A painting hung on the wall of the dull red hallway. It was old, clearly, but it was a beautiful piece nevertheless. Perhaps it would have been valuable for those who desired it: this was indeed a portrait of the daughter of the lord that founded the city, as she was countless years before. She had long since died, but this remained, one of few remaining pieces, so beautiful and so valuable.

This hall was simply a branch from the main, which was slightly bigger and featured, among other things, the sword of the first Count of the manor, as well as his shield, and a small statue that portrayed him in battle. For so he died: defending his keep from invaders, before the city was so well protected from foreign invasion.

There were many other pieces of art, of course: busts of various lords and ladies, some lesser paintings, and a few valuable sculptures here and there on small tables and pedestals. The floor was of polished marble, covered by a beautiful carpet in the middle, which softened footsteps for those who walked upon it. The carpet was a dull green in colour.

Also prominent in the hallway were the torches, but none of these were lit just now. The only light that came in did so through the stained glass window at the end of the hall, which allowed the light of the waxing moon to fall on the marble floor, in the shape of that stained glass window. There was only that light. A skilled man could hide easily in these shadows.

There was a guard who patrolled the floor here, though he would never enter this darkened hallway unless he had reason to suspect someone would be found there. Just a quick glance, and no more. The light passed by, he saw nothing, and he continued on. So he had done countless times before this night, so he would continue doing until another of the manor's watchmen relieved him of his duty.

His was an important route, of course, and so not as long as some of the others. Directly opposite this hall was a staircase which led upstairs to the suites that belonged to the lady of the estate. Up there, guards would be stationed at the doors... however, there was something which went overlooked. The window made for a fine access to her chambers, for those who were sure-footed.

The guard passed, and moving like a shadow, a cloaked figure crept up the stairs, forced open the window, and climbed out. None of the guards noticed the action... as it had been intended. The thief continued along the small section of trim until he game to the large glass window that would certainly belong to the lady's chambers. He produced the glasscutter he had recently purchased and began cutting the window. Once he had finished an opening large enough that he could probably fit, he carefully removed the glass from the window, and placed it gently inside.

Securing a rope to the wall for a swift escape, he entered the lady's chambers. He took only as long as he needed to look around and locate what he had come here for: the lady's silver diadem, which, his fence promised, would get him far more than most of his jobs did.

Just as he set his hands upon the diadem, however, something somewhat unexpected happened. The door flung open, and in strode a small figure, wrapped in a black cloak as if for thieving. But whoever this was paid no heed to stealth now. Nor was it noticed that a thief crouched by the lady's prized diadem, a blackened dagger in his hands.

"Wake up," spoke the figure in a hissing whisper. A booted foot prodded the lady in the side, and she awakened with a start, looking, perhaps understandably, somewhat frightened. "I have it. I want my money, now."

The lady sat upright, clutching her blanket to her chest with one hand, and with the other gestured at her nightstand. "Under there. All the money's in the box. And here," she continued flatly, grabbing a key from atop the nightstand, "is your key."

A scroll was left on the nightstand, and the figure stooped to open the strongbox and swiftly redistribute the coins. With that the figure left, and the lady put the scroll in the box, then closed it. "Where did I... damn, gave him the key. Nobody will open it..."

She returned to her bed. Silently the thief crept over to the box and opened it as silently as he could. The lady stirred in bed, but did not seem to notice him crouched there. He took the scroll, and secured it in his cloak, then rose to his feet and darted for the window. Time to trail a walking bank.