Chapter 63: Mission In Museum of Brilliance

"Turtle, can you see them anywhere?" I asked Arthur.

"Just call me Arthur, you know."

"Where’s the fun in that."

It had already been a week since we had become Knights, and today Tony had handed us our first real mission, framed with the kind of casual menace only a man who used to be called the Saint of Swords could pull off.

He had said it would "improve our skills." What he’d actually meant, judging by the look on his face, was that he wanted to see whether four newly knighted teenagers could catch a gang of thieves without setting the city on fire.

The mission itself was simple enough on paper.

A group had been robbing Kingsmere’s high-end shops for the better part of a week, at least five hundred pounds’ worth of stolen goods so far, which was either impressive or deeply concerning depending on how you looked at it.

Today, our intel, and I use that word generously, told us they were planning to hit the Museum of Brilliance and walk out with one very expensive painting.

To maintain some sense of secrecy, we had all picked animal codenames. I was Raccoon. Theodore was Crow. Arthur was Turtle, a name he had protested exactly as much as he was protesting it now.

Mary had simply been Mary, because when I had asked what she wanted to be called, she had given me a look so cold I decided not to press my luck any further.

Not that I suspected any of it mattered. If things went badly enough for anyone to be shouting our names, code names would be the least of our problems.

Arthur and I were crouched behind the cash counter, tucked into the dark where nobody walking by would spot us, not that there was much chance of that at midnight anyway.

Theodore and Mary were somewhere above us, dangling from a vine that curled down from the rafters, courtesy of Mr. Houseplant.

"Oh look, they’re here," Arthur whispered, far too pleased with himself for a man supposed to be hiding.

"Shh!" all three of us hissed at once, fingers pressed to our lips like a badly rehearsed choir.

Seven figures slipped in through the front, each wearing a black mask, each carrying a pistol like it was just another accessory.

One of them crouched at the door, took out something from his pocket worked it into the lock, before twisting it hard to the left.

Click!

The door swung open, and they filed in one by one. Someone struck a match, and a moment later a lamp flared to life in his hand, throwing long shadows across the display cases.

I wasn’t worried about being seen.

Because Mary’s affinity was light, and she had already wrapped the four of us in enough quiet distortion to keep our shapes from registering against the dark, provided none of us did anything stupid like sneeze.

"Po, walk slower," one of the thieves muttered to the man out in front, who was practically speed walking toward the exhibit hall like the painting might grow legs and run off first.

"How slow do you want me to go exactly?" Po shot back with a low chuckle, and it took me an embarrassingly long moment to realize what he was actually saying.

They pressed forward, all seven of them, straight toward the one piece we already knew they were after: The Painting of Mount Axuarno, hanging alone under its little brass light like it had no idea what was about to happen to its evening.

A spear of pure light streaked out of the shadows and cut across the room.

"Look out!" Po shouted, diving sideways.

The thieves scattered just barely in time, the spear quickly dissipated.

Before any of them could regroup, a vine thick with thorns whipped up out of the floor.

"AAAAAHHHH!"

One of them got caught clean across the shoulder and went down screaming, more startled than actually hurt, I suspected, though I wasn’t about to go check.

I shot a glance at Arthur.

He just grinned and gave the vine a lazy tug, dragging the man in before letting the thorns retract back into his palm like they had never been there at all.

One of the remaining thieves spotted him. He didn’t hesitate and raised his revolver, aiming it dead at Arthur’s chest.

However, as soon as he was about to click the trigger, he had already forgotten what he was about to do!

A wave of light rolled through the museum and swallowed the whole room whole, blinding enough that even I had to squint against it despite knowing it was coming.

It faded a second later, leaving spots dancing across my vision.

That was when one of the thieves lifted both hands, and a gust of wind tore loose from his palms like a small, furious storm.

"He’s the Awakened!" someone shouted, entirely unnecessary, since Tony had already warned us the leader of this little operation had power of his own.

Still, it was nice to have it confirmed by the man himself, screaming it at the top of his lungs.

A wall of light snapped up in front of us just in time, catching the worst of the wind and scattering it harmlessly around the edges.

Arthur already had one thief pinned down, which meant most of his focus was locked on not letting the man wriggle free rather than doing anything flashier.

I sighed, walked over, and crouched down in front of the poor guy, who looked up at me and immediately turned about three shades paler.

’Do I really look that terrifying?’

Apparently, yes.

I raised my hand and brought it down against the back of his skull, and he slumped over without another word.

Arthur pulled his vine back in, caught his breath, and pivoted, sprinting off toward the rest of the thieves from a new angle. Mary let her light barrier drop, gathering some light around her palm, turning it into a spear before throwing it towards the theives.

Slash!

A slash of wind cut it apart before it landed.

"Tsk."