• East Storage House •
[Ann's POV]
The moment Chief Gareth left us in the storage house, the air thickened with the scent of dust and aged wood—dry, musty, clinging to the back of my throat like old secrets. I flicked on the light, revealing piles of sacks stuffed with stolen goods. The shadows retreated reluctantly, exposing the scale of what the bandits had amassed.
Philip immediately strode forward, his boots scuffing against the rough floorboards as he crouched to inspect the nearest bundle. His movements were brisk, professional.
"These are all mixed together—textiles, household items, food supplies," he observed, fingers deftly untying a sack. The fabric rustled as it fell open, exposing a jumble of belongings. "We should organize them by category so the merchants can identify their goods more easily."
I nodded, rolling up my sleeves. "You're the merchant. I'll follow your lead."
