Ansel Narth dashed down the sandstone hallway, late to the most important meeting of his life.

Torches lined the walls, dimly illuminating the shadows of Foundlings that filled the corridor. Whispered conversation filled the area. He pushed past them, apologizing, and arrived at the polished cedar door at the end of the hallway. He stood there for a moment, let out a big exhale, and knocked three times. If you didn't ruin your chance, this is it. Time to prove yourself. No matter what Kazmere offers, you're taking it. No backing out now. The door swung open, revealing Sera with her eyebrow raised and a frown on her face.

"You're late."

"I know, I'm sorry."

She gave a small smile and turned sideways, gesturing him into the room. "Come in." She walked over to the nearby wall and leaned against it.

Ansel smiled back, relieved, and walked into the room. He closed the heavy door and turned to face the man behind the desk.

Kazmere Vale, the leader of the Foundlings, sat in a maroon chair behind a desk stacked high with parchment. Behind him, a fire crackled in the ornate fireplace. His elbows rested on the desk. Fingers crisscrossed. Shoulder-length black hair tied in a ponytail. He wore a sleeveless shirt, making the black spiraling tattoos that coated his arms stand out in the firelight. The same tattoos that marked every Foundling. He stared at Ansel, his face unreadable.

"Glad you made it."

Ansel swallowed. "Sorry for being late, sir."

"Just don't let it happen again." Kazmere stood and sat on the edge of the desk, crossing his arms. "Today is an important day for the Foundlings. I've got a mission for you that will change everything if you succeed. Are you up to the task?"

Inside, he wasn't so sure. But he took a step forward, his fists clenched. "I'm ready."

Kazmere considered him for a moment. He looked at Sera. "What do you think?"

Sera didn't look back at Kazmere, she studied Ansel. A few moments passed. "He's ready, Kaz. He has been for a while." Kazmere nodded his approval.

Ansel smiled at her, nodded, then looked back at Kazmere. "What's the mission?"

The leader of the Foundlings strode toward him, parchment in hand, and held it out.

Ansel took the parchment and examined it. A picture of intricate jewelry was drawn in great detail.

"That's Queen Annamera's broach. I need you to steal it."

His eyes grew wide. He'd been waiting for months for an opportunity like this to prove his usefulness to the cause. But stealing directly from the queen herself? There must be a good reason. "I'll do whatever you require, sir. But may I ask why?"

Sera met his eye. "A man has offered us twenty thousand crimson marks for that broach."

Ansel's heart lept into his throat. Twenty thousand marks... With that kind of money, the Foundlings will finally have the funds to start our revolution. He examined the parchment. The broach was in the shape of a rose.

"It's a lot to expect of you, I know. Are you still willing to do this?" Kazmere asked.

Ansel locked eyes with him. "I've been waiting for a chance like this to prove myself since I joined the Foundlings. I won't let you down, sir."

Kazmere smiled. "Good. You're the best climber we have. Our sources say the broach will be in her room in the Crimson Palace. You will need to scale the wall and infiltrate the room. There's a balcony on the right side of the palace, ten stories up. That should be her room if our information is correct."

Ansel gulped. The Crimson Palace would be heavily guarded at all times.

Kazmere's gaze softened. "Don't worry. Some of your Foundling brothers and sisters will be causing a distraction on the other side of the Eighth Division. That should pull some guards away, making your job easier. Just don't fail us. Succeed today, and our revolution begins tomorrow."

Ansel nodded but within, he was nervous. Could he do this? Infiltrating the Crimson Palace would be no easy task. He tightened his fists, his resolve growing rock-hard. "I will not fail you."

Kazmere walked over to him and placed a hand on his shoulder. "I believe in you. I'm about to send out the other Foundlings. See you later tonight after you bring back the broach." He clapped him on the shoulder, smiled, and walked out of the room.

Sera walked over and placed both hands on his shoulders. "Your chance is finally here to prove yourself. You can do this. I know you can." She hugged him tightly.

He hugged her back. "Thank you, Sera. For everything. I wouldn't have this chance without you."

She held him out at arm's length. "Come back to us in one piece, okay?" She smiled and left the room after Kazmere.

He examined the parchment once more before tucking it away in his cloak pocket. He opened the heavy door, walked out into the corridor, and headed toward the exit.

An hour later, Ansel ran along the slanted rooftops toward the Crimson Palace. The sun was slowly descending behind Mount Sunspear, which stood behind the Crimson Palace in the distance. He wasn't too far off now. Spread out all around him was his home, the majestic mountain city of Dawnsguard. The capital of Reven. He stopped to catch his breath and crouched down. Only a little bit further. The darker it gets, the better.

He studied the mountain and the fortress spire that stood atop it. The Skyprison. He shuddered at the thought of ever being put in there. Rumors spread throughout every tavern about the people prisoner within and the conditions they were held in. They didn't paint a pretty picture. Below him, wealthy civilians were gathering their belongings in carts, assisted by servants. Many of the rich people in Dawnsguard were moving to the New Lands, a continent found only a few years before. Untold riches and strange creatures were rumored to be found there. He didn't believe much of what people said though. In his experience, rumors were often exaggerated.

A man's scream erupted beneath his feet, making him jump up in surprise. He sighed while pulling his hood up over his head. Someone needed his help. Foundlings protected the people who needed it. So that's what he would do.

Ansel crouched down, slid over the side, and grabbed the lip of the roof. He descended, his deft hands finding rough crevices between the bricks until he found a window on the second floor, and peered inside. A Crimson Guard held an older man by the throat against the wall. Crimson Guards never seem to have anything better to do. He raised his boot and kicked the window, shattering the glass, and jumped inside. The guard released the man and unsheathed his longsword.

"Who the–"

He pulled out his dagger and pointed it at the guard. "Get out of here before I slit your throat."

The guard sneered, showing yellow teeth. "You think I'm scared of a little dagger, boy? Leave before I kill you."

Ansel pulled back his right sleeve, presenting his spiraling black tattoo. "If you don't get out of here, twenty Foundlings will descend on this place." This bluff better work.

The guard's eyes widened and he took a step back. His lip twitched. "Fine. But I'll remember your face. If I catch you around by yourself, you won't be so lucky, boy." The man sheathed his sword and ran out of the room.

He ran over to the old man and helped him up. His throat was bruised from the guard's rough grip. "Are you okay?"

"Ye - yea. Thank you. I'm lucky you came." He stood up and brushed off his clothes. "Thank you, Foundling. That man has been extorting me for ages. Threatens me if I don't pay him every month. I'm saving all my marks to get to the New Lands."

Ansel crossed his arms. "You should be safe for now. I can't promise I'll be around next time though."

"I will be gone by then anyways."

"Well good luck to you." Ansel turned to climb back out the window.

"Wait."

He turned back. What now?

"Thank you." The man handed him a small sack. The sound of crimson marks jostled within. "We are lucky to have the Foundlings. Those Crimson Guards are ruthless. King Vlidian needs to get a hold of them."

Ansel handed the sack back to the man. "Keep it. You'll need it in the New Lands. The Crimson Guards are all bastards, and so is the king. The only royal member worth a damn is the queen. Remember that. Soon the Foundlings will clean up Reven." He turned and climbed out the window, then scaled the wall back to the roof.

The sun was setting behind Mount Sunspear already. No time to waste. He sprinted along the rooftops toward the Crimson Palace. The majestic building was not far now. After a short run - and one more rest to catch his breath - he found himself crouched on top of a building facing the entrance of the square. From his vantage point, pairs of Crimson Guards stood watch at the three entrances. He squinted, studying the area. How to get to the side of the palace? There should be a way to climb up from there.

He pulled out his dagger and scaled down the side of the building, using gaps between the red bricks. Two should be easy. Night was in full effect now and his cloak was pure black. If he kept to the shadows, staying unnoticed should be easy. He moved while staying low until he was right around the corner from the two guards. He peered around the corner and whistled. One of the guards looked his way. He ducked back behind the wall.

"Did you hear that?"

"Hear what?"

"That whistle."

"Uhh... no."

Ansel grinned. Crimson Guards are dumb as pig shit. He whistled again, then kicked a stone out so it rolled in their direction. That should get their attention.

"I know you heard that."

"Let's go see then, tough guy. Why didn't you say so earlier?"

Armored footsteps strode toward him.

They came around the corner. Ansel lunged his dagger toward the throat of the nearest guard. The dagger pierced the guard's throat, his blue eyes went wide.

Ansel yanked the dagger out of the first man's throat and lunged at the other guard. The man fumbled to unsheath his sword, but Ansel was too fast for him. He launched himself onto the man and stabbed down into the man's face before he could do anything. Blood squirted onto Ansel's face, blinding him.

He wiped his face, then the dagger on one of the guard's tunics, and sheathed it into his boot before crouching low, listening. No alarms. The faces of the two dead men stared back at him, eyes glazed over. Years ago, his stomach would be squeamish from killing two men. But they were Crimson Guards, they deserved no mercy. Not after what they did to his father. This wasn't the first time he killed for the Foundlings, and it wouldn't be the last time either.

He dragged the two bodies into a nearby bush, his breath coming out in ragged huffs. That will have to do for now. He peered up at the palace towering over him. Almost there. He moved through the entrance and turned to the right side of the Crimson Palace.

Around the corner from where he stood were dozens of Crimson Guards, facing toward the main entrance. None were looking in his direction. He gazed upward and gulped at how big the Crimson Palace was. The grand scale made him feel like an insect in comparison and, the more he studied the climb, the more the palace grew in scale. Better to get on with it. He found a good grip and started to climb. The different red-stained bricks that he used to climb were smooth from years of mountain winds whipping against them. Each movement could be his last if he wasn't careful.

Within minutes, his breathing grew ragged, and his forearms burned from the climb. The wind rustled his cloak, sending a chill down his spine. He stopped climbing for a moment and glanced down to see how far he'd come. Big mistake. The nine-story drop grew, scoping out until it looked double in height. He closed his eyes. You wanted this. Don't give up now.

Sweat beading down his forehead, Ansel peered upward. The queen's balcony was only a few feet above him. Each placement of his hands took incredible effort until he reached the balcony and peered over the balustrade.

The room inside was the most elaborately decorated room he'd ever seen. Paintings filled the walls, each a depiction of the old rulers of Reven. The queen's bed had silk coverings around each side of the bed. The double doors led to the main halls which were closed and filled with fancy carpets. He didn't see anyone inside so he pulled himself over the railing and fell to the ground, letting out a huge sigh of relief.

No time to rest, not until the mission is complete. Forcing himself to his feet, he crouched down low, listening. No sounds reached his ears, but he had to be careful. He crept into the extravagant room and glanced around, looking for the broach. A drop of sweat fell from his forehead. He wiped the rest away with his arm. Anyone could enter at any time, he needed to be quick. The smell of sweet perfume filled the air. He crouch-walked over to a desk with many pieces of jewelry laid upon it. The desk had dozens of drawers where the broach could hide. He frantically opened each one, trying his best to be quiet, and scanned over the large amounts of gold and silver jewelry. After opening six drawers, his eyes caught the rose-shaped broach. He grinned. Time to get out of here. He grabbed it, shoved it into his cloak pocket, and turned to leave.

A gurgling sound tickled his eardrums.

He whipped around and scanned for where the sound came from. The room was bigger than he thought, there was a hallway around the corner of the desk. His feet pressed lightly against the soft rug in the hallway. Frantic breath wanted to escape his mouth but he held it back. The gurgling sound came from the next room. He peered around the corner and gasped before he could stop himself.

A cloaked figure stood over a woman laying on the ground, bloody dagger in hand. A soft breeze rolled in through the open window behind them. The woman on the floor was gushing blood from dozens of stab wounds on her chest and stomach. The hooded figure, wearing a white mask with two eye holes but nothing else, gazed toward him.

"Right on time." They turned and jumped out of the window, into the night.

What did they mean by 'right on time'? Ansel dashed over to the window but couldn't see the figure anymore. They had disappeared into the darkness. Who was that? He turned and examined the dead woman on the ground. His eyes grew wide. "Oh shit."

The woman was none other than Queen Annamera.

A pair of ornate doors burst open. Dozens of Crimson Guards filled the hallway outside the doors, their longswords unsheathed and running at him. His mouth went dry. He turned to jump out of the window but realized it would be suicide.

"Get him!"

"He's a Foundling! A Foundling killed the queen!"

He pulled out his dagger. A guard swung his sword at his face. Ansel ducked. He slashed the guard's hamstring and rolled, trying to run back to the balcony. His vision went dark around the edges and the world swung around in his vision. He realized he was laying on the floor on his stomach, staring at the dead queen's face. Rough hands tied his hands behind his back.

"I didn't kill her!" he yelled over the clanking armor and angry men. "I swear, I didn't do it."

No one listened.