Goldport assaults your senses.

After days on quiet roads, the harbor city is overwhelming. Ships crowd the docks, their masts a forest against the sky. Merchants shout prices in a dozen languages. The smell of salt, fish, spices, and humanity mingles into something almost tangible.

Everything here is for sale.

“Stay close,” your ally advises. “Goldport has more pickpockets than honest citizens. And the honest citizens aren’t that honest.”

You push through the crowd, taking in the city. It’s beautiful in its way—colorful banners flying from every building, architecture that speaks of wealth accumulated over centuries. But beneath the beauty, you sense rot. Too many people watching from shadows. Too many smiles that don’t reach the eyes.

“The Sunken Vaults are beneath the old harbor,” your ally explains. “The original Goldport was built on a different shoreline. When they expanded the docks, the old city flooded. Most of it was abandoned, but the vaults…”

“Let me guess. Someone’s using them.”

“The Gilded Hand. The most powerful thieves’ guild on the coast. They control access to anything underground. If we want in, we need their permission—or we need to find another way.”

Neve frowns. “How do we get permission from a thieves’ guild?”

“We don’t,” a voice says behind you.

You turn. A man stands there—middle-aged, with the remains of what was once fine clothing. His face is weathered, his eyes tired but sharp. He carries himself like someone who was once important.

“You’re from Eldermoor,” he says. “I can tell by your bearing. And you’re looking for something in the Sunken Vaults.” He lowers his voice. “Something the Gilded Hand would kill to possess.”

“Who are you?”

“Someone who knows those vaults better than any thief. Someone who lost everything because he tried to do the right thing.” He glances around, checking for listeners. “My name is Theron. And if you’re after what I think you’re after, we should talk somewhere private.”