Day 428 11:30 AM
“Raising the flag and singing the anthem are, while somewhat suspicious, not in themselves acts of treason.”
― Terry Pratchett
“If Dolacia is invading, Elisia will follow in short order,” Vatten says, tugging at his neatly trimmed beard. “Be mindful that it is possible they have invaded already, and the news has not reached us yet.”
Manny remains silent, and as her general, I’m obliged to speak. “They have three catapults, drawn by oxen. Based on that, they should take two months to reach us. As far as I see it, we have several options.”
Bastian is in the tent, but his mind is elsewhere, probably with his family. Meanwhile, Vatten and Manny are waiting for me to elaborate.
“The letter says Dolacia has committed around twenty thousand soldiers to this campaign. We don’t have the numbers to meet them in the open field.”
Vatten nods, and Manny remains expressionless, I’m stating the obvious.
“That means we either need to conquer Garagord and repair any structural damage before they arrive, or we need to stop their advance without confronting them directly.”
“You are running short on eyes, if you are planning to tame another griffon.”
I ignore Vatten’s childish quip and keep talking.
“Both are possible, but difficult to execute. Personally, I wouldn’t feel comfortable leaving my back wide open to Garashes, and as far as I’m concerned wiping them out first should be our priority. If Count Vatten is correct, and Elisia uses this opportunity, we will need the entire country’s support to get through this.”
“The majority of old nobility will support you,” Bastian says. “Basson grew paranoid towards the end of his long reign, replacing anyone who questioned anything he said. Upstart nobles are just elevated commoners, ones often disliked by their subjects. Getting people to rebel against them and supporting the old families should be fairly simple.”
We already knew about what Bastian must have considered important information. The ones holding the country together were Basson, his army, and the fear of other countries enslaving us.
Basson’s dead, his army crippled, and invaders are already marching towards the capital. All three linchpins to Garashes’ reign are either gone or faltering. Besides, I don’t have a typical siege in mind for conquering Garagord.
“My plan is for Manuella, Vatten, and you to greet any armies planning to join the Garashes and dissuade them from their choice, or at least to delay them. No conflicts, no battles.”
Manny starts frowning, glaring at me. The two men, however, still haven’t figured out what I plan to do.
“I will infiltrate the castle and eliminate all key—”
“Absolutely not,” Manny says. “You think you can conquer a castle all on your own?”
I can and have. Blunt is itching to say the words, but I keep my teeth clamped together and my mouth shut. No need to give a pregnant woman a reason for an emotional outburst.
“I won’t do anything rash,” I explain calmly. “I will infiltrate the city, then scout out the castle, and bide my time until I’m certain I have a good understanding of the layout and key figures.”
“And how do you plan to move around inconspicuously? Half your face is a lacquered black mask.”
That is a good question, Vatten. I haven’t considered how out of place I look with this mask.
“I can move by night and sleep in lofts or dilapidated houses during the day.”
“And what exactly is your plan?” Vatten asks. “What do you intend to do?”
You might be reading a stolen copy. Visit Royal Road for the authentic version.
“Assassinate the king and the remaining knights, find an ally willing to betray the rest for minor noble title and the promise of safety.”
“Why not open the gate and let us charge in?” Bastian asks, but Vatten shakes his head.
“We would suffer too many losses, and we need to fend off Dolacia’s invasion; losing too many men here is no different from losing the country.”
The old villain understands my reasoning completely.
“But can you do it?” He squints at me. “Can you survive?”
I’m fairly confident, but there’s no real way to know until you try.
“I may not be able to guarantee success, but merely escaping with my life? What do you take me for?” I project the confidence I’m fairly certain I am feeling.
I hope I’m not deluding myself. I wish to shake my head, but that would reveal my insecurity. No, I am not deluding myself. Regular soldiers can’t even slow me down now. Especially at night when they can hardly see. Worst-case scenario, I’ll be over the wall and in the moat before they know what hit them.
Vatten holds my gaze for a long moment, then nods.
“I think it is worth letting your husband try. If he is as capable as we all think he is, he might conquer the whole country with minimal losses.”
Bastian looks like he’s on drugs, grinning like a fool and nodding, but Manny is still frowning. She glares at me.
“You have a wife, a daughter, and one more child on the way,” she says, holding back tears. “You cannot leave us alone.”
I hug her and kiss her forehead. “Don’t worry. I’ll be by your side forever.”
“You are lying,” she says, but there’s some happiness mixed in with her worry.
“Fine,” she grumbles, “I will trust you. But there will be consequences if you die.”
Vatten and Bastian give her odd looks, which is understandable. The consequences of dying are self-explanatory to most people, but I know what Manny means. I have to tell her other self what has happened, and there will be consequences even if I start over.
“What’s my punishment?” I ask, and she folds her arms, frowning at me.
“I will tell you later.”
***
The night is dark, and crossing the moat is child’s play. My clothes are wrapped atop my head like an oversized turban, and my bare chest and thighs scrape against the rough wall as I climb. My rock-climbing proficiency has grown by miles since that night, a lifetime ago, when Manny and I first escaped Amplegord.
Pleasant memories draw a smile. I can’t believe I find those memories pleasant.
Focus!
I reach the top and wait for the nearest group of guards to pass. My rough estimate is that around a thousand soldiers are patrolling the walls. They move in groups of four, but considering there are two dozen miles of fortifications, there’s enough space between them to slip by unnoticed.
In no time at all, I have crossed the moat, scaled the wall, and now I’m donning dry underwear in a dark alley beside the wall.
I have a hooded travel cloak, but wearing a hood during a siege when it’s not raining is like painting a target on myself. Characters in books and movies always walk around in dark, mysterious clothes, wearing hoods or masks in crowds of normal people, even when guards are searching for them.
When I become a king, the first item on the agenda is to train guards and soldiers to recognize suspicious individuals prowling my streets.
And yet, it wasn’t the first thing I did when I became a duke…
I dispel the inane thoughts and focus on where I am and what I need to do.
The closest houses are some ten yards away from the wall. The stone buildings have two storeys, tiled roofs, and small windows, but that’s about all the details I can make out in the middle of the night. I walk around for half an hour, searching for a safe haven, an abandoned house or something, but I find nothing in the Artisan District. I figured as much, but I hoped I would find a hiding place closer to the castle.
Since my fool’s hope was just that, I turn westward, heading towards the Common Ward or the slums, as they are commonly known.
A light appears at the end of the cobbled street, and I duck into an alley before the bored night watch appears. I peek behind the corner of a building and see four drowsy men with torches looking left and right before continuing down the street. They disappear from my sight in a matter of seconds, but my eyes take a full minute to recover their normal night vision.
I leave my hiding place and reach the wider boulevard the guards are walking. They are already far away enough that they can’t hear me, but just in case, I tiptoe my way across the street before continuing westward as the clouds part and allow moonlight to drown the world.
The houses suddenly grow from dark outlines to proper buildings. Their walls are painted in yellow, orange, and vivid brown hues. The windows are made of glass, some with flower pots inside.
I keep walking and bit by bit the atmosphere changes. There isn’t a hard line where the slums start. A broken window here, a poorly mended door there, checkered with worn out facades. Tiny details which grow more prominent and more frequent the further west I go.
Finally, I reach a door which is boarded shut. An abandoned building.
I press my ear against the boards and hear nothing from the inside. Planks cover the first-floor windows, but those above are unboarded.
I climb up and find a mess. Pigeons have claimed most of the property, meaning this place was abandoned. Otherwise, humans would have evicted the vermin.
I look towards the east, towards the castle. Some twenty minutes of hurried walk from here to there. I guess this place will do for now, but the night is still young…