Chapter Text
The job had sounded simple enough when it was first presented to Vox Machina, which should have been the first indication that it was anything but. A representative from a respected temple had approached them with a request to recover an ancient relic that had been stolen months earlier and recently traced to the private collection of a wealthy noble named Lord Marrow.
According to the priests, the artifact itself held little value to anyone outside their faith, but it represented centuries of history and tradition to those who worshipped there. They wanted the relic returned discreetly before news of its location spread to rival collectors, treasure hunters, or anyone else willing to kill for the chance to possess something rare.
It was the sort of mission Vox Machina had undertaken dozens of times before.
Sneak into a heavily guarded estate, steal something from someone who probably deserved it, and leave before the authorities realized what had happened. Straightforward. Predictable. Routine.
Of course, experience had taught them that those kinds of jobs were often the most dangerous.
Now, under the cover of darkness, the members of Vox Machina stood concealed among a dense cluster of trees overlooking Lord Marrow's estate.
The manor rose from the center of the sprawling property like a monument to wealth and excess, its towering stone walls illuminated by dozens of lanterns that cast warm golden light across perfectly maintained gardens and winding pathways.
Decorative fountains sparkled beneath the moonlight, while armed guards patrolled every visible entrance. At first glance it appeared to be little more than the home of a rich noble showing off his fortune to anyone fortunate enough to visit.
The longer they observed, however, the more apparent it became that something about the estate felt wrong.
The security was excessive.
Far too excessive.
Percy lowered the spyglass from his eye and frowned thoughtfully as he continued studying the distant manor. The longer he looked, the more questions came to mind.
There were too many patrols.
Too many guards.
Too many defensive positions.
The estate looked less like a collector's residence and more like a fortress disguised as one.
"Either Lord Marrow is the most paranoid nobleman in Tal'Dorei," Percy said after several moments of silence, his gaze never leaving the estate below, "or there is something inside those walls that he considers valuable enough to justify maintaining a small private army. I have spent enough time around wealthy aristocrats to know that most of them vastly overestimate their own importance, but even by those standards this level of security seems excessive. Unless the man sleeps on a mountain of gold every night, there is something we are not being told."
Vex glanced up from where she was inspecting the string of her bow and followed his gaze toward the manor. Her sharp eyes immediately began tracing the patrol routes winding across the grounds.
"I was thinking the same thing," she admitted. "I've hunted nobles before. Most of them hire guards because they enjoy the appearance of being important. This is different. Look at the spacing between patrols. Look at how frequently they're rotating shifts. Those aren't decorative guards standing around making wealthy people feel safe. Those are professionals. Someone has spent a great deal of money making sure nobody gets into that estate."
Grog folded his massive arms across his chest and squinted at the distant building.
"Maybe they're protecting treasure."
There was a brief pause.
Percy slowly turned toward him.
"The artifact we're stealing is technically treasure."
"No," Grog replied, shaking his head. "I mean real treasure. Chests full of gold. Giant piles of jewels. Magical weapons. The kind of treasure that makes people stare at it and immediately forget every bad decision they've ever made."
Pike laughed softly.
"I'm fairly certain that's not how treasure works."
"It does for me."
"It explains a lot about you."
"Thank you."
"That wasn't a compliment."
Grog's smile never wavered.
Nearby, Vax leaned comfortably against the trunk of a tree, watching the conversation unfold with quiet amusement. Normally he would have been contributing his own sarcastic remarks, but tonight his attention kept drifting back toward the estate.
Something about the place bothered him in a way he couldn't entirely explain.
He had spent years sneaking through dangerous locations, infiltrating enemy strongholds, and relying upon instincts that had saved his life more times than he could count. Those instincts were speaking to him now.
They were telling him that something was wrong.
Not dangerous necessarily.
Not yet.
Just wrong.
The sensation settled heavily in his chest and refused to leave.
"You've been staring at that building for the last ten minutes."
The voice came from beside him.
Vax glanced over and found Percy standing there, having somehow approached without drawing attention to himself. The gunslinger followed Vax's line of sight toward the manor before folding his arms.
"Normally I'd assume you were admiring the architecture," Percy continued, "but your expression suggests you're contemplating whether setting the entire estate on fire would somehow improve it."
A grin tugged at the corner of Vax's mouth.
"I'll have you know that arson is not my solution to every problem."
"No," Percy replied. "That's usually my role."
"Fair point."
The smile faded slightly as Vax looked back toward the manor.
For several moments he remained silent.
Percy waited patiently.
Eventually Vax sighed.
"I can't explain it properly," he admitted. "Maybe I'm imagining things, but this place feels wrong. Every time I look at it I get the sense that we're only seeing part of the picture. The mission sounds simple enough on paper, but nothing about that estate feels simple. The guards are too alert. The security is too organized. Even from here the entire property feels tense somehow. As though everyone inside is waiting for something."
Percy's expression darkened slightly.
"What concerns me," he said after a moment, "is that I've been thinking exactly the same thing. I spent most of our briefing assuming our client had exaggerated the security measures. Instead, it appears they understated them. Whenever two naturally suspicious people reach the same conclusion independently, I generally assume there's a reason."
Vax glanced sideways at him.
"Naturally suspicious?"
"You break into buildings for a living."
"You built a gun."
"Exactly."
For a brief moment they simply stood together in comfortable silence.
Years ago such quiet moments would have felt awkward.
Now they felt natural.
Easy.
The relationship between them had developed slowly, built upon trust and understanding rather than dramatic declarations. They knew each other's habits. Knew each other's strengths and weaknesses. Knew exactly how much reassurance the other needed without having to ask.
Which was why Percy noticed almost immediately that Vax still looked troubled.
"You know," Percy said quietly, "if something feels wrong, we can adjust the plan. There is no rule stating that we have to rush headfirst into a situation simply because someone is paying us. If your instincts are telling you something, then perhaps we should pay attention to them. I've learned over the years that ignoring your warnings tends to produce very unpleasant results for everyone involved."
Vax laughed softly.
"Is that concern I hear in your voice?"
"It is practical risk assessment."
"Of course it is."
"Naturally."
The rogue's smile widened.
"I appreciate your practical risk assessment."
"And I appreciate that you're translating it correctly."
Before Vax could reply, a familiar voice interrupted them.
"Oh, gods above."
Both men turned simultaneously.
Several feet away, Vex was watching them with the exhausted expression of someone who had unfortunately witnessed a conversation she never wanted to hear.
"Should I even ask?" she said.
"Probably not," Percy replied immediately.
"Excellent. Then I won't. Because every time the two of you start speaking in that tone, I feel an overwhelming urge to walk directly into the nearest dragon's lair."
Vax placed a hand over his chest.
"Vex, I'm wounded."
"No, unfortunately you're not. If you were, at least I'd have an excuse for why you're behaving
this way."
Pike snorted.
Keyleth covered her mouth to hide a laugh.
Grog looked confused.
"What tone?"
"The one where they're pretending not to flirt," Vex answered.
"Oh."
A pause.
"They're really bad at it."
Percy closed his eyes.
Vax looked delighted.
"You see?" Vex continued, gesturing toward both of them. "This is exactly what I mean. The two of you think you're being subtle, but everyone notices. Everyone. The servants notice. The horses probably notice. If we encountered an ancient god tomorrow, I'm convinced it would take one look at the pair of you and immediately understand what was happening."
"I think you're exaggerating."
"I am absolutely not exaggerating."
"Maybe slightly."
"Vax."
"Possibly slightly."
Despite her annoyance, Vex couldn't quite suppress a small smile.
Moments like these reminded all of them why they remained together despite the danger, the chaos, and the constant near-death experiences that seemed to follow them everywhere. They argued.
They bickered.
They drove one another insane on a regular basis.
But they were family.
And family always came first.
None of them realized that before the night was over, that bond would be tested in ways none of them could have imagined. Vax would disappear. Percy would discover just how far he was willing to go for the man he loved. And Vex would find herself hunting down anyone foolish enough to lay a hand on her brother.
For now, however, they were simply standing beneath the stars, preparing for what they believed was another ordinary mission.