The lock of the warehouse’s side door clicked and opened, Fox entered and left the lights off. Used to the dark, the odd part was opening the door with a key. Closing it behind her, she stepped into the warehouse she ‘owned’, or rather Garrus Heinrich owned from beyond the grave. Several forged documents, a lot of postage, and a disguise as Mx. Bauer, Mr. Heinrich’s associate who is overseeing his business in Eisen, Maelie had acquired and renovated the warehouse for her own purposes. It had taken a few weeks of bringing in one craftsman, then another, to do the work piecemeal and quietly.
As she went to the large crate in the back and reached for the secret lever, she hoped it was worth it. The crate unlocked and she stepped inside and closed it behind her. Stepping around some debris and junk she reaches down to a handle and lifts a trap door to reveal a ladder down into the now hidden cellar in the foundation of the building. Descending, she closes the door and enters her den.
The secret entrance leads down to a stone cellar beneath the main foundation, the scent of the sewers is faint, but present. The saferoom is dark and it takes her vision a moment to adjust before she could find the lighten lantern and turn it on. With colour back in her vision she surveyed her hideout. A large table in the middle of the room, an armoire in a corner, several lead-lined chests, and a desk in the corner. A small bed with comfortable pillows and blankets sits against a wall. A slightly used, but comfortable armchair and table not far from the lantern.
She runs her hands along the furniture as she walks around. Sitting on the bed a moment she hopes she won’t have to use it anytime too soon with how cold and damp it is right now. But comfort was not a necessary part of this, that’s what her room at the Skybound was for. Warmth, comfort, company, and pleasure were separate from her professional work as a thief. The way it should be, for her protection and that of the people she’d come to care about. If the Rooks ever searched her room there, they’d find nothing, and Cardinal could not be accused of knowing anything. If this place was ever found, there would similarly be no connection to her, Donatien, or Victor.
A small smile spread across her face as she began to unload the backpack she had brought. Disguise and forgery kits, extra lock picks, crowbars, and various masks, hoods, and dark clothes for her heists. This Den is hers; this is where Fox lives, and this is where she would keep her secrets.