My name is Greta Laurer, and I am a genius, wizard, mercenary, thief, and any number of occupations besides. I know, it's a gift. But you don't care about me. What you want to know, if you're reading this, is how I managed to acquire the most valuable treasure in this dwarf hold, and how nobody suspects a thing.
While any two bit mook can carry out a smash'n grab, against the likes of the Dämmerlichtreiter, that's an easy recipe for failure. Some targets require a little more finesse, and maybe some charm. This target? Good luck, and odds are that'll be against you too, if you catch my drift. Any person with good sense knows the value of getting to know the lay of land. In other words, proper planning and preparation are the key ingredients at hand. Add in a dash of natural intrigue skills, a pinch of worldly experience, all mixed in a solution of smart thinking, and as my fellow journeywoman Pandoramia would put it, you'll have a potent brew.
Now, the private residence of The Wizard of Karak Seven Peaks is not an insecure location by any reasonable metric. Why, even a child could point out the basic facts of the matter. Strong, sturdy walls of stone. Altitude, and above thriving city of potential defenders at that. Ancient relics of runic wrath. A hellish death tower wielding the disapproving gaze of the dwarven underworld. An impossibly large two headed wolf. A shadow army of secret shadow warriors sent by the Gray Order to carry out secret missions in the shadows. The original Liber Mortis, complete with a cabal of hidden vampires and master necromancers. A contingent of scantily clad elfish supplicants, eager— Ahem. Right. Not sure how that got in there. I assure you, dear reader, that I have personally and thoroughly assessed the validity of all these claims. In any case, it suffices to say that it would take an small army to breach the defenses conventionally. Not a large one, because we all know how the last one turned out.
The key is to attack unconventionally, from an unexpected angle. But even the spiciest elixir can fail to work, and Adele always says that no plan survives contact with the enemy. I had thought up a good plan, but this principle became abundantly clear to me the moment Wathilde Meber walked up to me and offered a cookie...
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"So, what do you think?"
"On one hand, I'm touched that you're writing about the reclamation, even if it's a fictional dramatized account. On the other hand, why do I have a, and I quote, 'contingent of scantily clad elfish supplicants?'"
"It draws in interest from the trashy romance crowd. No, don't give me that look, it's true!"
Mathilde let out a sigh.
"I will... reluctantly... approve of this venture."
"You won't regret this!"
"IF you give me a copy of all your manuscripts beforehand so I can be sure they don't contain classified information."
"Distribute it through the EIC for me and I'll give you co-authorship."