Unrepentant

Nyx soared through the night sky, relishing the cool wind against his feathers, a sensation that invigorated his very being.

At his current altitude, he remained undetectable, not even a shadow against the starry expanse. With each powerful flap of his wings, he drew closer to his target, the anticipation building within him.

As he flew, Nyx indulged in a wave of nostalgia. It had been quite some time since he had last donned his "toolbelt," and the implements now in his grasp revived long-buried emotions, ones he had yearned to feel once more. Memories of past escapades, each more daring than the last, flickered through his mind like distant echoes.

Descending onto the castle rooftops, Nyx landed silently on a gable, recalling the intricate layout below. Every detail of the defense systems was etched into his memory: the arcane wards, pressure-sensitive tiles, and ever-vigilant golems that patrolled the grounds.

The crow flitted across the rooftops until he found his entry point: an inactive chimney above the kitchens. Squeezing through the narrow opening, he let gravity guide him downward, landing so softly in the soot-coated grate of the fireplace that not a single speck of ash floated up to betray his presence.

From within the old oven, Nyx quickly scanned the room before beginning his transformation. His feathers dissolved into an inky substance that clung to the surrounding surfaces, allowing him to meld seamlessly with the shadows. Noticing a cook finishing up preparations for the evening meal, he slinked silently into the man's shadow, observing everything in the kitchen with keen interest. The scent of roasted meats and freshly baked bread filled the air, a tantalizing aroma that only heightened his senses.

The kitchen bustled with activity as various cooks moved between counters and stoves. Nyx made a mental note of the pantry area where they stored the food they were cooking, considering the possibility of leaving them a special gift later.

His stealthy journey then began in earnest, moving from one shadow to another, avoiding detection effortlessly. The staff remained oblivious to his presence as he slipped past them like a ghost.

Reaching a familiar hallway, Nyx paused momentarily to ensure it was clear before continuing.

Confidently navigating the corridors, he moved toward Selen's room within Castle Rhysling’s labyrinthine interior.

The passages offered him plenty of cover, and Nyx slipped through the shadows with fluid and precise movements. His sharp eyes kept track of every detail, from the cracks in the stone walls to the subtle shifts in light that signaled the approach of guards or servants. Each step brought him closer to his goal, his senses heightened and his mind focused on the task at hand.

Nyx entered the guest wing, his overly acute hearing picking up a cacophony of sounds. Amidst the usual rustling of a castle at night, one sound in particular caught his attention.

From one room, he could make out a tryst between three maids. Their giggles and hushed murmurs mingled with the scent of perfume and sweat, creating a mix that made Nyx's feathers bristle with disgust.

Selen's gossip from earlier had been inaccurate about the number of participants. Irked by the inaccurate information and the repulsive stench, Nyx marked this room for some future shenanigans.

Moving on, Nyx's heightened senses detected the rhythmic clanking of metal feet. Ahead, two golems patrolled the corridor, their mechanical movements surprisingly fluid for constructs of their kind. Nyx took a moment to study their patterns, noting the intervals and the slight halting in their steps, before making his move. He pulled a small vial of Gizmo's Spite from his sash, the liquid inside shimmering ominously under the dim light.

With deft precision, he moved across the ceiling, his shadowy claws finding purchase on the ornate moldings. Sprinkling tiny drops on each golem as he passed overhead, he watched as the liquid seeped through their exteriors, targeting their cores with insidious intent. Upon contact, the potion began its destabilizing work, designed to cause malfunctions when golems detected someone. The result would usually be either an explosion or a shutdown, depending on the extent of the damage inflicted by the concoction.

Satisfied with his work, Nyx moved on to his primary goal: retrieving the Bloodmoon Thorn and Selen's journals. He would not fail.

Nyx arrived at Selen's door and slinked underneath it, becoming one with the shadows beneath the armoire. He observed Selen hunched over her desk, illuminated by the glow of her writing light. The key to her case still dangled from her ear, catching the light with every subtle movement of her head.

Nyx's mind worked swiftly. ''How to get thunder thighs out of here without the key?''

He reached into his sash then and pulled out a container filled with an extremely potent itching powder. Nyx shifted his position, aligning himself perfectly for a throw. With a flick of his shrouded wing, he sent the powder sailing through the air with frightening accuracy.

The powder landed precisely on Selen's earlobes. Almost immediately, she began to fidget, her ears turning an alarming shade of red.

"Damn it!" she muttered, annoyed at the sudden irritation. She yanked off the earrings and tossed them onto the nightstand near her bed, rubbing her now discolored ears while wondering what caused her to break out.

Nyx watched with satisfaction as Selen's annoyance grew. She stood up abruptly, knocking over a stack of parchment in her haste. Muttering curses under her breath, she stormed out of the room, presumably to find something to soothe her irritated skin.

The crow seized the opportunity, flitting from his hiding spot to the nightstand. With a silent movement, he snatched the key into his beak.

Swiftly but silently, Nyx pulled out the case from under the bed and inserted the earring key. He channeled his energy through it, mimicking Selen's movements earlier in the day. The wards deactivated with a faint hum, and the case was no longer protected.

Nyx opened the case with swiftness, his beady eyes locking onto the Bloodmoon Thorn nestled within. The deep crimson hue of its thorns gleamed like polished rubies under the dim light, an ominous beauty that sent a thrill through the crow's sharp mind. He wasted no time, carefully placing the small orb of ointment Silas had given him onto the container. The shimmering runic inscriptions adorning it went dim, their glow fading into nothingness, as if snuffed out like a flame.

Nyx then reached for the Ambitious Mimic, prepared to switch it with the real herb. However, as soon as he opened the container and the plants energy reached him, a wave of unease washed over him.

Something was not right—the energy it was releasing felt off, almost as if it were a shadow of what it should be. He thought to himself, ''Well, shit. Up to Silas to figure it out.'' The man had a knack for sensing the unseen, perceiving the uncanny with an almost preternatural intuition.

Determined to follow through with their plan nonetheless, Nyx placed the Mimic Silas had crafted into Selen's container while securing the "Bloodmoon Thorn" in the one previously holding the mimic. The switch was seamless.

A loud clattering echoed through the halls outside. One of the sabotaged golems had detected Selen and, true to its rigged nature, exploded in a violent burst. Nyx could almost see the shock on her face, her demeanor shattered by the sudden destruction. Her voice, usually relaxed and unbothered, now carried an edge of panic as she began yelling for guards to prepare for the worst in case of an intruder.

The commotion outside intensified further, the chaos feeding on itself like a wildfire. The second golem exploded with a deafening roar nearby, sending another wave of panic rippling through the castle.

Nyx worked quickly, gathering all of Selen's journals from inside the case and the one on her desk. He scanned the room, ensuring he missed nothing of importance. He rolled the container with the Mimic he placed just in front of the door before closing and securing the case once more.

Returning the key to its earring shape, he placed it exactly where Selen had left it, a meticulous attention to detail during his clandestine tasks that Silas had always admired in his feathered companion. With a final glance around to ensure everything was in place, Nyx brought his wing down hard onto the case cracking it with sheer physical brutality. The defenses activated immediately, resulting in a blue-colored explosion that rocked the room, sending shards of magical energy cascading like a shattered chandelier.

By the time the detonation finished, Nyx had already slipped out of the room and was making his way back through the corridors from where he came. His movements were fluid and swift, navigating through shadows and avoiding detection with practiced ease. The commotion outside played to his advantage, the chaos masking his escape.

Nyx thought to himself, ''Well, that was surprisingly easy! Even have a bit of time for some fun! Self-care!'' He almost let out an audible squawk of mirth, the anticipation of the ensuing bedlam feeding his dark amusement.

Selen darted from one golem to another, her silver hair flowing as she checked their mechanisms with growing frustration. Only the two near her were malfunctioning so far.

Guards swarmed the other guest rooms, their shouts echoing through the halls.

Nyx now deciding to stir some chaos thought to himself, ''Something light to start the crowd!'' his knack for theatrics taking over. His scouted knowledge of the castle's arcanist defenses came into play as he began a rampage through the guest wing.

One by one, he sprung traps and triggered alarms, adding compounding layers of pandemonium to an already chaotic scene.

Selen's face twisted in concentration as she tried to isolate the cause of the malfunctioning systems and track down the probable intruder.

Nyx, meanwhile, switched from triggering defenses to indulging in a more malicious mischief. The crow slipped into the room where the maids had been engaged in sultry, scandalous behavior earlier. One could almost hear Nyx's dark mirth as he cracked an ampule between his talons inside, releasing a potent aphrodisiac into the air. The maids, in the midst of getting dressed and cleaning up, felt their necks and ears grow pink once again. Almost as if in a trance, they began to undo whatever progress they had made in destroying the evidence of their scandal.

Unceremoniously, they descended back into more base behavior with alarming swiftness. To add to their future misery, Nyx carefully let a few drops of an especially strong adhesive fall onto the places where skin met lips or other intimate parts. The adhesive, nearly invisible, would ensure their entanglement was both literal and figurative, creating a scene of chaos and humiliation that would reverberate throughout the castle. The crow's eyes gleamed with malevolent satisfaction as he watched the maids' futile attempts to extricate themselves, their panic and confusion now was adding another note of fun to the pandemonium Nyx so enjoyed orchestrating.

The guards would undoubtedly find a "wonderful scene" when they arrived, further complicating their frantic search. Nyx could almost hear their shouts and curses, the clamor of armor and the futile attempts to restore order.

With his task complete and some fun had in the guest wing, Nyx made his way back toward the chimney he had entered from, his sleek form blending seamlessly with the shadows. The crow's mind was already on his next prank, intending to make good on his earlier promise to leave a gift while he was in the kitchen.

The Magistrate jolted awake, the cacophony of alarms and shouts piercing the night. His heart pounded, but not with fear for an assault underway—no, he was ready for what was to come. The disruptions earlier today had given him the foresight to prepare himself and his staff for the eventuality of an attack, even though this one came quite fast. Now, as chaos erupted, his guards moved with precision towards the chaotic guest wing.

He rose from his bed, his rotund form moving with surprising agility.

He had come to Rhysling on appointment from the late emperor, expecting the worst. The city had been a notorious cesspool of corruption and decay. Nearly a decade of his tireless work had transformed it into one of the Empire's most well-functioning cities. He had cleared its streets of crime, rebuilt its infrastructure, and even managed to attract mystics back to its fold. This was not his first brush with danger in his years ruling, nor would it be his last.

The Magistrate approached a hidden panel behind a painting in his room, revealing ampules of Necroclasm and a rather well-used saber. He gripped the blade tightly, whispering seemingly to the blade itself, "Once more..."

With this blade in his hand, he quickly transformed from a seemingly uptight, pudgy administrator into a horrifying second-step expert, rather unexpected from a servant of the Empress this far away from court— this was a man capable of fighting through an army if pushed to the extreme.

The man was an enigma, a paradox of appearance and capability.

The Magistrate exited his room with purpose, intending to quell the trouble himself if need be.

As he rushed through the corridors towards the source of the commotion, he felt a slight breeze under his toupee while passing by the kitchens. He dismissed it as inconsequential; there were more pressing matters at hand.

Strange sounds grew louder as he neared one of the epicenters of the disturbance.

The Magistrate reached a corridor where guards were struggling to contain an automated crossbow shooting lightning at them, it was apparently misidentifying them as enemies.

He leaped over the guards, smashing the trap rather than cutting it with a single blow.

The Magistrate bellowed orders to his men from the front, making their morale soar as they moved forward to end whatever was causing this disturbance.

Nyx had sown some trouble in the castle food stores with random, undetectable spots of laxatives that would keep the staff occupied for days unless they threw all the food out.

Glancing through an open door in the kitchens, he spotted the Magistrate sprinting down the halls with surprising speed.

The Magistrate’s aura had shifted, his energy transformed. Nyx tilted his head in curiosity, thinking, "Huh, never would have guessed." He had pegged the Magistrate as a competent administrator but never a practitioner of any significance.

Seizing the opportunity, Nyx swooped down upon him silently and slipped a special concoction under the man’s toupee—an alchemical blend designed to combust his hair when exposed to enough sweat. The Magistrate didn't notice, he was too focused on rallying his guards and restoring order to pay mind to the slight disturbance atop his head.

Nyx took to the air once more, weaving through the castle corridors and out the chimney. His wings beat rapidly as he made his way back to Silas, the cool night air slicing through his feathers again. A worry tugged at him though—the Bloodmoon Thorn. There was going to be a problem with it, he was sure. The volatile nature of the herb made it hard to discern what exactly. Nyx couldn't shake the feeling that nothing had gone awry but that they were suckered somehow.

He hoped Silas would have a new plan hatched if the worst came to pass. Silas always did, but the stakes were high this time, and Nyx's unease gnawed at him.

Nyx landed gracefully on the windowsill of their room at the Merry Minstrel Lodge. The warm glow of enchanted lanterns cast a soft light over the room, creating an illusion of tranquility. Silas awaited his return with an air of calm that belied the tension in Nyx’s mind. The crow hopped inside and perched on Silas’s shoulder, feeling the familiar weight of his Master's presence.

Silas turned to face Nyx, his voice laced with anticipation. "Well?" he rasped, his eyes dark and unreadable.

Nyx recounted his actions, detailing every move he made, and Silas listened intently, his piercing gaze fixed on the crow. His fingers tapped rhythmically on the wooden armrest of his chair, a subtle sign of his impatience.

When Nyx finally presented the strange Bloodmoon Thorn he retrieved, Silas's eyes narrowed as he took the herb into his hands. He inspected it meticulously, turning it over and scrutinizing every piece of the crimson thorn under the lantern light. The room seemed to hold its breath as Silas's fingers traced the intricate patterns on the herb.

Taking a deep breath, he let the air out slowly.

Nyx knew exactly what this meant. His earlier hunch being most likely correct, and a single phrase echoed through his mind: "Well... shit."