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A large group of riders were riding at a consistent speed all armed rifles and repeaters and revolvers slung across their backs or stowed in holsters by their waists.

Counting them all together, they numbered more than twenty-five and all rode with studious looks on their faces and a singular purpose.

At the head of the riding group, flanked by Colm O'Hearn, was a man with a greying beard that looked only slightly well-kept and inched ever closer to looking savage. He was a well-built man and when the cloak he had on happened to billow, one could get a glimpse at his muscles all hugged fairly tight by his shirt.

The man's eyes were a deep black and his lips were pursed slightly in distress and pride. He was Doran Langlot. Leader of the Langlot Gang and the singular most feared man in the entire countryside.

At the time Doran 'reigned' at his height, the fact that his face and name were on wanted posters was not a source of fear but rather a matter of pride. In fact, he wanted to have it kept up and dared any Law enforcement agent to attempt to bring him to justice.

Many had tried of course and even more had died in the attempt. Doran had a reputation for being cruel to the point where bounty hunters thought twice before accepting the job for his head. No one had succeeded yet and it was unlikely anyone would.

Yes, Doran had enjoyed a powerful status for many years which meant a lot to him seeing as he came from nothing and worked himself to the bone to be where he now was. To hold the fearsome position of ruthless Gang leader he currently had.

And yet, a 'small' Gang became a thorn in his side. It wasn't enough that they seemed to have especially selected the very best to join their ranks but, from their first meeting, Doran could tell Angus Dionisio was no ordinary man.

Although Angus' size was slight compared to his, Doran had still felt some sort of Aura that told him, that if he went only by looks, he was in for a shock.

The Dionisio gang had killed more of them than they had ever managed to kill of them. They had always managed to get the best tips for the best jobs and get to the most expensive loot before them.

The final straw was the Train job.

Langlot received a tip of the valuable loot that he could get if he hijacked the Train but he didn't want to act foolishly. Who would be mad enough to attempt to rob a Manor Lord? Especially when there was news that Magic was protecting the loot?

Who would be that insane?

Apparently, Angus WAS that insane?

When the news of the successful robbery reached his ears, Doran Langlot had blown hot. His body burned with jealousy and rage but all that was gone now. In the days that had passed since that job, he had become more and more assured that he was right to think twice about that job.

'Seven Vykers in total sent after the Loot already,' Doran thought as his horse rode at the head of the riding party, and a smile spread across his face,

'What a pickle you have gotten yourself into, Angus Dionisio. But I thank you. You've made it easier to get rid of you.'

"Boss, at this rate, we'll be at the Hadron Mansion in an hour," Colm said from beside Doran.

Doran allowed himself to be pulled from his deep thoughts and he nodded with a serious tone and expression,

"Good."

"I still can't believe they would stay in a Cursed Mansion," Colm said, "They really must be mad."

Doran nodded,

"I underestimated how foolish Angus was. Or maybe how smart," he said with the last four words coming out in a mumble.

Colm chuckled,

"The curse of the Mansion must be true. To have amassed this much bad luck to have Powerful enemies like Vykers knocking on their door."

Doran frowned then,

"I don't know why you're sounding so calm," he said in a tone that held a hint of anger, "You had many men with you and yet only you survived. And there were only two of them!"

Colm blinked and the corner of his lips twitched,

"The bitch with the red hair, we expected and could have killed, I am sure. The boy was different though. It was like God himself was guiding his bullets to hit. Or maybe it was the Devil."

"Whichever it was, it made them capable enough to kill two Vykers… That's concerning," Doran said with a glance behind him.

"Do you doubt us?" A voice called from behind Doran and Colm. It was one of the Vykers.

"Is that why you have brought this many wastes to ride with us?" Another Vyker asked. This one had raven black hair and grey eyes. He had one hand on the reins of his horse and the other on the hilt of his sword.

"I'm not doubtful," Doran said calmly,

"I'm cautious.

According to Colm here, there were only two of the Dionisios and they managed to kill two of you. We're heading to their base where their strangely powerful Leader is. It is wise to be cautious. I've brought this many as an insurance. The Dionisio Gang must end today."

The Vyker with the sword snorted,

"Rena and Urn are a disgrace to Lord Aleric. They were weak and fell to mere parlor tricks. That will not be the case with us."

"One can only hope," Doran said, his expression uniform, "One can only hope."

"You never told us what was inside this Chest they stole," Colm said with a greedy look in his eyes.

"That is none of your concern. People like you can't ever break the lock on it anyway. The contents of the Chest will remain safe until we can retrieve it for our Lord. He will have it back and the thieves will burn for their daring."

"And we will be rewarded for the part we played as agreed?" Colm asked.

"Of course," the Vyker said,

"Lord Aleric always pays his debts as those thieves are about to learn."

•••

—The Hadron Mansion—

A Magic lock is like a codex.

It's actually more 'scientific' than one would think and having spent decades by the side of the Witch who created him, Angus Dionisio had gotten insight into Magic that surpassed his Station. It was why he was so confident he would be able to unlock the Chest.

The information he received about the chest that led him to steal it in the first place told him Maude Aleric wasn't the one who locked the Chest. It was locked by the person who had it sent to him.

This meant the Chest was not locked to a specific Magical signature and could either be opened with a precise 'key' or through multiple trials and errors.

Thanks to the knowledge he had gained from his creator, Angus knew enough to get started but he had failed over and over and over again.

He had remained inside the meeting room, knowing for sure he could not possibly escape the reach of the Lord of the Black Manor and smiling at the irony that the only thing that could give him a chance was locked in the chest whose magical lock he was failing to crack.

But he kept at it.

For more than a week, he kept at it because, of course, how could a lock be what kept him from a goal he had chased for half a decade?

*Click!*

The sound of a successful break caused Angus to pause and the look in his eyes was a mixture of elation and disbelief.

The black lines of frustration that had formed on his forehead smoothed out as the Chest's lid propped open an inch.

Angus grabbed the sides of the lid and raised it all the way open to look within.

His smile of elation turned into a grin of ecstasy and an almost perversely fervent look in his eyes as he reached into the Chest to finally, claim his prize.