Thousands will flock to pillage Professor Genet's mansion tonight. But few of us have anything specific in mind.
The raid begins at midnight and lasts till 0100 (choosing the time is one of the perks of being rich). It is now 1900; most of the pickers will be position to pounce already, but that is fine. They will not be able to find what I want. I leave my dorm and start walking towards the Genet House.
The professor moved on campus when he was hired by the university, but his previous residence is not public information. He was always a secretive man. He was well liked by the students, even the ones not in his class. Genet always happy to help us survive education.
The house is still several hundred meters away, but this is as close as I can get with the crowds in the way. I hide in the bushes and wait for the others.
Thomas Genet is not nearly so pleasant. Accustomed to affluent living, he is very arrogant towards everyone. His father regretted spoiling him.
Nearly 2000 and they still have not arrived. They must have been delayed, but there is still time.
It is the opinion of nearly all of us that Thomas should not be allowed to squander the professor's estate. Genet accumulated a large amount of artifacts and rare items that Thomas would happily sell for a pretty penny or two - or destroy out of spite.
2130 on the clock. Where the hell are they?
The Rule of Inheritance has been in place for nearly a century now. It is deeply ingrained in our culture. The designated heir may keep whatever he can defend from the pickers, who have one hour to grab as much loot as possible. And the heir can do whatever it takes to defend his fortune.
2200 - something is seriously wrong.
When an average person dies, what little is left after taxation is usually taken by petty thieves. But the rich can afford to protect themselves, and some get... creative.
It is now 2300, one hour till the raid. If they are not here by then, I shall have to go in alone, which would be very dangerous. They had better have a good excuse.
The day Professor Genet died, he called me into his office. He knew I was interested in ancient Oraboran mythology, and said he had a book that may be of interest to me. He offered to bring it the next day if I was interested, which I was.
The countdown has begone. 60 seconds to the raid. There is no sign of the others. May God save me from Thomas' sadism.
After lunch, Genet told me he would not get the chance to bring the book and handed me a paper that I was not to look at till tomorrow. He was shot by a thug that evening.
The horn blares. This is it. I wait for the mob to storm the house and check the paper again. It is a map showing the location of the book, which is apparently well hidden. It is hard to concentrate over the screams.
Thomas has had a week to prepare, and he has done it well. The first line to break through set off the motion-activated bullet sprays. Automatic traps slice through dozens of bodies, and nets pin down dozens more to be trampled.
Inside, armed guards kill as many as they can, while the traps continue to go off. A few have grabbed some books left in the open, but they never make it past the sea of doomed pickers.
The chaos continues for half an hour. The advance slows, and by 0045 few are risking the dark deathtrap. My companions still have not arrived.
I say a quick prayer to the Demiurge and carefully enter through a secret passage marked on the map. Either Thomas does not know about it, or did not expect anyone else to, because it is not rigged.
I find the library easily. I try not to vomit at the blood and bodies strung along the floor. Thomas has put away the books of any worth, and the rest have already been picked. But I do not care about them.
I continue through obscure passages, navigating the catacombs, till I find the marked room. The last bit is instruction in the Old Oraboran language, which few understand. The professor knew I did.
I quietly feel for the seam, and lift it when I have located it. I carefully open the compartment and grab the bag inside. Five minutes remain.
The trip back is nerve-wracking, but I finally return safely to my dorm and 1210. My friends must have stupidly joined an earlier party, because I nearly tripped over their bodies. I shall mourn later.
I open the bag and examine the content. A small brown tome, apparently leather-bound parchment. Awestruck, I begin reading. The title page displays in Old Oraboran: 'ROMANCE AND THE SOUL'.
I have time to deduce that this is from the Late Middle Period before Thomas opens the unlocked door and puts a bullet in my heart.