Prologue
The tavern had long since given up pretending to be respectable.
Smoke hung thick beneath the beams. Lanternlight flickered across crooked rafters stained with years of spilled ale and louder stories. Someone near the hearth pounded a tankard against a table while a fiddler struggled heroically to keep the room pointed in the same musical direction.
Boots stomped.
Laughter roared.
Coins clattered.
And in the center of it all, standing proudly atop a battered oak table that had survived far more abuse than it deserved, were the Ravenborn twins.
Two identical silhouettes against the lanternlight.
Menadel and Ezekiel Raven.
Same dark hair. Same sharp cheekbones. Same reckless grin that made people either trust them immediately or lock their coin purses.
Tonight, the tavern had chosen trust.
A mistake.
Menadel kicked aside an empty mug and raised his own high.
“Another round for everyone still standing!”
Cheers erupted.
Ezekiel leaned close, slinging an arm over his brother’s shoulder as if they were drunken sailors who had known each other for years instead of brothers who had been causing trouble together since birth.
“Since when are you buying?” Ezekiel shouted.
“Since never!” Menadel replied cheerfully.
The crowd laughed.
The fiddler finally found a rhythm.
Menadel stomped his boot twice against the table and launched into song.
Not gently.
Not carefully.
But with the kind of unrestrained enthusiasm that demanded the entire room join him whether they knew the lyrics or not.
“Raise your cups and drain them dry—!”
“—to fools who laugh before they die!” Ezekiel finished, spinning across the table with exaggerated flair.
The crowd roared the line back at them.
Tankards lifted.
Someone started clapping in time.
Menadel grabbed Ezekiel’s hand and yanked him into a spinning dance that made the table creak beneath them.
Two identical men dancing and shouting lyrics like kings of the room.
It was impossible not to watch.
Which was precisely the point.
And while the tavern watched the twins sing…
The twins had an entirely different conversation.
You’re leaning too far left, Menadel’s voice slipped through Ezekiel’s mind.
Ezekiel spun beneath his brother’s arm, still singing loudly.
I’m dancing.
You’re about to step on the merchant with the gold purse.
Ezekiel glanced down.
Sure enough, a well-dressed trader had pushed close to the table, eyes bright with drink and laughter.
The purse on his belt was heavy enough to pull the leather slightly downward.
Ezekiel’s grin widened.
Ah.
Menadel grabbed a tankard from someone passing by and splashed half of it across the table dramatically.
The crowd shouted approval.
Ezekiel dropped to one knee in the middle of their ridiculous dance, pretending to bow toward the cheering patrons.
His hand brushed the merchant’s belt.
The purse vanished.
He popped back to his feet before the man even noticed the contact.
One.
Menadel kicked a chair aside and stomped out another beat for the song.
“LOUDER!” he shouted.
The tavern obeyed like a battlefield responding to a war horn.
Someone climbed onto another table.
The fiddler gave up entirely and simply played faster.
Ezekiel spun across the wood beside his brother, hair falling into his face as he grabbed another passing mug and drank deeply.
Left side. Blue cloak. Big pocket.
Menadel threw an arm wide toward the crowd as if presenting the room to the gods themselves.
Ezekiel danced past the woman in the blue cloak, laughing as if they’d collided accidentally.
His hand dipped into the pocket.
Coins slid smoothly into his sleeve.
Two.
Menadel leaned close to Ezekiel, shouting the next verse so loudly his voice cracked.
The room loved it.
You’re getting slow.
I’m pacing myself.
Menadel stomped again, jumping onto the center of the table so hard the entire structure shuddered.
“Dance with us!” he shouted.
Two sailors eagerly clambered up beside them.
Bad idea.
Ezekiel grabbed one by the shoulders and spun him in a ridiculous circle.
The sailor laughed.
His coin pouch disappeared.
Three.
Menadel wiped sweat from his brow dramatically and lifted both hands as if conducting the chaos around them.
The tavern was fully committed now.
People were singing.
Standing on chairs.
Dancing badly.
A woman near the hearth tossed a flower onto the table toward the twins.
Ezekiel caught it midair and tucked it behind his ear with theatrical pride.
You know, Ezekiel’s voice drifted through their shared thoughts, one of these days someone will notice.
Menadel grinned.
Not tonight.
Ezekiel leaned against him as if they were drunken brothers trying not to fall over.
Which, technically, they were.
Except for the growing weight of stolen purses tucked discreetly inside Ezekiel’s coat.
How are we looking? Menadel asked.
Ezekiel shifted the coat slightly so the hidden pile of coin pouches settled more comfortably.
Profitable.
Menadel laughed out loud and threw his arm around his brother’s shoulders.
“Another verse!” he shouted.
The tavern roared.
Boots stomped.
Mugs clashed.
The twins launched into the next chorus together, voices loud and perfectly synchronized.
Two identical troublemakers dancing on a table.
A room full of witnesses who would swear later that they had seen something unforgettable that night.
What they wouldn’t realize until morning…
Was that half their coin had vanished during the performance.
Boots hit the dirt road just beyond the last lantern of the tavern.
The door behind them slammed shut with the muffled thud of music still raging inside. Laughter and song spilled briefly into the night air before the door swallowed it again.
Then the world went quiet.
Cold wind brushed across the empty road.
The sky above was deep and moonlit, stars scattered wide like someone had shaken a sack of diamonds across black velvet.
Menadel stretched his arms over his head with a satisfied groan.
“Now that,” he said aloud, “was a successful evening.”
Ezekiel tugged his coat tighter around himself as they walked, boots crunching softly over gravel.
“Successful for you,” he said. “You got applause.”
Menadel shot him a grin. “You got paid.”
They walked side by side along the narrow road leaving town, the tavern lights shrinking behind them with every step. The night smelled of damp earth and wood smoke drifting from distant chimneys.
Neither of them hurried.
They never hurried.
Traveling slowly meant noticing things.
Who followed.
Who watched.
Who didn’t matter.
For now, the road belonged only to them.
A long stretch of silence passed before Menadel spoke again.
“You lifted the merchant’s purse cleanly.”
Ezekiel glanced sideways at him.
“You noticed that?”
Menadel scoffed.
“Of course I noticed. He nearly climbed onto the table trying to watch you dance.”
Ezekiel snorted.
“People always watch you dance.”
“Rude.”
“Accurate.”
The road curved gently toward a line of low hills where trees gathered thick and dark along the edge of the path.
Menadel pointed toward them.
“There.”
Ezekiel followed his gaze.
A small clearing sat just beyond the road where a fallen oak had long ago left open ground between the trees. The place looked quiet enough for a night’s rest.
No wagon tracks.
No smoke.
No travelers.
Perfect.
They stepped off the road together and slipped between the trees, branches whispering overhead as they moved deeper into the small patch of forest.
The clearing opened before them.
Menadel dropped his pack beside the fallen log with a satisfied sigh and collapsed backward onto the grass.
Ezekiel remained standing.
For a moment.
Then he slowly unbuttoned his coat.
Coins clinked.
Leather rustled.
Pouches slid free.
He crouched beside the log and began setting them down one by one.
Menadel lifted his head slightly to watch.
“That many?”
Ezekiel didn’t answer immediately.
He was concentrating.
Each purse opened carefully. Each handful of coin poured into a growing pile between them.
Silver flashed in the moonlight.
Copper clattered softly across the dirt.
One pouch held a small gold ring.
Ezekiel held it up briefly.
Menadel whistled.
“Fancy.”
“Merchant,” Ezekiel said.
He tossed it into the pile.
Another purse.
Another spill of coins.
Soon the quiet clearing filled with the soft music of wealth being counted under the stars.
Menadel sat up now, elbows resting on his knees.
“You know,” he said thoughtfully, “I think the sailor liked you.”
Ezekiel didn’t look up.
“He liked the dancing.”
“No, I’m fairly certain he liked you.”
“Focus.”
Menadel chuckled.
Ezekiel finished the final pouch and leaned back on his heels, surveying the spread of coins glittering between them.
Not bad.
Not bad at all.
Menadel leaned forward slowly.
“Well?”
Ezekiel tapped the pile.
“Enough to eat well for a week.”
Menadel’s eyes narrowed.
“That sounds like a conservative estimate.”
Ezekiel smirked.
“It’s enough to drink well for a week.”
Menadel brightened immediately.
“Ah. There it is.”
He scooped a handful of coins and let them fall through his fingers.
The metallic clink echoed softly through the clearing.
Then the twins exchanged a glance.
And the familiar silent conversation returned.
You missed the woman with the emerald necklace.
Ezekiel rolled his eyes slightly.
I didn’t miss her.
You absolutely did.
I chose not to steal from her.
Menadel tilted his head.
Why?
Ezekiel flicked a copper coin toward him.
She was singing louder than you.
Menadel gasped in mock offense.
“Impossible.”
Ezekiel grinned and pushed the pile of coins toward the center of the log between them.
“Count it if you want.”
Menadel scooped up another handful and shook his head.
“No need.”
He leaned back again, staring up through the branches at the stars above.
“We did well tonight.”
Ezekiel gathered the coins again, sliding them into a single larger pouch they kept for travel.
“Better than well.”
The last coin disappeared into the bag.
The clearing fell quiet again.
Wind whispered through the leaves.
Crickets began their night song.
Menadel folded his arms behind his head.
“You think anyone has noticed yet?”
Ezekiel tied the pouch closed.
“Not until morning.”
Menadel grinned into the darkness.
“Perfect.”
And beneath the moon, surrounded by trees and stolen coin, the Raven twins settled into the quiet of the night road.
Tomorrow would bring new towns.
New songs.
New pockets waiting to be lighter.
But for now…
They had done what they did best.
Cause chaos.
And walk away smiling.
