling-hook twirled expertly in a stranger's hand as he stood on royal property. Yes, he was trespassing. And if he was seen, he would be captured. He would be tortured for information. And when he didn't comply, he would be shot and killed immediately. He was not afraid. The hooded stranger cast his hook unto the darkened sky. He tested the rope, once, twice, three times, before slithering up in an unnaturally quick manner, before swinging over the balcony, almost gracefully. From there it was easy. The subject had foolishly left the door open, led into a false sense of security by there mere height of his room. There was a step, then another step, swift as pain, silent as death, as the stranger drew from his flowing coat, a single arrow and a tightly stringed bow. He took one sweep around the room before determining that he was indeed alone, and the bow and arrow seemed to vanish under his charcoal grey cloak. The hood slipped off, and his face was now covered by the darkness alone. He wasted no time as he opened the drawers and sifted through their contents, taking care only to be silent, discarding irrelevant objects on the floor as he went. When his search of the wardrobe bore no fruit, he moved onto the desk, where several pieces of crumpled paper lay. Yet again, he did not see what he was looking for. Knowing he might have only moments left to search, he knelt and looked underneath the bed. A box caught his eye. A small wooden one with a dull bronze lock. He seized it in a single movement, quick as lightning. From his cloak, the stranger drew a small, thin metal object, and placed it in the lock. Within moments, the box opened, revealing a gemstone small enough to fit in his palm. He took the stone and placed it in a leather pouch tied to his waist. From this same pouch, the stranger drew a rock of equal size and weight. This rock went into the box, and then underneath the bed. The strong sound of the rain dulled the sound of footsteps outside the bedroom door, but sure enough, they were there, giving the thief enough time to jump from the balcony and run. He flipped up his hood, and though his face was all but completely covered, you could see the outline of a smirk, proud and rebellious. He had done it. He had stolen from royalty, stolen one of the most powerful objects of magic not to all of elven-kind. And no one would know. Not until the early light of Dawn would appear, and a man would bellow with rage and anger, a yell that could be heard throughout the city.